The Ob(li)vious

I keep forgetting I'm small. It's never really an issue because I can reach the top shelf to get the hot chocolate mix myself and in the world of adults that's where the line is drawn. I may dance around said line, having once stood on my tip toes to change a light bulb, but I figure that's been it. Once I stopped having to use a stool, I just about forgot the whole height thing. Maybe it’s because of my bogus over confidence or the uncanny ability of being blindsided by the obvious, but somewhere along that line it got lost.

In the moments before it was found, I was browsing Yahoo! Personals (mainly because it's funny). I started to go through the local Burlingtonites directory for giggles and I just kept clicking ‘next page’. I’ll preface the rest of this by saying I’m not desperate - but at 2 am, everyone gets a little wonky.

While laughing at the 20 year old divorcees, 58 year old former show girls, and the rest of this town, I did what everyone does: I started taking it to seriously. Like when you're on face book and you start following friends of friends until the next thing you know you're checking out some guy from USC. And the guy looks like a real creep, but you swear to God you wound up back at his place drunk on a Saturday night two years ago, where the only solid memory connecting it all it is the haunting smell of key lime pie.

Well that’s tonight. I started going over it and the next thing I know I’m looking at qualifiers. And I’m yelling at my monitor. “Male, Caucasian… 6’0” – 6’7”?!?!. Holy crap! How many tall, white males do you think there are out there?”

Tonight I wound up legitimately browsing personals. I. Feel. Dirty.

Reminders for class: Oh, and I came up short. *rimshot*

Watched Too Much TBN Today

If ever there was a reductio of intelligent design, it's the appendix.

Belief is something that cannot be sanctified by argument or evidence. Death is the elimination of consciousness. No matter what your religious belief, whether you have a soul or not, death is the finality of your ability to chose. If you get thrown to heaven or hell you experience such pleasure or pain that thinking no longer takes precedence. Religion may anethisizes us against our fear of death, but it has to be conceded that death destroys essentially what you are.

So most of us form our moral identity around our religion. We're all born into this experience where we are constantly seeking happiness. What we get, we lose - it's a given. We're just trying to find out how much happiness can be enjoyed by one being. Applying a code as defined by a religion allows/tries for happiness in this life and beyond.

O.K.

But if the bible really is the wisest book we have, we would be beating our kids and stoning women. We should be taking an eye for and eye. You can put your faith in our 21st century ethics or refer back to the 1st century outlook.

There's a rush to say that without religion, what's to prevent us from killing each other?

Look at the UN index. They categorize nations by everything. The most aethiestic societies are some of the ones with the lowest murder rate. I'm not making it up. Netherlands, Canada, Sweeden. There is no evidence to suggest that a heavier grouping of religion would make for a healthier environment.

I'm not insinuating that there would not be wars without religion. There's still tribalism, nationalism, racism, etc.... but the extremes of people killing other people because they think their religious creator wants them killing in his name might taper off. There's a word for not being religious, but seems to be no need to create a a word for 'Not being a Dentist' or 'Not Being An Enthusiastic Motorist'.

I know there is no greater conversation starter then faith. And what I'm writing probably stopped most of you at the top. But there needs to be an understanding of religion that is as clean as scientific studies. We need to understand this in a way that does not rely on divisive superstitions. Everytime a scientist says 'I don't know', religion rushes in with God to fill the gaps.

These are the same people that will say "There is nothing you can say that will change my mind" when it comes to their faith. Imagine that kind of response in medicine. That no matter what argument or evidence was presented, you could not sway another scientist. How corrosive would that be to reasoning? That sort of stubbornness is toxic. Your faith in one thing was so strong that you refuse all other forms of reasoning.

Dinosaur bones anyone?

Which leads to me to say that the moment you start to sound reasonable enough to start shaking someone's faith, you get demonized for trying to tempt them. Going counter of their dogma. Well, damnit, sometimes I just want to speak what I feel is painful obvious and the truth. I shouldn't be brow beaten for it.

I don't want to be burned at the stake either.

Reminders for class: Who let's me talk?

What Goes Through My Head

These are thoughts that literally go through my head everyday. I just want you to realize how odd I am:

I would be really good at the piano if the piano was a clarinet. Are people impressed by the clarinet?

I sleep too much.

Would I look good in an army helmet? How about any other helmet? Bike helmets make you look dumb, but I think I look alright.

The inside of my elbow is itchy. What is the name of that spot? I'll google it later.

When I host an infomercial, my audience won't be rigged. It'll be all my friends, but it won't be rigged.

The magic bullet theory doesn't work out. And aliens probably did build the pyramids. Captain Kangaroo should have told us the truth back then.

I should write children's stories. But they should never let me around the children. That would be a mistake.

I bet I look stupid during sex. I know I have that stupid complacent look of an ape while another ape picks bugs off its back. The women always look good.

The hole in my stomach still hasn't healed. I hope it's not cancerous. That would stink.

Drinking straight from the container is fine as long as it's yours. It's also a good way to deter other people from drinking your stuff.

They need to remake Duck Hunt.

I want someone who is smarter than me and right all the time, but who isn't bossy. That's just gloating.

How much does it cost to be a hermit?

I always though Garfield was kind of annoying. But then again, so is House. But House is a doctor, not a cat. Cat's can't be awesome. Dogs can. Lassie was cool. So was Rin-Tin-Tin. And that dog on the Little Rascals. Fucking Petie or whatever.

I wish my hand was a gun. That way, I'd walk around with it charging all the time and tell people: "Hold on, I'm charging my power ball. I need it saved up all the way so I can use it as the last hit on the boss of the game. He's got this whicked fast pattern that you need to blow up right away or you lose."

When I'm a rock star, I'll sign all the autographs they ask. I'll probably do two pop albums, then get crazy with the power ballads of love. At that point I'll be rich, so I can use the power ballads as leverage once my life goes boring and I get a job at a bank.

I'll rent Brokeback Mountain. I don't want people seeing me in the theater. Heath Ledger is mildly attractive, but not like old school Sean Connery was. There was a man.

Women are continually dating assholes and then complaining afterwards. Just date me. I am better.

'Palm of Your Hand' by Cake is a really good song.

I want to watch a movie with a lot of action, that's funny, and smart. Eh, I can only get two. Screw it, I'll just put on Cartoon Network.

Bernie Mac is a lot better than people give him credit for.

Fat people make me sad. Really sad. So do old people who deliver pizza. They never wanted to do that with their life.

An Open Letter To Your Deity Of Choice

as written by a thirteen year old me

God,

Please stop the parade of crazy women that have sought to enter my life. They are not cool. Instead, give me someone who is maladjusted or clingy. I say that because asking for some one normal would be too much. I know I am a little screwed up, but what you are giving me is the equivalent to beating the dog with a hot skillet after it whizzes on the carpet. Sure, he whizzed, but a rolled up newspaper would be fine. But no - no, God - you had to cook fajitas on that extra large skillet and then hit me with it before you washed out the onion grease. Not cool, God. Not cool.

I will make the same promise I made my Dad when I got my rabbit, Sugar. I will be very nice to her if you get her for me. I will feed her and change her cage everyday. I will even cut the poop out of the fur if it gets clogged up because she doesn't stand whenever no. 2 happens.

If will hold doors open and show up on time whenever asked. I will even hold hands if someone was watching. I would be ultra awesome nice to her, and you would be so impressed you might even give me two because other guys couldn't be as nice as me. Maybe you could even give me a whole village of women, who each have special limited edition Transformers (Autobots only) in their hut and.....

ED NOTE: He just trails on like this for a while. I'll skip ahead to the end.

So in summation, I will not ever do drugs unless a family member asks me. But in exchange for all that God, I want something to. Stop it with the weird ones. For the love of you, it's too much. Can't you just drop a highway overpass on that weird ones? And why is it I before E except after C - but not in weird. Isn't is weird how weird is spelled?

Anyway, drop a roof or make them slip on wet trash. We all know who they are. And they'll get to heaven if you do it.
-Ken

Reminders for class: I take no credit for this one. I seriously wrote this. Ok. Not really. Maybe. Ah, who knows?

Robert The House Fly

There is a fly who chose his final resting less than an inch above my rearview mirror. I have named him Robert, since he died nameless, and I have to have something to call him when I'm talking to him in transit. For something several thousandths my size, he provides good company.

I am aware this is the action or actions of an insane person, but I take comfort my psychosis is already padded and delightfully comforted by my rampant alcoholism. Directing my inner monologue towards a dead musca domestica stuck to the roof of my car lets me get all the sillies out.

Ideas always sound good in your head, so sometimes you have to say them out loud to the hardened exoskeletal structure of a house fly, occasionally making eye contact with its now 400 some lifeless compound eyes. Yeah, it's in that scenario things can sound ridiculous. "Move to San Francisco? What WAS I thinking?"

Robert is therapy, something I'd suggest to many, many of the people in my life. I enjoy his company because he doesn't talk much, and when he does its me talking for him. It's odd behavior, but what's that saying about sending a killer to catch a killer? Or maybe it's a chef to kill a baker. Someone google that, I'm still too steamed up about the superbowl. I was trying to establish some crazy fixing crazy methodology, but my incoherent rants usually do that on their own.

Reminders for class: What we all need is someone out of their mind.

Rollerball is on USA

There's nothing wrong with being cocky, especially if you can't back it up. Everybody deserves the chance to feel greater then they really are.

Except Joel Schumaker. Fuck that guy. No. Batman & Robin? St. Elmo's Fire, Flatliners, and Phantom of the Opera? Someone needs to stop this guy. Someone patiently waiting in a H3 Hummer, located in a dark parking lot with his lights off, with half a bottle of wild turkey in his system and an inability to locate the brakes. All this someone would have to do is drive off and so much would be fixed.

I'm talking about the kind of tranquility on the same level when Jesus found the last egg at the easter egg hunt last spring. The man found the egg loaded with Starburst Jelly Beans. He did that fish and wine thing so we all got to eat as many as we wanted, and I ate so many of the purple/grape ones I got a sugar headache. Then the two of us stayed up late and got ice cream. Jesus spilt his chocalte on his robe. "Chocalate stains do not come out" he said with a sad face. I worry about that kid sometimes.






Why do I write?

Reminders to class: Starburst jelly beans are the best thing ever.

Queens of Any Age

I'm going to make this short and sweet. Queen rocks. Sure Freddy Mercury, their lead singer, was gay. Maybe even capitol gay. Maybe even Fire Island bake sale gay. But the band rocked so hardcore that their 'straight band' competitors couldn't compete with them. You give them their dues. What would rather here before a sporting event: "We Will Rock You" or "Come Sail Away"? Yeah, that's what I thought. Go sit on a piece of glass Styx, nobody cares. Domo Ire-shut the hell up.

You know you wish you knew even four of the notes from the Bohemian guitar solo. That would make you bad ass. But guess what? You don't. Tool.

Reminders for class: They tried to release a "best of" for Queen, but it proved impossible. Why? Because everything is their best of.

Trivia realities

I'm doomed to become trivia. Or trivial. There's probably a difference, but the distinction can't be made by a dumbass like me. As a person, I really don't care what you think of me - as long as you think something. The thing that gets me is becoming some blank faced person in the background of a memory - the concomitant being sipping cranberry and vodka during the taping of a better memory, thus equaling out somewhere around the red shirted bastards who die before the first commercial break on Star Trek.

I'm sure there are those who'll remember poorly, those with wide waists and poor taste, but that's fine. I deserve it. Remember the time I got the Phi Mu house picture and put the caption "Find the Fake Girls", then circled the whole thing? Or the time I said "I've never met a Zeta that wasn't burned at the stake in the previous life?" and then got bombarded with IMs, which I then put in my profile because they were loaded with spelling errors and grammar problems? How about when I caused that fight at the black culture society... Oh wait... They did that on their own. Ha! See that comment right there? That's why I'll be poorly remembered.

But that's not a big deal. I just want to linger on after I'm gone, be remembered for anything good or something gone wrong. Think about how many kids you've gone to school with. Thousands in high school, hundreds in middle and elementary. Of all those people, how many can you remember without a photo? How many can you recall with one?

Being forgotten is how The Neverending Story started. BTW - Neverending my ass, we stopped at Part III. Bond is more neverending then that flying dog/eel muppet. So unnatural how that blinked. 'Ooooh it was the 80's. Give them a break.' Shut up, Sean! Things age poorly for a reason. They shouldn't be given mental breaks because of the time it took place in. Is anybody giving "It Takes A Village" by Hillary Rodham Clinton a second read? No. Shut up.

Things wither away in time because everything does. I'm trying to be the exception. And if I have to majorly asshole it up and stab your tires, steal your kids candy, and ruin this season of Lost to do it, I will.

Reminders for class: Job Hunting Is Fun.

Goodnight January

So goes the notion that everything has been done before. Life is said to be reduced into a handful of experiences that all resemble each other, and its only the people and places that change to differ the circumstances. I've read similar accounts that only seven stories exists for us, and they're all the same. Someone loses love, someone gains it. Someone misplaces something, someone finds something. Someone dies, someone lives. The seventh is Matthew Kennedy plows you. Those are the seven stories that have been told over beers since Cain slew Abel and went to that sweet little Bahama themed bar at the end of the road.

I'm myself couldn't find seven stories with a seven-story locating device made of giggles and well wishes. I don't think we're fortunate enough to have that much of a variety. I think there may be only two; a stranger comes to town and a man goes on a journey. You might think that outlook as cynical, but I'm a bit more optimistic then my bohemian, dishevled good looks lead on. If on a universal level we only have two stories to tell, it's only superficialities that drive us apart. Sure, your God isn't as sweet as mine - and I may stab your chin for it - but it's all gravy.

For example, the following children are the product of:
A.) Bad Parenting
B.) Bad behavior
C.) A Failure By Some DeathSquad

In my book, only two things are responsible for this. 1) A stranger comes to town - and impregnates some white trash fourteen year old then leaves. 2.) A man goes on a journey - after impregnating some white trash fourteen year old in town.

Either way, someone abadoned these bastards. Wouldn't you?

I mean, this is failure, no matter how you brand it. I could place the strongly written words of an intellectual or professor who has made it their life study to understand the children in this type of situation, but I won't. I know the truth - Jake 'The Snake' Roberts nailed two cocktail waitresses in the same night to produce offspring resembling his BAC.

There may be only two stories in the world, but it's not worth a good god damn if you don't make it your story. People who refuse to do things because they've been done or heard of them as being done before before wind up like John Malkovich in every movie he's ever been in. World weary and uninterested. Have you seen Con Air? Have you?!?

You can read the books and watch the movies, but don't let that dictate how you see the world. Anybody can dispense a quote to fit a given occasion. It takes real courage to say something full well knowing more intelligent people have said it better. Or people have lived it. Or someone can tell it better. Idiots (as pictured) and geniuses (as written) exist, but let neither affect how you see the world. If you constantly think you're better than someone, a day will come when someone shows you up. If you continually think of yourself as a failure, someday you will move to Burlington and feel like a gloriously golden being among crippled church mice.

So it's no Chaucer, but my caption for this would be "Fuckups breed Fuckups" It's simple and its sweet, but flavors rarely call for the need to be complex.

Reminders for class: Is there anything more powerful than saying "Goodnight Moon" to anyone with good parents?