Shia, We Hardly Knew Ye

It’s all over the interweb, Shia LeBeouf is quitting public life!  If you’re like me, there are two questions which immediately spring to mind: 1) Who the hell is Shia LeBeouf? and 2) Why should someone like myself give a rat’s ass that I may never find out who the hell he is?

This is what he looks like.  Still, not even a flicker of recognition in my brain, maybe he looks different when he's fighting robots.  (Image from Wikipedia dot org)
This is what he looks like. Still, not even a flicker of recognition in my brain, maybe he looks different when he’s surrounded by robots. (Image from Wikipedia dot org)

A quick Google search has revealed that Shia (we’re on a first name basis now) is an actor.  For your edification, Shia is pronounced SHY-uh, and essentially rhymes with Hi-ya.  It’s odd that I discovered this just in time to say goodbye-ah.  With that name, he was bound to end up a thespian or a temperamental chef.

No soup for paparazzi!  (Image from screencrush dot com)
No soup for paparazzi! (Image from screencrush dot com)

Lebeouf got his start in a show on the Disney channel – and somehow I missed it!  Later, he went on to featured roles in quite a few flicks I’ve never seen, including all three of the toy-based block buster “Transformers” movies.  As a self-proclaimed old codger, I’m more interested in getting enough fiber in my diet than I am in seeing films about tractor trailers which transform into giant flying killer-robots.  Lebeouf was also featured in one of the fourteen Indiana Jones movies.  Once again, my taste in movies kept me from dropping ten bucks to see what death defying hijinx Harrison Ford was up to this time.  I’m not really an Indiana Jones fan anyway, but I’m pretty sure Shia did not play the cute little Asian kid in the mining car.

See!?  He looks like a Camaro, but he transforms into this cool killer robot thing, right?  Okay, so how do we fill the other 89 minutes of the movie?  (Image from tfcool dot com)
See!? He looks like a Camaro, but he transforms into this cool killer robot thing, right? Okay, so how do we fill the remaining 89 minutes of the movie? (Image from tfcool dot com)

Like many young actors, Shia’s been in a few scrapes with the law.  At one point, a neighbor was chatting with someone in his car and blocking Shia from getting into his driveway.  According to a witness, Shia rammed the guy’s car and threatened him.  In another instance, Shia supposedly got into trouble for not leaving a Chicago Walgreen’s when asked to do so by management.

Both of these unfortunate incidents must have made good fodder for the gossip rags.  Though I have never spoken with Shia about these two stories, I’m entitled to my opinions.  As for the first one, I feel bad for Lebeouf; if you’re getting blocked from accessing your own driveway, it damn well better be for a good reason.  Such reasons might include firefighters getting a kitten out of a tree or perhaps vindictive staffers of a politician having jammed up a certain bridge to send somebody a little message.  One could also be expected to accept traffic issues if a piece of earth moving equipment from a nearby construction site had transformed into a massive automaton with death-ray capabilities and was terrorizing the neighborhood.  If that yahoo from across the street was sitting there in his mid-life crisis Porsche chatting it up with his 26 year old piece of eye candy, then a little bumper ramming might have been in order.  As for the Walgreen’s incident, you’re on your own, Shia.  I’ve been in a few Walgreen’s and I don’t understand why anyone would want to stay in there one second longer than necessary – just pick up your anti-fungal cream and get the hell out.

Sorry about your driveway access, Shia.  You shoulda thought of that before you bought a multimillion dollar home in a town whose mayor doesn't want to play ball, know what I mean?  (Image from freedomoutpost dot com)
Sorry about your driveway access, pal. You shoulda thought of that before you bought a multimillion dollar home in a town whose mayor doesn’t want to play ball, know what I mean?  How about some baked goods, show you I’m not such a bad guy?  (Image from freedomoutpost dot com)

In any case, that’s the life of a movie star.  People follow you around and everything you do is under a microscope.  I can’t believe that no one ever told Shia about that clause in the job description.  I’m not sure he’s going to continue acting while avoiding the public eye, or just quit the Hollywood rat race entirely.  The answer to that question is surely somewhere in his statement about quitting public life.  To find out more, I’d have to go read it, and my attention to Lebeouf’s headlines would only fan the flames he’s trying to extinguish.  As for the irony of someone who’s in the public eye using that very same fame and media access to announce that he’s retiring from public life, I’ll leave that for a more clever writer to discuss.  I don’t have the time to write that post, I’ve got to contact my cable provider to find out why I don’t get the Disney channel.

Farewell To A Soon-To-Be Bygone Era

With the opening of pot stores in Colorado in January 2014, the writing is on the wall for the impending demise of what was considered by some to be the outlaw-vogue marijuana mystique.  I thought I’d better write this before this culture of cool disappears entirely.

Smuggler’s Blues

I recall a girl I encountered one summer in my youth.  She was wafer thin and very cute.  She may have had a twin sister, I’m not sure, my memory of such ancient trivia is worn by the years.  One thing I do recall was her ingenious method for hiding a bag of pot on her person.  The tube-top and hip hugger bell bottoms she wore left precious little room for smuggling illicit cargo.  Once she was convinced that I was “cool” she lifted up the hem of her bell bottoms and revealed a bag of weed held with a safety pin to the inside of the leg of her pants.  The fact that I recall that episode at all should reflect just how impressed I was at the time.  With pot legalized, the creativity of hiding such bulky contraband will go the way of dinosaur farming and rum running.

For the record, the girl in question wore no such hat, which would have provided her with yet another hiding spot.  (Image from etsy dot com)
For the record, the girl in question wore no such hat, which would have provided her with yet another hiding spot. (Image from etsy dot com)

A Weed By Any Other Name

Once upon a time, pot was known by relatively few names like Mary Jane, Reefer or Wacky Tobacky.  As the culture of marijuana grew, smokers could choose from (alleged) strains such as Panama Red and Acapulco Gold.  The monikers of today’s varieties are certainly a departure from the names of old.  As an example, one medical dispensary in Michigan is currently offering varieties such as Cataract Kush, Ziggy Starcrunch and  Death Star Clone.  As pot becomes mainstream, it’s only a matter of time before Madison Avenue gets involved and starts coming up with slicker brand names to appeal to target demographics and such.  Potential product names include Appee-Tight, U-Wanna-Ganja, and Happy Hippy Swirl.

The New Riders of the Purple Sage had an entire record album named after Panama Red.  That's an A side and a B side, folks, a big honor indeed.  (Image from en dot Wikipedia dot org)
The New Riders of the Purple Sage had an entire record album named after Panama Red. That’s an A side AND a B side, folks, a big honor indeed. (Image from en dot Wikipedia dot org)

Max Head Room

A unique byproduct of the illicit marijuana trade was the head shop.  Largely already gone from the landscape, head shops sold rolling papers, pipes and all manner of bongs.  In addition, there were lots of cool items to enjoy once one had partaken in some git-high, such as black lights, dashiki’s for white people and slow-motion wave machines.  It’s hard to imagine smokers choosing to spend their cash on a slow-motion wave machine when for the same money they could have bought a bag of Jamaican Lamb’s Breath Ganja and still had enough spare change left for Taco Bell.  With herb going legit, the few remaining head shops will be replaced by kiosks in the mall and maybe a special counter at the local Costco.  No doubt merchandisers like The Sharper Image will get in on the market selling bongs and marijuana vaporizers.  It wouldn’t surprise me if someone came out with some sort of Keurig-like device for the people who don’t want a lot of muss and fuss with their pot preparation.

It's like watching waves form in like cross section, but then it like crashes into the opposite side and starts over again like going the other way all slow and stuff, and then it's like whoa - going the other way and...oh man, did I miss my bus? (Image from plus dot google dot com)
It’s like watching waves form in like cross section, but then it like crashes into the opposite side and starts over again like going the other way all slow and stuff, and then it’s like whoa – going the other way and…oh man, did I miss my bus? (Image from plus dot google dot com)

Consume Mass Quantities

Back in the day, buyers could get dime bags, nickel bags, and something called a “lid”.  I’ve never purchased any of these amounts myself, but I’ve watched enough episodes of Mod Squad and Dragnet to have a pretty good idea of what I’m talking about.  With legitimacy will come a new set of packaging strategies.  What was once referred to as a “loose joint” will become a “pre-rolled individual cigarette kick”, or P.R.I.C.K.  A “bong hit” will now be packaged as “single serving” or a “B-Cup” for use with the newly created Keurig-style electric bong.  The old ounce bag with be sold as a “Super Valu Pak” complete with a colorful logo and anti-theft chip imbedded in its plastic container.

You may find a nickel bag under Willie's hat, a dime bag in his pocket, and a Super-Valu-Pak in his tour bus.  (Image from Huffingtonpost dot com)
You may find a nickel bag under Willie’s hat, a dime bag in his pocket, and a Super-Valu-Pak in his tour bus. (Image from Huffingtonpost dot com)

Gather Round Kids, Pappy’s Gonna Tell You A Story About The Olden Days

I guess it was all inevitable.  The world changes and something which was once taboo becomes accepted, only to be replaced by a new naughty.  Perhaps someday, when there’s a break in the conversation around the Thanksgiving dinner table, I can clear my throat and tell the great-grandkids about the olden times.  They’ll look up from their heaping plates of genetically engineered turkey flavored nutri-paks with cranberry-essence gelcaps and listen as I tell them all about the exciting adventures of Panama Red.

An Open Letter To A Former Oregon Football Player

The news was abuzz a little while ago with the story of a former University of Oregon Duck football player who went to the UCLA-Oregon game in Eugene and was disgusted by the things he heard fans say.  He wrote an open letter to Oregon football fans.  He didn’t specify that the letter was directed only to the people he encountered in the stands, or even just the ones in the stadium itself.  He finished his letter by telling the fans to go “F” themselves.  The letter was a big hit for news merchants and the internet since everyone loves a scandal.  On behalf of at least one Oregon football fan, I’d like to submit the following rebuttal:

There's a lot more to Oregon than just the U of O, and there's a lot more to the U of O than just football players and fans.  (Image from Wikimedia dot org)
For the record, there’s a lot more to the U of O than just football players and fans, and there’s a lot more to Oregon than just the U of O. (Image of Wizard Island in Crater Lake from Wikimedia dot org)

Dear Former Oregon Ducks Football Player,

As a University of Oregon alumnus and big fan of the team, I was sorry to read that your experience as a spectator in Autzen stadium was not as pleasant as you might have hoped.  You seemed genuinely surprised that some of the roughly 60,000 people sitting around you didn’t have a grasp of the nuances of the game.  As if that weren’t bad enough, some of them seemed to be far from supportive of your former teammates.  I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that as a former player, you’ve spent far more time on the field of play than in the stands.

You mentioned that you had a few beverages before the game.  You might not have noticed, but I’m willing to wager that some of the folks you encountered that day might have had quite a few more than a few.  As if adding alcohol to people wasn’t bad enough, there’s a good chance that some of those fans knew next to nothing about the game even before they started drinking.  You might not have noticed the buffoon factor in stadium crowds before, since you were likely busy playing and focusing on the action on the field.  News flash; lots of people go to football games but know little about the sport and lots of other people go to games to drink and have fun, and maybe watch some football.

As anyone from a major metropolitan area can tell you, if you put 55 or 60 thousand people in a small area, you'll quickly find a few assholes.  (Image from bleacherreport dot com)
As anyone from a major metropolitan area can tell you, if you pack 55 or 60 thousand people in a relatively small venue, you’ll quickly find a few assholes. Just to clarify, I am not insinuating that anyone in this photo is an asshole, except maybe that one guy right there.  (Image from bleacherreport dot com)

You also wrote that you felt like a foot soldier in Spartacus.  That like slaves, you and your team mates were fed, housed, trained and given nothing more.  Don’t slam Oregon fans for that, I’m pretty sure the NCAA is in charge of what you’re allowed to get reimbursement-wise.  For the record, a quick internet search estimated the cost for an out-of-state student to attend the University of Oregon for one academic year is a little bit over $44,000 (I saw only 26 players from Oregon on this year’s roster of 120 players).  That number includes tuition, books, meals and housing .  For four years, that adds up to $176,000 ($220,000 for five year red shirt players).  I realize that to NFL players, $176,000 is chump change, but to the average pair of parents sending their kid to college, it’s a lot of cabbage.  I’m sorry you would have liked more than that for your sacrifice and hard work, but I’m guessing your parents were pretty happy about avoiding having to get a second mortgage on their house to send you to school.

On the subject of NFL players, LeGarrette Blount is playing for the New England Patriots these days.  He is best remembered for sucker punching an admittedly mouthy Boise State player in the Oregon season opener a few years ago.  Chip Kelly benched him until the Rose Bowl if I remember correctly, but the damage was done.  Another NFL player, former Duck John Boyett, lost his spot a few months ago on the Colts roster after a public intoxication, disorderly conduct arrest – alcohol rears its ugly head again.  He reportedly told the police, “You can’t arrest me, I’m a Colts player”.  To the best of my knowledge, Jeremiah Masoli never made it to the NFL.  He was the Duck’s starting quarterback before being kicked off the team, after embarrassing us all by breaking into a frat house and stealing a laptop.  The biggest sports/non-sports story these days is the Miami Dolphins letting go of an offensive lineman named Incognito who sounds like a truly special brand of asshole.  Incognito actually managed to bully a guy who is damn near as big as he is.  We fans can take solace that he was technically an Oregon Duck for a week before the coaching staff wised up and dumped him.

Many Oregon fans are embarrassed when the team we root for is associated with knuckleheads – I know I am.  Yet despite my shame, I didn’t stop watching the games on TV, nor did I burn any of my Oregon sweatshirts with the Nike swooshes.  I remained a loyal fan to my team, because as anyone would admit, it’s not fair to sully the whole program because of the poor behavioral choices of a few dopes…

Just as it’s unfair to trash an entire population of fans because you ran into some jackasses in a stadium.

Please don’t write a rebuttal to this email.  There’s a big game coming up and I’d like to focus on the action on the field.

I'm an Oregon fan, whether they win or lose.  I won't let the foolish actions of a few players, former players or fans get in the way of my loyalty.  (Image from helmetgame dot com)
I’m an Oregon fan, whether they win or lose. I won’t let the foolish actions or words of a few players, former players or fans get in the way of my loyalty.  Now stop whining and let’s watch the game (Image from helmetgame dot com)

More Tawdry Viewing

I didn’t see the MTV awards show this year.  Then again, I’ve never seen an MTV award show.

True to form, those preceding two facts will not deter me from weighing in on this year’s highly-hyped edition.  For those readers who actually saw the awards show, feel free to roll your eyes at the inaccuracies which will soon follow.  For the rest of you, take my word for it and try to enjoy my synopsis.  By reading my account and not actually watching the show, you’ll have saved yourself an hour or two, including roughly 23 minutes of Axe Body Spray commercials.

This isn't the MTV trophy, it's from Darwincountry dot org.  No one can deny the "evolution of outrageous" of MTV's award behavior.  I can't wait to read about what happens next year!
This isn’t the MTV trophy, it’s from Darwincountry dot org. No one can deny the “evolution of outrageous” of MTV’s award behavior. I can’t wait to read about what happens next year!

As a bit of background, MTV Music Television – which hasn’t aired music videos since who knows when – has an annual movie and music awards show.  The show has had its share of “outrageous” moments, all of which served to catapult someone further into the spotlight for a few more minutes.  This is the same venue where Madonna sucked face with Britney and Lady Gaga covered her loins with flank steaks (or maybe she covered her flanks with loins).  Howard Stern once flew in dressed as his own super hero, “Fartman”, and blew up part of the stage with an egger.

The Gagster had originally thought about wearing this tie with khakis and a sport jacket, but didn't think it was "outrageous" enough.  (Image from z a z z l e dot com
Lady Gagster had originally thought about wearing this tie with khakis and a sport jacket, but didn’t think it was “outrageous” enough. (Image from z a z z l e dot com

This year’s big story, if the internet is to be believed, is that Miley Cyrus did a naughty dance on stage.  To be honest, I wouldn’t recognize Miley if she was twerking right in front of my house.  It’s a safe bet that I’d yell at her to stay the hell off my grass though.  I’ve written about Miley before and if nothing else interesting happens in the future, I likely will again.  She’s constantly featured in gossip rags and we all know that’s where I get some of my best material.

Even more fun than Miley’s dancing is the feigned shocked reactions by the media to what they had all expected in the first place.  I don’t doubt that some of the talk-news types already had “outrage over something that was said or done at the MTV awards” penciled into the following week’s programming before the show even happened.

I sat in a doctor’s office waiting room on Monday, listening to one TV talking head after another yabber on and on about Miley’s performance, with one commentator making the suggestion that they should no longer call her by name.  Apparently, “She Who Will Not Be Named” is this knucklehead’s idea of a punishment for someone whose parents named her “Miley”.  It seemed something of an over-reaction to Miley’s antics to put her in the same category as Beetlejuice and Leona Helmsley.

She Who Shall Not Be Named (Image from content dot time dot com)
She Who Shall Not Be Named.  “Why so serious?” – so sayeth the Joker.  (Image from content dot time dot com)

On Tuesday I sat in another doctor’s waiting room and listened to more of the same.  I’m either getting old or I’ve changed careers and become a pharmaceutical sales rep.

At one point, they stopped talking about Miley having unsafe relations with a foam finger and discussed poison gas attacks and the likelihood of the US getting themselves into yet another no-win military clusterfuck in yet another middle eastern country.  There was a commercial break and then it was back to more in-depth debate over the outrageous behavior of former child stars.  Justin Beiber could not be reached for comment as he was busy killing a potted palm.

As the world teeters on the brink of absolute bedlam, I suppose it’s a perverse luxury to spend our time worrying about a skinny white girl shaking her moneymaker on a TV award show.  I can hardly wait to see what diversions next week will bring.

Snoopy Who?

Day six of the dog days is upon us.  I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting tired of biting my own ass and scratching for fleas.  Today is dedicated to Snoopy.  For you younger readers, he’s a cartoon beagle who is featured in Charlie Brown comics.  Comics are like cartoons, but they’re motionless drawings and do not usually involve scores of people drawing cells in sweatshops in third world countries.

I can't believe I'm playing second fiddle to that feathered bit of fluff.  (Image from photobucket dot com)
I can’t believe I’m second banana to that feathered bit of fluff. (Image from photobucket dot com)

I hung around those dopey kids. Every chance I got, I’d steal the show. The crowds couldn’t get enough of me.

Lucy and Peppermint Patty were sharing a dressing room, while I had a suite with bowls of M & M’s with all the brown ones picked out. That was my message to Charlie – letting him know where he stood. Chocolate disagrees with me, but I demanded those bowls anyway.

Then one day, Schultzy drops a freakin’ bird into the strip. I didn’t think anything of it. Over night, he’s getting his own dorm posters and endorsement deals. Just like that, I’m second fiddle and bunking with Linus. Freaking Linus!!

That’s it – 110 words!  I’m sure you’re clamoring for more.  So here are the other Dog Days bloggers, who are slaving away at creating their crunchy nuggets that makes its own savory gravy.

Blogdramedy

Steve Betz

Joe’s Musings

MC’s Whispers

Shouts From The Abyss

H. E. Ellis

Lenore Diane

Fix It Or Deal

1 Point Perspective – Wait a minute, that’s ME!  If you’re enjoying my dog themed nonsense, you should check out this post!

Three Heads Are Better Than One

It’s day 4 of Blogdramedy’s Dog Days of Summer writing challenge.  Today’s bow wow spotlight is on none other than Fluffy, the three-headed dog featured in Harry Potter.  A couple of disclaimers before we begin; I have this all written and ready to publish on day 3, and I’m hopeful there will be internet access on the rustic portion of the Oregon coast where I’ll be at this time tomorrow.  Also, I freely admit that I have never read any of the Harry Potter books, though at least a couple of my children are fanatical about all things Potter.  I did a 30 second Google search and started typing.  A three-headed dog in a British setting?  It’s only 110 words, how badly can I screw this up?

"Hey Clive, your breath is bloody frightful it is" (Image from squidoo dot com)
Hey Clive, your breath is bloody frightful it is” (Image from squidoo dot com)

Allo Guv’nuh!

So you know, I’m the only one of the ‘eads who can speak the Queen’s English. The two ‘eads to me left lack vocabularies beyond your standard growlin’ and snarlin’.

We each got our abilities, we ‘ave. Clive on the far left is really the best suited for licking our arse. It’s just as well, I’ve never developed a taste fer it meself. Teddy, in the middle, he excels at catching flies. Not much of a skill, that, but he’s right proud of himself when he gets one. Clive and me humor ‘im and make a big deal out of it.

Hey Clive! Give our bum a lick wouldja?

Blogdramedy

Steve Betz

Joe’s Musings

Jtailele’s Blog – (Be advised, every time I click on this link, I find a blank blog.  If nothing changes by tomorrow, I’m dropping this one.)

MC’s Whispers

Shouts from the Abyss

H.E. Ellis

Lenore Diane

Fix it or Deal

1 Point Perspective – You just read my Fluffy post, why not celebrate the upcoming football season by reading my post about a really brilliant player for the Broncos?

A Weiner By Any Other Name

Despite his condom cap and dark glasses, we'd know him anywhere!  (Illustration by the author - no, I'm not proud)
Despite his condom cap and dark glasses, we’d know him anywhere! (Illustration by the author – no, I’m not proud)

By now, most people have heard about New York City mayoral candidate and former congressman Anthony Weiner’s recent relapse. Once again, he’s lost his footing on the slippery slope of posting naughty photos of his private parts. By a stroke of luck, I’ve been granted an exclusive interview with the star of the show, Mr. Weiner’s penis, Edgar Winston Weiner.

1PP: Edgar, thank you for joining me.
EWW: My pleasure, One Point, but please, call me Chumley – it’s been my nickname since Anthony saw his first Tennessee Tuxedo cartoon back in his childhood.

1PP: I think America is more than ready to hear your views.
EWW: I appreciate you giving me this forum. I’m sure there are a few wise-asses who’ll think it’s funny that a penis is being interviewed by someone named “1PP”, but I was tired of waiting for Pierce Morgan’s people to call. I want my side of the story out there.

1PP: Let’s get to the meat of the matter, what’s it like to be the object of so much attention, again?
EWW: Look pal, if you’re gonna get cute with the questions, we can end this interview right now. My PR people warned you about trying to be funny with word-play. I’m in a difficult position here, and if you’re going to go for cheap laughs with meat references, I’ll take my bag and leave.

1PP: My apologies. It was a Freudian slip, I guess.
EWW: Fair enough. Back to your question. It’s been hard on me. I mean, like most penises, I live my life in the dark most of the time. I’m not really accustomed to the spot-light.

1PP: How do you answer those who’ve speculated that you’re the brains behind the operation?
EWW: I’m glad you asked. Certainly I’ll admit to having a fair degree of influence over Tony, but these sexting fiascos are pretty much his doing. Can you imagine me taking snap shots and texting them to bimbos? I mean, look at me; I have no fingers! Seriously, look at me! How do I look? How about from this angle? Hold it a sec…how about now?

1PP: Umm. You look…ummm…can we get back to the interview? Please, sit back down.
EWW: Sorry. I’m trying to rebuild my image, but it’s an uphill battle.

1PP: Yeah…umm…well…Back to the questions. Speaking of your image, do you feel people are unable to look at you without a jaundiced eye?
EWW: I think lots of people have that problem. They can’t just look at me and see a penis; to them, I’m that penis. It’s embarrassing. I mean, I’ve got a life too. It’s not easy trying shield your family from the scrutiny of the media.

1PP: Tell us about that.
EWW: Well, you know, I’ve got the twins. I always try to keep them nearby, and sometimes it’s tough to protect them from the hurtful things that people say. For the record, I’ve done my very best to keep them out of this. I admit though, on at least one occasion, they were inadvertently featured in a photo.

1PP: Yes, that must be difficult for you. Have you discussed your feelings with Anthony, to try to help him avoid these incidents.
EWW: I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried. Tony isn’t always easy to get through to – he’s a driven man. He’s running for mayor, for crying out loud! On some level though, I feel like he’s still an 11 year-old boy trying to impress that Blattstein girl behind the snack bar at the city pool. For the record, I told him it was a bad idea even back then – the water was especially cold that day and we could have been caught. Her mother was right around the corner, waiting on line to buy snow cones. Sorry – that’s still a difficult memory for me. I wish I could turn back the hands of time.

1PP: I think we’ve all had moments of regret, when we wish we could undo bad things we’ve been a part of…
EWW: Maybe the Blattstein girl is in the phone book. If not, Tony could get himself on the internet and do one of those searches. He could send her a pic, show her what my A-game looks like. How’s this pose? Whaddya think?

1PP: Umm…I thought you were referring to going back and not showing yourself to people.
EWW: Oh…oh yeah! Yeah, that’s what I meant.

1PP: Did you have anything to do with Anthony’s choice of the name “Carlos Danger” in his attempt to protect his anonymity?
EWW: Glad you brought that up. As you can imagine, Tony had a tough time growing up with that last name of his. I mean, I had the same last name, but look at me, the name fits right? Really…look at me. Anyway, I understand him wanting to try to use a different name for discretion and all, but I was never a fan of “Carlos Danger”. I thought it sounded a little corny, you know? It was too B-grade porn star for my tastes.

1PP: What’s next for you and Anthony?
EWW: That’s the 64 dollar question, isn’t it? We’re hoping he somehow manages to win the mayoral race. I try to use positive visualization to help him along. I picture myself standing proudly at attention on the podium as the band plays. Between you and me, I’ve got my eye on a cabinet post. Something in public relations, maybe. From what I hear, the mayor gets his own photographer, and the lighting in his office is supposed to be really nice.

1PP: Well, I wish you and Anthony the best of luck. One thing seems clear to me, no matter what happens with the campaign, I’m pretty sure we’ll see you again.
EWW: Thanks, One Point. Is there any chance I can get a copy of the illustration? You can text it to me.

Facebook Math Class Is In Session

I could write for days about the strange things which pop up on Facebook.  It’s something of a blight on our society, but I can’t help looking, like it’s a mangled wreck on the side of the highway, because it kind of is.

Today’s Facebook oddity is the math problem phenomenon.  Very few people enjoyed math all that much back when we were sitting in junior high, staring out the window, or in my case, drawing three-D boxes on my spiralbound notebook.  Suddenly, decades later, people are putting tricky math problems on Facebook statuses with messages which say things like:  “50% of people get this wrong“.  The problems do not require a pencil and paper, much less a calculator.  I’m sure that thousands of people feel obligated to type in their answers to prove that even though they barely eeked out a “C” in 7th grade math, they’ve brightened up considerably since.

This was taken right off the Facebook page.  Kt hasn't been "dummied down" for you guys, it's a real equation with an actual answer.  (Image from Facebook - Original poster appears to be someone named "Continue Reading")
This was taken right off the Facebook page, along with a message that stated that 50% of people get it wrong.  It hasn’t been “dummied down” for you guys, it’s a real equation with an actual answer. (Image from Facebook – Original poster appears to be someone named “Continue Reading”)

Today’s math stumper, posted by a Facebook friend of mine, is seen above.  Let’s work this one out together as a class, shall we?  Before we get started, let’s review the order of operations as it relates to this problem.  Multiplication and division outrank addition and subtraction, and so they get done first.  If both multiplication and division are in the same equation, then we start from the left and work our way over.  Sound familiar?  I know, it’s been a while.  Just remember everyone, answering wrong is not a crime, but all of your Facebook friends will see what an idiot you are.

Now then, let’s begin with the first multiplication problem: One times zero equals…anyone…?  Mr. Einstein, you had your hand up first.  Right you are Albert, anything times zero is going to equal zero!

I don't understand how the hell you ended up in the same math class as Kim Kardashian either.  Maybe you should take the aptitude tests a little more seriously and use a number 2 pencil like you were told.  (Einstein image from uidaho.edu)
I don’t understand how the hell you ended up in the same math class as Kim Kardashian either. Maybe you should take the aptitude tests a little more seriously and use a number 2 pencil like you were told. (Einstein image from uidaho.edu)

Next, we move onto the division; what is two divided by two?  Miss Kardashian?  Hello?  Kim?!  Glad you could pull yourself from the revery of whatever you’re staring out the window at to give us the answer.  Miss Kardashian, I don’t care whether Kanye has his tongue stuck to the flagpole or not, what I care about is you telling the class what we get when we divide two by two.

I can see from the blank look on your face that you’re not getting this.  Let me put it into different terms for you:  If the network has given you TWO reality shows, how many groups of TWO reality shows will you have?  No, I didn’t realize you actually have five of them dear, but I was speaking hypothetically.  No Kim, “hypothetically” has nothing to do with needles.  Tell you what, go back to the window and see if the fire trucks are here for Kanye yet.

Okay…Now to put it all together…Six minus zero is six, and two divided by two equals one.  So…six plus one equals..Anyone?  People, please – we covered this years ago – it’s basic stuff…you KNOW this!  Six and one is…?  Albert, let someone else answer, please!

(I’m pacing the front of the room, anxiously rolling the piece of chalk between my thumb and index finger, looking from face to face as you guys nervously avert your eyes.  Albert is there in the front row, looking a little pissed-off with his hands folded in front of him – he’s having another horrific hair day.  Kim has stopped looking out the window and is texting someone from a phone that has more diamonds on it than the entire contents of my wife’s jewelry box.  I’m wondering whether tenure will even exist by the time I qualify for it.  I’m struggling to resist the urge to whip the blackboard eraser at one of you when the bell rings)

Maybe I was wrong to think of those math problems as being so easy.  Maybe half of all responders really DO get these wrong.

What’s that Kim?  No, actually, I was right, “half” and “50%” are actually the same amount.  It’s nice to know that you were listening, kind of.  Kim, shouldn’t you be heading to English class this period?  I heard today’s lecture is about Moby Dick.  No Kim…I’m fairly confident it’s about a whale.

Corned Beef #cornedbeefhash

At one point in my efforts to build a larger blog following, I heard that having a presence on Twitter is critical.  I set myself up there, but I still don’t think I’m using it properly.  It’s as if I’m squatting in the brush, swinging an electron microscope to smash my way into a termite mound.

In an ironic twist, there is no use of #hash-tag in the text.  (Image from mycitybynight dot co dot za)
In an ironic twist, there is no use of #hash-tag in the text.  Also, people were so outraged at the first name that no one noticed that they got her last name from a bottle of Irish whiskey.   Rumor has it the proud parents will call her “#”  for short.  (Image from mycitybynight dot co dot za)

As a case in point,  I still haven’t quite grasped the whole “hash-tag” thing.  On Twitter and other social media sites, it seems to be the preferred way of maximizing a message’s relevance to a given topic – but more often than not, it just seems to be really overused.  For those of you who are even more clueless than I, the “hash-tag” apparently involves putting a pound sign in front of a bunch of topical words – and by “topical” I mean “random“.  How or when some unknown entity decided to change the pound sign into a hash-tag is a mystery to me.  Lord only knows what people are supposed to use for a pound sign now.

A friend recently posted the following on her Facebook page: Newwwww hair #ombre #hairr #ahhhhh #ihave2getusedtoit #craycray #stylishh #mommydontlike #too2badd #mee #webstagram.  I had to cut and paste it so I’d get it exactly right – I was worried I might mispell “Newwwww”.  Thanks to a couple of anthropology courses in college, I was able to deduce that this message was either about her new hairstyle or a desperate cry for rescue from the voices in her head.

This is not my friend from Facebook, this is a model who shows up in a Google search when I type in "ombre hairstyle".  I don't know what makes this ombre.  Clearly I know even less about hairstyles than I do about hash-tags - refer to my gravatar pic if you need a reminder of how well I get along with hair.  (Image from colored hairstyle dot info)
This is not my friend from Facebook, this is a model who shows up in a Google search when I type in “ombre hairstyle”. I don’t know what makes this ombre. Clearly I know even less about hairstyles than I do about hash-tags – refer to my gravatar pic if you need a reminder of how well I get along with hair. (Image from colored hairstyle dot info)

I went to Twitter to investigate, and found all the posts with the hash-tag “mommydontlike”.  Some D-list celebrity had written something moderately witty and 117 people had re-Tweeted it. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to see.

The next logical place to look was Webstagram, but I mistakenly typed in “Instagram”.  I believe Instagram has something to do with doctoring pictures from your cell phone to make them look artsy.  It bills itself as “A fast, beautiful and fun way to share your photos with friends and family”.   I’m sure that the folks at Instagram are accurate in their description, but I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

I found that Webstagram is a site which bills itself as a “the best Instagram web viewer”.  Instagram already advertises that you can share your photos to Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter, but Webstagram implies that their site is an even better place to show ones photos.  I’m not sure if Webstagram is any better for Instagram pictures, but one thing is for sure; it’s another place to display your pictures.  When I typed in one or two of the hash-tags on Webstagram, I found my friend’s photo.  I knew it was hers because I had already seen the pic when she posted it with the original hash-tag fest on Facebook.  It was only the one photo, and it really didn’t show her new(newwwww) hairstyle, but that’s just #myyy#biggphat#opinion.  For those of you keeping track at home, that makes the score –  Photos: 1   Hash-Tags: 13

After my first proofread of this mess, I realized that posting it with my friend’s original hash-tags might result in my many followers getting a good look at this girl’s hairstyle, and she might not want anyone to see her photo except everyone else in cyber space.  I took the liberty of doctoring some of the hash-tags so that only the most persistant of stalkers could figure it out.

After all this screwing around, I still haven’t figured out what the hell hash-tags can do for me.

I’ve tweeted a fair amount, and some of my Tweets were pretty darn clever, which is tough for me to do in 140 characters.  In addition, every time I post a blog, there’s an automatic link which shows up as a Tweet by me.  I’m not really sure if those Tweets have resulted in a single hit on the blog.  Let’s face it, the vast majority of Twitter subscribers are running low on attention spans by the time they reach around the 73-character mark.  It’s an awful lot to expect them to click on the link and read one of my 1000 word treatises on constipation.

My Tweet with this picture read "Good News - Your face transplant is a success and you found true love.  Bad News - You look like Gene Simmons"To the best of my knowledge, no re-Tweets, no likes, no nuthin!  (Image from Yahoo)
My Tweet with this picture read “Good News – Your face transplant is a success and you found true love. Bad News – You look like Gene Simmons”
To the best of my knowledge, no re-Tweets, no likes, no nuthin!  Where my #cynical #peeps at?  (Image from Yahoo)

I decided to take the bull by the horns and post my own hash-tagged topic and see if anyone took the bait.  On Easter Sunday, I created a holiday-related hash-tag with my own quip following it.  I know none of you saw it, so here it is: #asparagusscentedpee one of Easter’s less celebrated traditions.  To date, no one has hopped on board.  Now that Easter is sooo last week, my snazzy hash-tag may as well have been carved onto a stone tablet and buried in the yard.

I estimate that my Twitter presence will continue to be a non-factor until I’m at least as famous as a D-list celebrity.  Till then, I’m just going to try to work at keeping my posts under 1000 words and hang onto my day job.

The Week In Normal – Two Point Oh!

My beloved brother bestowed a bottle of this fine limited edition single malt scotch upon my 50th birthday.  I typically enjoyed it out of a glass.  (Image from luxist dot com)
My beloved brother bestowed a bottle of this fine limited edition single malt scotch upon my 50th birthday. I typically enjoyed it out of a glass. (Image from luxist dot com)

A western Pennsylvania man has been charged with drinking multiple bottles of prohibition vintage whiskey while employed as the caretaker of a mansion outside of Pittsburgh.  Apparently, the hooch was hidden in the mansion during prohibition by the man of the house, away from the prying eyes of federal agents.  The 52 purloined bottles of whiskey were valued at $104,000.  While the man initially denied drinking the whiskey, his DNA was eventually recovered from several of the bottles.  I’m assuming that that the genetic evidence was from his lips, which means he was drinking $2000 a jug whiskey right out of the bottle!  That’s straight gangsta yo!

Cheating?!  Is this what they taught you at Lawrenceville Prep?!  (Image from wikipedia dot com)
Cheating?! Is this what they taught you at Lawrenceville Prep?! (Image from wikipedia dot com)

Harvard has been stripped of quiz tournament titles after officials found out that a member of the university’s team had gained unfair access to subjects to be covered in the questions.  I’m surprised – that’s such a state-school thing to do!

I don't know what's worse, the idiots at the IRS spending 60k on a worthless video, or Joe Biden and his entourage dropping a cool mill in 48 hours in the City of Lights.  (Image from wikipedia dot com)
I don’t know what’s worse, the idiots at the IRS spending 60k on a worthless video, or Joe Biden and his entourage dropping a cool mill in 48 hours in the City of Lights. (Image from wikipedia dot com)

The IRS is catching heat for a training video in which employees dressed up in Star Trek costumes then filmed their skit on a set of the Enterprise in an IRS studio….”an IRS studio” ??!  These dopes are spending my money on a studio?…to make Star Trek parody training videos?!!?  I’d be happier if they were selling crack and gambling with the profits.  I’d write a whole post about this, but I’m not enough of a Trekkie and I’m already too much of a taxpayer.

Kids today!  Am I right?!  (Image from tvgasm dot com)
Kids today! Am I right?! (Image from tvgasm dot com)

An ex-NFL cheerleader has been accused of attempting to have sexual contact with a 12 year old boy.  First and foremeost, this is a serious accusation.  That being said, where were the ex-NFL cheerleaders when I was 12?  In her defense, she admitted to approaching the boy, but said she was drunk, and confused him with an adult male who was also at the gathering.  Just to clarify, I was pretty big for my age at 12 – where were the drunk ex-NFL cheerleaders?  Seriously though, maybe she was trying to recapture her lost youth by capturing a youth.

A news chopper flew to the scene in Philadelphia’s Germantown section to report on a suspected dog fighting ring.  Like any news team, they were hell-bent on beating the other networks to the story.  Turns out at least two of the dogs in question were not feeling quite so combative as the chopper hovered nearby.  Some pitbulls find the chance of being caught in the act is a big doggie turn on.