Jason's Blog and Stuff

This Fix I Don't Want Fixed

2012-01-29T23:07:00.000-08:00

I can't be sure of which gateway drug started it all (was it Seinfeld, or did this "dependence" originate much earlierwith, say, Thundercats or those brief moments of Falcon CrestI'd catch before falling asleep?).

Did TheX-Files merely fan an already-established flame, or was it like that guywho fell over onto the detonator in The Bridge on the River Kwai?

Whatever the case, I show no signs ofimprovement, and can't imagine a day when I'll even want toimprove. Don't talk to me about Intervention either; that's one I actually don't care for. Still, I'm hooked, as they say, andthere could always be another Lost just around the corner. Even if there wasn't, though, I'd still haveLaw & Order streaming its bad self on Netflix, and BSG and MST3Kand Sherlock, which I haven't seen much of yet, but... Anyway, the high is toogood, man. And 'winter is coming,'right? It's always coming. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I'm addicted to books, too, by the way, so get down offyour high horse and let's watch Downton Abbey. Fine—don't, then. More tea for me.

For the Sake of Argument

2012-01-06T20:14:00.000-08:00

The Southeast Review's Writing Regimen provided this as one of their daily writing prompts:

Ron Carlson, the award-winning writer and teacher who currently directs the Creative Writing Program at UCI--Irvine, calls the props and items in a story, essay or narrative poem "inventory." When students in his classrooms complain of writer's block, he suggests frontloading the story with inventory and then carrying those items through the story to help reveal character and generate or resolve conflict. Today, write a story, essay, or poem that incorporates all of the following inventory items, and surprise yourself with the connections that result: hypocrite, cookie jar, telephone, hurricane.

The following is what I came up with while trying to be serious:

For the Sake ofArgument

HYPOCRITE: Look, ifI'm gonna talk about something, I'm gonna be specific.

COOKIE JAR: Let'sdiscuss how I'm nothing without cookies in me.

TELEPHONE: At leastyou're not shrinking.

HURRICANE: Ordestructive by nature.

COOKIE JAR: Butpeople always feel around inside me, even when there's nothing inme. And when they don't feelaround inside me, I feel neglected. I'mlike, Hello!

TELEPHONE: 'Hello'? Really, Cookie Jar --you're mocking me now?

COOKIE JAR: You'rethe one with the tone. :p

HURRICANE: I'malways on the news, but people rarely talk about how nice I can be...in my eye.

TELEPHONE: Too easy,Cookie Jar. Next you'll "push mybuttons," I suppose.

HURRICANE: Nobodyeven heard what I just said. I can tearthe roof off your house but still be ignored.

HYPOCRITE: 'Ignored'? Listen, Eeyore, Ihaven't made a peep since the beginning, and nobody's even asked me how I amthis morning.

COOKIE JAR: Hey,let's all be sarcastic and hip. :))

HURRICANE: Hip's notin today.

COOKIE JAR: Why not?

HURRICANE: He didn'thave a leg to stand on.

HYPOCRITE: Oh,Jesus.

JESUS: Yes?

HYPOCRITE: Jesus! --where'd you come from?

JESUS: It's hard toexplain, but basically I'm everywhere. At least that's what they tell me.

THEY: We never saidthat. We don't say any of thethings they say we say. Wait--

COOKIE JAR: I'mshaped like a cat and I'm fine with it. See, guys? Sarcasm. :(

HYPOCRITE: We'rekind of off-topic now, don't you think? And yet we keep going and going and going and going. Not that what we're doing now isn't just"wonderful."

COOKIE JAR: Yes! --that's exactly what I was going for, Hypocrite. LOL.

THEY: You didn'tactually laugh, you know. You do knowthat, don't you.

HIP: Sup, guys.

TELEPHONE: Whoa,what are those?

HIP: They'relegs. Duh. Without them I wouldn't have a -- well, I wouldn't be here. In all my glory or whatever.

HURRICANE: I justhurt.

JESUS: I can fixthat, but first you have to ask me into your heart...and sign this waiver.

COOKIE JAR: Sometimes I feel empty inside. ~~LOL~~.

TELEPHONE: Peopleuse me.

HIP: Man, it's deadup in here.

SKELETON: (whiny)Man, that's my line...

MAN: You guyshear that? Those two weren't evenaddressing me. I feel you, They.

THEY: Yeah, theyblame us for everything. I mean -- dammit!

HIP: All right, soI'm pretty much outie 5,000 now. Giddyup, Legs.

LEGS: Sure,okay. Because we live to serve. Love, we mean. We "love" to serve.

COOKIE JAR: Yay!:) !

HYPOCRITE: Oh, face it, you all just wanna have the last word.

Buddy (the Dog) and Morgan (the Cat) Discuss Politics

2012-01-02T00:54:00.000-08:00

https://www.facebook.com/pages/V-V-Photography/201267637360

BUDDY: I think I saw them.
MORGAN: I see them too: An orange-ish dog and cat, right?
BUDDY: Let's be really still for a second so they think we don't want in.
MORGAN: I dunno; I should probably go whine somewhere or something.
BUDDY: We totally don't even care, guys! It's great out here! A little cold never hurt anybody!
MORGAN: Whoa, what was all that?
BUDDY: Acting.
MORGAN: Wow.... I mean, I believed you. I actually thought you wanted to be out here.
BUDDY: Thanks. But stay in character, okay?
MORGAN: What? Ooh, I think I just saw something.
BUDDY: I think they want us to think we saw something.
MORGAN: What?
BUDDY: I was only kidding, guys. It's cold. And I drink water out of a bowl. The hay I sleep on smells like a dog.
MORGAN: You're good at acting.
BUDDY: I'm not acting now -- I honestly wanna be in there.
MORGAN: Man, you are really good at acting.
BUDDY: Seriously, guys, it's not funny anymore. I'm beginning to think that my life won't really begin until I'm in there with you, where the treats live. It's all I think about, and it's not healthy. I'd eat some grass if there was any left. I coughed a while ago, you know. I think being out here gives me malaria.
MORGAN: You're using a very lot of words. Is this politics?
BUDDY: No. I don't even have a podium.
MORGAN: I'm starting to get a cramp everywhere.
BUDDY: Oh, go ahead and move then. They're not listening, anyway.
MORGAN: Will we remember this forever?
BUDDY: Remember what? Hey! -- my toy over there in the yard...

The Future is Wow

2011-12-29T17:35:00.000-08:00

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

Do not fear! Our glutes will save us!

The Big Oil Crisis

2011-12-20T16:53:00.000-08:00

If you think oil-spill pollution problems are bad in America, and its many fine-dining establishments, then you should read about how frighteningly bad these pollution problems are elsewhere, namely Russia. Trust me; most of you, even a lot of you Russian people (thanks for Tolstoy, by the way, and that birthmark guy, and those dolls inside of dolls inside of dolls), have no idea just how bad things are.

But yay! -- the world can't rightfully blame America the most for this one. But, I mean, not yay, because it's bad for, like, everybody -- especially Russians. Yes, I know the Kardashians and those Jersey Shore creatures are still our fault. Sorry, world.

http://www.boston.com/business/articles/2011/12/17/ap_enterprise_russia_oil_spills_wreak_devastation/

In The 2River View

2011-12-18T20:38:00.000-08:00

http://www.2river.org/

The above link will take you to a little on-line quarterly called The 2River View. Don't worry -- there's no porn or anything; just poems and some photography. A poem of mine is in the Winter 2012 issue, which is available now. You can also actually hear me read the poem; and, while you're listening (if you do), you might note that I had a cold and that, whenever there's a long pause, that was probably when I turned my face away from the phone to take a breath. Breathing is fun.

Merry Space Hospital

2011-12-17T20:42:00.000-08:00

If you want your space filled with love, then what the devil are you waiting for?

The Tree of Life

2011-12-16T19:54:00.000-08:00

I'm only a little ways in, but I can tell you this: The Tree of Life is more than just a beautifully imagistic exploration of "why" I should like to comfort Jessica Chastain; it is also a beautifully imagistic exploration of why the universe should like to comfort her.

2011-12-16T14:18:00.000-08:00

What is this fascination we all have with eating caramelized steak fat?

Poetry Submission Curse

2011-12-14T20:00:00.000-08:00

Hey, when a little literary mag requests that you call in a reading of your poem by way of a voice-mail message, try not to flub a line and shout "Aw, shit!" just before you hang up. Luckily, in my case, the editor had a sense of humor.

How to Skin a Cat

2011-12-14T09:57:00.000-08:00

Well, not only is there more than one way to do this, but all of the ways can be fun. First, though, you must select a cat. Now, just so we make sure you're not doing something crazy here, take a few minutes to consider why you’ve decided to 'skin' a cat instead of, say, give it room and board, or let it continue to spray in your den. “Am I just doing my part to keep cat numbers down in this region?" you might ask yourself. "Has this particular animal wronged me in some way? Is it because I’ve already got plenty of squirrel- and coon-skin caps? Have I recently found that I’m allergic and that I’d rather skin a cat than sneeze and have itchy eyes around that cat? Did I promise myself over a year ago: ‘If it takes me more than a year to decide on a name for this cat, I will skin it’?”

When all the smoke of this questioning has cleared, you may begin to have second thoughts, like: I've been meaning to get another leather couch anyway, or, Say, if I just move the litter-box over a few inches, she might go right into it! These thoughts are perfectly normal, and so is the act of simply returning the cat to the boy next-door and saying, "I saw one of your signs in town." But if, for any reason, you still feel that you absolutely need to skin a cat, it may interest you to know that there are three tools I personally use—aside from a common chef’s knife—in this process:

1. A pillow (for the cat's comfort).

2. My Morgan Freeman voice (for further soothing the cat).

3. A nail gun.

Everyone is different, however, so you may decide to use something else in place of a nail gun. Perhaps a staple gun, a few sharpened tent poles, or a 100-pound granite slab. (This is for stabilizing the cat.)

Remember, as you gather these tools and move about the house in your pre-skinning fervor, that you should have always in your eyes the look of one who'd never even think of skinning a cat. Cats can sense things, you see, and there’s perhaps nothing more inhumane than needlessly terrifying a cat before you skin it.

When you’re ready to start, begin by petting the cat and softly saying things like: “You’re such a good kitty-witty,” or, “I could never skin a cat like you,” or, “This knife is only used for jack-o'-lanterns.”

It is at this time that your cat will try to deter you, with adorable purring and meowing (sometimes even purr-meowing) and full-body stretches that can increase her length (fore-paw to hind-paw) to around eight feet. These feline wiles have been evolved over hundreds of years to escape skinning, and to win little pieces of deli-style ham. You must be strong. But, since you're about to skin the poor beast, one little piece of ham isn't going to make much difference, right? It can also be a handy distraction...which allows you to remember how annoying your dog has been lately, with his blatantly-contrary style of not barking and his need to be fed (every day!), and how he's due for a bath!

A Story I Wrote When I was Nine

2011-12-11T12:42:00.001-08:00

It was written in cursive, and went exactly like this:

"My Dog"

My dog's name is Snowy. He is a snow dog he likes to jump and play in the snow. He was in a sled race with some other dogs. He was in two sled races and he won them all. I was taking him home that night and when I was walking with him I noticed that his foot was bleeding. So I picked him up and took him home. I took out my first-aid-kit and put a bandage on his foot. The next day his foot wasn't hurting him anymore. That night he was laying on the carpet and I was sitting in my chair reading my newspaper I read an article about a sled race. After I read about the article I read the rest of the newspaper. And then I went to bed. The next morning I got up and ate breakfast I gave Snowy some dogfood. After we ate I took my dog over to the sled race. The race was over and Snowy was sad because he didn't win. We went back home and went to bed. The next day we got up and ate. And then Snowy went out to play. He was out there for a very long time. I went out to look for him. When I found him he was laying down with his foot in a trap. I put my hand up to his nose he was dead.

And the point of the story is: What in the hell was wrong with me?!

Donks for the Memories

2011-12-08T18:14:00.001-08:00

https://www.facebook.com/pages/V-V-Photography/201267637360

"CHEEEEESE!"

Buddy

2011-12-08T12:03:00.001-08:00

https://www.facebook.com/pages/V-V-Photography/201267637360

This is Buddy. I just threw him a two-day-old Grands! biscuit, after first tearing it into three pieces. Most fair-sized dogs would usually swallow each piece down pretty quick, right? Well, Buddy picked up the first piece, the second, the third, and then he looked up at me with a mouth full of biscuit (no chewing yet!) and seemed to be thinking:

All right, what else you got? 'Cause I can fit more in here. You saw me carrying that huge bone I drug up from the back pasture, didn't you? You know that was no normal-sized bone, right? I saw you lift it that one time. It was two-cats-long, at least. And it weighed probably eight and 1/2 cats. It was like -- I mean, what was that? I sure as heck don't have any bones that big. Bones... Can't imagine I'd be able to do that cute little hoppy thing I do with a Brontosaurus femur inside me. I'd probably have arthritis all the time and be real sad. By the way, what's arthritis? Is that even a thing? Did I just invent language? Oh, and could you get me some more biscuits? -- 'cause these are all wet now.

2011-12-07T23:39:00.001-08:00

God, even the bathrooms on Wall Street are occupied!

Monsters

2011-12-05T20:02:00.001-08:00

In a secluded town in Michigan’sUpper Peninsula, there’s this monster that walks upright on two feet, like aman, and sometimes even looks kind of like a man (only dirtier, from allthe peat moss it gathers for local nurseries). This elusive creature is known as The Peat Moss Monster Man of Northern Michigan.

It lives in a ramshackle, cabin-like nest in the woods (the townsfolk simplycall this “The Lair”), and sometimes it emerges not so mossily and seems to bedrinking a Budweiser. A clever mimic,it even communicates, reciting lines it has no-doubt overheard at the nursery, or when venturing into town for a haircut: phrases like "I'm not a monster, dammit," and, "Just a trim, please, Bob"; but itsaccentuations are so garbled and strange that clearly they can be nothing butthe call of a moss monster: The Peat Moss Monster Man of Northern Michigan.

When it’s all cleaned up, itoften finds its way to church on Sundays. People whisper, “Hey, it’s The Peat Moss Monster Man of NorthernMichigan,” or, “Get this: The Peat Moss Monster Man of Northern Michigan thinksthat just because it’s all cleaned up it can find its way to church,” but itignores them and tends to its mate and two female offspring, the shy andatypically pretty Peat Moss Monster Women of Northern Michigan. They spend most of their time inside The Lair, however, when they're not working at the local Hooters; and, eventhough the townsfolk are hopelessly attracted to their ample bosoms and wavyblond hair (and how they're always curiously devoid of moss), the way they“speak” plainly solidifies their moss-monster standing. This label doesn’t bother them, though, asfar as I can tell, but it has been known to infuriate their Peat Moss MonsterAiredale Terrier of Northern Michigan.

Antje Traue, from the Sci-Fi/Horror Flick, Pandorum

2011-12-02T14:51:00.001-08:00

I'm not here to review the film; plenty of smarter people have already done that. I'm just here to talk about Antje's character, Nadia, the baddest bad-ass in Pandorum. The film could have tried to develop her more (and everybody else) while giving us less uninspired-mutant footage, but what we do get of Nadia is pretty cool for what it is. She's a scientist who can't remember her brother's name; she needs to find some shoes, and a comb; she's pretty good with a blade, and would rather not chit-chat when she's trying to survive; and, last but not least, she has a superpower: She gets hotter the dirtier she gets. At one point she's totally covered with stuff (what you'd have, perhaps, if you made a stew out of old coffee, blood, ground-up raw pheasant, and the ooze inside of a grasshopper's mouth). Her eyes glow out of that filth, though, and you think, There's just no way she's dying, even if the screenwriter wants her to.

The reason I mention all of this now is because Antje Traue is playing Faora in the new Superman film, Man of Steel. I'm both excited and worried about many aspects of the production, but not about Faora. With Antje playing her, I feel pretty safe saying she'll definitely give Supe a run for his money, and make me love to hate her, or hate to love her, or just plain love her (as a "friend," of course).

Like space? Like hospitals? Try "Space Hospital."

2011-12-01T13:54:00.001-08:00

Movie Idea

2011-12-01T13:35:00.001-08:00

A youngman shops in a supermarket. He picks upClorox, cottage cheese, a head of lettuce, and hot dogs, and there's a lot ofsuspense building already, because what's he going to make withthat?

An oldman sits laughing on the floor in one corner of the supermarket. He has wet himself, but that's not why he'slaughing. CUT TO: A mountaintop inTibet, where another old man is laughing. He has wet himself too. (See? We're all in thistogether!)

INSERT acar chase through the streets of Turin, Italy. It's going on inside a boy's head. This boy is really our man at age six. He's in a cart being pushed around in the same supermarket, but back inthe seventies (NOTE: Use the CU footage from 12 Monkeys that shows theboy's eyes).

As ourman makes his way to the checkout line, a beautiful young woman with EYE CANDYstenciled across her shirt stops to pick up Clorox, cottage cheese, a head oflettuce, and...hot dog buns.

INSERTanother car chase, but with Hot Wheels, to illustrate how small andinsignificant we are. Follow this chasewith a montage of pretty Hubble photos of the universe (NOTE: Have TerrenceMalick write a V.O. for this, to be performed by Morgan Freeman).

Now ourman's checkout girl needs a price-check on the hot dogs. Our man offers to run back and see forher...

...justas the beautiful young woman realizes she got hot dog buns but no hotdogs.

Throw ina few minutes of subplot about a robot that assembles Hot Wheels cars. Show, very simply, through a quick series offlashbacks, that this robot used to be a human man, and that he/it is thebeautiful young woman's father!

Thebeautiful young woman gets to the hot dogs before our man gets there. There aren't any left. CUT TO: The old man laughing in the supermarket(he's pretending the hot dog in his mouth is a cigar). Seeing no hot dogs, the beautiful youngwoman hurries away just as our man gets there to check the price (somehow makeall of this less annoying than what happens in Serendipity).

Out inthe parking lot, our man and the beautiful young woman, putting their grocery bags into theircars, see each other and smile.

Then theHot Wheels assembly robot rolls up out of nowhere and shoots our man in theback with a laser-sighted pistol. Itimmediately becomes clear that our man is not a man at all, but a cyborg. (NOTE: Show some exposed wiring andsparks.)

Thebeautiful young woman runs up and says, "Dad, what did you do?! I was going to marry him!"

Herrobot father says, "You already did."

The rest of the film will be about the hot-dog industry.

(NOTE: Show theentire movie in the trailer for the movie.)

Thank you, Netflix

2011-11-30T00:10:00.001-08:00

Sure, you've changed a little. Some people are cursing you all over town for that, as if you're the Antichrist (or maybe just the penis scene in that movie, Antichrist). But not this guy. You hear me, Netflix? That's right, I'm talking to you; because, apart from the two movies delivered to my mailbox every weekend, I often stream 1-3 films/TV episodes a night, just to have something on in the background, just because I can -- so often that, even considering your recent changes, I feel as if I'm cheating you.

You don't always have what I want in the way that I want, and you didn't even try to stop me from streaming that one movie with that hot chick in it (which was only bearable in those moments when she couldn't find her clothes and wasn't even looking for them); but what inorganic super-colossus could please me always, or stop me from watching those moments of that one movie...again? Seriously, Netty, you've given me plenty of joy over the last few years. And you're not the only one who's changing, you know; as of now, I have no plans to watch that movie a fifth time. Because, as hot as that hot chick is, she doesn't have my heart. You, Sugar Lumps, have my heart.

2011-11-23T20:49:00.001-08:00

I'm glad I'm not named Kirsten, because it would be awkward if someone called me Kristen by mistake.

My Weekends with Kevin

2008-06-26T20:32:00.000-07:00

“Why’d you call Mommy a whore, Daddy? She said you’re always calling her bad names.”

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin…that’s exactly what a whore would say. And ‘whore’ isn’t a bad name, necessarily; it’s just a noun.”

“What’s that?”

“A noun is a person, place or thing: like this house; that TV over there; and your mom, the whore.”

“Oh. But what does whore mean?”

“It means…someone who likes to have lots of sex in a lot of complicated positions with a lot of guys who aren’t me.”

“Sex? What’s that?”

“Ask your mom. She’s the expert.”

* * *

“What’s divorce, Daddy? Mommy said you guys are getting a divorce.”

“Oh, my God—what’s that over there?!”

* * *

“Daddy, nobody told me what sex means yet!”

“You know that thing Rex does when he grabs hold of your leg with his front paws and then moves his butt back and forth real fast?”

“It’s funny when he does that.”

“Yeah, he’s trying to have sex with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s what dogs do when they get the urge.”

“So Mommy’s like a dog…with an urge?”

“Okay, now you’re just twisting my words around.”

“But I—”

“Hey, next time you see her, ask her why she humps like a thousand different guys a year. Ooh, ask her about ‘doggy style,’ too; she loves that.”

“What does hump mean?”

“It’s just another word for what Rex does to your leg.”

“Is Rex a whore?”

“Well, if he is, he can’t help it.”

“Maybe Mommy can’t help it either.”

“Yeah, okay, Dr. Phil.”

* * *

“Mommy said she’s with a really great guy now, Daddy. His name’s Don and he’s a missionary, and she’s really, really happy. Really happy, she said.”

“Missionary, huh. I suppose you know what that means?”

“Mommy said it means he’s religious.”

“Well, some people are pretty religious about it.”

“She wants you to know that he’s her McDreamy, too. And he likes to do that thing you never did very much, but he does…a lot. What’s a McDreamy, Daddy?”

“Remember that scary movie I let you watch, where that monster popped out of that guy’s chest and then got big really fast and went around eating everybody on the spaceship? And then, near the end of the movie, that woman was in just her underwear and I kept hitting rewind over and over, and then I told you to hurry up and go to bed and not come back?”

“That movie gave me nightmares.”

“Yeah, next time we watch it we’ll have to blindfold you or something.”

“But I won’t be able to see.”

“You’ll still be able to hear everything, though. It’ll be just like with those other movies I sometimes watch. Anyway, that monster was a McDreamy.”

“But…Don doesn’t look anything like that monster.”

“Of course not—not during the daytime…when you’re awake and perfectly safe. It’s only at night that he—well, never mind; I’m sure you’ll be fine.

* * *

“Mommy said you guys aren’t very nice parents to be teaching me ‘whore’ and ‘sex’ and ‘bastard,’ and that she’s really sorry about it and you should be, too.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re Mom’s right, Kevin, and actually pretty smart for—”

“For a whore?”

“No. No, Kevin. Don’t laugh.”

“How come you can laugh, though?”

“I’m not laughing. Because what you said wasn’t funny. That was a cough. I must be allergic to Rex. God, your laugh’s making me laugh. Cough, I mean. Stop laughing. Me stop? I’m trying…. Oh, God. Oh, man. Say it again, just like you said it.”

* * *

“Daddy, why’d I see Mommy come out of your bedroom this morning and then sneak out the front door?”

“That was her?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You sure? Because I, uh—I thought it was somebody else. Like, a complete stranger.”

“No, it was Mommy.”

“Huh. I don’t know; maybe she was lost.”

“Are you guys getting back together…?”

“Sometimes?”

At Future Blogger...

2008-05-16T08:53:00.000-07:00

http://memebox.com/futureblogger/show/496-questions-only-the-future-and-maybe-dionne-warwick-can-answer

The Story of the Signs and the Buckets

2008-04-19T11:49:00.000-07:00

Early this afternoon, as I was driving away from the movie theater and not at all trying to forget Sarah Marshall, I was accosted by a gang of lowland Baptists in pastel T-shirts and matching shorts, some of them holding up signs and others holding up green plastic buckets. Buckets of what? I wondered. Pig entrails, maybe? Some form of protoplasmic goo? A glance at one of their signs told me they were seeking donations for some sort of "Baptist Youth" shindig, and I became frightened.

The stoplight was red, and my heart started pounding as they swarmed around my car like angry--or at least overeager--hornets. Will I ever see home again? I wondered. Will I be forced to tell them that I have no money, even though I do have money? Could I run over one of them and somehow get away with it?

Suddenly, one of their guys held a bucket up to my window as one of their girls--on the opposite side of my car--held up a sign, and they both began to speak. I couldn't really make out what they said, however, because my windows were closed and also because I was chanting loudly to myself, "Everything's gonna be fine, Jason; just don't look into their eyes."

I thought of something I might drop into the bucket, but it had nothing to do with money. I looked from the sign to the bucket and back, as if I were confused, and then, to my great relief, the stoplight turned green, and I sped off toward the roaring safety of the highway.

I glanced back and saw that the small red car behind me had been surrounded and wasn't moving anymore. I heard a few plaintive honks, and then nothing (there were signs and buckets everywhere). I knew then that whoever had been driving that red car was dead...or at least short a few bucks.

"Goodbye, poor soul," I said, and then I hurried home to finish what was left of the Panera sandwich I'd put in the fridge yesterday.

Two Movies You Might Not Have Seen That You Probably Should See, Because Seeing Is Believing

2008-03-10T10:21:00.000-07:00

1. "Gone Baby Gone": This marked Ben Affleck's directorial debut, and, as far as I could tell, he got everything right.

2. "The Brave One": It's like Death Wish, only with Jodie Foster and a bit more depth. I'm not knocking Death Wish; Death Wish rocked; but this film seemed more fulfilling, and a few times I found it veering in directions I just didn't expect (which was nice). Also, Terrence Howard is always good.

Things that Might be Mistaken for "Figgy Pudding" when Overheard from a Distance at a Christmas Party

2008-01-24T18:41:00.000-08:00

Iggy Pop

Silly Putty

Ziggy

Cuba Gooding, Jr.

O. J. Simpson's Favorite Drinking Games, in His Own Words

2008-01-05T14:27:00.000-08:00

I’m gonna throw this knife up in the air and whoever it lands in has to drink.

If I can barely fit into these gloves and still kill someone, then I have to drink.

All the good-lookin’ blonde women have to drink until I say stop.

No drinking this time; I’m just gonna stab someone.

First Snow

2007-12-07T20:33:00.000-08:00

I just watched a movie called "First Snow," and now I'm thinking some things:

1. Why did the movie end like that and make me mad?

2. If you want a scene to be a so-called "good-lookin' scene," put Piper Perabo in it and just see what happens.

3. I wish they had shown more of the "Snow."

4. Did I like the movie or did I not like the movie?

5. I'm thirsty.

6. Am I? Could I possibly—? Yep, I'm in love with PiperPerabo.

None of this means that I'm recommending the movie, though I wouldn't not recommend it, especially to people who like only a little snow and Piper Perabo and movies with endings that make me mad. It's a bit slow, in parts, but in an interesting way, and it develops a subtle, creepy suspense that's very effective and causes you to get all worried that something might actually happen to Piper Perabo (her character, I mean, but somehow that's just as bad...or good, if worry's what you're looking to feel). And then, later, you begin to wish they'd show more snow, and maybe five or ten (perhaps a hundred?) more good-lookin' scenes, maybe with a light snow swirling in the background. And when it ends (when you're a little upset about how it ended—even if that ending's necessary—and youturn off the TV and sit quietly for a while, staring blankly into the darkness, looking back over your life and wondering, How can I make Piper Perabo mine?), you get real thirsty for pretty much any kind of juice. Sound good? Well, then I guess you might wanna rent it.

A Probing Account

2007-12-01T09:58:00.000-08:00

As the young alien inserted yet another anal probe, he thought, What in the holy name of Halleroth are we doing with our lives? He then asked the other aliens around him, “Why do we always probe their anuses? I mean, seriously, what are we hoping to learn?”

“It’s just what we do,” the head alien told him. “It’s what we’ve always done.”

“He’s right, Glork,” said another. “It’s our calling. And we do find some pretty cool stuff sometimes, eh?”

All of the aliens, except for the young one, chuckled heartily at this and then traded remarks like: “Yeah, we sure do,” and “Boy, that’s no lie,” and “Remember that TV remote?” Then they all looked at each other and started chuckling again.

“So this,” the young alien wondered, “is all I have to look forward to, for as long as I live? Probing human anuses?”

“Well,” the head alien said, “don’t forget all the cows.”

Again there was laughter, and two of the other aliens began to “moo” along with it, until the young alien shouted, “Enough!”

“Hey—easy there, Glork,” the head alien said, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s just a little friendly fun we’re having here. It’s not at anyone’s expense.”

The young alien shook his head gloomily and said, “I bet this man would say different if he suddenly woke up.”

“They never wake up,” squeaked the smallest alien.

“Yeah? What about that guy from Reno?”

“Ah, that was a fluke, and you know it.”

“Fluke or not, he woke up, and he screamed his head off. That screaming has haunted my sleep-state.”

“We’re all haunted by something,” the head alien said, “but we do the job; we always do the job, because it’s what we’ve done for as long as we’ve known about humans and cows…and their anuses.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Glork said. “It’s just that sometimes I want something more from life. You know? Something that doesn’t even have an anus. Something where, when I see it, I won’t automatically be thinking, Man, I so have to probe that.”

“We’ve all felt the same at one time or another. But remember: With every new anus, there comes the hope of something cool inside.”

“That TV remote,” one of the other aliens laughingly repeated.

The head alien grinned at the young alien and said, “You’re gonna be all right, Glork.”

Soon the rest of the aliens offered their encouragement with: “Yeah, you sure are, buddy,” and “We’ll help you through the rough patches,” and “Anuses are never half empty; they’re always half full.”

After a minute or two of such comments, the head alien said, “Now, what do you say we get back to probing this man’s anus.”

“Okay,” Glork said, forcing a little smile. And, in actuality, the probing did go fairly well. For a little while there, Glork began to feel as if maybe anuses were always half full.

But then the smallest alien made a fart sound, and the other aliens all started chuckling again.

2007-11-26T13:10:00.001-08:00

Back when dwarf tossing was legal, I had this mischievous friend named Henry who was what you might now call “a little person.” But, even though I considered him a pretty close friend, I never really felt that I could trust him as far as I could throw him.

2007-11-26T13:10:00.000-08:00

We’ve all heard a version of this old saying: “Red sky at morning, sailor take warning; red sky at night, sailor’s delight.” The part you probably haven’t heard is that, when there’s a red sky in the afternoon, the sailor gets mauled by a giant clam.

Failed Superheroes

2007-11-23T18:39:00.000-08:00

Bull Snake Man

Pros:

He can bite and even cause a little bleeding.

He's pretty good at slithering.

Cons:

Unlike the regal Captain Rattlesnake, he is non-venomous.

When it’s cool outside, he must lie on a flat rock in the sun for half a day to reach full power.

He cannot fight crime on overcast days that are cold.

He is best remembered for having slithered away like a little girl snake after seeing Hawkman at a gallery opening.

He suffers from chronic depression and Captain Rattlesnake envy.

Villains often subdue him by simply applying an ice pack.

Princess Goo

Pros:

She can capture villains in her viscous mass and totally ruin their outfits.

Even though her “body” is constantly collecting dirt, gum, cigarette butts and stray hairs, she still has a pretty face; and that’s more than you can say about Muskrat Girl.

Cons:

She is not really a 'princess.'

Did you hear the part about the goo?

Her favorite movie is “The Wedding Planner.”

Claw-Hand Guy

Pros:

Villains are often frightened by his claw hand.

He's very upbeat about the whole claw-hand thing.

Cons:

Aside from the fear his claw hand inspires, he has no other powers except for the occasionally profound one-liner.

In the heat of battle he often wounds himself.

People sometimes mistake him for his evil nemesis, Hook-Hand Harry.

His positive attitude has been known to estrange him from Bull Snake Man and Princess Goo.

He has a tendency to get snagged on things.

Amazing Boy

Pros:

He is only five years old, but reading at the 1st-Grade level.

He has the power to confound villains just by shouting “No!” over and over, and stomping his feet.

He doesn’t have Rickets.

Cons:

His parents make him go to bed at 8:00.

Many of the worst villains don’t even start acting villainous until 8:30 or later.

One time, when he was in the middle of a life-or-death battle with Boar Face III, his mother made him come in for supper. As if this wasn’t bad enough, she then asked him—in front of everyone!—if he’d like to invite his little friend over to stay the night.

The Windy City Hero

Pros:

He is twice as strong as the average man.

In extremely windy conditions, he can fly.

Cons:

When I said ‘average man,’ I meant: your average underweight jockey.

His “flying” is mostly just him running and flapping his arms.

Politico

Pros:

His waving can set off a sonic boom, and many evildoers find sonic booms to be irritating.

Cons:

A handful of evildoers are actually drawn to sonic booms: The Loud Noise Marauder, for one.

He may or may not have had sexual relations with an American flag.

His favorite movie is "The Wedding Planner."