Wednesday, October 31, 2007

I Wrote it I Don't Have a Clue Either.

Today I relate to you a story that illustrates the relationship I have with my fairy godmother. Please don't confuse my fairy godmother with my actual godmother who happens to my mom's older sister. A fine lady but she's not a fairy she is just a godmother.

Several years ago I joined a knitting club-- a stitch and bitch if you will. I knitted and bitched with these ladies for a handful of weeks. Soon I began to freak out. I felt like maybe this knitting clique would be the last knitting clique I would ever join. Anyway, I decided to leave the knitting group. Well, I really I didn't know if I wanted to leave my new knitting buddies. I vacillated between staying and leaving. Finally, I resolved to just leave the knitting clique and let the chips fall where they may. Right before I sat the girls down and told them "I couldn't do this anymore" I conferred with my fairy godmother. My fairy godmother told me, that she thought it was a bad idea. Well, I left the stitch and bitch girls anyway. At first I felt free and relieved. But then I thought maybe I made a terrible mistake. Now, you're thinking that's right Rachael, fairy godmothers know best. I would agree with you, however, I don't think that is the case with my fairy godmother. I think my fairy godmother just takes the opposite opinion I have.

Why do I say that? Well, eventually my knitters let me back in the group, but it was never the same. They were cold and distant. I shared my hurt feelings with my fairy godmother, who told me that it was my fault for leaving them in the first place. Again, that is sort of true, but they took me back if they took me back they should have forgiven me or not taken me back. And, um...she's my fairy godmother she should take my side and empathize. Anyway, the girls were being to caddy so we disbanded once again. My fairy godmother told me I had hurt their feelings and basically the whole thing was my fault. Really? Fine. All I knew was that my knitting group and I were dysfunctional together but I missed them nonetheless.

A couple of years go by and I kind of reconcile with the stitch and bitch we all wind up going to a bar. Well, one of the girls accidentally, drunkenly threw-up on a nun which wound up getting us all thrown out of the bar. Where she proceeds to throw up on the curb in front of Christian Bale. It was a little embarrassing. Though, in her defense what is a nun doing at a bar? And none of us ever had an actual chance with Christian Bale. Anyway, my brother Stephen told this story my fairy godmother. My fairy godmother says, "Yeah, those girls are pathetic idiots." OK granted the whole thing was embarrassing. But you know I did choose these girls to be my friends. And wasn't my fairy godmother always on the side of these girls? Until of course I'm making an effort to hang out with them.

My point is that Cinderella's fairy godmother made her dress and carriage and got her to the ball; she didn't debate the merits of the ball with Cinderella. I just think a fairy godmother should be more supportive. That's all I'm saying.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Fowl Cliches

I usually don't believe in "The Early Bird Gets the worm." Getting the worm requires skill, determination, timing and a little bit of luck. There is nothing in the worm's genetic code to make it more willing to be a bird's dinner early in the morning then in the afternoon or at dusk, or a 2am. And I say if the bird can nab a worm at 2am after hours of drinking then kudos to that bird.

My point is there is nothing that is done at 6am that can't be done at 12noon. Except hiking in the fall or winter if you are not a racoon. As I write this the time on my computer shows 11:30am. Today is my third attempt to travel out to the Berkshires to hike and take in fall foliage before the leaves hit the ground. It's over a 2 hour drive, so to make the most of day light I should get my ass out of bed earlier, but I can't.

In a semi-related note (as many of you think waking up late is a sign of laziness. I say you are lazy for going to bed so early when there is still so much work to be done.) I finally have confidence that I am not an alcoholic. Yesterday, after a series of disappointing events, I decided to go home, watch a movie and drink some wine. The problem was I have no wine at home. I figured I'd stop on my way home. When I got off the subway I realized I would have to walk a couple of blocks out of my way to purchase a bottle of wine. So I didn't. That's what's great about depression. It strips you of your motivation to self medicate.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Is There Really No One Out There?

Last week Robert Chambers aka the preppy murderer was arrested for cocaine possesion and sentenced to life in prison. Chambers raped and murdered a girl in 1986. His crime 21 years ago did not warrant life without parol. However, posession of cocaine did. What?! Supposedly, the reason the coke possession landed him in jail for life was because it was his "3rd strike." According to some law that means he goes away forever. Which means that if you want to earn a life sentence you have to kill a woman and then commit two more crimes. Remember if you rape her before you kill her that still only counts as one crime. To get a life sentence you still need to commit two more crimes.

What gets me about the latest story on Chambers is that he was busted for coke with his girlfriend. Who is dating a raping murderer? Are you telling me all the sczitophrenic, homeless guys are all taken? It was suggested that Chamber's girlfriend was merely a crack head and therefore wasn't making sound decissions. Pardon me, but crack heads love getting high I think rape and murder are buzz kills. It was also suggested that perhaps this lady didn't know her current boyfriend once raped and killed a girl. You'd think would have been a hint.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Problem Solved

The MPAA (The Motion Picture Association of America) rates movies so parents know how suitable movies are for their children. This rating system has led to censorship. Film makers re-cut their films in order to get a more marketable rating for their films (It's hard to advertise a movie that has been rated NC-17). It seems children and film makers are at odds. I think I have found a solution: prohibit children under 17 from watching movies. If children aren't allowed to watch movies then there is no need for a rating system or censorship. We already disallow children from consuming alcohol, tabacco, and transfats. They can't vote or drive. Let's take away cinema. If they need to be entertained give them a book by Henry Miller or Anis Nin, both are highly respected authors. Give them Moby Dick by the time they finish it they'll be old enough to rent the Gregory Peck movie version. Or make them play outside. If we really want to protect kids then let's stop paying lip service and really protect them. The movie theatre seats are bad for their backs, the popcorn will scar their lungs, the dark is scary, and movies corrupt the innocent.

You know what? Let's just ban children. No more procreating. If you want a child you have to clone your 18-year-old self. Don't worry most kids live at home well past their 18th birthday you'd still get quality time with

Just Another Bit for The One Woman Show I'll Never Do (Rewritten)

Those of you on my mailing list know that I have performed many times at the east village bar Mo Pitkins. As of Saturday October 20th Mo Pitkin's is no more. They've closed their doors. Shut down. Gone out of business. To say good bye to the bar I have graced with my funny so many times in the last two years I stopped by the Chicks and Giggles show. It was the last Chicks and Giggles show to be produced at Mo's. (The show moves to The Ochi lounge at Comix later this month.) My best friend Anna accompanied me. She had played a few folk shows at Mo's in the past and once or twice was a special, musical guest on the Chicks and Giggles show. The host of the show Carolyn Castiglia asked some of us girls hanging out if we would like to share anecdotes about the Chicks and Giggles show or about Mo Pitkins with the audience. I didn't really have any note worthy stories. Anna said she did. Anna said even though she isn't a comedian and just a folk singer she'd tell a story if Carolyn needed someone. Carolyn agreed to have Anna tell her story.

I'm slightly tramautized by what I heard my best friend tell a room full of strangers, but I will recount her story as best I can.

It was a Sunday night in mid May Anna was attending Faceboy's open mic upstairs. Downstairs a folk-singer boy she had been having casual sex with for the past few weeks was guest hosting "Rock Star Karaoke." Needless to say they ran into each other. Each with at least one drink riding on red blood cells on a journey to their respective livers. Here's what happened:

Yeah so we couldn't agree on whose place to go back to. He had some appointment. Which I didn't really believe, I think he was just sick of going back to my place. Whatever. I was working a day job where I had to dress business professional. know, I don't usually dress the same for an open mic run by a guy who goes by "faceboy" where people are not dissuaded from shitting on stage (as long as they have a drop cloth) as I do to a corporate, law office.

We spent probably an hour trying to negotiate where to go or if we could meet up later in the week. The more we debated the fewer people remained in the bar. Exasperated, I think he suggested the bathroom. I thought to myself, "Yeah! I'm sexually adventurous woman, and now I can prove it! Look at me, mom. I'm a New York City adult!" And to be fair I had thought about doing something like this for years, so I thought this was a great opportunity and I should seize the moment. The Mo Pitkin's bathrooms are logistically perfect for a first time public sex act. The doors leave no cap for veiwing. These single toilet stalls have thick wooden doors that travel the full length from ceiling to floor. And the doors lock.

Alright, well. My imagination is a lot hotter than reality. It was kind of gross in there. There was toilet paper strewn about and parts of the floor were wet, and there was pervasive dampness. I'm not much of skirt wearer but I wish I had been wearing one. OK. So we get to it. He lifts me up, but that doesn't really work because he can't keep me up or he can but he as to lean back, and it's awkward. I'm not big, people. I think a man over 5' 10" should be able to hold me up especially if I'm braced against the wall. Whatever, though. I mean, I'm having sex in a bathroom. I'm winning. So we stop (something that he's good at it--sorry folks that's an inside joke, right Rachael?) and I say, "Just sit on the toilet." I wouldn't learn that standing from behind is the best position for public bathroom sex until the next day when I sent an email to friends asking for advice. Sure it was gross in their but that doesn't mean I'm not committed to getting this right.

Now we're on the toilet and he says "I should fart, right now." Or something like that. He mentioned himself and the act of passing gas-- describing said act with the word fart. Which I was like, "Ohh. That's so hot. Ugh! Come on man, it's gross enough in hear any way, can we at least pretend it's not or something." I guess I should be happy if he can't imagine he's not in a bathroom when he is I guess he wasn't fantasizing about another woman when he was with me. And can I just say? If there is a place to use a condom it's the Mo Pitkin's bathroom. Anyway, maybe a minute goes by since he makes the comment and then I hear this sound reverberate out of the porcelain and bounce between the three tiled walls. Well, that was it. I lost my erection, as it were. I put myself back together and left the restroom. He was like, "What? I'm human." Barely, dude.

So people Mo Pitkins might be gone, but I'll (and now you all will) always have that memory.

Anna told me what happened after she left the bathroom. She and the fellow folk singer sat on the bench that is right outside the bathrooms. A patron came down to use one, and saw them sitting there. "Ha. That's funny. I thought you guys had come down here to have sex."

Europe on $5 A Day

My paternal grandmother has a full time nurse from Eastern Europe taking care of her. Last night my father told me that this nurse has told her family back in the Czech Republic and Hungry how wonderful and nice my father's family is and that we are welcome to visit at any time. The nurse's family would be happy to take us around Budapest sight seeing and what not. My father the constant paranoid thinks this is just a ploy for the nurse's family to kidnap us. I thought sure that was possible, but is that really a problem?

Having a kidnapped vacation seems like a really cheap way to travel. I mean, the kidnapper's are putting us up on their dime. Sure, they are hoping it's merely an investment and that someone will pay a ransom which will turn them a profit, but it wouldn't be us paying the ransom. We'll probably be fed local, peasant cuisine. We don't have to go to some fancy shmancy resturaunt that might be a tourist trap to get a taste of Eastern Europe, which is potato fritters and meat or Italian food. The kidnapper's would be doing all the housework we wouldn't have to lift a finger, nor would we have to tip them for their housekeeping like one does when staying multiple days in a hotel. It is rather goash to tip your captivators. Much like a person doesn't tip the owner of a hair salon or bar. The biggest benefit to being kidnapped on a Eastern European vacation is the extra time off you get from work. I think it's against the law to be fired for being kidnapped. Further, if you ever do get released from your kidnappers you're employer would probably owe you back pay. They'd have to pay for your mostly free vacation. Sweet!

My father was able to see the silver lining, but thought that there was no one home that would pay the ransom. I asked, "What about your brother?" His wife, my aunt, has claimed that dad's bro and she have buckets of money. My father responded, "Yes, but we don't talk to 'what's her name' and it's really hard to transport a bucket full of currency overseas." I said, so we retire a little early in Eastern Europe and have free assisted living. I imagine the quarters might be cramped, but you get what you pay for.

Monday, October 22, 2007

When Presumption Kills the Mood

I've heard that sometimes when women pick up a man with whom to make-out or have sex they sometimes have to endure certain pointless talks. One woman told me once that a dude said to her, right before they were going to kiss, "I know that it seems like 'it's on!' right now. But I need to stop. Before anything happens I want to be open and honest with you and let you know that I'm not looking to be in anything committed. I am seeing other people. Well, I plan to. OK?" In fact I've been told this has happened on three other seperate occassion and only once was the girl in any sort of relationship with the fella.

Many of you people, who are like me and in a relationship, think I'm making this up. I swear I'm not. I know it's hard to believe that a man would ruin the mood and be so presumptious as to think a woman he just met would want him to be her boyfriend. I guess maybe if she were homeless and needed a place to live and was hoping to trade sex with a place to stay--forever. But, it happens to women who have a place to live and a career to pursue. Now, I know that I'm in a loving committed relationship with my boyfriend Jack, but I still fill the need to help my single sisters out there in the dating world. If any of you ladies find yourself with a gentleman caller who doesn't have enough sense to be "open and honest" with you in the bar, laundrymat, library, or where ever you met him, I have some responses you might want to consider.

1) If you don't care about getting any that evening (and clearly this partner you've found in a bar doesn't) you can verbally castrate him. You can say something like, "Umm. I'm sorry. You're not really boyfriend material. I mean look at you. You live in this dump, and have a shitty job (say this even if he makes alot of money, like if he works at an Investment Bank call him an office monkey with no balls who is a slave to "the man."), and if this is the way you always dress there is no way I can introduce to my friends, never mind my family."

2) Fuck with him. This one is the most fun. Begin to cry and say, "What you mean you can't be my boyfriend? I found these last 3.5 hours at the bar magical. When I went to the bathroom I secretly texted my mother to retrieve her wedding dress from storage. I told her 'I have found "the one."' I can't believe you're breaking up with me like this. Doesn't the vodka and cranberry we shared mean anything to you? What about the great memories. Like when Luna's song 'Tiger Lily' played on the jukebox and we both knew all the words. It's not everyday you meet someone who is so into pretentious, indie rock. For the love of god, please don't leave me! Reconsider!" Then blow your nose into his shirt, drop down to the floor, grab onto his leg, and don't let go."

3) Or, since he's being so honest, why not you also be honest. You can say something like. "I think it's only fair and proper to also be honest and open with you, since you've been so honest with me. I want to let you know I'm not really looking for a boyfriend right now, well I am, but I have specific one picked out and that's where you or anyone else with decent hygene comes in. What I really want is someone to make-out with me in public. I would like to invite you to certain events and bars where men I used to date will be attending, and then make-out in front of them in the hopes to create jealousy or anger. Don't worry none of the men I have ever dated would hit you or anything, they're like you and not so manly...I mean, more sensitive. I have a type. I don't like to be sexual with someone who could kill me. Afterwards we may have sex in private, but I don't want to promise anything. Granted, I do need to have sex with one more person to reach my sexaul partner goal, I don't know if that'll be you, but it could be, but if it's not I don't want you to be dissappointed because I misspoke. I wouldn't want you to try to rape me and say that I promised you something. I'd hate to have to fustigate you with the broom handle I keep next to my bed. You know? I don't want you to get hurt, physically or emotionally. So would you be interested in helping me be emotionally manipulative? Because that's all I can give right now."

They're just ideas to help combat the ridiculousness of single men.

(no, this wasn't the sex story. I promise to get to that)

Thursday, October 18, 2007

The Stars: The Mendacious Sales People of the Universe

I really need to quit the horoscopes. It's time I stopped reading them. They are ruining my life. I read a bunch of horoscopes they all tell me how awesome my Cancer day is going to be and then it's not awesome. The love, the riches, the accollades, and the real-estate ventures, never arrive and I find by midnight I'm highly disappointed. If I never read a horoscope I wouldn't expect anything but the mundane. Horoscopes give me hope and that hope is killing me.

Public Service Announcement

The following post has no intention of being funny. I just feel a strong desire to inform the public about friendship. This week I have had two separate conversations regarding friendship. It seems that people don't know what makes a friend. So for the benefit of humanity I'm going to post the four guideposts in determining if someone you know is a friend. I came up with these guideposts 7 years ago, but I think it still holds true today.

1. You have a strong desire to share the events of your life with the other person. Something good happens you want to celebrate. Something bad happens you want to be consoled. You feel comfortable divulging your secrets to the other person.

2. You want to know about the other person's life. You want them to share their tragedies and victories with you. If you find out they have gotten engaged through a third party you'd be hurt that they didn't tell you. You have a genuine curiosity about what they are doing with their days.

3. You create memories. You socialize. You go on vacation or to the movies or to a bar together. Whatever it is you spend time together and make plans to do so.

4. You reminisce about the memories you've created together. You also reminisce about the events you weren't there for but heard about and vice versa.

All four must be present otherwise you're not friends. That doesn't mean you don't have a great affinity for the other person, but you are not friends. If all you do is reminisce you might have once been friends, but probably aren't any more. Back in college I never thought that love would have to be a signpost of friendship. I thought that was a given. But I guess we can put it down as number 5-- you have to be in love with that person and they love you back.

There is no such thing as just friends. There is just dating, just neighbors, just colleagues, just peers but there is nothing slight about friendship. About this subject I am dead serious.

Tomorrow (or next week-- as I go to New England this weekend to tell jokes and look at foliage) I'll have a horrific and hopefully funny sex story.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

I can't even trust plastic

Yesterday after asking the magic 8 ball a series of questions and getting the answers I wanted I asked one more question, "Are you, the magic 8 ball, lying to me?" The magic 8 ball responded, "without a doubt."


Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Matriarch Allegory #1

The following is a fictious event for the purpose of illustrating a point.

I went to a car show last week. I had a fabulous time while I was there, sure the consession were overpriced--but nothing is perfect. All the cars sat in the convention center glowing in the glow of admiration of all the car lovers. Out of no where a fire started. Smoke filled the room distressing my lungs. At one point there was a glimmer of hope. It seemed the fire was put out, but it came raging back burning the whole place down. No more cars. No more car show. Disappointed and irrationally dejected I wandered the streets of NYC. I stopped in at a coffee shop and ran into a red-headed woman I know. We decided to lunch together. We made small talk for a few minutes but my despair overtook me and I told my red-headed friend about my sorrow regarding the events of the car show. The red-headed woman said, "Don't be upset. You don't even like cars."

"Umm. OK. I thought I did, but I guess you would know more than me what I like. I thougth I went to the car show because I liked cars."

"The way I've heard you talk about cars..."

"How do I talk about cars?"

"You hate the pollution and the global warming."

"Well, yeah sure, but that doesn't mean I don't like cars. I talk about cars. I don't talk about fishing ever. I mean there are aspects of cars that can suck but they also get me to and from comedy gigs out of city. I've seen a great deal of this country via the driver's seat of an automobile."

"Anytime I hear you talk you complain about how much you hate traffic."
"Sure, I hate traffic. Traffic is very frustrating aspect of driving. I wish traffic didn't exist. Just because I don't gush about cars and frequently complain about traffic doesn't mean I don't like cars. How can you negate my feelings like this? I complain about my mom a lot would you say I don't like her?"

"You're probably a bad daughter."

"Now, you're just being passive agressive."

"Well, all I know is that is not how I act when I like something."

"Yeah, but you have red hair. You do things differently."

"I don't see why the car show has you so down in the dumps."

"I'm sorry, red-headed woman, I like cars. Hell, I love cars! Despite your pressumption otherwise. And now, I have just witnessed a building full of cars burn down that's upsetting. A little devastating. I guess there was a part of me that thought I was going to win a free car at the car show. Not only did I not win a free car, all the cars exploded."

"I guess now you can try fishing. And one day you'll have good sex."

"I don't want to fish. And I have had good sex, thank you very much. Not everyday, but it's happened."

Then I ordered a cheeseburger and the red-headed woman ordered a turkey club.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Sunday Koan

There is a philosophy out there that states, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Fair enough. However, what if the enemey of your enemy is already your enemy? Are you just a very contentious person?

Friday, October 12, 2007

Don't Go Breaking My Heart

As long time readers and friends know I am a Yankee fan. Unlike most Yankees fans I'm in the unfortunate position of being friends with Redsox fans. A series of events starting with my acceptance to Emerson College located in Boston, MA followed by my matriculation and then graduation from said college led to this development. I made some good friends up in New England and some of those good friends moved down here to NYC. These friends frequent a Redsox friendly bar on 2nd Avenue and so, to spend quality time with them I find myself frequenting a Redsox friendly bar on 2nd Avenue.

My time spent at this bar as given me insight into this "Redsox Nation" (the fans that devote their lives to the Redsox). I find these fans are overly obsessed, not with the Redsox, but with the Yankees. The night the Redsox swept the Los Angeles Angels of Aneheim the bar patrons began to chant "Yankees Suck! Yankees Suck!" Uhhh. The Yankees were not playing the Redsox that night. In fact the Yankees weren't playing at all that night. I think a more logical chant would be something like "We're number 1! We're number !" Or "Here we go Redsox! Here we go!" But instead of loving themselves these Redsox fans obsessively hate the Yankees. This type of behaviour is also found in broken hearted people who just can't seem to move on from the relationship.

Yes, I'm saying that the "Redsox Nation" once dated the Yankees long ago and their collective heart is still broken. They can't see their own accomplishments because their ex-boyfriend still exists, and he's going about living his life as if the Redsox never existed. We know the Redsox Nation once dated the Yankees how else would they be familiar with the Yankees sexual practices such as "sucking?" And you know how much you loved that action when you were together. There is nothing demeaning in providing pleasure to a partner, Redsox Nation. I know it hurts Redsox Nation but it's time to move on with your life. Find a new boyfriend. Stop with all this negative energy and go forth and find new love. Perhaps those Cleavland Indians you'll be hanging out with this week or maybe the Mets. You and the Mets have less of a conflict of interest. All I'm saying is nothing sounds more inferior than the constant mentioning of your supposed rival.

And let's face it, everyone. The Rookies are winning the whole thing.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The Missing Emily Post Lesson on Party Conversation

Let my follies guide you to a less awkward social life. The following is a rule for playing the "small world" game. (The "small world" game is that game you play when meeting new people. It usually goes something like this: "Oh you were once in Tyler, Texas. Do you know Britney Nichols? No." Or you could win and it could go like this, "Oh you're from Jacksonville, Florida. Do you know Lou Venterillo? Really, you do? What a small world.")

When playing the "small world" game don't ask if your new acquatance, whom you've just engaged in conversation at a fun and happening party, if they know a person who is deceased. Especially, if the deceased person was murdered. For example, "Oh you lived in Seattle doing theatre? What years did you live there?"
The other party guest replies, "2003-until last month."
"Oh yeah, I think my friend Nicole was still there in 2003. Yeah, I think that's the year I went to bumbershoot and stayed at her place. She did theatre."
"Oh. Wait. Wasn't she murdered a couple of years ago?"
"What a small world!" Big smiley grin. Your new party pal gets awkward and somber. Leading you to say, "Oh, uhh. I didn't mean to be dour I just thought we'd know someone in common. I...I thought there was a good chance because theatre scenes outside of nyc are pretty small. She did other thing besides die. I...I...I... guess you're not going to introduce me to your single, rich, handsome brother now."

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Economic Down Turn: Sign 1

I know the economy has taken a turn for the worse. I saw a man with economically valuable langauge skills selling phone cards on the subway. He first pitched them to riders in English and then in Spanish. An American who can speak--no, more than that--sell in two separate langauges has been relegated to the subway, sales car.

The rest of us are doomed.

Monday, October 08, 2007

De-Corking: A question on Eatery Policy

Restuarants and bars have this thing. If you bring an outside bottle of wine to their establishment you can drink it at their place of business as long as they open the bottle for you and charge you a corking fee.

My question is do mother's breast feeding their babies in eateries get charged a corking fee? I mean as long as the breasts were outside breasts of course, not having been purchased at the restuarant. Does de-corking a breast merely involve unhooking a bra? I'm just saying that these women are bringing in an outside beverage to a beverage serving establishment just as the wine drinkers are. I'm sure the baby or toddler could imbibe water provided by the resturaunt or bar. Or that brunch places could start carrying breast milk.

I don't know the answer to this question. I'm just posing it.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

A Senior Moment

I've decided that high school students and politicians are the same.

Every election the candidates like to tell us how humbly they began. They all started out poor working in a coal mine, near a coal mine, digging trapped miners out of mines, or at worked at a McDonalds. I think they try to impress upon us the "I was poor just like you" so that we think they'll have our interests at heart when they are elected. When they are elected they don't do shit for us, rather they do the bidding of mega corporations and interest groups. Is it that formerly poor people are easily bribed? No. I think it's a case of Senioritis.

Senioritis is usually defined as a particular type of laziness that afflicts seniors in the second half of their senior year after they have already been accepted to college. I suggest there is a second type of Senoritis and I like to dub it Senioritis B (Like Hepatitis B except it's not blood virus). Senioritis B afflicts more than just high school seniors. I believe it's also the cause for politician poverty amnesia. In many high schools in the U.S. Freshman begin their high school career (the only career that is deemed more successful the fewer years you spend doing it) in September where they get beaten on and harassed by Juniors and Seniors while previously abused Sophomores look on quietly. Eventually, these freshman become seniors, and when they do they in turn beat-up and humiliate the incoming freshman. The new seniors never say, "I remember when I was a freshman and the beatings were awful. It took me 6 months to realize there wasn't actually a pool on the roof of the school. Every Friday in December I'd search for the heated roof pool while wearing nothing but a speedo. I contracted pneumonia that year." Instead, the new seniors think to themselves, "It's my turn to do a little ass kicking."

Power and money in the U.S. work just like high school. You have some son/daughter of a pig farmer who grew up too poor to even eat the pigs his parents raised. He/She somehow was able to "make something” of herself/himself and then when he/she gets into power she/he thinks, "Yes! It's my turn to greedily horde resources; my turn to take bribes and sell out my fellow man; and, my turn to look the other way when health violations are violated by big business. Sure I was once poor, but not any more suckers!!!!" Clearly a case of Senioritis B.

The only solution is to quarantine the victims of this silent disease and to shut down public and private schools as well as most governmental offices, save the post office. Until a vaccine is found this is the only way to prevent the spread of this dangerous condition.

God Bless Everyone.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Error In Design

The problem with the magic 8 ball is that it doesn't answer "why" questions.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Obligatory Love and Football Metaphor

Next week the NY Football Giants take on the NY Jets in what is not a subway series as both teams play at the same stadium located in NJ nowhere near a subway. Football is unlike baseball in that rivalries within a city are not a big deal. I am by no means a Jets fan, but that doesn't mean I wish them ill will. The Jets are kind of like a pleasant co-worker. I am happy for them when their cat has kittens or their kids get cast in the school play. I’m also, thankful that my co-worker and I are not actually friends. We don’t have an intimacy that obliges me to attend my affable co-worker’s kid's school play. I like the co-worker well enough and would be sad if he/she came down with a case of cancer or something. As opposed to the Cowboys on whom I wish leukemia (metaphorically speaking). On the other hand the Giants are like a boyfriend. I love them. I love them unconditionally. It doesn’t matter how disappointing they, or how they toy with my emotions with their unpredictable play. I love them and want nothing but the best for them, even if I do curse them through the television every week and tell all my friends how agonizing having a relationship with them is. So here I am with a friendly yet not always contempt co-worker, the Jets, and my boyfriend the Giants. We are all living harmoniously on the planet together. Then, In comes the NFL and decides that my boyfriend needs to battle my affable co-worker. I wish no ill on my co-worker but I also need my boyfriend to succeed, even if that means my boyfriend has to pummel my already sick acquaintance on national television (OK regional television unless you have some special package from Direct TV) humiliating them in front of thousands of on lookers. I don't usually wish for the worst for the Jets but this Sunday they're messin' with my man and for that (even though it's not their choice) they need to be destroyed.

My 2016 Platform

I can't wait until I'm old enough to run for president. I have some great ideas for this country. The other day I learned that the Iraq war has cost over $1 trillion dollars. That's quite a bit of money. I don't think I'll ever make that much money as a stand-up comedian even if I do get a career, but maybe I'm selling myself short. Perhaps, if I just implement some positive thinking I could earn $1 trillion dollars. Like if I went over to a foreign land and just killed everyone with laughter. My only expense would be plane fare over to said foreign country and some incidentals. After slaying the enemy with my jokes I could then charge the U.S. government $1 trillion bill. That is the going price for a contemporary war. Well, it's a thought. Though, not a presidential one. My great presidential thought is the following. Next time we U.S. citizens are thinking of going to war we should abstain. Then, we take $1 trillion and divide it among all working adults in the U.S. To qualify as a working adult in the U.S. you have to be a legal citizen over the age of 18 who has worked 75 days or more in the year we divide up the trillion dollars.

Let's do the math. If every single person in the US was over 18 and working and there are approximately 301 million people that means every person would receive $3322.25. Which isn't allot of money. But there are a ton of children in this country. I don't know how many the Internet wouldn’t tell me, nor would the census bureau answer my calls. Perhaps, I shouldn't have called on a Sunday. But if we take a conservative figure that we all children are only children (and therefore amazing individuals with many gifts and talents) every third person would be a child as it takes two adults to produce one child. That gets our population down to 201 million increasing our non-war reimbursement fund to $4975.12 per person. Now we're getting somewhere. We're talking a summer vacation on a cruise. Granted cruises are a big waste of money, but the government was going to waste that money anyway, and some people have allot of fun on cruises, while others die of Legionnaire’s Disease.

Next, we subtract the growing numbers of illegal immigrants. Illegal immigrants don't pay taxes so they don't get a cut of the non-war fund pie. Which I also think would peer pressure the illegals to return to their homelands. When they see ther rest of us going on our cruises and they have to stay behind and work they are going to be a little despondent and jealous. They'll probably say, "Fuck this, I'm going home." Well the British and Irish illegals would say that, the other ones don't speak English so they'd be saying something else. Which means we can eliminate the department of immigration. We save money as tax-payers on what will become an obsolete department, plus those working for the department will be unemployed and therefore they won’t qualify for a cut of the pie. Then we can make our kids pick fruits and vegetables. The kids would love it. Have you ever seen a little kid’s face light up as he carries a bushel of apples from a day of apple picking? Migrant farm work would substitute for costly day care. Farmers and other employers would do a good job looking after your kids. They’d have to it’s their work force. They don’t want their work force all hopped up on chocolate. There are 30 million illegal immigrants. I'm guessing. 201 million - 30 millions = 171 million.
Now, 12% percent of the US is over 65 years old. This I actually found on the census bureau’s website. 65 is the age of retirement so those people aren't putting in the 75 days of paid work they need to qualify for my fund. 12% of 171 million is 20,520,000. Subtract that number from 171 and you get approximately 150 million people.
Let’s take a look at the women folk. Ladies make up 50% of the population (or so) but only half of the US women work. I mean, if you're a lady and you're not going to get hired for a job that actually pays well, why bother working at all. This eliminates another 25% of the population this gets us down to 112,500,000 working people.

Let us remember to deduct full time students, those studying art and liberals arts will never fully join the work force—that’s promising. We have to also subtract the number of potheads most of whom don’t work and just leech off their friends—go medical marijuana! Add to the subtraction sheet regular drug addicts, people locked up in insane asylums, people in jail, Hollywood actors, semi-pro athletes and you're down to what? Like 5 million people who work 75 days a year. Which means that all of us will get $200,000 for a year. The whole country could take a years vacation. Now doesn't that sound like fun?

Maybe we could take a road trip to Canada or I know I've always wanted to hike the Inca Trail. I think we'd have a lot of fun vacationing as a country. It could be something that really bonds us as U.S. citizens plus saves money on immigration, and child care. You could even take that $200,000 and buy a house or pay for health insurance. The point is the choice is up to you not me.

“2016 No More War. More Days Off.”