Skip the guilt, pass the mash-potatoes please

It’s the same thing every year. To the point where I truly have a love-hate relationship with my television and the programming it gives me. My wife and I don’t have any children so I guess having both internet and TV is like having kids (in a way). One minute your so disappointed in them (BAD! TV & INTERNET! BAD!) that you swear your going to kick them permanently out of your home, and next thing you know they bring you (where I actually mean me in this case) kittens, puppies, science fiction, and absolutely no signs of Miley Ray Cyrus twerking while smoking pot.

Local news and the demented newscasters who appear on TV are the absolute worst. Anyone who has to look good on camera, be heavyhearted because of today’s fresh hell of tragedies, then in a blink of an eye brighten up with a story of a penguin who is using its body to shelter homeless seal pups who ‘s mommy and daddy died has to have some personality and mental issues.

Once again, right on time the demented newscasters start with the “eating with moderation”, holiday diet, turkey can kill you, why mash-potatoes are dangerous, cranberry’s are really terrorists, gravy causes cancer, dressing is really an alien ploy to take over your mind, please please let us find every reason in the world for you to feel guilty for actually enjoying a meal with your loved ones (if you can).

Let’s just say we skip the guilt, and pass the mash-potatoes please. Not everybody has a home, not everybody has family to be with, and some even have to spend thanksgiving in the hospital, in prison, in another country defending your freedom to watch football or 24 hours of “A Christmas Story”. Let’s just be thankful for what blessings we have and remember despite all the efforts your momma’s sweet potato pie may be making to clog your arteries that there is always someone who is going through something you could never imagine.


Do something Human now because the future is lousy with Robots


Somewhere In Japan, China, Euro-Disney, Silicon Valley California, a un-disclosed Mythbusters bunker, and the lab of Howard Wolowitz, there is a sinister plot to make humans more like machines, and machines more human. 

Please count me fully annoyed because I have not trusted anything that even remotely looks, sounds, and even tastes (a story I don’t wish to share) like artificial intelligence since my buddy and I had the hair brained idea to allow our furby’s be in the same room at the same time. 

Furby’s learn what you teach them, then learn on their own, and if they are ever given the opportunity to be in the same vicinity of another furby, they speak furbish (yes this is real) to each other and then teach each other what they have learned. I can tell you the experience is eerie and that’s an understatement. It makes you feel like you need a old priest and young priest, and that not even an exorcism will be remotely helpful.

I just bought my first “smart” phone. Just how “smart” is it? Sure, I love the touch screen features, Gmail app, calendar, Twitter updates, camera, pocket knife, wine cork screw, and fingernail clipper but when I am looking at it, (constantly) is it in turn constantly watching me? A camera/video phone with internet features? Sounds suspicious to me, maybe we all owe Anthony wiener an apology and should be blaming the phone. 

Machines are everywhere anymore. Rumba wants to vacuum your floor and bug your house on behalf of the NSA. The grocery self check out wants to have a full out conversation with you, but seems to have a condescending tone that you bought those donuts. Get out of my face machine scan lady (who do they have such icy, snotty female voices?) I will buy yellow cupcakes and M&M’s at the same dang time and I don’t owe you any explanations.

Haley Joel Osment once portrayed a artificial intelligent Robot with a great future in artificially intelligent acne and robotic mood swings. It’s a good thing the younger Mr. Osment was already robot like it made watching the movie that much more horrible. 

While the rest of the world deposits checks by snapping pictures of them, and are watched by Skynet I think I will take my refuge at the airport and get a full body scan.

The inconvenience of convenience

English: The original Piggly Wiggly Store, Mem...

English: The original Piggly Wiggly Store, Memphis, Tennessee. The first self service grocery store, opened 1916. Français : Le premier supermarché Piggly Wiggly ouvert en 1916 à Memphis, Tennessee (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What exactly has this world come to? I sat in front of my television and saw a commercial about a reality show where “old people” had to school younger people on how to use a paper map. Really?? has your smart phone made you that dumb? Yes I know your tempted to do origami or draw a huge X with crossbones and maybe a lovely topless mermaid. Been there, done that, fold section C and match it to sub section H, no wait that’s the end page to a Mad Magazine never mind.

I finally decide to get up and run some errands. We need some milk, orange juice (I prefer not to call it OJ ever since the real OJ went on a killing spree and led a parade down the LA freeway in a white bronco) and some toilet paper. Seems simple enough. I make my way to the grocery store, but before I full on commit to that task I need to put some gas into the car. I pull up, get out, and now I have to find my fuel discount barcode encrusted thingy hanging off my key chain. Henry’s garage & oil change? No I haven’t been to Eureka in such a long time.. .. mega movie rental?.. really?? do I still have that??.. Bab’s and Narcolepsy book store?, no.. Cardmart for when you want to send the very best alien greetings? no.. ah! Here it is! My Waltman, krogic, eagle, aldonic, hershy, savings & loan, fish market, grocery, mega sports, Indian casino, and fresh food market savings pass! (a light shines down from the police helicopter flying over head)

I step up to the gas pump and Ahhhhh!!! its talking to me! Holy crap! Its a commercial on a monitor in a cage bolted to the top of the pump. Really?? don’t I have enough commercials to contend with? Oh the irony, the talking head inside the cage on the monitor is talking about security. Maybe if I look away the talking head will leave me the heck alone.

Now comes the Indian Casino part. Now that I have taken the time to find my savings pass how much is it going to save me? Big money.. big money.. big money.. NO whammies!.. oh crap! 3 cents a gallon just for all of that? Now the talking head has changed and can message you the picture of the windshield technician straight to your phone. Um..creepy and no thanks.. just out of curiosity though if he messes up my windshield do I get to send a blurred out picture of a rude hand gesture back? Sure, it’s okay for you to have my personal info so you can send me more marketing and spam but I can’t have yours? Fail!

Finally its grocery store time. I have to steer clear of the girl scouts, cub scouts, honey ham mongers, burglar alarm sales geeks, old ladies selling flowers, old guys selling hats and flags, and one suspicious looking greasy bald guy selling what looks like old car parts. No thanks, no thanks, no thanks, gave at the bank, give me a break, outa my way baldy! Finally! I am inside! The angles sing! No wait.. that’s the local high school choir hitting me up for a donation..dang it! Sample lady, sample lady, overly friendly “shopping helper” , kid in a kart, kid in a kart, hot mom.. wait.. hot mom?.. hmmmm… I am sorry what was I doing again? Ms. Let me show you my cleavage distracted me (and that doesn’t take much) when bending over to put her pop into her kid infused kart. My wedding ring reaches up and smacks me back to the task on hand.

Milk, milk, lemonade, hey! Look the bakery where fudge is made! (homer impression) mmmmmmmmmm… fudge. I got milk, where’s the OJ? Oh shoot! I just called it OJ. White bronco, white bronco, misfitting glove section, knives, ah! Orange Juice! Tada! Oh crap.. its hot mom’s sister Ms Tattoo on cleavage and tramp stamp so that there is no safe place to rest your eyes is up ahead. Must avert kart to baby section and birth control section that will scare her off. Whew! I have never been so glad to see an older lady in orthopedic hose in my life. I am not sure what she’s doing in the baby section and I don’t have time for a round of 20 questions with Ms granny nanny here.

Toilet paper! Ah it was the next aisle over. Now I can make my way to the check out. Now here is where it gets really interesting: I have to jockey back and forth trying to choose which lane I can hopefully get through the fastest without having to have an obligatory awkward conversation with the grocery buying party in front or back of me. Oh Look! Its secret agent polo shirt person! You can tell he/she works there because of the matching dockers and polo shirt. They are secret agents because when not talking to you they are always talking into the hands free earpiece thingamabobs. A suggestion is made to use the self check out station.

Welcome! Ahhhh!! its talking to me also! Make it stop. Savings card thing again? Holy crap using this thing to save 3 cents a gallon is getting to be a chore. Beep! Scanned electronic dirt bag! “please put the item in the bag!” its in the bag douche bag!.. its just not on your stamp sized weight sensory whatever you call it. Oh geesh now secret agent polo shirt person has to either put in the NASA launch code or some kind of lets just get along code. “Please put the item in the bag” (clenches fist) “do you have any coupons?” are your serious?? “please take your receipt, your items and have a nice day” sure easy for you to say.

I finally get home with the items I intended and my wife says: “what took you so long?” I put items away, go into bedroom and promptly scream into a pillow.

My Pajama Pants at the store * Rant *


Have you been to the grocery store lately? People in the pajama pants is now at epidemic proportions. I am willing to make exceptions for toddlers but if both you and your child are old enough to not be able to fit in the grocery cart then your old enough to take a few more moments to at least put on a pair of (normal) pants, shorts, or heck I will even take sweats over having to see Elmo, Sponge bob, or Hello Kitty on a fully grown adult staring back at me while waiting to check out.

I totally understand the comfortable factor, when I get home and I absolutely have no desire to go anywhere else I jump into my pajama pants as quickly as I can. I am a slob myself, and probably don’t have any standing to lecture anyone else on the fine art nuances of not being a slob but I draw the line at dressing like a crack cocaine addict, pot head, or escaped mental patient with a pension for cartoon character emblazoned pajama pants when going to the grocery store.

I only hope when these people are running around with their pajama pants on that there is someone at home who loves them for all their neurotic glory. Some one who loves them for their particular brand of crazy (because let’s face it we all have own brand of crazy) and thinks its cute when they lounge around with Star Wars Character prints. I can also only hope they realize the rest of the outside world does not hold the same infinity or appreciation for their pajama pants and decide to dress like a normal human being when going to the grocery store.