Randamonium

Time machines would be great. But there is something that I would do with that technology to make all of our lives kick tits: The "Just In Time" Machine (patent pending). This works great for hitting those historical or personal events that you want to relive, witness, or fuck with the space-time continuum just so you can make sure that your mother-doesn't-marry-someone-better-than-your dad-so-you-can-exist kind of thing, because we all know that you get an awesome Toyota 4x4 truck that you can take your girlfriend to the lake in and you can screw her all night and she won't get pregnant kind of "new" present life. Longest sentence ever! But wait...there's more!!! The Just In Time Machine (patent pending) really shines in future travel. It is perfect for nailing the perfect spots for witnessing natural disasters, accidents, assassinations, celebrity wardrobe malfunctions, and even Jesus Christ himself!

Dogs need to get jobs, buy things, and learn how to drive. It's the only way we can fix this economy.

I went in for my quarterly cancer examination today. Things checked out great with one exception: my hemoglobin is low. I asked my doctor why it was low and she couldn't say. This got me thinking about possible causes. I came to the conclusion, after much thought, that I was raped in the night by the Hemogoblin. I made this deduction from the fact that my ass hurt when I woke up this morning and rose petals were stuffed in my shoes. True story.

Fun Fact: Work is slowly robbing you of your will to live.

Have a good weekend!

The mountain trail is the new "bath house"

So, I was going on my Sunday evening hike and I came across these two men on the trail. We all stopped a bit to talk about the canyon and I asked them how far up the trail went and so forth. Anyway, the "leader" of the two starts asking me a lot of personal questions and then introduces himself with a hand shake. The quiet one looks me directly in the eye, and with no irony says, "They call me Hawk." Besides the obvious question of who "they" was, I was tempted to just come right out and say that I wasn't interested in being raped in the forest.

I think I need to start carrying mace.

My interests

My activity on this blog has been in decline (for me, at least). Ever since I got back from my vacation awhile back it has been hard for me to focus on certain things. Since it has been a whole week (!) since my last post I have decided to share with you some of my new-found passions: fun, lobster racing, snipe awareness, touching my nose with my_______, making dirty thoughts pop into people's heads without doing anything dirty, dust bunny rancher, likes a wide variety of hats (does not wear hats), bonsai tree liberation, taco cart maintenance, fish bowling, star gazing with Bob (imaginary mentor--I'm all grown up now).

Aside from these new pursuits and hobbies, I have been busy deconstructing my milieu. See, I had this dream. In this dream I was involved in an activity where the adult men and young men were gathered into a gymnasium. We were told to bring a gun. When we were all present, the leader told us to stand apart from each other a certain distance and then to fire our guns in turns. I kept asking the leader why we were doing this. He told me that it was better to be obedient and assured me that no one would die or get hurt badly. I was rather nervous in the dream because I was only ten feet away from a boy pointing a double-barrel shotgun at me. I pretty much knew that I would be wasted with one shot. I persisted in questioning every grownup in the group and everyone seemed to ignore me now, instead laughing with each other and acting rather casual--this was all going to be fun. End dream.

This impressed upon me the futility of warning a body/group of the foolishness that they are engaged in. A group is an organism. It will do many things to protect itself.

I've been thinking about the collective state of mind versus the individual: happiness. I really believe that a member of the collective will sacrifice their individual self for their collective self out of the need for security and comfort over autonomy and truth. The collective will rarely, if ever, truly listen to an individual who threatens the state of the collective; whereas, the individual can become completely absorbed by the collective.

Collective/group reality seems to be just as subjective and prone to credulity as that of the individual, if not more. Group think is prone to depersonalization as well as a lack of critical thinking. The responsibility of scrutiny is dispersed completely. It is no wonder that large groups of people have taken in claims, concepts and myths in confidence from jugglers of perception and emotion.

This all takes me back to the days when I was studying social psychology. It is nice to shut the brain down and make everybody happy, but I don't think that they understood what it was that made me unhappy. The more I think, the more it seems to unravel who I am. My real interest in life is thinking. I am a thinker. Speaking in general, if what I think about makes you feel uncomfortable, then that is tough shit. I am a big enough person to handle your mind garbage, why not you mine?

PS. I love my blog and my bloggies.

They happen in threes

R.I.P

• Farrah
• Ed
• Michael

Of Farrah:

My older brother had "the" poster with the magic nipples in it. I was an avid watcher of Charlie's Angels reruns, but was more devoted to Wonder Woman. I will remember her for her character of "Blond Girl" in Logan's Run and for her paintings, using her nude body as a brush. This is proof that Texans are different from the rest of us and that is why we like them. Mostly, though, I will think about another fellow being that lost their battle with cancer and how fortunate I am to have survived my battle with that disease.

Of Ed:

I was lucky enough to have spent many nights of my youth watching The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. I would sometimes crash my parents' room and watch this with my dad while my mom was busy doing mom stuff. There was something about Ed that made you like him, or fear him. You just knew that if you met him in the right circumstances that he might "heyo" you to death. Ed was one of the few people that could put "Trademark Laugh" on a resume and it would get him the job. At least he and Johnny can do the show again.

Of Michael:

Pop genius, pure and simple. I really got into my brother's 45's of the Jackson 5 and his early solo stuff. I wasn't even ashamed to like him when he released Thriller, then things started getting weird...Howard Hughes meets Elvis weird. From hyperbaric chambers to Elepant Man skeletons, and the occult to Bubbles the Chimp. Throw in Brooke Shields, Webster, Neverland Ranch, and a bunch of young boys and you have only a grain of sand on an entire bizzaro world beach. He seemed only to be visiting this planet, anyway. Somehow, I am happy for him. As tragic as his death may be, I really didn't want to see what advanced age would do to him. I found it painful to watch him make attempts at becoming "adult", having kids and canned marriages. He just could never be old--he needed to exist elsewhere, away from normality. Maybe he really was Peter Pan. There won't be anybody nor anything like him again.

Catch 22

You're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't. So, the best thing is to say that you are always thinking about it, whatever "it" is, and hang out with good people.

Water Safety

Remember kids: If you are ever in a shipwreck, root beer floats.

Lazerly laterly

My mind is still on vacation. Astral travel is much cheaper than getting away physically, but I am no yogi.

My mind thinks of silly things quite often. Lately, I've been fascinated with how Dustin Hoffman says "uh-oh", you know, the "Rainman" catchphrase. I also have an equal fascination with how Jackie Chan says "uncle". He sounds like he's saying "unkhole". There's nothing wrong with it. It is just something that I get a kick out of. So, I've been thinking how great it would be if Jackie Chan and Dustin Hoffman did a movie together, called Uh-oh! Where's Uncle? Dustin Hoffman would just reprise his Rainman character and team up with Jackie on a quest to find his Uncle, who was kidnapped by international gangsters that ride motorcross bikes around the Bronx--the Bronx having the Canadian Rocky Mountains as a prominent backdrop (just like in Rumble in the Bronx). Apparently, Hong Kong filmmakers didn't even try to match their shooting location to their intended setting. Oh, and when is the last time you were traumatized by hordes of breakdance-couture, dirtbike riders in the inner city? Did they try to steal your grocery-store-owning uncle, too? Well, my friends, all of this nonsense will go into this production. Dustin Hoffman will use his savant super powers to process information from almanacs, phone books, and the "Adult" ads in Craigslist to track down the bad guys. Jackie Chan will just randomly beat people up, run around and jump alot, and smile at stuff while pronouncing things wrong to our delight. The best part is that they both will say the catchphrase "Uh-oh! Where's Uncle?" a lot.

Yep.