I should say more stuff

I really should post more, for reals. However, I don’t really have anything to blog about, ‘cos, you know, you’re supposed to have a life to talk about in the first place.

I should post something about how awesome 10,000 Days is. Something about how strange it is that I consider an album from a “metal” band to be at times, beautiful.

I should post about how I shaved only the right side of my face because I was bored and because it amused me to do so.

But that would take effort.

Le Audible Sigh.

Funniest Thing I’ve seen in a while

What Dan has done over the last week or so

• Started smoking, again
• Brought his mother to the emergency room because she was doubled over in pain, where I then waited with her for over 6 hours (a surprisingly short wait) to see a doctor
• I began referring to himself in both the 3rd and 1st person all within the same sentence
• Bought a shirt
• Bought pants
• Wore pants
• Washed pants
• Wore Shorts
• Had a cashier peg him as a stoner
• He almost cried when the various main characters died in Serenity
• He was shocked at the ending of Scrubs’ season finale
• He read 3 books by Chuck Palahniuk
• Ran out of shaving cream and was forced to shave using only hot water
• Remembered what shaving cream was made out of and vowed never to use it again, not out of any sort ethical or moral reasons, but rather because of the “Ick-Factor”
• Went to the falls in Niagara Falls, a place he hadn’t been to in about 8 years, even though he’s been in the City of Niagara Falls quite often over the last year or so.
• Began recording a miniature-tape to include in the package he will be sending to Christy.
• Enjoyed Tool’s 10,000 Days immensely

Dear Boston Legal,

Boston Legal, you don’t know me personally, but I am a big admirer of yours. Over the last year I have become accustom to your sight and your sounds. You are, as far as teevee can be, near-perfect. If you were a teddy bear, I’d hug you and if you were a woman, I’d try (and fail) to fuck you.

I do have a question for you however; what’s with the whole ‘soap-opera’ vibe that you’ve been giving off the last few weeks? I totally saw the whole Brad/Denise thing from way back at the time when Brad chopped off the priest’s fingers and then the cat ran away with one of them (that was hilarious by the way). And now Denise’s ex, Danny, is coming back next week, apparently NOT dead from cancer. What gives? I mean, I love his character and I love Michael J. Fox, but him coming back NOT dead only two episodes after Brad and Denise hook up is some seriously cheap antics. For reals, Denny shooting somebody every week was kind of funny at first, but now it’s getting old. And from the previews of next week’s episode it looks like Denny’s gonna shoot someone else. What is that, five (that’s fucking 5) people this season? It’s getting old and let me say, you are way above this.

Boston Legal, my friend, my buddy, old pal, you are way above this kind of thing. You are one of the most brilliantly directed, written and acted shows on teevee today. I love it when you give those little nods, those little smiles to the fact that you are a fictional teevee show, with lines like; “I can’t wait until next week,” and; “I’ve hardly seen you this episode,” and; “and here we are, with old footage.” It’s fantastic. I have to say, Boston Legal you are my most favourite non-sci-fi show in the history of non-sci-fi shows. Don’t get me wrong, I love my Scrubs and my occasional episode of CSI, but you my dear friend, go above and beyond the mundane and insipid shows of today.

You take time to make a stand, to make a statement, to push the envelope, not with inferior high-jinks like a drug addict doctor or vulgarities or excessive and brutal violence. Instead you use strong, poignant dialogue and believable characters.

I care about you Boston Legal, I really do and I don’t want to see you fall into the rut of soapy-ness that many shows do. Like I said; you’re beyond that and I hope that you can stop yourself before you end up in said rut.

Yours truly,
-Dan

P.S. – What’s with writing off Garrett Wells without explanation? His character was at least worth a C-story where he gets hired by a rival firm, or some such thing.

The Ripe Canal

The ground is flat but it rounds out the further along we go. Were they wrong? Or were they right, in all the ways that actually matter? Who knows, it actually doesn’t matter either way. Water always runs downhill and everywhere is downhill from somewhere, so hold your breath. It’s hard to breathe underwater when you’re trying to float but the oxygen helps with the floating. Can’t stop floating because if you stop floating then you become food for the fishes. Food for the fishes means food for the food of man and that would make someone, somewhere a cannibal.

Cannibalism leads to brain damage and brain damage leads to cannibalism. Good God, good food let’s eat the motherfucker.

But what’s the point of all of this? I know that there’s no story, no tale here and I’m sure that you’ve figured that out by now too. Which begs the questions; “why are you still reading?” and “why and I still typing away like a jackal reaching for the top apple of the tree of mediocrity?” There are so many questions to ask and so many past humiliations to re-live.

Kids Tip: Don’t ever speak.

It only leads to foot-in-mouth-itis. Any good doctor will tell you that. Foot-in-mouth-itis can lead to athlete’s mouth and we don’t want our mouths to run off like an Olympiad running match. Well, maybe Special Olympiad running match. There’s so much misreading there and it’s better to be humiliated by some good old-fashioned misunderstanding than the truth, that way you can still have plausible self-deniability.

Sip from the glass and wipe the boxed-wine off your face with the velvet ribbon. Because everyone gets a ribbon, we can’t have the children getting the wrong idea. We have to make them get the impression that everyone gets a piece of the pie and that everyone’s equal. When the reality of it all is, is that nobody is equal. Nobody is equal because there’s this little bastard called “money” that’s got a best friend named “greed” and they’ve got a third point in their little hate-triangle marked “indifference.” They get together and fuck the children and rape the mothers because some people just need a little more and to have a little more it means that someone, somewhere has to have a little less.

So fuck the insignificants because it’s their own fault for not doing the fucking and the raping in the first place, right? It’s a “first cum, first served” fish buffet today.

Morning!

That poor Howard.

I bet he tastes good and I know that sometimes even a vegetarian gets tempted to eat some flesh. Nothing beats a good soy steak. And if by “soy” I mean “cow” and by “steak” I mean “steak” then yes, yes nothing beats a soy steak.

And of course I mean cow steak. Why eat the placebo when the reality is sitting on your plate, having been tortured and exquisitely bled for the honour of getting turned into the juices that get squeezed out your backside? The juices go into the grass and the cows eat the grass and their own juices make the grass grow more and the cows eat more grass and then we slit their throats and eat and drink them.

Cannibalism leads to brain damage and brain damage leads to cannibalism. Good God y’all, what isn’t it good for?

So eat up Greedy Gus, you’ve got some brain cells that ain’t done been corrupted yet, Yuk-Yuk.

You know talking like this is making me a little hungry. There used to be this little restaurant in my hometown that made the best sandwiches. Actually the sandwiches weren’t the greatest, the bread was always dried out and they always put too much mustard on them, but they had the best and biggest pickles ever. I’ll bet you that they were kosher pickles.

Pickles give you bad dreams and bad dreams lead to cannibalism.

Compare a brain-damaged brain to a pickle and I’m sure that you’re going to find some amazing visual similarities. At least that’s what I’m betting on. Five to One odds baby, I’m calling Vegas right now. Don’t you dare try to stop me, ‘cos I know that someday you’re going to be placing your own bet. So you can’t step out of line today and break the mould if you want THE MAN someday. If you’re going to become THE MAN, just remember that sooner or later you’re going to have to eat from that all you can eat buffet and that would make someone, somewhere a victim of a cannibal.

You can’t deny it, you can’t play the “I won’t be a bastard” card, because everyone knows that you’re lying. I know it, they all know it, your family, your friends and more importantly, the people that you’re going to eventually push out your backside.

It’s one big happy family on this little speck of interstellar dust, this cosmic high school farce called Earth.

Incidentally, we should think up a new name. We’re totally the laughing stock of the solar system. You know that when Earth went to school all the other planets poked fun at him. Even Mars – who you know was just a big tool in school – got some jabs in on Earth.

“Hey there Earth, say, what’s that growing on your face? Life?” says Mars with a snide laugh.

“Gross, I’m totally not going to The Formal with you now Earth,” says Venus. “I’m going with Mars, he knows how to show a lady a good time and he sure as hell doesn’t have any life growing on his face.”

“Oh burn!” laughs Mars as he wraps his lips around Venus’ neck. Earth gets pissed and head-butts Mars in the face, transferring the tinniest of living creatures. But Mars keeps his face so clean that nothing can stay alive on him for long. Mars just laughs at Earth’s pitiful attempt and proceeds to get lucky with Earth’s one true love.

“Alright, fuck you guys, I can’t take anymore of your juvenile shit,” says Pluto, gunning it out of the solar system. “I’m going to Orion’s Belt.”

Then Earth cries and the oceans up heave and the dinosaurs go extinct and the crazy old bastard that locked his family away in his pleasure yatch gets to say that he got a message from God.

After formal – and after the water has settled – the popular kids still make fun of poor old Earth.

“Makeover!” says Mercury.

“A facial cleanser will take care of that nasty case of life,” he says.

“Exfoliate, exfoliate, exfoliate!”

You know that if any of the planets are gay that’s it’s going to be Mercury. He’s so close to the sun that he’s got no choice but to be a flamer.

“You’ve gotta rub the cleanser in real hard, like a meteor shower,” says Mercury.

Oh my! Wrong area.

“Wrong area,” giggles Mercury, not that he minds.

“Not that I mind,” says Mercury and then he cries out in ecstasy as the sun spews it’s hot fire across his face. He loves it like that.

And all the while Earth sits there with his only friend the Moon. But he still can’t get any respect from his only friend. The Moon mocks him every night by having a party with THE MAN and they’re never invited Earth. They hide the party every time that Earth looks around, so Earth is stuck at home every night with his Self watching the cosmic dust settle on his pickles and cow steak. Earth’s thought about switching to soy steak, but that would cut into his exfoliation time.

Earth’s just a poor young lad with a bad case of acne. Think about that the next time you see a zit in the middle of your forehead and you decide to pop it. For all you know it could be a new form of superior life, far greater than your face could be on it’s own. It is after a part of you, no matter how much disdain you feel towards it.

Which reminds me, I’ve got to go clean my face, it’s almost suppertime.

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That’s one of my favourite things I’ve written, a little snippet from Shoddy Penmanship.