Back Off, Fat Man!

So, I’m back.  When last I left you I was discussing such things as Pillow Fights, the recipe for Ice Cubes, and the predictive power of cockroaches.  While I have a lot of fun writing this blog, I admit that the derisiveness of the election season even gets to be too much for me at times.  So I needed to take a little time off to clear my head and detox.  It’s time to get back to the task at hand though – namely, making fun of idiots my fellow citizens’ commentary on internet message boards.  But, I have also decided to intersperse the posts by making shit up as I go waxing philosophic about ideas rolling around in my head.  I begin with a topic relevant to the season: Santa Claus.

I was listening to my favorite morning radio personality discuss a news story about a small “dust-up” at a local mall over the mall Santa Claus.  Apparently this particular Santa, in a showing of ultimate goodwill toward men, was refusing to allow children to sit on his lap if the parents didn’t first purchase the holiday photo package.  Now, my crack research department had no time to determine whether this news item is real or not, but it brought up this point:  Do kids want to sit on Santa’s lap?

I maintain that they do not.  Or at least, a majority of them do not.  If you are a parent you probably have a photo in your archive similar to the one above.  I know I do.  My oldest son didn’t care one way or the other about sitting on Santa’s lap, but the younger one was dead set against it.  My local radio host hit upon what I think is closest to the truth when he said, “The magic of Santa for kids is that he leaves the presents while they’re asleep and they never have to SEE him.”

I think this is 100 percent accurate.  What do we parents tell kids?  What did our parents tell us?  1. Santa knows who has been naughty and who has been nice, and 2. Santa won’t come if you’re awake.

I remember two vivid things from my own childhood about Santa:  Lying in bed trying desperately to get to sleep so Santa would come, and driving myself nuts trying to determine which “list” Santa had me on.  I mean, there aren’t any published standards for “naughty” and “nice.”  What if you’re nice 364 days, but that one day…say way the hell back in March…you were mean to your little sister?  Does that one screw-up put you on the “naughty” list for the rest of the year?  Or is it more relative than that?  Can you be “naughty” all you want, as long as you make up for it by being more “nice”?  Is there a spreadsheet of points for different “naughty” categories?  How is a kid to know on Christmas Eve whether to expect a lump of coal or not?  And how the heck do you expect them to get to sleep if they’re thinking about all of this other stuff?

That’s a LOT of pressure to put on kids.  So, is it any wonder that when we parents traipse our kids to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap, that at least half of those kids are scared shitless?!?  I know I would be thinking, “This dude flies all over the world in one night, slides down AND UP chimneys, knows who has been naughty and nice, and now you want me to SIT ON HIS EFFIN’ LAP!?  That sounds like a potential lie-detector machine to me…NO WAY!  WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

So maybe…just maybe…we ought to dial back on the whole “big, fat man has magical powers and can see into your soul thing” if we expect our kids to also sit on his lap for a nice photo to send to all of our friends and family?  Just a thought.

Be Reasonable.

Ice Cube Hilarity

If you don’t read any of my other blog posts (and why the hell aren’t you?!), treat yourself to this one.  You won’t be disappointed.

Who knew ice cubes could be so damn funny?

No.  Not Ice Cube, the rapper turned mainstream actor.  Ice cubes, the frozen…ummm…treat?

Yes. Those.
People send me links and stories that they think might be good candidates for this blog.  Because of that, every once in a while something comes across my inbox that is so delectable, so tasty, that not only can I not improve upon it but I am compelled to share it with as many people as I can.  That is the case with the following submission to a food.com recipe for, you guessed it, ice cubes.

Now, you may be thinking the same thing I was thinking when I first read it:  “Cute, someone trying to take a lame attempt at an old joke.”    I also thought that maybe the internetz would respond with some mean comments back at the author “CHRISSYG” who was just trying to be a little light and poke fun at her family. 

I was wrong.  Way wrong.  What ensues is one of the funniest collaborative jokes I have seen in years.   Most of the respondents decided to play it straight and respond just like they would any other recipe, offering helpful hints and feedback to the steps provided.  To…ahem…wet…your…uhh…appetite, here are just a few of the tasty morsels (I can’t help myself):

Who knew “foodies” could be so damn clever?  If you want to continue to laugh, click on the “ratings and reviews” tab at this link:  http://www.food.com/recipe/ice-cubes-420398

Be Reasonable.

 

Race of Roaches

So a cockroach walks into a political convention…and nobody notices.

One thing political campaign season brings with it, along with completely unreasonable smear campaigns on both sides, are strange stories of predicting the outcome.  For instance, the New Jersey Pest Management Association (insert joke here) recently held its 16^th Presidential Cockroach Derby.

The race involves two hissing Madagascar cockroaches with paper cut-outs of each candidate attached to them.  In this year’s contest, held at Rutgers University, the Romney roach defeated the Obama roach.

There you have it.  Issues resolved.  Congratulations to Romney.  Let’s cut the incessantly stupid political ads and move on…

Oh, c’mon “FortuneHost” don’t you know that if Obamacare isn’t defeated your 90-year-old granny will be taken out into the woods and hit over the head with a shovel by the death panel?  Or that if Romney wins, it will be mandatory for the family dog to be strapped to the roof of your car?  This is SERIOUS business!!!

“Trooper” I’ll be honest with you.  I’ve looked at this for 15 minutes and I can’t for the life of me figure out what you mean by “#$%$ race.”  I mean, what is it?  Foot?  Nah, Obama’s black so everyone knows he’d have the advantage.  Dick?  Nah…same thing.  I dunno…I give up.

Haha!  I love drug use references in my presidential politics!  I mean, this would be quite a change.  It’s been at least 20 years since we had a President that hasn’t admitted to using illegal drugs.  Hell, it would be a scandal if Mitt admitted to drinking a Mountain Dew!

BOOM!  Taking shots at a guy who was never even running!  Nice job…

Talk about damning with faint praise…

Oh, but you guys got that one right…TROLL alert!

That’s clever “Curt” in a slightly bigoted sorta way…

Ahhh…finally.  Well done you three.  Okay, back to the “real” race…

Be Reasonable.

Pillow Fight

I was talking with my friend Sweet Tea the other day when she asked me a question that surprised me: “Why do grown men get all stupefied over the phrase ‘pillow fight’?”

I know that I’ve lost all the men at this point, so for the all the women that may still be reading, I was surprised by the question because I thought Sweet Tea was already well in touch with the way pigs men think.  Here’s what happens – you say the words ‘pillow fight’ to a man and immediately his already sex-addled brain conjures up this image:

We can’t help it; it must be in our DNA or something.

So I told Sweet Tea, “well, when we hear that phrase we imagine based on every teen movie like Porky’s or Animal House that has ever been made you girls in your under wear, painting each other’s toe-nails, braiding each other’s hair, when suddenly a pillow fight breaks out.  That quickly evolves into light pushing, wrestling…which moves to kissing and…”

“ALRIGHT!” Sweet Tea stopped me right there.  “I get the picture.”

I quickly changed the subject.  But afterwards my mind floated back to the pillow fight conversation as I imagined Sweet Tea and several of her friends painting each other’s toe-nails.  I wondered if there was anything like that in a woman’s world.  But then I realized that even if a woman fantasized about men fighting, they were likely to be fighting over her and it would not end up the same way as a pillow fight.  That’s the thing – we have no problem imagining hot women’s sexual “fluidity.”  But sexual “fluidity” in men is another story.

Or so I thought.  Then I stumbled on an article which challenged that thought:

The article also quoted a neuroscientist who had analyzed over a billion internet searches and discovered “…straight men do search for images of penises – especially large penises – almost as much as they search for vaginas.”  So, are men becoming more sexually “fluid” or are those searches merely for comparisons sake?

Ohhhkay “Pally.”  First, I’m not real sure whether you meant as a giver or receiver but either way it is not the kind of “fluid” we’re really talking about here.

Interesting “Joe.” You apparently have the only set of eyes on the planet that is able to filter out men from pornographic sexual images.

I’ll save you all the trouble of reading the next post from “KAS” here unless you really want to.  I will just say that he wants to prove his superiority by giving a lesson on genetics, but then can’t bring himself to use the word “penis” so refers to “wing wangs.”  Aaaaahahahahaha!!!

Anyone else want to float a lie out there?

I don’t think that’s normal “fritz.”  You should not feel “disgust and loathing” over a naked body like yourself.  Unless, or course, you weigh 500 lbs and haven’t seen your own “wing wang” in quite some time.  Either way, I think you need to talk to someone.

I’m not sure either one of you knows what the meaning of gay is.  It’s one thing to be closeted but quite another to be in denial.

Lol…

Way to take the air out of a perfectly good argument…”I’m doing my hair”

Wow…that exchange was even a little too much for me.

Well, we’re never going to “get to the bottom” (snicker) of it this way.  So, back to my visions of pillow fights…

Be Reasonable.

Eff U!

How many of you use curse words on the job?

Let me re-phrase the question.  How many of you use curse words on the job but won’t admit to it?

That’s what I thought. 

CareerBuilder recently conducted a study of cursing in the workplace and ranked the top cities according to percentage of workers surveyed that admitted to cursing on the job.  Washington, D.C. topped the list at 62 percent.  The nation’s capital was followed by Denver (60 percent) and Chicago (58 percent).  New York finished ninth at just 46 percent.  This clearly means one thing:  New Yorkers are a bunch of effin’ liars!

I live and work in Washington, D.C. so that percentage is not really all that surprising to me.  In fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of people I have worked with in the last 20 years that have not used “colorful language” on the job.  One guy I worked with used the exclamation “rats!” instead of cursing.  Come to think of it, that’s pretty colorful language right there so perhaps I shouldn’t exclude him?

At any rate, certainly a story about cursing on the job was going to generate some disagreements from the internet world, right?

Well “globetrotter” I seriously doubt any English teacher said “…they using curse words” but nice try.  I have a friend who is an English teacher and I believe her command of the language seems to give her an advantage in creatively using curse words.

Anyone else want to try their hand at the “holier than thou” approach?

Good one “Bobby.”  I’ve got to say that “enigmatic sounding monikers” sounds a little dirty…

“Wazsup” you look like you have something feeble to add…

How about a generational argument?  The article also said that younger people were less likely to curse at work than…uh…”experienced” workers…

Hey “soold”…first of all, learn how to spell “excel” and second…Get the eff off my lawn and pull up your pants!!!

Interesting put-down from someone who refers to himself as “Mrpeepeehead”

Ooooh…here WE go!  Look, I don’t know why “Bill O” felt the need to bring homosexuality into this discussion either, but I do agree that if anyone is looking for an argument, THIS IS THE RIGHT PLACE!

Dammit “Tom,” it’s “cesspool.”  Please, if you’re going to insult us there is really no room for error.

Everyone cheer for the required political comment…yawn…

Oh, “White Devil.”  What the hell is “mokey boy nogger”?  Is incoherence your calling card, or is that a stupid question?

Well, I have no idea what either of you typed here.  Are you sure you’re speaking English?  Insults work so much better when people understand them…

Seriously?  I don’t really know what to say.  Can someone help me out?

Well, not really as “colorful” as I’d have probably gone…but sometimes subtlety is better.  Thanks “Scott.”

And thank you “EDWIN” for feeling our pain.  I have to admit, after so many years driving the beltway myself, it gets very hard to…

Be Reasonable.

Poor Thing

Mila Kunis recently pontificated to the New York Daily News on just how tough it’s been for her to be hot and to have had steady employment throughout her career:

"I have everything working against me at this point," she said. "I am a woman, I'm a child actress and I was on a television show for eight years."

Clearly Kunis has a solid understanding of struggle and the dedication it takes to reach your goals:

"I still don't have a f*****g clue what I'm doing. I'm not confident in my talent, whatever that might be, and I hope I never am.”

As if those hardships aren’t enough to bear, the poor little dear sits at home at night—ALONE!—with a cup of chamomile tea and a good book:

"Is a guy going to come up to me and ask if he can take me out on a date? Where can I go and have this date? I can't go anywhere! My house, his house ... So what do you do? I'm trying to be like a normal girl and a single girl ... but the concept of being single and in my position is just not workable. I couldn't even go on a date if I wanted to!"

Man…I wonder if anyone on the internet has any feelings they’d like to share…
Hit it, haters!

Wait, who’s that over there?  Take-yourself-a-bit-too-seriously crowd? Your turn. Dun dun dunnnnnnnnn…

And, finally, let’s hear it from the most generous, giving, caring guys around…

Reading and video games?!  Sounds dreamy…

Wait…one more. Bitter? Table for one, please:

Oh, K Dub…saying what we were all thinking…

Be reasonable.

Arousing Suspicion

There are three things that never fail to “move the needle” when it comes to generating discussions: religion, politics, and sex.  My work here of course is focused on heated internet discussions that broadly paint people into two camps and how we, as Americans, have seemingly lost the ability to have reasonable disagreements with each other.  To demonstrate how deep this runs, I normally stay as far away from religion and politics as possible because those subjects are just too easy (and they typically find their way into any discussion board or comment string anyway).  But sex is another story.  Friend and fellow blogger “Sweet Tea” (whose excellent stuff you can sample here) has told me that whenever she feels the need to increase traffic on her page, she just throws in a few photos of boobs for her male readers and the hits increase by a factor of two (see what I did there?)

So this past week a little news story caught my attention.  It’s a story about a man named Jonah Falcon who claimed to be overly groped by the TSA (I don’t think this was related to the other recent TSA alcohol related event I wrote about).  The kicker on this story is that Mr. Falcon happens to be the owner of the world’s largest penis, measured at 9 inches flaccid and 13.5 inches…uhhhh…not.

It turns out that the TSA agents thought Mr. Falcon might be trying to smuggle something in his pants (snicker).  So they frisked him.  Yeah.  My favorite part of the story was when the TSA agent asked Mr. Falcon if he had “a growth” (snicker).  Mr. Falcon calmly replied “That’s my dick.”  Hahahahahaha…I would have been tempted to say, “A growth?  Not yet.  But I will if you keep doing that…s-l-o-w-l-y.”

Obviously this was something I thought might generate a bunch of discussion and I wasn’t disappointed.  However, what I also found was that there was not a whole lot of divisive comments and/or sniping about this story.  Many of the comments were not only way more clever than what I could have come up with but also had me laughing so hard that I decided this week I would simply let the internet denizens have their say without me.  So, presented for your reading pleasure, without further adieu, my favorite commenters yet:

You guys make me proud!

Be Reasonable.