All Covering Their Circuitry With Little Fez Hats, Awaiting My Command

After a long and welcome delay, the Michigan Winter has formally settled in around these parts. For the kids, this means excited fantasies about snowmen and sledding. For me, it means the act of filling my car with gas becomes an exercise in bitterness and frustration that leads me to wonder just how far advanced we are as a species if we haven't yet converted anything with more than a half inch of annual snowfall into a massive penal colony.

Okay, maybe that's a bit of an overstatement, but really, I do not approve of Winter in the least. This region is great for Spring, Summer and particularly Fall. However, besides proximity to family and obvious tactical advantage during a zombie apocalypse, spending Winter here has nothing to offer someone like me.

Now I know there are those of you out there who would argue that I would enjoy Winter more if I partook in some of the more popular Winter sports. To these people I would point out that in high school, the guy who was supposed to teach me skiing broke his leg skiing the weekend before my scheduled lessons. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is. (On the bright side, I got to call him 'Hopalong' for weeks, and he couldn't move fast enough on his little crutches to stop me. Ah, good times.)

Apply a little logic to the Winter sports, actually, and you'll see that this is actually an argument for my point of view. Skiing, snowboarding and sledding all have two things in common: speed and travel. Even snowshoeing is based on the same common thread. Basically, all Winter sports are built on the premise of getting the hell away from wherever you are, i.e. the snow. Heck, even the Olympic biathlon, where athletes test their prowess at both skiing and rifle shooting, was born of an angry Norwegian who was so desperate to get to warmer climes that he declared he'd shoot anyone who got into his way.

Of course, I should look at the bright side, like all of the things Winter encourages. Watching movies on television for example. Or playing video games. Reading books works as well. Basically, anything that allows me to close the shades and pretend that if I were to open them again I would be presented with a lovely Summer afternoon full of lush, green life and sunshine.

Or an army of cyborg monkeys waiting to do my bidding. That would be pretty cool too.

No Need To Get All Snippy Now

Circumcisions are interesting things when you think about it. It has for a long time now been a standard practice in the USA, and yet it doesn't make a ton of sense to me. As far as I can tell, the primary argument in favor of it (outside of religious practices) is that it's more sanitary, as the cut version is supposedly easier to clean that the alternative.



Now, maybe it's me, but I'm reasonably sure that if you were to approach an adult male and offer to cut off a part of his junk so he doesn't have to wash as well, he will politely decline (and by 'politely decline', I mean he will grasp himself protectively and then either flee whimpering or beat you soundly). I mean, we don't do this for other body parts, so why this? Are we that uncomfortable as a society with sitting our sons down and explaining to them the proper application of soap to ones dangly bits?

Maybe we should extend this practice. Perhaps our mistake is not the medically acceptable mutilation of our children, but rather not taking it far enough. I was, for example, occasionally reprimanded for not properly washing behind my ears as a child. You know what would have made that totally easier? Not having ears in the way. I bet you get way less ear infection that way too.

You know what else we could eliminate this way? Underwear streaking. Seriously, you know what the primary issue is with coming clean after making a major transaction in the restroom? No, it's not whether you do your cleanup standing or sitting (another mind-blowing topic altogether). It's your butt cheeks all getting in the way of your business.

Simple solution? Total butt cheek removal. Believe me, I know better than most the usefulness of the human butt cheeks, so I don't make this suggestion lightly. Still, think about how sanitary things would be. Why, we could see the total elimination of hemorrhoids in a single generation.

Now obviously I'm being slightly sarcastic. I would never actually condone the removal of the human butt cheek, if for no other reason than it would create a world where flatulence would lose it's musical qualities and the SBD would become the norm. Rather, I'm trying to point out that maybe it's okay to question some of these things people seem to take for granted, like automatically taking the comb off your son's rooster being a good idea.

Frankly, I'm just glad I'm a man and feel comfortable discussing this with you fine people - women's health issues are not only way more complicated, but I know far fewer euphemisms I can use for female anatomy and still maintian a PG-13 website.

The Twelve Days of Christmas: Excuses Edition

I'm trying to get into the Christmas spirit depite someone setting a deadline the week before Christmas (Scrooge). I can't really give shopping advice, but I'm great at giving excuses. Thus, I present to you:

The Twelve Days of Christmas: Excuses Edition

• 12 Drummers Drumming: Too damned noisy


• 11 Pipers Piping: Hard to keep that many crackheads in one place


• 10 Lords a-Leaping: Inquired with UK Parliament - apparently 'leaping' no longer among skills that qualifies one for the House of Lords


• 9 Ladies Dancing: Didn't realize that it's considered inappropriate if poles are involved


• 8 Maids a-Milking: Got kicked out of the lactation consultant's office


• 7 Swans a-Swimming: Couldn't get all seven swans in the bathtub


• 6 Geese a-Laying: Mating season for geese doesn't begin until February


• 5 Gold Rings: Lost phone number for Sonic the Hedgehog, my primary gold ring supplier


• 4 Calling Birds: Feather allergies


• 3 French Hens: Hens refused to bathe properly and I couldn't take the smell - also, feather allergies


• 2 Turtle Doves: Couldn't get turtle and dove to mate despite repeated application of Barry White albums and wine coolers


• Partridge in a Pear Tree: Our pear tree fell down last year and David Cassidy wasn't available anyway (Danny Bonaduce was, but hey, I've got standards)

Hopefully, that will help those of you out who lack my creativity. Also, I can now add "Crackhead Herding" to my resume, which just adds to my already rich set of skills. Overall, this was a win for everyone.

Gah...Okay In Your Case, Science And A Miracle

Yesterday, despite my severe mallstrophobia, I forged into our local mall to take the kids to see Santa, or as the princess referred to him "some guy in a costume" (she humored us for the sake of her little brother). My choice in parking spots left something lacking, not because I feel the need to avoid walking, but because I had to pass directly through the perfume and cosmetics section of a department store to get to where I was going. This is hard for me because I have asthma, and I find that air thick with sixty-three different kinds of perfume makes it kind of hard for me to breathe. Go figure.



Anyway, through eyes blurry with tears cause by the fumes, I noticed my new favorite part of the cosmetics section: the lab coat. I'm not exactly what they're trying to achieve with this, but it seems that certain employees shilling cosmetics have moved beyond mere counter clerks to something more clinical as judged by the long, white coats they wear behind the counter. All I can think of is some mad man telling a lady, "Yes, we can make you look beautiful, but not through normal means. This...this requires SCIENCE!".


The Perils of Modern Science by Travis Pitts

I'm thinking someone might be offended, but hey, it's not my job for a reason, right?

Yo Quiero Perro

Apparently a bunch of people decided that Paris Hilton was a good role model and then regretted it. No, I'm not referring to a glut of poorly lit sex tapes leaking onto the internet. Rather, there is now an overflowing supply of chihuahuas in Californian pet shelters. One can only assume that these people thought carrying a dog around in your purse was a good idea because they didn't realize that Paris has someone else who has to clean out the purse after the dog relieves itself in it.

Anyway, there is now this excess supply of chihuahuas with no home and people are all concerned about the fate of the poor pooches. As usual, these people are missing the obvious opportunity that this situation presents. We have a bunch of extra chihuahuas. We have a terrible economy with a lot of people out of work. We have a state that has (at least for those with medical issues) legal marijuana distribution.

Two words, dudes and dudettes: chihuahua tacos.

Come on people, this is a no-brainer. They're just going to put those poor little pups to sleep anyway. Why not use them to provide inexpensive meals for the good people of California? And really, if we're going to start eating dogs (and I see no reason not to, as they're no cuter than cows), what could be more natural than to use chihuahuas to make tacos? We could even get cheese from Chihuahua, Mexico, and have double chihuahua tacos. It practically markets itself.

You know what, I bet the chihuahuas would even want us to make tacos out of them if their little, dumb, chihuahua brains could comprehend such concepts as national pride. Or Tacos. Or death. (I've lived with chihuahuas. They're not the quickest rats in the pack.)



So let's make this happen people. Let's grab a bottle of salsa, shred some lettuce, break out the shells, and make us some tacos con perros. I bet they'll taste just like chickens.

Little, yappy, big-eyed chickens.

The Of Course Leads To My Other Great Idea: Fez Book

As near the end of the aughts, as I shall heretofore refer to the previous decade, I fear we have failed at producing a single meaningful contribution to the fashion industry. Actually, scratch that - the youth of our nation has failed to produce a single meaningful contribution to the fashion industry. As an older individual, I can look back on the decade before this, and take pride in our inclusion of both hip hop fashion and the whole grunge thing (or as I like to call it, 'layering'). Pity the high top fade fell out of favor, but what can you do?

Anyway, as I am wont to do, I will pick up the slack for those around me who lack the inspiration to put forth brave new ideas and give you a helpful suggestion: the fez. For too long the fez has been pushed to the back of the American fashion scene, relegated to foreign restaurant waitstaff, grown men driving tiny cars in parades, and of course, monkeys. Well, it's time to correct that. We need someone who is more artistically creative than myself to reinvent the fez, and you don't have a lot of time. Thanks to MTV, you can still start a trend in less than two weeks, so if you're quick you can make it. Maybe a goth fez or something - I don't know. You work out the details.



Of course we'll never pull of the look as well as the monkeys, but it will be something.

Stupid Deadlines

Deadlines suck. Unfortunately, if I'm to continue earning money, I must occasionally meet them. As such, nothing new to talk about today. I strongly encourage visitors to use the labels in the menu to explore some of my older posts. I'm sure some of you missed my musings on the missing footage of Ghost Hunters, wonder just how the government determines the proper height for urinals or listing all the questions that I resisted asking when I was required to do interviews. Look at this as an opportunity to catch up while hopefully I do the same.

I Know A Certain Little Girl Who's Getting "Baby's First Bagpipes" This Year

Some of you out there will be charged with purchasing toys for children, so I thought I'd pass along a couple of helpful pieces of information. First, when you're shopping for a child who you will be around frequently, like your own, make sure to hunt down an open package for any toy you are seriously considering at the toy store. Once you find the open package, take the smallest piece out of the package, remove your shoe, and put your full weight unto that toy part. If the resulting pain from embedding...oh, I don't know...perhaps Princess Barbie's %#$@ing crown into your foot causes you to do more than slightly wince in pain, perhaps reconsider that particular toy.

My second bit of advice is to check for volume control. Many toys talk, produce sound effects, or play music at incredibly loud volumes. When considering one of these toys, make sure that it has both the ability to be turned down and the ability to be turned off. Failure to do so will result in what will inevitably be your child's favorite toy, which he or she will follow you around the house with, pushing the buttons over and over and over again until the very first electronic notes find you longing for the sweet release that death will bring. If the toy you are considering lacks these controls, it could still be a worthwhile purchase, but only for a niece or nephew, perhaps in retaliation for a certain sibling who insisted on sticking their feet in the popcorn bowl every movie night to ensure that he or she did not have to share.

Not...not that I would do such a thing, but not everyone is as forgiving as myself.

After All, Booty Is Only Skin Deep

Okay, so once in a while, I come across a story that I want to talk about- I mean, something that just begs for me to rip into it and tear it all to shreds - but it's kind of a sad story, so I hesitate. Such a thing is the tale of former Miss Argentina Solange Magnano, who died as a result of complications during butt surgery. Elective butt surgery, actually. She basically gave her life in an effort to have taught, firm buttocks, a noble goal no doubt, but hardly one I would consider worth risking one's life over.

Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm going to make some crack about this. You're thinking that a cheeky fellow such as myself will not be able to let this one sit. You're thinking I'm going to allow this person's death to become the butt of my jokes. Seriously though, someone has died here, and left a beautiful set of twins behind her to be reared by someone else. I mean sure, in hindsight it was a bad idea, but I'm sure she assessed the risk, decided it was worth the booty (these surgeries aren't cheap) and assumed the responsibility for her actions. What kind of ass do you take me for to thing that I would mock such a thing? In fact, I'm proud that someone as immature as myself can take the high road here, and I hope all of you who took the opportunity to poke fun of this tragic story fell guilty to the very bottoms of yourselves.

The very bottoms I say.