I absolutely love the audacity of the new ads for Dasani water... have you seen them? If not, go to their website right now, and then come back. Just click first on “TV ads”, and then on the picture of the guy in a bear suit holding a fish.
Here’s the URL:
http://www.dasani.com/flash.htm
This ad has been running quite frequently around here lately, and it amuses me to no end.
So did you check it out?
Yup, that’s right... here’s a company selling bottled water that has the utter chutzpah to base their campaign around the fact that they AREN’T filling their bottles with fresh, natural, clear water from a river or spring…
In fact, they go so far as to imply that natural water is a bad, bad thing, closing their spots with the unique tagline:
"Dasani... It's crisp, refreshing, and salmon-free"
After all, who’d want water from a mountain spring or free flowing river? That’s where fish spawn, for christ’s sake!
(now granted, I wouldn’t want to drink anything taken from the Jacuzzi used in Ron Jeremy’s production of “Finding Nympho” but I think this is a little different...)
Before you think I have no sense of humor, trust me, I realize that this ad has its tongue planted firmly in cheek, and it’s meant to be funny and memorable, but still… you know that under the surface is a message that’s very important to their marketing… and when you get down to it, they really ARE saying that their water is purer (purer? more pure? Containing a greater quantity of the essence of pure? Whatever... you get the drift). They really want you to believe that natural water is bad, and you should only drink water that undergoes their top-secret special “filtering” process…
That’s quite a leap to make... and here’s what makes it even more amazing...
Recently, 500,000 bottles of Dasani water had to be recalled in Britain, due to the fact that they contained illegally high levels of bromate - a cancer-causing chemical.
Oops… guess you can’t blame that on salmon semen.
UK paper The Guardian also had this to add:
"Coca-Cola's new brand of "pure" bottled water, Dasani, was revealed earlier this month to be tap water taken from the mains. Then, it emerged that what the firm described as its "highly sophisticated purification process", based on NASA spacecraft technology, was in fact reverse osmosis used in many modest domestic water purification units."
To which executives at Coca-Cola replied:
“Yeah, but we put it in a really cool bottle... it has swirlies and everything!”
So basically, Dasani is nothing more than tap water... or actually, it’s tap water, “with an extra special heaping of bromate (chemotherapy sold separately).”
Just kind of makes you want to find a guy in a bear suit and smack him with a fish, doesn’t it?
...but the ad is kinda funny.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Random Thought #6
If it takes a tough man to make a tender chicken, then what can you say of the consternation of one who would prepare a slightly gamey roast beef au jus?
[In honor of Frank Perdue: 1921-2005]
[In honor of Frank Perdue: 1921-2005]
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Random Thought #5
They say that all great works of literature draw from direct personal experience... by these standards, are midgets really qualified to write haiku?
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Silver Linings #10
DARK CLOUD :(
If you ask someone out on a date and they say no, you’ll probably feel embarrassed and dejected... especially when they laugh at you.
SILVER LINING :)
You can always tell everyone that it was YOU who said no, and that you in fact declined because you had heard they picked up an incurable venereal disease from a transient Taiwanese busboy named Dip Sook... rumors like that have a way of spreading very quickly.
If you ask someone out on a date and they say no, you’ll probably feel embarrassed and dejected... especially when they laugh at you.
SILVER LINING :)
You can always tell everyone that it was YOU who said no, and that you in fact declined because you had heard they picked up an incurable venereal disease from a transient Taiwanese busboy named Dip Sook... rumors like that have a way of spreading very quickly.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Random Thought #4
I firmly believe that the phrase "thinking ouside the box" has become so cliche that actually uttering those words constitutes thinking that is in actuality "within" the box.
With this being the case, to think "outside" the box would in fact mean you're recycling thoughts that have previously been considered. So does this in turn signify that our initial thoughts have no real innate creativity? Or does it mean more than that? Have we instead gotten to the point whereby we're perpetually "outside" the box to begin with? And if this is held to be true, and someone was looking to come up with something original, does this mean that they should actually TRY to think of an unoriginal idea, thereby keeping their thoughts within the construct of things that are "outside" the initial box? This might seem to almost be plausible, but yet, it can't be, for that in turn would mean that we are simultaneously "inside" and "outside" the box at all times, thereby negating the concept of the "box" to begin with...
It's like T2 all over again. If the terminator comes back in time and destroys Skynet, then Skynet never could have created the terminator. But if Skynet never created the terminator, then he wouldn't have been there to destroy Skynet. And so on, and so on...
I think i'm starting to get a headache...
With this being the case, to think "outside" the box would in fact mean you're recycling thoughts that have previously been considered. So does this in turn signify that our initial thoughts have no real innate creativity? Or does it mean more than that? Have we instead gotten to the point whereby we're perpetually "outside" the box to begin with? And if this is held to be true, and someone was looking to come up with something original, does this mean that they should actually TRY to think of an unoriginal idea, thereby keeping their thoughts within the construct of things that are "outside" the initial box? This might seem to almost be plausible, but yet, it can't be, for that in turn would mean that we are simultaneously "inside" and "outside" the box at all times, thereby negating the concept of the "box" to begin with...
It's like T2 all over again. If the terminator comes back in time and destroys Skynet, then Skynet never could have created the terminator. But if Skynet never created the terminator, then he wouldn't have been there to destroy Skynet. And so on, and so on...
I think i'm starting to get a headache...
Friday, March 25, 2005
Pointless Admission #1
When I'm having a bad day, I like to take a moment to go visit a public restroom. With a quick glance in the stalls, I can usually find clear indication that someone, somewhere is having a much worse day than I... and that makes me feel just a little bit better.
Back on the chain gang...
The first week at a new job is always bizarre.
Yes, that’s right, you heard me correctly... I’ve finally been successful in my bid for gainful employment, and as such, I have begun my latest term of indentured servitude... But alas, fear not my faithful constituency (yes, both of you), I promise to remain just as irregular about my posts now as I was when I was suckling from the governmental teat and spending the majority of my days in my underwear. After all, my devotion to laziness knows few (if any) bounds...
So, the first week at work... It’s a tough course to navigate. You don’t know anyone, you don’t know where anything is, and you really have no clue as to how things are going to go. For instance, are you supposed to just innately KNOW where the humor boundary is? The humor boundary you say? Why yes! I reply, and since I’m really conducting this dialog with myself, I in fact ask as well! (ponder that one for a moment why don’t ya… on second thought, DON’T... it’s not nearly as interesting as I tried to make it sound).
Anyway, the humor boundary is that razor thin line that exists in any workplace… that hairline distinctintion that delineates the precise location where one goes from being a harmless, amusing cad, to being labeled an obscene, offensive jerk. It’s an important distinction to make (especially for those of us who use humor as a defense mechanism), and it can vary significantly from office to office. In fact, it wouldn’t be overstating the matter to say that knowing where the humor boundary lies can shape the entire arc of your tenure at an organization. Take, for example, “dead baby” jokes. They’re not usually MY first “go to” funny, but for some, they can be an effective ice-breaker. And when used in the right environment, they may score you a key to the executive washroom faster than you can say “shameless and horrific misuse of an unconscionable tragedy.” But try them in the Neonatal Ward of the Dana Farber Institute, and you’re more likely to get looks of derision and a first class ticket to a desk in the boiler room.
Ok, so that’s a bit of an extreme example (and “dead baby” jokes are after all a bit dated and cliché), but you get my point... every office has their taboo subjects, the things you just don’t say, and the places you just don’t go. The trick is figuring out what those are. Even in normal conversation you have to watch yourself. At home, among your friends, you know what topics are “hot buttons,” and you can avoid them easily enough (i.e. never question the relative intellectual capacity of the average NBA player in front of my older brother). But at a new office, it’s a blank slate... you just don't know... say the wrong thing (in front of the wrong person), and you could wind up making your life more than just a little bit difficult (i.e. think fourth circle of hell minus the polka music).
Now I’m not saying you have to change who you are, I just think you have to exercise some common sense. I mean, if I was mopping floors at the Vatican, I certainly wouldn’t strike up a conversation with the pope on the sanctity of gay marriage... and it would probably be a REALLY bad idea for me to say what I think he’s overcompensating for with that hat.
Now, that being said, let’s recap...
What have we learned here? Well, I am no longer a burden on the average taxpayer... I have put way too much thought into adapting to my new environment... and of course, most of today’s NBA players have the I.Q. of a garden slug...
Oh, and one more thing... unless someone here at the office opens the floodgates by breaking into a string of first-rate “Helen Keller,” “one-armed Polak,” and “what do you call a guy with no arms and no legs” zingers, I’m not even going to THINK about telling that joke I just heard about the midget, the stripper, and the three-legged dog.
Yes, that’s right, you heard me correctly... I’ve finally been successful in my bid for gainful employment, and as such, I have begun my latest term of indentured servitude... But alas, fear not my faithful constituency (yes, both of you), I promise to remain just as irregular about my posts now as I was when I was suckling from the governmental teat and spending the majority of my days in my underwear. After all, my devotion to laziness knows few (if any) bounds...
So, the first week at work... It’s a tough course to navigate. You don’t know anyone, you don’t know where anything is, and you really have no clue as to how things are going to go. For instance, are you supposed to just innately KNOW where the humor boundary is? The humor boundary you say? Why yes! I reply, and since I’m really conducting this dialog with myself, I in fact ask as well! (ponder that one for a moment why don’t ya… on second thought, DON’T... it’s not nearly as interesting as I tried to make it sound).
Anyway, the humor boundary is that razor thin line that exists in any workplace… that hairline distinctintion that delineates the precise location where one goes from being a harmless, amusing cad, to being labeled an obscene, offensive jerk. It’s an important distinction to make (especially for those of us who use humor as a defense mechanism), and it can vary significantly from office to office. In fact, it wouldn’t be overstating the matter to say that knowing where the humor boundary lies can shape the entire arc of your tenure at an organization. Take, for example, “dead baby” jokes. They’re not usually MY first “go to” funny, but for some, they can be an effective ice-breaker. And when used in the right environment, they may score you a key to the executive washroom faster than you can say “shameless and horrific misuse of an unconscionable tragedy.” But try them in the Neonatal Ward of the Dana Farber Institute, and you’re more likely to get looks of derision and a first class ticket to a desk in the boiler room.
Ok, so that’s a bit of an extreme example (and “dead baby” jokes are after all a bit dated and cliché), but you get my point... every office has their taboo subjects, the things you just don’t say, and the places you just don’t go. The trick is figuring out what those are. Even in normal conversation you have to watch yourself. At home, among your friends, you know what topics are “hot buttons,” and you can avoid them easily enough (i.e. never question the relative intellectual capacity of the average NBA player in front of my older brother). But at a new office, it’s a blank slate... you just don't know... say the wrong thing (in front of the wrong person), and you could wind up making your life more than just a little bit difficult (i.e. think fourth circle of hell minus the polka music).
Now I’m not saying you have to change who you are, I just think you have to exercise some common sense. I mean, if I was mopping floors at the Vatican, I certainly wouldn’t strike up a conversation with the pope on the sanctity of gay marriage... and it would probably be a REALLY bad idea for me to say what I think he’s overcompensating for with that hat.
Now, that being said, let’s recap...
What have we learned here? Well, I am no longer a burden on the average taxpayer... I have put way too much thought into adapting to my new environment... and of course, most of today’s NBA players have the I.Q. of a garden slug...
Oh, and one more thing... unless someone here at the office opens the floodgates by breaking into a string of first-rate “Helen Keller,” “one-armed Polak,” and “what do you call a guy with no arms and no legs” zingers, I’m not even going to THINK about telling that joke I just heard about the midget, the stripper, and the three-legged dog.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Pointless Observation #5
If you were to take all the cigarettes smoked in the US over any given 24 hour period, gather them together, and lay them out end to end... then you would definitely be identified as someone who has way too much time on their hands.
..it'd probably be a good idea to wash those hands too.
..it'd probably be a good idea to wash those hands too.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Random Thought #3
You know those MLB replica “batting helmets” that you can get ice cream sundaes in? Well I’ve been thinking, and I’ll bet you they aren’t manufactured under very strict guidelines. In fact, I’d guess they wouldn’t stand up to the punishment of a single swing of an aluminum bat... much less that of a 90 mph fastball... nope... not even if you put it on a Chihuahua.
Silver Linings #9
DARK CLOUD :(
If the brakes go out on a race car, the ensuing course of events will most likely include a devastating crash, a hellacious fireball, and a giant towering plume of smoke - all accompanied by the harrowing sound of crumpling metal and burning flesh.
SILVER LINING :)
From a seat on the other side of the racetrack, I’ll bet it looks pretty cool.
If the brakes go out on a race car, the ensuing course of events will most likely include a devastating crash, a hellacious fireball, and a giant towering plume of smoke - all accompanied by the harrowing sound of crumpling metal and burning flesh.
SILVER LINING :)
From a seat on the other side of the racetrack, I’ll bet it looks pretty cool.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Silver Linings #8
DARK CLOUD :(
If you pay full price to see a movie and it doesn’t live up to your expectations, you’ll probably walk out of the theater thinking you’ve wasted your money.
SILVER LINING :)
If you’re at a theater in a mall, you can probably find some 8-year-old near the food court who will think your ticket stub is still good and buy it off you for like three bucks. Little kids are good for stuff like that.
If you pay full price to see a movie and it doesn’t live up to your expectations, you’ll probably walk out of the theater thinking you’ve wasted your money.
SILVER LINING :)
If you’re at a theater in a mall, you can probably find some 8-year-old near the food court who will think your ticket stub is still good and buy it off you for like three bucks. Little kids are good for stuff like that.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Silver Linings #7
DARK CLOUD :(
If you go blind, you’ll never again be able to experience the serenity of a rainbow, or the breathtaking beauty of a golden sunset.
SILVER LINING :)
You’ll also never be able to see your reflection in a mirror… Consequently, you can get as fat as you want while still believing you are as handsome and svelte as Bjorn Borg circa 1977.
If you go blind, you’ll never again be able to experience the serenity of a rainbow, or the breathtaking beauty of a golden sunset.
SILVER LINING :)
You’ll also never be able to see your reflection in a mirror… Consequently, you can get as fat as you want while still believing you are as handsome and svelte as Bjorn Borg circa 1977.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Random Thought #2
Why do really fat people always wear track suits? I mean, c'mon... it's obvious they aint been runnin' nowhere...
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Silver Linings #6
DARK CLOUD :(
Gambling is an addictive, self-destructive activity that ultimately leaves you unhappy, devoid of dignity, and broke.
SILVER LINING :)
If you're already broke, then you really have nothing left to lose... you can't really sink any lower, so you might as well keep going! Heck, you can always sell a pint of blood (or two) for some quick cash.
Gambling is an addictive, self-destructive activity that ultimately leaves you unhappy, devoid of dignity, and broke.
SILVER LINING :)
If you're already broke, then you really have nothing left to lose... you can't really sink any lower, so you might as well keep going! Heck, you can always sell a pint of blood (or two) for some quick cash.
Silver Linings #5
DARK CLOUD :(
There is no way to escape the simple fact that no matter what you do, or how you live your life... someday you will die.
SILVER LINING :)
It most likely will not happen while you are eating a corndog standing naked under a tree in botswana.
There is no way to escape the simple fact that no matter what you do, or how you live your life... someday you will die.
SILVER LINING :)
It most likely will not happen while you are eating a corndog standing naked under a tree in botswana.
Silver Linings #4
DARK CLOUD :(
It is rumored that Korean food occasionally substitutes meat from feral cats and dogs for beef and chicken.
SILVER LINING :)
Although one might find this alternate food source morally objectionable, it could actually be beneficial... I mean c'mon, the little guys run around all day... that has to be good for SOMETHING, right? What do cows do but swat at flies and chew cud? Of course, the dog or cat in question would have to be slow enough to be caught in the first place, so there's a good chance it's diseased... but hey, even then, you'd probably get to have your case written up in a new medical journal or something.
It is rumored that Korean food occasionally substitutes meat from feral cats and dogs for beef and chicken.
SILVER LINING :)
Although one might find this alternate food source morally objectionable, it could actually be beneficial... I mean c'mon, the little guys run around all day... that has to be good for SOMETHING, right? What do cows do but swat at flies and chew cud? Of course, the dog or cat in question would have to be slow enough to be caught in the first place, so there's a good chance it's diseased... but hey, even then, you'd probably get to have your case written up in a new medical journal or something.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Pointless Observation #4
Often, when confronted with someone of unusually tall stature, people acknowledge that person's height with a comment such as "How's the weather up there?" or "Hey, could you slide over a bit, you're blocking the sun!"
But hardly anyone ever asks a midget for an update on the status of the tides.
But hardly anyone ever asks a midget for an update on the status of the tides.
Silver Linings #3
DARK CLOUD :(
If you go skydiving, there's always the possibility your chute won't open, leaving you helpless to do anything but watch as the ground hurdles towards you at an ever increasing speed.
SILVER LINING :)
This can only happen once.
If you go skydiving, there's always the possibility your chute won't open, leaving you helpless to do anything but watch as the ground hurdles towards you at an ever increasing speed.
SILVER LINING :)
This can only happen once.
Silver Linings #2
DARK CLOUD :(
Most prostitues don't have health coverage, and consequently can play host to any number of sexually transmitted diseases.
SILVER LINING :)
When you go to the hospital so they drain your sores, you might meet a nice cute nurse... and she might know someone who can reccomend a reliable escort service or massage parlor.
Most prostitues don't have health coverage, and consequently can play host to any number of sexually transmitted diseases.
SILVER LINING :)
When you go to the hospital so they drain your sores, you might meet a nice cute nurse... and she might know someone who can reccomend a reliable escort service or massage parlor.
Silver Linings #1
DARK CLOUD :(
If you give money to a bum, he's probably just going to spend it on cheap wine or malt liquor.
SILVER LINING :)
In a few hours, he'll pass out drunk, thus rendering him incapable of bothering anyone else. You'll have performed a helpful service for your community, and therefore should give yourself a hearty pat on the back. Plus, if you want, you can probably poke him with sticks and stuff without him even noticing.
If you give money to a bum, he's probably just going to spend it on cheap wine or malt liquor.
SILVER LINING :)
In a few hours, he'll pass out drunk, thus rendering him incapable of bothering anyone else. You'll have performed a helpful service for your community, and therefore should give yourself a hearty pat on the back. Plus, if you want, you can probably poke him with sticks and stuff without him even noticing.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Pointless Observation #3
Most children's books are written by adults. I doubt it works the same the other way around.
...in fact, it's probably illegal.
...in fact, it's probably illegal.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Pointless Observation #2
If you taxed people based on the amount of soap they used, fat people would get really mad...
Unless of course the fat people in question didn't bathe, and then I suppose they might not mind all that much. Cuz if you're a fat person, and you don't bathe, you've probably bigger things to worry about than a tax on soap.
Unless of course the fat people in question didn't bathe, and then I suppose they might not mind all that much. Cuz if you're a fat person, and you don't bathe, you've probably bigger things to worry about than a tax on soap.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Pointless Observation #1
Nose-picking is like a fingerprint... if you look around, you'll notice no two people do it exactly the same.
...by that logic, it's also kinda like a snowflake.
...by that logic, it's also kinda like a snowflake.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Lollipops and moonbeams indeed...
Every now and then you have to sit back and take a moment to contemplate some of the bigger issues in life… to ponder life’s imponderables… to question that which isn’t, and give new life to ideas that are deserving of more critical attention…
I don’t feel like doing that today so I’m going to talk about snowmen.
I was driving home this morning and noticed a carefully built snowman along the way… now we’ve had over 30” of snow recently, so this in and of itself isn’t much of a noteworthy discovery… and what brought it to my attention wasn’t even its distinguishing characteristics (the fact that it was wearing a patriots’ helmet and holding a beer - Sam Adams of course). No, what attracted my keen eye (and warped perspective) was the fact that it really HAD no true distinguishing characteristic (aside from the aforementioned affinity for football)... It looked more or less like every other snowman I’ve seen over the course of my life.
And that’s when I began thinking…
There it was… one large, somewhat round mound of snow, complimented by two smaller somewhat less round mounds of snow stacked vertically upon it. Now I’m not here to call into question the creative ambitions of whoever crafted this particular snowmosapien… truth be told, just about every snowman I ever produced in my youth closely resembled what I saw today (save for one particular masterpiece, crafted at the age of about 12, that included the addition of a pair of what could only accurately be described as anatomically implausible bazongas).
My question is... WHY do all snowmen look the same?
Who decided that THIS was the correct process of assemblage for man-shaped snow? Ok, sure, there are times when you’ll find a particular snowman that consists of only 2 mounds of snow stacked up, but I’d wager that if you did the research, you’d discover that these cases were really due more to laziness than a true desire to be different (and even then I’d guess there was a high incidence of dwarfism running through the families of the more creative focused builders). C’mon… you're 8 years old... you're cold... you’ve got two mounds of snow built up already, and you suddenly remember that there’s a hot cup of cocoa just waiting for you once you’re done… possibly even with those little marshmallows in it… and maybe this time they wont even all melt before you get a chance to take more than one spoonful. Didn’t that just frustrate the heck out of you?!?! They look all plump and tasty… then you drop them in the cup, and poof! They’re gone! It’s not fair I tell you… we can fly a man to the moon and bring him back in a craft that has to withstand unbelievably high temperatures, but we can't craft a dutifully heat resistant marshmallow?!?!?
But I digress…
And once again I rhetorically ask… WHY do all snowmen look alike?
Well, after some careful thought, I think I may have crafted a plausible hypothesis (or at least a way to end this column). I believe that the essence of snowman design is really just a plot by corporate America to brainwash the public… To soften us against the crimes and injustices that countless executives have constituted against the public for generations… After all, think about it. Snowmen are almost exclusively male (again, save for my 56” FFF adolescent fantasy). They’re also generally rather rotund... and, excluding any non-sanitary additions made after completion, they are without exception, always WHITE.
It’s true!
See?!? They are the very models of the traditional corporate villain. And yet, we view snowmen as mostly asexual… we view them as jolly… we view them as friendly helpful creatures that are ultimately without fault (other than possessing an inclination towards uttering HAPPY BIRTHDAY every time a hat is placed on their head). What better way to trick America’s (and dare I say, the world’s) youth into believing that fat Caucasian guys mean us no harm… that everything they do and touch is just nothing but lollipops and moonbeams?
You doubt me? Well, laugh if you must, but remember… you heard it here first.
It's like Joe Camel all over again... only WE'RE doing the work for them... they're crafty... oh yes... they're crafty...
I don’t feel like doing that today so I’m going to talk about snowmen.
I was driving home this morning and noticed a carefully built snowman along the way… now we’ve had over 30” of snow recently, so this in and of itself isn’t much of a noteworthy discovery… and what brought it to my attention wasn’t even its distinguishing characteristics (the fact that it was wearing a patriots’ helmet and holding a beer - Sam Adams of course). No, what attracted my keen eye (and warped perspective) was the fact that it really HAD no true distinguishing characteristic (aside from the aforementioned affinity for football)... It looked more or less like every other snowman I’ve seen over the course of my life.
And that’s when I began thinking…
There it was… one large, somewhat round mound of snow, complimented by two smaller somewhat less round mounds of snow stacked vertically upon it. Now I’m not here to call into question the creative ambitions of whoever crafted this particular snowmosapien… truth be told, just about every snowman I ever produced in my youth closely resembled what I saw today (save for one particular masterpiece, crafted at the age of about 12, that included the addition of a pair of what could only accurately be described as anatomically implausible bazongas).
My question is... WHY do all snowmen look the same?
Who decided that THIS was the correct process of assemblage for man-shaped snow? Ok, sure, there are times when you’ll find a particular snowman that consists of only 2 mounds of snow stacked up, but I’d wager that if you did the research, you’d discover that these cases were really due more to laziness than a true desire to be different (and even then I’d guess there was a high incidence of dwarfism running through the families of the more creative focused builders). C’mon… you're 8 years old... you're cold... you’ve got two mounds of snow built up already, and you suddenly remember that there’s a hot cup of cocoa just waiting for you once you’re done… possibly even with those little marshmallows in it… and maybe this time they wont even all melt before you get a chance to take more than one spoonful. Didn’t that just frustrate the heck out of you?!?! They look all plump and tasty… then you drop them in the cup, and poof! They’re gone! It’s not fair I tell you… we can fly a man to the moon and bring him back in a craft that has to withstand unbelievably high temperatures, but we can't craft a dutifully heat resistant marshmallow?!?!?
But I digress…
And once again I rhetorically ask… WHY do all snowmen look alike?
Well, after some careful thought, I think I may have crafted a plausible hypothesis (or at least a way to end this column). I believe that the essence of snowman design is really just a plot by corporate America to brainwash the public… To soften us against the crimes and injustices that countless executives have constituted against the public for generations… After all, think about it. Snowmen are almost exclusively male (again, save for my 56” FFF adolescent fantasy). They’re also generally rather rotund... and, excluding any non-sanitary additions made after completion, they are without exception, always WHITE.
It’s true!
See?!? They are the very models of the traditional corporate villain. And yet, we view snowmen as mostly asexual… we view them as jolly… we view them as friendly helpful creatures that are ultimately without fault (other than possessing an inclination towards uttering HAPPY BIRTHDAY every time a hat is placed on their head). What better way to trick America’s (and dare I say, the world’s) youth into believing that fat Caucasian guys mean us no harm… that everything they do and touch is just nothing but lollipops and moonbeams?
You doubt me? Well, laugh if you must, but remember… you heard it here first.
It's like Joe Camel all over again... only WE'RE doing the work for them... they're crafty... oh yes... they're crafty...
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Meow, meow, meow, meow...
Cats are weird.
Ok, so I suppose that in the interests of full disclosure, I should preface that statement with the following admission: I am a dog person.
I don’t mean to be, it’s not a conscious choice I made, heck, I even own a cat at this point (when you live in a small apartment in the middle of a city, I don’t think it’s fair to try to have a dog… unless you own one of those little rat dogs… which incidentally, I’m not even convinced ARE actually dogs), but still, it’s undeniable… I am a dog person.
They’re just friendlier… they bring you things like slippers (not disemboweled birds), they play games like “fetch” (not “let’s stare menacingly from the other side of the room), and they seem to LIKE me. My cat on the other hand, pretty much regards me with a sense of derision that implies I’m taking up valuable space in what would otherwise be a very lovely living arrangement. Dogs ENJOY people. Cats seem to view them solely as a means for getting food and disposing of poo.
And yes, cats are weird.
Don’t get me wrong, I like my cat…. and as cats go, I’ve got a pretty good one. She doesn’t shed a lot… she doesn’t bite (much)… and occasionally she’ll launch her tiny cat frame 6 feet in the air and contort it like a strudel for absolutely no good reason what so ever (an added value in any household pet). But there’s no denying that she’s weird.
For instance, my cat likes the color black… a lot. More specifically, she likes to lie down on black things, no matter what shape, form, or degree of difficulty that may entail. No matter what room she’s in, she’ll inevitably find the one black thing in it, and make it her nesting ground. I’ve found her in various cat–like poses on computer bags, shirts, pieces of music equipment… she even tries to lay on the side of the door when she’s in the car (making for a wonderful demonstration of the properties of gravity). Given the choice between a perfectly comfortable blue micro-fiber fleece blanket laid delicately on a field of catnip, and a rather less agreeable black-colored surface punctuated by thousands of sharp spikes that glisten with the entrails of fallen felines and smell of death… well, she’d take the blanket, but she’d stare longingly at those spikes for hours.
Cats are just weird.
Then there's the whole "stay near me/don't touch me" thing... You see, my cat is not by any standard what you would call an “affectionate” cat, but that doesn’t stop her from confusing me with the implication that she might WANT to be affectionate. (Hey, it’s like high school all over again… Ack, I don’t mean it THAT way… As always people, you can love your pet… just don’t LOVE your pet. Believe me, when I speak of affection with a cat and affection with a high school girl I’m talking about a WHOLE different kind of affection… not that I would um, engage in THAT type of affection with a high school girl at this point either… that would be wrong too… but when I was in high school, it was OK… the high school girl part, not the cat part… that’s ALWAYS wrong… at least that’s what the cops told me… kidding! Where’s your sense of humor? Now what the heck was I talking about?) oh yeah…. um, my cat is not by any standard what you would call an “affectionate” cat, but that doesn’t stop her from confusing me with the implication that she might WANT to be affectionate. She always seems to want to be in the same room as me… but yet, she doesn’t want to be near me. If I sit on one couch, she’ll move to the other… If I go in the office, she’ll follow, and then take up residence in the corner. Everywhere I go, she’s always just over my shoulder, out of reach… It's like she's haunting me... In fact, it’s kind of like being chased by Jason from the Friday the 13th movies… Only in this case, my “Jason” is short, furry, has a tail, doesn’t wear a hockey mask, and is most likely wholly incapable of picking up a sleeping bag containing a half-naked high school girl and bashing said girl against a nearby tree…
I tell ya, cats are weird…
Ok, so I suppose that in the interests of full disclosure, I should preface that statement with the following admission: I am a dog person.
I don’t mean to be, it’s not a conscious choice I made, heck, I even own a cat at this point (when you live in a small apartment in the middle of a city, I don’t think it’s fair to try to have a dog… unless you own one of those little rat dogs… which incidentally, I’m not even convinced ARE actually dogs), but still, it’s undeniable… I am a dog person.
They’re just friendlier… they bring you things like slippers (not disemboweled birds), they play games like “fetch” (not “let’s stare menacingly from the other side of the room), and they seem to LIKE me. My cat on the other hand, pretty much regards me with a sense of derision that implies I’m taking up valuable space in what would otherwise be a very lovely living arrangement. Dogs ENJOY people. Cats seem to view them solely as a means for getting food and disposing of poo.
And yes, cats are weird.
Don’t get me wrong, I like my cat…. and as cats go, I’ve got a pretty good one. She doesn’t shed a lot… she doesn’t bite (much)… and occasionally she’ll launch her tiny cat frame 6 feet in the air and contort it like a strudel for absolutely no good reason what so ever (an added value in any household pet). But there’s no denying that she’s weird.
For instance, my cat likes the color black… a lot. More specifically, she likes to lie down on black things, no matter what shape, form, or degree of difficulty that may entail. No matter what room she’s in, she’ll inevitably find the one black thing in it, and make it her nesting ground. I’ve found her in various cat–like poses on computer bags, shirts, pieces of music equipment… she even tries to lay on the side of the door when she’s in the car (making for a wonderful demonstration of the properties of gravity). Given the choice between a perfectly comfortable blue micro-fiber fleece blanket laid delicately on a field of catnip, and a rather less agreeable black-colored surface punctuated by thousands of sharp spikes that glisten with the entrails of fallen felines and smell of death… well, she’d take the blanket, but she’d stare longingly at those spikes for hours.
Cats are just weird.
Then there's the whole "stay near me/don't touch me" thing... You see, my cat is not by any standard what you would call an “affectionate” cat, but that doesn’t stop her from confusing me with the implication that she might WANT to be affectionate. (Hey, it’s like high school all over again… Ack, I don’t mean it THAT way… As always people, you can love your pet… just don’t LOVE your pet. Believe me, when I speak of affection with a cat and affection with a high school girl I’m talking about a WHOLE different kind of affection… not that I would um, engage in THAT type of affection with a high school girl at this point either… that would be wrong too… but when I was in high school, it was OK… the high school girl part, not the cat part… that’s ALWAYS wrong… at least that’s what the cops told me… kidding! Where’s your sense of humor? Now what the heck was I talking about?) oh yeah…. um, my cat is not by any standard what you would call an “affectionate” cat, but that doesn’t stop her from confusing me with the implication that she might WANT to be affectionate. She always seems to want to be in the same room as me… but yet, she doesn’t want to be near me. If I sit on one couch, she’ll move to the other… If I go in the office, she’ll follow, and then take up residence in the corner. Everywhere I go, she’s always just over my shoulder, out of reach… It's like she's haunting me... In fact, it’s kind of like being chased by Jason from the Friday the 13th movies… Only in this case, my “Jason” is short, furry, has a tail, doesn’t wear a hockey mask, and is most likely wholly incapable of picking up a sleeping bag containing a half-naked high school girl and bashing said girl against a nearby tree…
I tell ya, cats are weird…
Thursday, January 27, 2005
The babbling of an old man...
It's sad to admit, but I’ve reached another adult milestone...
I'm growing more and more uncomfortable with the fact that as I get closer in age to those I have previously deemed "old," the concept of "old" bears less and less resemblance to the thing I called "old" when I was less "old."
I think I said that right...
OK, maybe I should back up a bit... I remember when I was in grade school thinking about the year 2000, and thinking that at that point I would be positively ancient... I would be 27. And accordingly, I naturally assumed this meant that I would have a job and be married and have kids and leave every morning at 7:30 wearing a suit, and come home at 6 complaining about my day. That's just the way it worked in my house, and I assumed it would be the same for me. Basically, I just figured that by the time the year 2000 rolled around, my life would be complete... I would have accomplished everything I needed to, and I would have settled down into the basic suburban lifestyle.
So imagine my surprise as I sit here, the ripe old age of 31, without a wife, kids or job (or, actually, even a reason to dressed most days)... completely absent of the life I had imagined. Now don't get me wrong, this isn't a bad thing... frankly the idea of a wife or kids at this point still scares me on level roughly about par with the concept of seeing a full scale reenactment of the battle of Gettysburg put on by the displaced cast of "Cats."
But back to my point
Back then, 27 was old... but now, at 31, 27 seems almost downright... young... and 40 or 50, which in the past seemed about right for the mandatory age of embalming, now seems almost relatable... I mean, I actually have friends now that are in that age range... not teachers, not authority figures... FRIENDS?!?!?!? Just imagine it!
And hey, don't get me wrong, I'M not that old... and yes that is still OLD to me, but I am forced to admit that I can see that a day will dawn when the cusp of 40 lurks just over the horizon, and I will be forced to come to grips with the fact that I am in fact aging, that I am in fact getting older, and that it is in fact no longer a viable option for me to be shopping in stores that also carry items that can be construed as "paraphernalia."
I can accept this... and frankly, at my current weight, I'm sure this contrition makes for a very grateful public, but I do still have one burning question... When do I become a dirty old man for ogling young unobtainable actresses that would never give me the time of day even if I was within their respected demograph? Is it "wrong" yet for me to think that Keira Knightly is really hot?
This is the morel dilemma of a 31-year-old man.
I'm growing more and more uncomfortable with the fact that as I get closer in age to those I have previously deemed "old," the concept of "old" bears less and less resemblance to the thing I called "old" when I was less "old."
I think I said that right...
OK, maybe I should back up a bit... I remember when I was in grade school thinking about the year 2000, and thinking that at that point I would be positively ancient... I would be
So imagine my surprise as I sit here, the ripe old age of 31, without a wife, kids or job (or, actually, even a reason to dressed most days)... completely absent of the life I had imagined. Now don't get me wrong, this isn't a bad thing... frankly the idea of a wife or kids at this point still scares me on level roughly about par with the concept of seeing a full scale reenactment of the battle of Gettysburg put on by the displaced cast of "Cats."
But back to my point
Back then, 27 was old... but now, at 31, 27 seems almost downright... young... and 40 or 50, which in the past seemed about right for the mandatory age of embalming, now seems almost relatable... I mean, I actually have friends now that are in that age range... not teachers, not authority figures... FRIENDS?!?!?!? Just imagine it!
And hey, don't get me wrong, I'M not that old... and yes that is still OLD to me, but I am forced to admit that I can see that a day will dawn when the cusp of 40 lurks just over the horizon, and I will be forced to come to grips with the fact that I am in fact aging, that I am in fact getting older, and that it is in fact no longer a viable option for me to be shopping in stores that also carry items that can be construed as "paraphernalia."
I can accept this... and frankly, at my current weight, I'm sure this contrition makes for a very grateful public, but I do still have one burning question... When do I become a dirty old man for ogling young unobtainable actresses that would never give me the time of day even if I was within their respected demograph? Is it "wrong" yet for me to think that Keira Knightly is really hot?
This is the morel dilemma of a 31-year-old man.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Mind block...
He sat at the computer, trying to conjure up some bit of greatness to share with the world… an insight… a bit of forethought... a pure “eureka” moment that when arrived at would prove to be the culmination of all his intellect and wit… Schooling, life lessons, hardships… experience… they had all played a part in leading him to this one defining moment. It was time for an epiphany. But alas, it would not come. As he sat there, attempting to ponder life’s greater mysteries, a single phrase kept circulating in his brain, keeping from completing his goal… the same six unholy words repeating, over and over… and over…
“Don’t you just LOVE a bargain…”
Damn you Christmas Tree shops! You and your beloved BARGAINS! I say, Christmas Tree shops… your time has passed…. Yes, you may have been victorious today, but tomorrow… tomorrow shall be a day of reckoning!
“Don’t you just LOVE a bargain…”
Damn you Christmas Tree shops! You and your beloved BARGAINS! I say, Christmas Tree shops… your time has passed…. Yes, you may have been victorious today, but tomorrow… tomorrow shall be a day of reckoning!
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
A funny thing happened on the way to the comics...
Ok, I like comics as much as the next guy... truth be told, I probably like comics a bit MORE than the next guy, (provided of course that the next guy isn’t Jim Davis, and the comic in question isn’t one that generates oodles upon oodles of cash thereby allowing him to employ a team of man-servants solely for the purpose of counting his oodles), but please, explain this one to me…
This is from a long running cartoon known as “Rex Morgan M.D.”
Um… ok… wow…
Where to begin... well, first off… I don’t get the joke.
Where's the funny? Is Josh constantly forgetting where he put his car keys? Is Mabel having wacky experiences on the dating circuit? Because without some serious shenanigans, Cancer and Alzheimer’s just don’t seem that funny.
Hey, maybe it’s just me… maybe taking this one cartoon out of context is unfair (who knows, there might be a humdinger of a punchline coming up in the next installment!), but that’s the problem… so little happens in any ONE strip, how can you stay with it? The people who regularly read this strip must have the patience of saints. These must be people who consider a crock pot stew to be “fast food.” They probably see a movie like “Das Boot” and think “Whoa! Slow down there Michael Bay... sheesh! You think we can keep up with a plot that progresses faster than cold molasses?
Then again, maybe it’s me… I mean, I like single panel cartoons. Quick and to the point. “Non Sequitur,” “Far Side,” These are comics that make sense… and oh yeah, they’re funny! (that cad Gary Larson… with his bovines imitating humans in a humorous situation while simultaneously commenting on the social hypocrisy of civilization itself?!? That, my friends, is comedy gold)…
But it’s not the fact that they’re single panel cartoons... that alone doesn’t ensure success… take for instance, “Pluggers.” That little gem annoys me more than one single picture should be able to… I remember reading it the first time and thinking “okay… not real funny, but that’s harmless enough.” (you know, kinda like “Family Circle”) But the next time I read it, I was like… “wait… hey, that’s the same “joke” he made in the last… oh well whatever….” By my fourth viewing of the wonderful “Pluggers” “cartoon,” I seriously considered getting a hold of every single person who had submitted their idea to the series… by the neck… and squeezing ever so gently…
but I digress…)
um… what was I saying? Oh yes, that it’s not just single panel cartoons… “Fox Trot,” “Zits,” “Get Fuzzy,” and countless others are most amusing, and entertain me (and many others immensely). I think it may be time to sound the death knell for comics that can’t be digested within a single person’s lifetime. You shouldn’t have to keep a microfiche handy just so you can make sure that the ongoing adventures of “Prince Valiant” can remain relevant to the next generation.
Now say what you will, and before you jump all over me, I know that these are just my tastes, and yes, I’m sure there are many people out there that thoroughly enjoy “Rex Morgan M.D.” Otherwise, yes, I know, the papers wouldn’t continue to run it. I’m not here to debate that fact one bit.
I’m just telling you they are wrong.
This is from a long running cartoon known as “Rex Morgan M.D.”
Um… ok… wow…
Where to begin... well, first off… I don’t get the joke.
Where's the funny? Is Josh constantly forgetting where he put his car keys? Is Mabel having wacky experiences on the dating circuit? Because without some serious shenanigans, Cancer and Alzheimer’s just don’t seem that funny.
Hey, maybe it’s just me… maybe taking this one cartoon out of context is unfair (who knows, there might be a humdinger of a punchline coming up in the next installment!), but that’s the problem… so little happens in any ONE strip, how can you stay with it? The people who regularly read this strip must have the patience of saints. These must be people who consider a crock pot stew to be “fast food.” They probably see a movie like “Das Boot” and think “Whoa! Slow down there Michael Bay... sheesh! You think we can keep up with a plot that progresses faster than cold molasses?
Then again, maybe it’s me… I mean, I like single panel cartoons. Quick and to the point. “Non Sequitur,” “Far Side,” These are comics that make sense… and oh yeah, they’re funny! (that cad Gary Larson… with his bovines imitating humans in a humorous situation while simultaneously commenting on the social hypocrisy of civilization itself?!? That, my friends, is comedy gold)…
But it’s not the fact that they’re single panel cartoons... that alone doesn’t ensure success… take for instance, “Pluggers.” That little gem annoys me more than one single picture should be able to… I remember reading it the first time and thinking “okay… not real funny, but that’s harmless enough.” (you know, kinda like “Family Circle”) But the next time I read it, I was like… “wait… hey, that’s the same “joke” he made in the last… oh well whatever….” By my fourth viewing of the wonderful “Pluggers” “cartoon,” I seriously considered getting a hold of every single person who had submitted their idea to the series… by the neck… and squeezing ever so gently…
but I digress…)
um… what was I saying? Oh yes, that it’s not just single panel cartoons… “Fox Trot,” “Zits,” “Get Fuzzy,” and countless others are most amusing, and entertain me (and many others immensely). I think it may be time to sound the death knell for comics that can’t be digested within a single person’s lifetime. You shouldn’t have to keep a microfiche handy just so you can make sure that the ongoing adventures of “Prince Valiant” can remain relevant to the next generation.
Now say what you will, and before you jump all over me, I know that these are just my tastes, and yes, I’m sure there are many people out there that thoroughly enjoy “Rex Morgan M.D.” Otherwise, yes, I know, the papers wouldn’t continue to run it. I’m not here to debate that fact one bit.
I’m just telling you they are wrong.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Starting the year off right...
So here we are… the beginning of a new year… apparently, that means it’s time for resolutions. So ok, here goes:
First off, I need to get back to writing in my blog…
I guess I could blame it on the holidays… guess I could blame it on my ongoing search for gainful unemployment… hell, I could probably blame it on the alignment of the planets if I wanted to (Jupiter is after all in the last quadrant of the aquarian sunshine flower and with venus rising that can only lead to procrastination… or midgets with acne… it’s pretty much one or the other)… but the truth is really just that I’ve been lazy… I haven’t been motivated enough to park my turkey and cranberry-fed keister behind the keyboard for long enough to build some sort of thread (even if it is in my own stream of consciousness sort of way)… but now, with Dave Barry taking a prolonged sabbatical, someone has to step up and fill the void… and until they do, I’ll be glad to fill the void before the void… the interim void if you will.
Second, find a friggin’ job!
Yes, I could probably have a job right now if I tried harder… I get countless emails availing me of professional opportunities in such careers as modeling, financial planning, and amateur porn, but seeing as none of the people offering these esteemed positions has ever seen me model, financial plan, or ...um… do that other thing, I can only guess that when they became fully aware of my qualifications (or um, rather… my lack thereof) they’d be less inclined to want to pay me for my, uh… services. In any event, I need to get on the ball and get the checks flowing once again. For while sitting on your butt all day and picking up unemployment once a week may SEEM like a dream come true, it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.
Third, watch more movies…
I know, it doesn’t sound like much of a resolution, but I’m quickly amassing a graveyard of dvds that exist solely in plastic… apparently never to be watched. It’s a problem really. I go in a wal-mart or a best buy or a comp usa, and I see a DVD for 5.99, and something just compels me to buy it… It’s too cheap to resist… Consequently, I now have more than a couple shelves in my DVD rack that are populated by movies of this nature… some are movies I’ve never seen, but knew I would want to rent, others are movies I have seen, but never owned on DVD, and still others are cinematic gems that I can’t really explain other than to say I bought them out of shear empathy for the stars involved (I’m sure “stealing Harvard” is most likely terrible, but I just couldn’t bear to see Jason Lee floundering in the bargain bin with the finest works of Ernest and Jean-Claude Van Damme).
And finally, do all that self improvement crap…
Yeah, I suppose I’d be better off if I lost a few pounds… It probably wouldn’t kill me to exercise some more… It might even do me some good to build some more space into my relationship with cheese… but where’s the fun in that? Plus, when you really think about it… are those really the type of resolutions you’re actually likely to keep? I mean, of course, ’m planning on making every effort to slim down, and I’ll try very hard to get buffed up, but I’m tellin’ you now… I’m probably more likely to find myself this February on a deserted island with the Coors Lite twins than I am to be eschewing carbs, fat and sugar in deference to prolonged physical activity… and this of course leads me to my final new year’s resolution… being more honest with myself.
First off, I need to get back to writing in my blog…
I guess I could blame it on the holidays… guess I could blame it on my ongoing search for gainful unemployment… hell, I could probably blame it on the alignment of the planets if I wanted to (Jupiter is after all in the last quadrant of the aquarian sunshine flower and with venus rising that can only lead to procrastination… or midgets with acne… it’s pretty much one or the other)… but the truth is really just that I’ve been lazy… I haven’t been motivated enough to park my turkey and cranberry-fed keister behind the keyboard for long enough to build some sort of thread (even if it is in my own stream of consciousness sort of way)… but now, with Dave Barry taking a prolonged sabbatical, someone has to step up and fill the void… and until they do, I’ll be glad to fill the void before the void… the interim void if you will.
Second, find a friggin’ job!
Yes, I could probably have a job right now if I tried harder… I get countless emails availing me of professional opportunities in such careers as modeling, financial planning, and amateur porn, but seeing as none of the people offering these esteemed positions has ever seen me model, financial plan, or ...um… do that other thing, I can only guess that when they became fully aware of my qualifications (or um, rather… my lack thereof) they’d be less inclined to want to pay me for my, uh… services. In any event, I need to get on the ball and get the checks flowing once again. For while sitting on your butt all day and picking up unemployment once a week may SEEM like a dream come true, it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.
Third, watch more movies…
I know, it doesn’t sound like much of a resolution, but I’m quickly amassing a graveyard of dvds that exist solely in plastic… apparently never to be watched. It’s a problem really. I go in a wal-mart or a best buy or a comp usa, and I see a DVD for 5.99, and something just compels me to buy it… It’s too cheap to resist… Consequently, I now have more than a couple shelves in my DVD rack that are populated by movies of this nature… some are movies I’ve never seen, but knew I would want to rent, others are movies I have seen, but never owned on DVD, and still others are cinematic gems that I can’t really explain other than to say I bought them out of shear empathy for the stars involved (I’m sure “stealing Harvard” is most likely terrible, but I just couldn’t bear to see Jason Lee floundering in the bargain bin with the finest works of Ernest and Jean-Claude Van Damme).
And finally, do all that self improvement crap…
Yeah, I suppose I’d be better off if I lost a few pounds… It probably wouldn’t kill me to exercise some more… It might even do me some good to build some more space into my relationship with cheese… but where’s the fun in that? Plus, when you really think about it… are those really the type of resolutions you’re actually likely to keep? I mean, of course, ’m planning on making every effort to slim down, and I’ll try very hard to get buffed up, but I’m tellin’ you now… I’m probably more likely to find myself this February on a deserted island with the Coors Lite twins than I am to be eschewing carbs, fat and sugar in deference to prolonged physical activity… and this of course leads me to my final new year’s resolution… being more honest with myself.
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