“The Lake house” is only proof The Postal system is more screwed up than you thought it was.

Yes, yes, yes I fully realize that the movie “The Lake House” came out in 20016 (thanks for ruining my day GOOGLE!). When A lonely doctor (Sandra Bullock), who once lived in a beautiful lakeside home, falls in love via letters with its latest resident, a frustrated architect (Keanu Reeves). When they discover that they are living two years apart, the pair must unravel the mystery behind their incredible romance.Blah, blah, blah lets get to the time traveling shenanigans pulled off  by The United States Postal System shall we?? Hmmmm?

Any time I bring up this topic in polite conversation over dinner, lunch, coffee, or a random ice cream cone inevitably the focus goes to the Mail box at “The Lake House”. The person trying to make their point gets all dreamy eyed looking and says something like: “its a magical Mail box”. Normally at this point I want to tussle their hair and respond back sarcastically: “That’s right sport, Love conquers all and stuff”..  Its not their fault they react and respond this way because that is exactly what the movie wants you to do. It wants you to think there is something mystical, magical, possibly romantic about the process of letters traveling through time. The movie is a puff piece, a blatant piece of Hollywood propaganda. The bitter truth is (a much larger pill to swallow, and inconvenient truth that doesn’t test well with movie audiences) OUR POSTAL SYSTEM SUCKS!!

Here,  let me prove my point just a moment. Lets take the same exact premise of “The Lake House” and apply it to a very large settlement check both the lonely doctor and the frustrated architect are expecting from the same large Bank for very similar reasons.(public transportation bus going faster than 50 MPH, or a Boating Accident lets say) Your focus would quickly go from gushy romantic movie  to frustrating “Check is in the Time traveling mail/postal system” movie in a heart beat. Why?? because you got bills to pay and the stupid stupid postal person sure is not going to pay them.

 

 

Fly me to the moon

Hazah! have a drink on me!

 

Good morning! (Its morning here right now) what is your blood alchohol level? Not high enough? Mix a nice energy drink with something 100 proof and that may do the trick. Starbucks is for sissys and not being 3 sheets to the wind can be confusing for some people.

Quick! Act now! Drinks are on the house! Which (if I understand the saying correctly) implies they are free. What a jerk! What good are free drinks if I have to get a ladder and get them from on top of the house?

Drinking friend: I had such a great weekend! I totally blacked out and I don’t remember anything! Really? That’s considered a great time? Trying my best not to pass judgement here but I normally prefer to have the ability to recall why I had a great time.

Keep calm, have a good day, and have drink on me. (Just a saying you really can’t have a drink on me. Its weird and I prefer not to be used as a table)

All this blog Needs is a Buzz Phrase

Act Now and in 38000 easy payments (that’s less than a cost of a cup of coffee folks) these scrubbing bubbles with activate the activated charcoal along with these scientifically proven moisture pockets residing within the patented vortex wind funnel cleaning wand.

That sure got your attention Huh? Wow that was exciting! I could just picture myself wet-dry cleaning an elephant and even the elephant’s wrinkles would be squeaky clean. Finally! Heck knows even elephants deserve clean wrinkles.

Everywhere I look it seems there are MADMEN creating brilliantly annoying advertising campaign’s just lousy with buzz phrases. (Or is that lousy advertising with annoying buzz phrases??) Only in commercials do we find out that Bounty is the quicker picker upper (I would hate to see it be the slower, I will get that tomorrow, non-picker downer), Gerber’s baby food has Comfort Proteins, Zip lock bags have snap and fresh seal technology, Fresh Step Cat Litter has activated freshness molecules, and further learn that it only takes wearing a lab coat and a buzz phrase and voila! I can convince you that super-duper smart scientists worked around the clock (with no bathroom break mind you) to create this thigamabob that makes your life complete.

I have some burning questions: Is secret really strong enough for a man, but made for a woman? And will a man blow up into a bazillion little pieces if he wears it any way? Is Irish Spring made in Ireland? Are the thoughts of a dead turkey wrapped in Reynolds wrap protected against Alien thought invasion? Are Colgate cleaning molecules treated differently at the local bar as opposed to regular molecules? Are flavor pockets related to Flavor Flav? (yeeeeeeeee boy) and just what exactly is dry weave technology?

I am beginning to suspect the writers who used to create the techno-babble heard in a Star Trek episode now make up buzz phrases heard in commercials. Maybe if I employ the interlocking viral blog packets then its slightly possible fiber optic cyber freshness seal molecules will dry weave a nice cardigan sweater for me.

So when exactly do I get to pick out my “Old Man Outfit”??

I turned 50 last year, I am looking 51 dead in the eye in six more months. It has me worried. The reason why is based on trips to Walmart, any grocery store, the hardware store, The DMV, Doctors offices, and just pumping gas into my minivan. While I am at any location really there is a growing number of people growing old. A lot of these older people (older than me I am pointing out here) are men. The majority of them have somehow, in someway have decided to wear (with very slight variations) the same outfit. Its as if there is a store that caters to grumpiness, never ending stories of working on their car, garage, boat, cabinets, memories of war, and the last pork chop they ate. 

The outfits seem to consist of: jeans, coveralls, work pants (if you say dockers they will slap you for being a sissy), a dress shirt (normally plaid, printed in some manly fashion without looking to frilly), suspenders (seems to be a MUST HAVE item) a belt (I guess the suspenders are a back up just in case the belt goes out or visa-versa), and a hat. 

The hat seems to open to interpretation just as long it does not have fruit on top of  and is completely void of a bow or ribbon included. Baseball cap seems to be a nice popular choice just as long as you wear it like a real man and stop trying to look like a rap artist, or someone with a mental problem.  What is inscribed/written on the baseball hat seems to be important also. Letting people know your a war veteran and that you were Killing people in foreign lands while they were still nursing will get you some serious nursing home Cred. 

Bowlers, Pork Pie hats(Think Walter White from Breaking Bad), Fedora’s, and even Richard Petty style cowboy hats can be acceptable wear. If your stuck in traffic behind a slow moving vehicle chances are good the driver is a old man in a hat (or he left his hat at home).

What confuses me is 1. when exactly did these legions of old men decide to start wearing the same outfit? And 2. Now that I am getting older am I required to follow suit? When exactly do I start turning the garden hose on the neighbors kids?, Complain about the meatloaf at the local cafeteria?, start smelling like I poured a entire bottle of Old Spice on myself?, Have a handshake that feels like Solid Rock?, tell stories of the car I put back together with nothing more than a piece of wire and a can of WD40?, threaten to put my foot up someones wazoo?, smack people on the back of the head just for being a dumb ass? The questions never end.

Its always an honor to be nominated for an award trophy statue medallion on a Gold Chain that will collect dust

Award Season: The Grammy’s, the whammy’s, the double whammy’s, the slammy’s, the Oscars, the Fred’s, Benny’s, Tony’s, SAG awards, Saggy awards, Baggy Pants awards, people choice awards, people hated this awards, The Emmy’s, The kimmy’s, and world wide wrestling championship have a lot in common:

 

They like themselves a lot, they suck all the oxygen known to man, (and other intelligent beings)  insist you care about who was nominated, barrage you with who wore what, who flubbed their acceptance speech, who did what, what happened when, and take up precious TV channel space and time  where a reasonably not so old episode of Matlock could have been aired. I mean C’mon! How am I supposed to find out if indeed Matlock can successfully defend Mrs. Doubtfire against charges of stealing The First Baptist’s Church’s Pastor’s wifes hat?? 

All Red Carpets DO NOT lead somewhere wonderful. Miley, Bieber, Kanye,  Chris Brown, and who knows next will make certain of that. As if the Red Carpet was not already littered with the jagged metal and broken glass of Paparazzi, Fashion trolls, Talking heads, twitter ninja’s, Instagram Warriors,   and what ever manner of fresh hell can be found along the way.

Here’s an idea: How about we celebrate nurses, Firefighters, Police Officers, EMT personnel, Food Pantry volunteers, Child protective Service workers, Teachers, Humane society helpers, Soldiers, and real people who made real contributions to the world being a better place?? Such a celebration and award show would certainly be a billion times more worthy of our attention, TV time, twitter feeds, and media attention.

An Ode to Wendy O. Williams (and the Plasmatics)

Believe it or not my first introduction to Wendy O. Williams was during a English class in high school. Mr. (sorry I can’t remember his last name) rolled in a TV, and VCR from the AV department and proceeded to shock, stimulate, and barrage our ears and eyes with the magic wonder and mystery that was Wendy O. Williams. He made it clear he was a big fan of hers and since she is famous for her Mohawk (did she have a mohawk? I was not paying attention to her hair at the time), strategically placed electrical tape/pasties/clothes?, and taking a chainsaw to a car while performing most of the guys in the class (who knows, maybe a couple of girls also) became instant fans also.

Mind you, this is during the early 80’s when MTV actually played music videos and it just got so crazy as to what and who would be shown on MTV it seemed like it was open season on the ears, eyes, and whatever sensibilities there may have been left over from the post disco studio 54 age. MTV garnered the reputation of being almost like a pirate radio station. You watched it during the day with your parents and they would be kind enough to show simple minds or Tiffany and when you watched late at night you just might get to see Punk Bands, Billy Idol, and even Wendy O. Williams. A complete overload of orange, green, purple hair, tattoos, piercings, ripped jeans, and badass anti-establishement rock music.

Because I truly want my blog to be rated G (PG at best) I will not post a youtube video here as an example. Never mind Lady Gaga, or Nicki Minaj, they are just mere novices when compared to the fierce full throttle bat in the face explosion that was Wendy O. Williams. Now where did I leave that chainsaw??

Stephen Hawking Sues White Rabbit for Worm/Rabbit hole technology

 

I will Rabbit Hole you!

 

United States circuit court 96 Wallaby Washington

The year was 1988, Stephen Hawking writes, and publishes the now ground breaking book “A Brief History Of Time”. Containing some of the most mind bending concepts about physics, black holes, and worm holes the world has ever seen before.

According to the narrative Mr. Hawking’s league of attorneys has laid down. There is a distinct time line and specific scientific correlation between Mr. Hawking’s published findings, thoughts, and postulations and the technology recently publicly published behind White Rabbit Industries proprietary “Rabbit Hole In A Can”.

For several decades “Rabbit Hole In A Can” has been a staple in every toy store, in every child’s room, and every politicians list of tricks to hide the truth. The mystery of how and why it worked was one it’s most enduring qualities. House wife’s, soccer mom’s, grade school teachers, Day care workers, and playground supervisors alike loved the ability to make small, troublesome children temporarily “disappear” for hours on end using the quirky can of magic.

Recently because of the recent pressure from the Open source community, and a clandestine meeting between the White Rabbit himself and non other than Julian Assange Rabbit Industries decided to publicly publish the technology behind “Rabbit Hole In A Can”.

The jury is still out both metaphorically and literally speaking as to if indeed “Rabbit Hole In A Can” is based on, echo’s, or even blatantly rips off The intellectual property of Mr. Hawking. One thing is for sure though, the “Rabbit Hole made my homework disappear” excuse may be in jeopardy in the classroom.

Give us a (awkward) hug

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

Is it me? Or is there a younger, hipper, less emotionally damaged generation who is hell bent on hugging? Now mind you, I am not stating for the record that I am against hugs. They are great!… but only from a select few people I actually would like to receive one from. The approved hug list pretty much revolves family and close friends. Even then there are exceptions to the rules I have put in place as to who exactly I will and wont hug. Complete strangers are not totally of the question (like say: Sofía Vergara can hug me anytime she wants) it just has to go through my very complicated application process.

Don’t even get me started on “group hugs”. UGH no thanks, I would much rather be bitten by a Vampire covered in leaches being half eaten by a zombie killer shark from another planet. Then there is the completely random, UN-announced, so not expected hug. Yes it has happened to me, and can I say? I am not so much of a fan. Fist bump? Heck yeah! (and make it explode on the way out) hand shake? Yes! (I welcome a firm hand shake) but hugging is just something completely personal, in my personal space, and needs approval. (I will send you a application form to fill out)

A friend, and Pastor of mine is a hugger. I learned real quick to be hugged with our without my permission. I love God, and I love you sir, but can I just give you a handshake? Or a high five? At this point I want to invent a hug proof vest. (unless you are Sofía Vergara)

Money Cat

Help control the evil money cat population. Have your Ceramic Possessed cat spayed or neutered

Money Cat’s (sometimes called lucky cats, fortune cat, happy cat) are those freaky ceramic (I’m confused here, are they Japanese? Or Chinese?) battery operated pawing (Wikipedia claims its a beckoning motion) cats you see at the front counter when picking up your Chinese food. Am I the only one who fully expects a throw back buddy comedy-action movie starring Mel Gibson/Danny Glover? Wesley Snipes/Woody Harrelson? Woody Allen/Estelle Getty? When you say or read the very words: “Money Cat”?

Plain, and simple these things just freak me out to no end. Wikipedia may indeed be convinced that they are “beckoning” good fortune but I always make sure I have had my latest tetanus shot when I am any where near them. Who is to say ceramic battery operated (may possibly be possessed) kitty does not have metal Freddy Krueger claws? (Down cat! Down! I just want my sweet & sour chicken and egg rolls!)

AWWW.. Hello Kitty!

Evil money cat could learn a thing or two from “Hello Kitty”. Now, there is a cat who is cute, welcoming, and apparently has more money than Barbie has dream houses. She’s everywhere, not just relocated to Chinese restaurants.

I want to rock and roll all night and Hello Kitty everyday

Kiss (the rock group, not the form of public affection) Hello Kitty? Yes..

Dr. Dre only wishes his headphones were this cool

Hello Kitty bling headphones? Yes.. Hello Kitty the flame thrower? Well.. ok there are scientists who are still working on that. So it just makes more sense to me that if your goal is to lure good fortune, money, and good luck your direction than you would want good fortune, money, good luck, and potential customers to say: “Hello Kitty!” and not want to run out in a panic.