My Word Souffle Fell Flat

Exhibit 1: Colored pencil illustration for my entry in the "Lust" in Katydid's Seven Deadly Sins competition.  The post, thought by me to be the best one I'd done in the contest didn't even make it to the finals.  The drawing scored yawns from readers.
Exhibit 1: Colored pencil illustration for my entry in the “Lust” chapter in K8edid’s Seven Deadly Sins competition. The post, thought by me to be the best one I’d done in the contest, didn’t even make it to the finals. The drawing scored yawns from readers.  If you decide to click the links at the end, you may want to go back to the gluttony one first and read them in order.

I thought my last post was pretty good.  It had lots of great ingredients including a bubble-headed newscaster, Lady Gaga, Academy Awards and racial slurs.  In my book, that’s a can’t-lose recipe.  I tossed that crap in my handy WordPress Lazy Blogger Crock Pot®, set the timer and toddled off to work.  Eight hours later, I’d open the front door and be greeted by the savory aroma of delicious comments and a bountiful platter of steaming “likes”.  I knew better than to hope for any Freshly Pressed action – this post was discomfort food, not French-Asian fusion cuisine featuring fair-trade organic lemongrass and sustainable free-range snails [Food analogies inserted to whet the readers’ appetites and make blog writing seem as effortless for me as slow cooking.  Analogy of Freshly Pressed as some sort of trendy, politically-correct restaurant is due to my being a bitter man who can’t get a reservation]

In some people's eyes, these are nothing but miniature cabbages, but in the hands of a master chef, they can be steamed over simmering rice wine, garnished with a chiffonade of Thai basil and served in groups of 3 for $17.
In some people’s eyes, these are nothing but miniature cabbages, but in the hands of a master chef, they can be steamed over herbed rice wine, garnished with a chiffonade of Thai basil and served in groups of 3 for $17.

I followed the instructions to the letter, adding a little extra salt and a pinch of cayenne, then left for my day of toiling making the world a better place for special-needs youngsters [Shameless self-promotion inserted to make people feel crappy for not reading my last post]

Shameless self promotional shot of me helping my post-stroke, ass-paralyzed dog.  Disclaimer: I am not a licensed dog physical therapist and may have only done this to keep the pooch frm crapping in the house.  Good news, she's recovered the use of her ass, and is back to being ignored by me.
Shameless self-promotional shot of me helping my post-stroke, ass-paralyzed dog. Disclaimer: I am not a licensed dog physical therapist and may have only done this to keep the pooch from crapping in the house. Good news, she’s recovered the use of her ass end, and is back to annoying the daylights out of me.

I trudged through the door that night and rushed to turn on the laptop.  I was greeted with a mere four likes and a handful of comments from a few of my more ardent supporters.  Four likes?!  A fifth like showed up later, but it was clearly a “sympathy like” at best.  I responded to each and every comment, and waited patiently for the momentum to pick back up.  I jiggled the cord to make sure it was plugged in and touched the side to see if it had warmed up [Appliance malfunction analogy inserted to hint at my disappointment and grumbling stomach.  Grumbling stomach analogy inserted into aside to imply that I’ll starve without positive reinforcement.  Rushing to my laptop involved ignoring the greetings of both my long-suffering wife and gimpy-but-faithful dog]

It’s been too long now, there may be more likes trickling in and possibly a comment or two, but by this point, the post is buried and the expiration date on the topics has come and gone.  My post before that one was over at The Nudge Wink Report.  It had just a few words and was mostly comprised of cut-n-paste images of Kim Kardashian and her ample tushy being put in a bunch of silly places.  It was far from my best work and I was fully prepared to be accused of having “smart-phoned it in”.  Despite my doubts about the quality, the post got a butt-load of likes and a bumper crop of comments!  Mrs. Kanye West’s ass pasted onto my dog’s nose is apparently blog gold. [Kim and Kanye reference inserted to allow me to put them in my tags for this post with a clear conscience – thus increasing my hits exponentially.  Choice of using the words “butt load” and “bumper crop” in reference to ass-themed post responses was entirely intentional]

Kim's keister perched on a snifter of imperial stout?  Is this what it takes to get blog hits?
Kim’s keister perched on a snifter of imperial stout? Is this what it takes to get blog hits?

My first instinct, as a born pleaser, was to try to figure out what I’d done wrong.  Surely there were errors in my less successful post and some sort of mysterious appeal to the more popular one.  This is far from the first time I’d wondered what I’d done to displease the masses. [Self-reflection reference inserted to paint the author as being a little deeper than someone with an apparent fascination with Kim’s sizeable fanny might otherwise appear]

The bigger question eventually rises to the surface and sits there waiting to be acknowledged, like a turd in the punch bowl which can’t be ignored any longer.  Here it is; Who exactly am I writing for? [Rhetorical question inserted in hopes of eliciting cries of “Me, Dave! You’re writing for me – I simply can’t get enough of your snarky brilliance!”.  Turd in the punch bowl analogy inserted because, you know…poop humor]

I’ll be the first to admit that most of my blog posts are not exactly the stuff of literary artistry.  I have written a handful of serious posts and some marginally humorous fiction in the past, but my blog identity is largely that of a smart-ass commenting on the news and/or the idiocy of the world.  I enjoy making people laugh or even just smile.  I like the thought of being the sarcastic voice of people who are annoyed or amused by the goofiness of our world. [As if to imply that most folk simply can’t read news stories and shake their heads in amazement without checking for my two cents first.  You really should be insulted]

Insert photo of braying donkey here.  Great teeth, you jack-ass!
Insert photo of braying donkey here. Great teeth, you jack-ass!

If I’ve learned nothing else from drawing and writing, it’s that people are going to like what they like, and not necessarily what I find appealing.  The differing tastes and opinions of people is part of what makes the world go ’round. [Reference to my occasional drawing inserted to portray myself as something of a renaissance man, albeit one who had to try three times before finally spelling “renaissance” correctly.  Reference to “making the world go ’round” is a bold-faced lie – we all know damn well that people with poor taste should not be tolerated, and couldn’t have less to do with the rotation of a planet]

Bet you thought I was going to put the picture of the pig in the dress in here again, didn't you?  I'm not just a one trick pony, you know.
Bet you thought I was going to put the picture of the pig in the dress in here again, didn’t you? I’m not just a one trick pony, you know.  On a side note, I noticed some awful issues with this drawing, so I’ll probably never use it again.

Please don’t think this is some kind of a “Read my blog or I’m gonna quit” threat-fest. [Actually, that’s exactly what this is – you damn people better start coddling me a little or I’m going to take my mad writing skills over to the “Rants and Raves” section of the local Craigslist and hang out with the illiterate crowd.  They’ll appreciate me even less, but there’s no like button there, so I won’t know]

Here are a few links to some of the posts I mentioned – no obligation, I’m just happy you actually got to the end of the post:

K8edid

Deadly Sins #1 Gluttony

DS #2 Envy

DS #3 Sloth

DS #4 Lust

Gaga-boo Music

Nudge Wink Kardashian cut-n-paste post

 

 

 

Bruce Jenner’s Bucket List

I look for blog topics everywhere I go.  A case in point, while looking through a trash can near the Santa Monica pier for half eaten burritos and/or aluminum cans, a wadded up piece of paper from a yellow legal tablet caught my eye.

If you get a big enough bucket, you can fit quite a few things in it (and on it).  Officially the most fun I've had with my new smart phone. (Collage by the author)
If you get a big enough bucket, you can fit quite a few things in it (and on it). Officially the most fun I’ve had with my new smart phone. (Collage by the author)

I unwrinkled and smoothed it out as much as I could.  After reading it over a few times, I’m convinced that this random piece of trash may in fact be Bruce Jenner’s Bucket List.  Give it the once over and decide for yourself  (I took the liberty of adding a few pictures – the original only had some doodles of hearts, unicorns and Olympic rings in the margins).

 

1. Win Olympic Gold MedalDone 1976

2. Grace the cover of the Wheaties boxDone (Twice, but who’s counting?)

3. Get involved with a zany familyDone – Married Kris Kardashian 1991

4. Become a reality TV starDone – After various attempts, finally hit the big time with “Keeping Up With The Kardashians” in 2007

5. Give Kim all the relationship advice I canI’ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried.  She’s Kanye’s problem now!

6. Get safely past the menopause years before changing my genderAs a 65 year old gal, I’ll avoid hot flashes and qualify for an AARP discount at The Fashion Hutt!  Since I technically still have my boy parts, I can’t cross this one off the list just yet!

These will be a big hit when I hit for the early bird special down at the clubhouse.  Black balls for formal occasion, high-optic green tennis balls after Labor Day! (Image from hollowtreeventures dot com)
These walker-heels will be a smash for the early-bird special down at the clubhouse. Remember Bruce, black balls for formal occasions and of course, no high-optic green tennis balls after Labor Day! (Image from hollowtreeventures dot com)

7. Become a woman just in time to take advantage of the Bea Arthur estate saleI haven’t seen any flyers posted down at the community center, I hope I didn’t miss it!

8. Find the most sure-fire way possible to get back on the front of the tabloidsDone!  Those rags are gobbling this story up! The only celebrities who have weirder stories than me are Michael Jackson and Elvis, and they’re both (supposedly) dead.

He ate fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches?!  Big Deal!! Try keeping a straight face while Khloe talks about the meaning of life! (Photo by the author while in the checkout line)
Elvis ate fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches?! Big Deal!! Try keeping a straight face while Khloe talks about the meaning of life! (Photo by the author while in the checkout line)

9. Piss off the Wheaties people by going both gluten free and penis freeAlmost done.  I assume I’m close to  achieving this, their people haven’t returned my people’s calls in a few years

10. Get on “The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon”Done!

11. Get on “I’m A Celebrity – Get Me Out Of Here!”Done!!

12. Get on “My Strange Addiction”They haven’t called yet, but I’m thinking they will

13. Talk to Kim about how to get some junk in my trunkMaybe when she’s done breaking the interweb and naming her kids after directions on a compass, she can give me some booty pointers

Septagenarians agree, that's not a bad rack for an old broad, but he needs more bootie if he's gonna be twerking  to Lawrence Welk's Greatest Hits
Octogenarians agree, that’s a decent rack for an old broad, but he needs more booty on the back porch if he’s considering twerking in the day room to Tommy James and the Shondels Greatest Hits (Image from splashnewsonline dot com)

14. Play Pebble Beach from the ladies tees.  Soon, baby…Soon!

15. If I’m going to throw the javelin, I need to learn to throw it like a girl (and not one of those East German chicks from back in my Olympic days).  I saw on that Super Bowl commercial that it’s not politically correct to talk about “throwing like a girl”, but if I’ve learned one thing from this “journey” it’s that just growing my hair long and smearing some Mary Kay foundation over my 5 o’clock shadow doesn’t make me a woman.

16. Learn how to walk in heelsI won the Olympic decathlon, for crying out loud!  How hard can a nice pair of pumps be?!

I think the white socks with blue stripes give these get shoes a patriotic look, but my bunions hurt worse than the seeing the ratings of my new TV show. (Image from english dot cntv.cn)
The white socks with blue stripes give these shoes a snappy, patriotic look!!  FYI;  bunions and athlete’s foot is one hellish combination. (Image from english dot cntv dot cn)

17. Make America proudDone!  That gold medal in ’76 certainly did the trick

18. Make America throw up in its mouth a little Working on it every day.  I can do this, I know I can!

19. Take advantage of these incredible cheekbones! This rouge is tricky stuff.  If I don’t get the hang of it, I’m going to end up looking like Leona Helmsley

Leona Helmsley as she might have appeared as an Olympic javelin thrower (E-Collage by yours truly)
Leona’s rare Wheaties box cover. (E-Collage by yours truly)

20. Start peeing sitting downThis one should be easy, after teetering around in those heels, I’ll take any chance I can get to get off my feet!

You Hate Me! You Really, Really Hate Me!

I commented to my long suffering wife the other day about my recently having achieved another landmark in followers.

“Honey, my blog now has over fourteen hundred followers!”

“That’s nice dear,” she replied, but then asked “Does that mean something?”

I rolled my eyes discretely at her lack of comprehension of the nuts and bolts of blog mechanics.

“It means that every time I write a new post, one thousand four hundred and seven people, collectively known as my followers, are notified of this momentous event. They can then scramble to the nearest smart phone, laptop or if they’re homeless, the public library, and hang on my every word.  Despite the publishing industry’s opinion that I have very little to offer in the way of writing skills, there are fourteen hundred people who feel otherwise”

“That’s nice, dear.” she said, already refocusing her attention back to the sudoko puzzle or Kindle or whatever that thing was that allowed her to ignore me.

"..so then Clinton says Obama was luckier than a dog with two dicks!  Yow-za!!"  (Image from businessinsider dot com)
“..so then Clinton says Obama was luckier than a dog with two dicks! Yow-za!!  Now with a quick show of hands, which eleven of you think this was a good post?” (Image from businessinsider dot com)

I sat there, mildly upset that she had not suggested uncorking some champagne to celebrate.  I turned my attention back to my trusty computer and looked at one of my latest posts.  This particular one was a whimsical discussion as to the merits or drawbacks of a dog having multiple penises, as originally suggested by former President William Jefferson Clinton.  Then I jumped over to the stats page.

Fourteen hundred followers?!!  Get yer bikinis on, girls, we're gonna dump champagne over your heads!  (Image from annsheybani dot com)
Fourteen hundred followers?!! Get your bikinis on, girls, we’re gonna dump champagne over your heads! (Image from annsheybani dot com)

The post had registered 11 likes and 141 people had actually read it.  These numbers are pretty typical for my posts.

I have a list of 70 or 80 people who I notify en masse via email whenever I post, most of them are not technically “followers” as far as WordPress is concerned.  The email recipients are coworkers, family members and the receptionist at my urologist’s office among others.  Many read the posts so they can avoid being badgered by me to do so, and at least one coworker has admitted to only reading my blog when seated on the toilet.  Of my 141 hits, I’d estimate that 27 of them were from my stash of these non-follower, peer-pressure readers.

You gave me your email address after I helped you move that heavy piece of furniture, now read my blog post, dammit!  (Image from onlineconnections dot ca)
You gave me your email address after I helped you move that heavy piece of furniture, now read my blog post, dammit! (Image from onlineconnections dot ca)

I try to tag my posts in a manner which accurately guides readers to my work. After all, it’s easy to attract readers from search engines by including content tags like “Bieber”, “Kanye”, “public urination” or “Kardashian” despite the fact that the post was mostly about my fondest Thanksgiving memory.  My tags for the dog weenie post were “Clinton”, “dog”, “lucky”, “two”, “humor”, and “dick.”

If there was a Kardashian in that bucket, I could find some reason to put it in my post and my hits would skyrocket.  (image from businessinsider dot com)
…so then Kanye says to the Beebs, “Yeah and it’s deep too!” (image from businessinsider dot com)

My estimates for hits generated per tag are as follows:

Clinton: 6 hits.  Rationale: Bill, Hillary and Chelsea are still news worthy, depending upon the week’s events.  Funk master George Clinton may have been good for a hit as well.

Perhaps I underestimated the drawing power of da funk.  (Image from ncpedia dot org)
Perhaps I’ve underestimated the drawing power of da funk. (Image from ncpedia dot org)

Dog: 4 hits.  Rationale: Everybody likes dogs, also I noticed Korea was well represented in my global numbers.

Lucky: 5 hits.  Luck and/or being lucky is always a popular concept, though being as lucky as “a dog with two dicks” is still an analogy known only to Bill Clinton and the hill-people.

Two: 7 hits.  Two is a pretty good number.  Everyone knows that one is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do.

Humor: 6 hits.  In these dark times, everyone could use a laugh.  They’ll plug words like “humor”, “chuckle” and “guffaw” into search engines and hope for a few yuks to take their minds off of the rumors about lay-offs down at the salt mine.

Dick: 13 hits.  I’m assuming I would have had even better numbers if Clinton had said Obama was luckier than “a pussycat with 17 titties.”

Two dicks!  Get it?  See, he's a Dick, and he's holding up two fingers on each hand.  From the looks of that crowd, he's gonna top 11 likes.  (Image from theatlantic dot com)
Two dicks! Get it? See, he’s a Dick, and he’s holding up two fingers on each hand. From the looks of that crowd, he’s gonna top 11 likes. (Image from theatlantic dot com)

Those estimates account for 41 of my hits coming from search engines.

So between search engines and my personal mailing list I’ve accounted for 68 of my 141 hits.  Assuming no random hits, I can deduce that the remaining 73 hits on my post came from actual followers.

1407 followers minus the 73 who actually read the post leaves 1334 followers who didn’t read my post.  Roughly 95% of my followers didn’t follow me loyally enough to read my post.  Cue the sad violin music and zoom in on the tears welling up in my eyes.  As for the “likes”, 11 out of 1407 followers isn’t even relevant.  Mathematicians could argue that statistically no one actually liked the post.

I glanced over at my wife, who was so engrossed in the romance novel on her Kindle that she had fallen asleep.  I smiled to myself, secure in the knowledge that for the time being at least, she didn’t know what a total failure I turned out to be in the blog world, despite amassing 1407 followers.  That bottle of bubbly can just keep on taking up valuable refrigerator space until we have something meaningful to celebrate, like Justin Bieber publicly urinating on a prostitute who turned out to be a Kardashian.

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.

Stupid Questions Answered – I Tried To Be A Good Guest

The mad-witty diva at Blogdramedy posted an interesting piece the other day which posed some supposedly stupid questions.  Ever eager to prove that I’m not stupid, I started answering each of the questions in the comment section of her blog.  I quickly realized several key points.  One was, there was a good chance that only a handful of people would ever see my answers, since a great many readers had already seen the piece and weren’t likely to re-read it just in case there were new comments made.  I also had a small lightbulb flicker on in my head signifying my realization that I didn’t have crap to write about unless the Dallas Cowboys had some new embarrassment pop up (A fella can always hope).  Finally, I recalled Blogdramedy’s offer to host a guest-post by yours truly.  We had collaborated previously on a blog involving the names which paint manufacturers pick for their colors.  The piece was well received, the New York Times simply RAVED about it (or maybe not).  In any case, the whole prospect of answering stupid questions seemed like a good idea.  The planets had aligned themselves for a perfect storm of self-indulgent, quasi-creative writing.

(In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that after seeing my post on Blogdramedy’s site, I found a couple of things which I had to change, so the following has been edited slightly.  I know I couldn’t possibly find pics to illustrate this as well as she did – so I’m thinking I’ll serve it dry, without gravy)

Here then, are her questions and my answers.

1.  Why do people say that life is like baseball?

Life can be compared to baseball for many reasons.  For one thing, both life and baseball are incredibly boring.  Cynics will tell you that in baseball, as in life, young people participate in it while the old shits just watch it while complaining how it used to be better.  In addition, both baseball and life have been over-analyzed to the n’th degree.  Speaking of over-analysis, there are those who may choose to compare the dugout to the grave, the pitcher’s mound to Mt. Ararat and the ball to earth itself.  In reality, life and baseball are not alike because, as I learned from a riddle in 3rd grade, “How can a man with 4 balls walk?”

2.  When did Kim Kardashian decide that hooker chic was a good look for her?

Kim Kardashian in fact, has not embraced hooker chic.  Despite being the world’s oldest profession, hookers have long wished for a style they could call their own.  With the advent of reality TV, people were exposed to many new faces of frequently vacuous personalities.  The appearance of the Kardashian tribe, including Kim, did not go unnoticed.  A woman-of-the-night named Kitty Fontana, who was working in Nevada at the Chicken Ranch, was the first to propose to her fellow flesh-workers that they might increase business by dressing like Kim K.  The ploy worked, and sales jumped.  The hookers also noticed an increase in customers making kinky requests, like telling them in the middle of the Siamese Basket Trick things like “Kim you idiot!  Shut the hell up!” So there you have it: Kim doesn’t dress like a hooker; Hookers dress like Kim!

3.  Do you think that Mitt Romney is more concerned that Jesus was married or gay?

This is a tricky one, and it’s meant to be.  It’s an interesting premise.  After all, Jesus could well have been either…OR BOTH!  I’ve taken a few art history courses, and I have to admit, in some of those paintings, he looked like maybe he was a little light in the sandals, if you know what I mean.  By the same token, he was known to hang out with Mary Magdalene (who sadly walked the earth long before prostitutes had Kim Kardashian for a fashion role model).  It’s a scary proposition that the candidate for the presidency would spend any time worrying about such nonsense when there are turkeys to pardon and ribbons to cut.  The true answer is that Mitt doesn’t give a rat’s heinie about what the Son of God did behind closed doors.  Mitt’s campaign handlers, eager to keep him from putting another loafer-clad foot in his pie hole, cooked up the question to bamboozle the general public and paint Mitt as a deep-thinking intellectual.  Point Handlers.  MSNBC to volley for serve on the next point.

4. Why do people at fast food joints ask  “you want fries with that?” 

Asking people if they want fries with that is a left-over tradition from the very early days of fast food.  Fast food originated, like damn near everything else, in China.  The industrious Chinese of the Maac Dynasty first sold their version of fast food in the year 957 BC.  The Chinese are known for eating all sorts of things which we fickle Americans would turn our noses up at, such as insects and vegetables.  One of the most popular items was the Maac-raap (Pronounced Ma Crap), which was a wonton pancake wrapped around a variety of ingredients.  The dish was easy to eat on-the-go, whether you were invading Mongolia or building a wall.  One of the optional fillings was actually house flies, which when stir fried, add a zesty, protein-filled crunch to each bite.  Due to western misinterpretation of the the Asian dialects, “flies” became “fries”.  This worked to the benefit of everyone invloved as fast food workers were often too pressed for time to ask patrons if they wanted “shoe-string potatoes cooked in lard with that?”

5. Does your zodiac sign really explain everything about you?

This question is open to individual opinion.  Personally, I was born under the sign of Capricorn the Goat.  While I do not have a scraggly beard hanging off of my chin, I’m tempted to grow one.  I must admit to enjoying the occasional tin can for a snack and it’s no treat finding shoes to fit my cloven hooves.  Despite those goat-like attributes, try to explain my fascination with Norwegian fetish porn or the early music of Tommy James and the Shondels.  There’s just no zodiac symbol for that crap.

6. Is love really all you need?

Love is a many splendored thing (That’s not my line).  It won’t keep you warm in the winter or fill your belly during a famine.  While love may be one of the things you really need, it won’t get you to work on time, you’re gonna need a car for that.  On a related question, why has no one compared love to baseball?  I’ll tell you why, because baseball is a game and love is a battlefield (Pat Benatar, that was for you – it still hurts).

7.  Do you think Elmer Fudd ever got over his speech impediment?

“Speech impediment” is a modern concept.  Elmer Fudd lived in a time when people didn’t concern themselves with “labels”.  They got up, wooked the swing shift at the Boeing pwant, dwank a couple of dwafts with the boys down at the wocal tapwoom and on the weekend, they hunted wabbits.  They wived theah wives wiffout wegahd to how they pwonounced the wuhds they spoke.  They wuh the gweatest genewation.

8.  Do you think the band “Earth, Wind and Fire” left “Water” out on purpose?

Absolutely, they left water out on purpose!  Contray to popular belief, it wasn’t a matter of snubbing water or favoring the other elements.  In truth, they had expected fans to actually identify the individual elements with certain band members.  Jimmy “Earth” Monroe was known for his funky bass playing and keeping things grounded with his licks.  Perry “Fire” Winslow played a blistering tenor sax.  Freddy “Beans” Wallace was known for his fondness of Mexican cuisine and his frequent flatulance emptied more than a few tour busses.  Sadly, fans didn’t go along with the bands’ plan, preferring to just enjoy the music without bothering to learn who the actual musicians were.  As an example of this fact, I made up the three names listed above, and I’m guessing that no more than 7 of you even noticed.  A bonus bit of trivia: The original name the of the band was “Rock, Paper and Scissors”.  I made that up too.

So concludes my answers to B-Dramedy’s supposedly stupid questions.  If you’re reading these words, you’ve likely just wasted several valuable minutes of your life hoping to find a chuckle.  So who’s calling who stupid now?