You, Yes You, Are Completely Insane

I am the most ridiculously annoying person to get into a fight with. Ask anyone who’s ever tried to fight with me. They’ll tell you. Trust me on this one.

The reason for this annoyance is that I do it all wrong. The other person will spend all of his or her time trying desperately to nail home the point that I’m wrong. I’ll spend all my time ignoring that completely and asking questions in an effort to determine how it is we arrived at a difference in viewpoints. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll shift into trying to determine if a unified perspective was even possible. If that still fails, I’ll move on to trying to see if it we started with the same assumptions. Failing that, I’ll try and discover if there is anything to be gained by continuing to spend energy worrying about it.

This tends to work out great if any of the following are true:
1) There actually is an undeniably correct position in the disagreement.
2) The isn’t any set correct position in the disagreement.

I think that’s why it pisses people off so much. I do pretty much the same sequence of things in any disagreement, and the results are either favorable or a stalemate that I (on my end) perceive as favorable. It’s sort of a cheerful neutron bomb. Let me give you an example of what this seems to be like (from my limited perspective):

Cold War-Era USSR (you): Capitalist pigs! Your civilian cruise ship strayed briefly into Soviet waters! We demand an immediate and unconditional public apology!

Cold War-Era US (me): Hmm? I thought we resolved this already. It was a cruise ship. The captain was drunk. As soon as we noticed the moron was asleep at the wheel, we got his ass out of there. It was a harmless mistake, our bad. But it’s hardly a big deal. The thing was in your waters for about five minutes. They didn’t do anything, and we’ve already corrected the mistake.
Cold War-Era USSR (you): Then you admit you’re wrong! I demand a full public apology!
Cold War-Era US (me): I think you’re missing the point here. If I were to make a public apology, it would sound silly. No harm was done, no one ever meant any harm, and the whole situation was about as threatening as renegade sea otter.
Cold War-Era USSR (you): I demand that apology!
Cold War-Era US (me): What would that gain you exactly? Don’t you think that turning this into a huge media sensation and involving all our friends would just make us look like a couple of children having a pissing contest? We’ve already corrected the problem here, and we did so quickly and cheerfully. Everyone should be happy. I’m not quite sure why you’re not.
Cold War-Era USSR (you): Your arrogance will be your downfall! This means war!
Cold War-Era US (me): Arrogance? My only positions in this have been that I have a moron drunkard captain in my civilian fleet, and that fighting is bad.
Cold War-Era USSR (you): You will pay for your refusal to cooperate!
Cold War-Era US (me): ::sighs:: If you don’t drop this, I’ll neutron bomb all your cities and add any relevant works of art I find to my personal collection. Just drop it already.
Cold War-Era USSR (you): You bastard!

Again, I type this jokingly, intending to highlight that things look a certain way from a certain perspective.

Now I’m going to show you why I feel so good about taking the position of, “Your chosen perspective matters in all arguments, and is really the only thing that matters.” At all times. It’s because we’re both crazy-ass weirdos who have no idea what’s right and what’s wrong.

I’ll bet I would not win any points with you if I started a conversation by saying, “We can’t trust your perspective on this because every time you move your head, you start to hallucinate.” That would be a pretty dick think to say. So I won’t say it. I’ll just offer it up as a hypothetical in that, if it were true, it would really cast some doubts on your perspective on things. While you think about that outrageous statement, focus on the dot in the middle of this picture, and move your head forwards and backwards towards and away from the screen.

If nothing unusual at all happened, we can conclude nothing about your perspective. If you saw something crazy, like the picture spinning to life as you moved your head, well, that would be crazy. It’s a picture. It doesn’t move. To prove it to you, I’ll post another picture.

See? It’s a picture. All the colors are clearly defined as being in exactly one place at all times. It’s fact! Undeniably true. Eminently provable. If you can’t even look at a picture and immediately conclude that it’s not moving, well, it might not be too wise to be spending a lot of energy insisting that you are undeniably right about the other crazy shit you might believe you know.

“f*ck me hard please”

As many of you know, I have a Gmail account handle the vast majority of my email needs. In fact, I use a large number of the free Google services. Google services have made many things that I do much nicer in ways I don’t think would be interesting to list. My only concern about Google is that when I hear that shares in the seemingly non-sales-driven-experimental-tech company have blown past $900 per share, I get worried the stock market is prepping for a major correction. This is not Google’s fault, however. Caveat emptor.

The one Google service relevant to this post is the spam filter in Gmail. It works amazingly well. Until yesterday, it correctly guessed what was spam and what wasn’t 100% of the time.

Then, yesterday, Peter Vance sent me the following email:
Title: “f*ck me hard please”
“i want f*ck you all night! http://nodatinghere.com

”cavities beakerful columbia tret estimable flavescent prattfall
”prounion setenant mother unconductive chatelainry khis
”ophthalmomyotomy locky
”homekeeping officerial elegant occipitocervical unpenetrable
”spoonless ophthalmectomy”

That got through the spam filter. To all appearances, many people were reading that email and concluding, “This must be from one of my friends!”

At first, I was confused. I checked my spam folder to see what DIDN’T get through. There were several hundred emails in there, all well chosen.

Then suddenly, a light bulb went on in my head. Google thought *I* wrote that email. See, it all makes sense like that. My friends tell me that even when I’m talking about things like trade policy, tax law, savings plans, and philosophy, all they hear is “I want to fuck you all night! No dating! Right here!” followed by a seemingly endless chain of less interesting and much longer words. This is generally billed as being my fault.

And take a closer look at the body of that email. I have to admit, it DOES bear a striking resemblance to the way I choose words when I’m writing for clarity! Generally, in situations like this, when I send out emails, I get replies along the line of, “I’m so happy to hear that you’re thinking of my cervix! I didn’t know I had one! But you’re right, I do have a lot of cavities! And they sure are estimable! Haha! I’m not quite sure what you meant by all of that, but I know for a fact that I’m not unpenetrable! Hehe!”

Then I send back a reply along the lines of, “What? I asked you if you thought that ‘Golden Compass’ would get more or less bad press if they didn’t change the name of the antagonist group.”

Then they reply, “Ok, I DO like being held down bad, but don’t be too antagonistic, you kinky bastard! I’ve never tried group before!”

At this point I give up and see the movie alone, while pondering if I can recover my losses if I just try to have sex with the confused friend despite having written off the idea of anything remotely resembling dating.

That said, I can see why this one slipped through.

The Spirit of the Law

Florida State Troopers recently found two garbage bags of pot along the highway. They are holding them at the station. If you believe these bags of pot (worth $54,000) are yours, feel free to stop by and pick them up.

http://blogs.usatoday.com/ondeadline/2007/11/lost-found-cops.html

I have conflicting feelings about this. Despite the fact that alcohol is a little too hardcore for me, I am generally of the opinion that the US would be better off if all street drugs were legal, FDA regulated, and taxed at exorbitant rates. In other words, I really don’t care WHAT you think is fun to put in your body, so long as you pay somebody to clean up your messes afterwards. I feel this is better than the current system where people put whatever they want in their bodies anyway, but they instead give all their money to criminal empires that make further messes instead.

Despite this, I want to give a solid round of applause to the Florida State Troopers in question. This idea is a masterpiece.

Again, I don’t really care if your idea of a good weekend is smoking two garbage bags of pot. Go right ahead.

However, anyone who will call up the Florida State Troopers and try to pick up two garbage bags of the stuff? I want that person off the streets. Quickly. And then I want that person executed. Sometimes, it’s in the best interest of everyone to help Darwin along.

I’m in the _______, ____ing your _______

I recently caused a minor stir by posting a blog entry that made fun of myself, but was ridiculously unclear on about what, how, or for what reason. I provided enough context clues to figure it out, but only with some work or fore-knowledge.

I figured that the post would be ignored by everyone except the select few people who would find it obvious.

I was wrong. The people who had the most fun with it were the people who had no clue WHATSOEVER what I was talking about and saw the whole thing as an enticing mystery.

I’m going to build on that success today. I’m going to tell you a true story in multiple choice format. Again, I promise, for each blank, one of the answers is something I really did, and the other three answers did not happen. Taken together, the correct answers will cohere into a true story.

Ready? Go!

1) I will be moving back to Chicago at some point next year. This should come as no surprise because ______________.

A) Living as a relative hermit is less fun than it sounds.
B) I miss my family.
C) The police are on to me.
D) I only ever planned to live in Wisconsin for three years to build up my resume.

2) As a result, I’ve started to actively try to use up ______________.

A) The eligible love interests of the area.
B) The goodwill of my neighbors.
C) The points on my Wisconsin driver’s license.
D) The non-perishable items in my pantry.

3) One thing that I was quick to notice is that I have an extreme abundance of ______________.

A) Homely admirers.
B) Gullible neighbors.
C) Condoms.
D) Aging spices that I rarely use.

4) To that end, I came up with a creative solution. I decided to ______________.

A) Give speed dating a try, shooting for quantity over quality for a change.
B) Start borrowing peculiar items at odd times of the day.
C) Invent some new practical jokes.
D) Confuse my coworkers as usual, but in a new way.

5) That decided, I packed up my ______________ with ______________ and headed off to ______________.

A) pockets; Viagra; the community center
B) backpack; assorted tools that I promised to return; neighboring apartments
C) backpack; industrial magnets; the parking lot
D) backpack; exotic, fragrant spices; work

6) I spent the next month ______________.

A) Dipping my wick like I was trying to make one FAT candle.
B) Giving “Ace Hardware” a run for their money.
C) Sealing people’s car door keyholes with ridiculously-hard-to-remove magnets and posting the videos of people trying to get into their cars on YouTube.
D) Putting unusual and unexpected spices in with the coffee before I brewed a fresh pot.

7) The response was overwhelmingly ______________.

A) Positive. It was suggested that I quit my day job.
B) Nonexistent. It seems people were willing to give me almost anything just to make me go away, and had no interest in getting it back if it meant talking to me further.
C) Positive. I’m starting a viral video campaign to rival “Britney Boy” Chris Crocker.
D) Peculiar. I was accused of using the coffee maker to make tea, despite the fact that the coffee was made full strength, just with added flavors.

8) As a result of this experiment, I ______________.

A) Am still trying to get rid of some “waxy buildup,” but I like a challenge.
B) Am planning to build my next place on an open lot and save on rent.
C) Have been contacted by MTV as a possible replacement to the series “Jackass.”
D) Have concluded that my coworkers like to complain and have no sense of taste.

Lake <3’s Disney

Generally, I find Disney movies unpalatable. I liked “Enchanted,” because it seemed to know this, and admitted that I have a point. That’s all I ask. Self-aware Disney was pretty funny.

Here’s my big problem with Disney: all the plot arcs look exactly the same (to me). Let me tell you the plot of every Disney movie I have ever seen (I have not seen as many as you think.)

“Oh no! I’m a beautiful young person with little to no real life experience! One or many of my parents or guardians seem mean to me! In response to this, I will make an ENORMOUS life-destroying lifestyle choice. Oh, look, I am ruined because I made an enormous life-destroying lifestyle choice! Fortunately, I met an equally ungifted beautiful young person of the opposite gender as a result of our shared poor choices! We’re so cute together that everything works out! Yay!”

(Objections to this summary that sound like, “You are forgetting the 1942 classic, ‘Aryana and the 28 Negro Servants!’” will be ignored or outright mocked, at my discretion.)

This plot arc teaches a valuable life lesson: “It’s ok to be retarded as long as you are adorable.”

In my life, I have met thousands of people who seem to have taken this life lesson to heart.

In my life, I have met dozens of people who are actually adorable.

Doing some quick math and rounding a little, that makes thousands of non-adorable, willfully retarded people. This is not the recipe for success.





That said, go watch this right now. Don’t read past the link until it’s over. Give it until halfway in before you give up, even if it makes you queasy. I’m sending you to watch this for a reason, though I don’t want to spoil the surprise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9-CS2v8wcc













Outstanding. You might think I want to make fun of that guy, but no. I’m impressed. I hope he gets laid about 500 times for having done that.

I didn’t like Aladdin at all. And that song drove me nuts in Jr. High, though it was popular with everyone else. But after watching that clip a few times, I have revised my opinion. That song is GENIUS if we take it to this new level.

Let’s tweak the premise of Aladdin slightly. The original plot summary was this:
“Lying street urchin rescues princess from her horrible life of boring opulence.”

If, as Nick (the singer) accidentally suggested (by playing both roles himself), there was only one protagonist to the story, then we can revise the plot to this:
“Schizophrenic princess has romantic visions of fantasy street urchin and his spirit guardians. These visions give her the ability to self-love when they break apart from her main personality and attain equal standing in her mind. Princess has visions of fantastic adventures, while at no point actually doing anything to threaten her status in the royal court. In fact, though she imagines otherwise, these visions make her a smash hit at royal parties.”

That revised movie sounds fascinating. I think a few Disney classics could benefit from this modification.

The Little Mermaid with the Big Flipper
“Lonely mermaid annoys father when she becomes infatuated with land-dwelling alterego, spends hours each day humping rocks at the surface (much to the delight of intrigued sailors), and eventually completely loses grip on reality. Spends retirement trying to hop through the silt on the bottom of the ocean in a seaweed “dress” while talking to self.”

Beauty and Satan
“Bored with her day job, eccentric beauty runs away to abandoned castle where she talks to antique furniture regularly. As days pass, she becomes obsessed with an imaginary though elusive demon. As the demon haunts her more and more, she loses touch with her aesthetic sense and gives in to his dark embrace. Having gone to the dark side, that which she before thought was ugly now appears beautiful. She spends the next month poisoning wells and vandalizing the town before she is burned as a witch.”

Portabella
“Insane prince annoys royal court by spending an entire royal ball dancing with a ripe pumpkin. Departs abruptly at midnight, leaving a trail of discarded clothes as he rushes into the streets.”

Drowsy Beauty
“Lonely forest beauty does inappropriate things to produce until she passes out. Has prolonged dream in which an especially savory apple shows her what ‘the fruit of knowledge’ can really offer.”

I should start my own studio.

Hardcore Bathroom Sex

A few weeks back at work, the building manager and I arrived right on time, around 5:00 AM. We both like to arrive to work under cover of darkness. It cuts back on the questions when the witness count is low.

Naturally, we were both still a little out of it. He had had his excitement the night before and I had had mine. We both needed a pick me up.

As he cut lines on his desktop, I rolled last weeks project reports into a tube that would make sushi feel inadequate. I could tell right off that both of us were going for volume today.

I cut the straw in half and handed him his. As he poised himself over a line about the size of a bread knife, he looked up. “The towels in the men’s room aren’t rolling properly. Take care of it.”

Ignoring what sounded like a “Shop-Vac” in turbo mode, I thought of the towelboy who had let the situation get so out of hand. He would have to be punished, to send a message to towelboys everywhere.

A few hours later, as the sun began to rise, the laundry truck pulled up in front of my building. From my office window, I could see him hop off the back. His blonde hair glistened in the morning light. His shorts revealing everything I needed to know and more. This was going to be fun.

Half an hour later, he was in the men’s room, approaching to the unrolled towels piled on the floor. He hadn’t heard me enter. As he scooped up the piles on the floor, I ran a finger down his spine, from his neck to his waistline. He dropped the towels and spun around with a gasp.

“Morning.” I said, sternly. “I want to show you something.” I pulled open the towel dispenser with one practiced move. I was ready. “I see you noticed that we’ve been having a little trouble with the quality of your service lately. Do you see this?” I gestured at the rolling mechanism. The grit roller was visibly warn at the edges. “When we’re having trouble with our towel service…” I rolled a finger across the worn roller, “It usually means that things need to get a little more… rough.”

His eyes widened. He could tell where this was going.

“So how are you going to fix this?”

He shivered slightly. I made my move.

I pushed him back slightly over the sink and pushed my finger into the base of his neck, just firmly enough to register pressure. “Obviously, we need to come up with a solution that will work for all parties. Don’t we?” I hooked my finger under his top button and gave a fast tug. The button flew into the uniform racks behind me. “There. Progress.”

An hour later, the towelboy hurried out of the building towards his truck. Only someone watching could tell that his shirt was held closed by no more than his subtle grip and the pile of towels in his arms. Because he had so quickly taken care of the problem, I’d rewarded him with a quick breakfast after his service work. Now I needed a line.

As I left for my office, I had a thought. I’d wait another week, then put the old roller back on.

It’s a good life.

Bathroom Sex Rewrite

I got a bunch of complaints when I posted my entry entitled “Bathroom Sex.” It wasn’t really the reception I was expecting. Complaints, sure. But this kind of complaint?

See, I figured people might object to one of the following:
1) I objectified the laundry service as sex toys.
2) I pointed out that I assumed I could get a raise for sexually harassing the staff.
3) I posted a naughty blog entry in the first place.

I got zero complaints about those issues.

Instead, I got complaints about the following:
1) I never actually explained the many and diverse ways the laundry service could be used as sex toys.
2) I’d be qualified for a bigger raise than the 2% I suggested if my sex life were actually tied to my pay.
3) That post had far too much non-naughty “filler” material for something entitled “Bathroom Sex.”

In conclusion, my readers are perverts. I love you guys!

Ok, ok. I’ll take a few creative liberties and try the whole thing again. Tomorrow’s post will be unabashed fan service, by request. But do me a favor first. Go back and read the original “Bathroom Sex” entry. Do it now. It’ll make the post tomorrow more fun for you.

“Jenny Craig” Causes Global Warming.

(Conspiracy Theories III)
It’s been a while since I proved that gay people are a Chinese plot. Many readers complimented me on my passionate and well-documented argument.

Alas, it has not inspired a cult following.

The reason is obvious. That theory was designed to appeal to rednecks, hillbillies, women-haters, and racists. None of those groups read my blog. As such, my theory was at risk of infecting no one. Who does read my blog, you ask? Well, to be honest, I don’t know for sure either. But I do know that they all use computers. And given where my blog is published, they’re all probably pretty good with them too. That said, let’s assume that the vast majority of my readers are well educated, reasonably rational thinkers. If I want to start a conspiracy theory that will stand the test of time, I need to appeal to people like that.

Remember, I proved in my last post on this topic that you only need four things to have a rock-solid conspiracy theory:
1) Something or someone you hate.
2) Something in the world that is changing or has changed.
3) A link through the “common knowledge” that connects the first two ingredients.
4) Followers.

I did great with the first three, but I just didn’t publish in the right venue to nail number four. It’s certainly possible to write a conspiracy theory for well-educated and rational people. But when you do, you have to make your stream-of-consciousness writing RIGOROUS.

Are you ready? I’m about to prove, via valid scientific argument, that “Jenny Craig” causes global warning. And so it begins:

Despite continued criticism from fringe groups (mostly working from outside the scientific community), a strong correlation has been found between increasing average temperatures on Earth and the buildup of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere.

The most valid argument refuting this point is that correlation does not necessarily imply causation. In other words, just because average temperature on Earth is rising at the same time that greenhouse gas concentrations are rising, it cannot be outright assumed that one is causing the other.

This argument is logically sound. However, people making this case almost universally falsely assume two things. First, they often argue that the current high temperatures observed are nothing unusual. They suggest, rather, the Earth is simply entering a period of warmth, in line with well-documented cycles of cool and warm ages in our planet’s history. The error here is that current temperatures being seen – which are still rising – are in fact well outside the documented past peaks. Second, the concentrations of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere are not (similarly) something typical of past eras, as has been suggested. Rather, they too are climbing to unprecedented levels (in the history of multicellular life on Earth). The fact that the two peaks are both correlated and unprecedented serves to establish an easily defended (and mechanistically explainable) cause and effect relationship. From this, we can conclude that the scientific community at large is correct, and that greenhouse gasses do cause global warming. It is not necessary to touch on the areas of this topic which actually ARE controversial, such as what should be done about this.

The greenhouse gasses that are at the root of the added heat are carbon dioxide and methane. Both of these gasses have been seen only in trace quantities over the course of living history. They also share a common chemical feature: they have a carbon atom as their core element. This is in contrast with the nitrogen and oxygen that compose the overwhelming majority of the atmosphere naturally. They are the two lightest and most stable and readily formed carbon-based gasses.

The carbon in the air has to come from somewhere. It is not coming from space. Nor is either of these gasses light enough to be escaping the Earth into space in any significant quantity. That said, we can easily conclude that the buildup of gaseous carbon molecules (greenhouse gasses) in the atmosphere are coming from the liquid and/or solid carbon sources on earth.

Again, this point is readily defended. If we look at the atmosphere, and we notice that carbon-based molecules are increasing in it, that carbon must be coming from the only source of carbon not already there: the liquids and solids of Earth. The same case can be made for methane.

That said, it remains only to show how and why the carbon is being converted into a gaseous form in the atmosphere.

Typically, scientists have argued that industrial and commercial sources are causing this change. They make the case that burning coal and other fossil fuels takes carbon sources in solid and liquid forms and liberates the carbon atoms in these molecules into the gas phase. Or, put directly, this burning creates greenhouse gasses. That may be true.

However, it is reductive and silly to argue that this is the only input of carbon molecules into the atmosphere. What is so often overlooked in this argument is the well-established scientific fact that all (known) life on Earth operates on a carbon-backbone system. Our bodies are held together primarily by carbon-based molecules (which include proteins). Our food gives us energy in the form of carbon-based molecules. All other animals and plants on earth are similarly carbon-based. And as a result of this, all life on Earth can be thought of as a huge depository of carbon that could otherwise be in our atmosphere warming the Earth.

I will state this point again for clarity, because it is so key to the current treachery: The carbon held in our bodies is not loose in the atmosphere destroying our planet.

This is the point that “Jenny Craig” is using against us. For those of you not familiar with the evil secret behind the “Jenny Craig” corporation, I will give you a general breakdown of their key goals. “Jenny Craig” is a huge organization devoted to promoting an agenda of converting human life into greenhouse gasses.

The corporation hires armies of agents to set up shops around our fair nation to promote the vicious notion that Americans are grossly overweight. They will not listen to reasonable arguments that the human body converts food during times of plenty into wholly-natural body fat. Times of plenty such as those that would be seen during longer, warmer, sunnier summers. Again, this is a natural process. No special thought or planning is required. If there is an abundance of food available, we naturally eat this food and convert it into fat, making ourselves larger.

When we become larger, we contain and isolate larger deposits of carbon. This carbon is not loose warming our planet. It is not decaying in our granaries and becoming carbon dioxide. It is tucked safely away in the security of our bellies.

“Jenny Craig” would have all of us releasing our environmentally-friendly carbon deposits directly into the atmosphere via metabolism. They would have all of us exercising regularly and thus breathing out Earth-destroying greenhouse gasses with every forced breath. Further, they would have us eat more fruits and vegetables -- rich sources of fiber. This fiber would serve to make all of us more gassy, and thus enable the bacteria in our guts to turn us into walking methane factories. Were you aware that methane is a greenhouse gas roughly ten times as powerful as the oft-denounced carbon dioxide? It is. That’s a secret that the dieting industry doesn’t want you to know. Eating fruits and vegetables destroys the planet. Doing so forces your body into an artificial state in which you exhale destructive carbon dioxide from one end -- carbon dioxide that was previously safely contained -- and additionally forces you to create devastating methane gas via another channel.

Why, you ask, would Jenny Craig do such a thing? To make money of course. By creating the illusion that our huge, nutrient-rich bodies are “unhealthy” or “unnatural,” they create an enormous industry that accomplishes two goals. First, it keeps the public constantly on edge and depressed about their body images. It creates the entirely unnatural illusion that slimmer is better. When five year olds eat a cheeseburger, do they think these unnatural thoughts? Of course not. Such unnatural thinking is learned. Learned from manipulative sources like “Jenny Craig.” Second, they drive the environmentally-friendly among us -- our largest and most patriotic brothers and sisters -- and turn them into walking hyper-soldiers warring against our planet.

Dear readers, it’s all so very simple in this, the larger context. There is exactly one powerful force that the Earth uses to pull these modern unnatural amounts of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. It’s called photosynthesis. Plants around the world are sucking the carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, struggling to keep up with us. Animals then eat these plants and convert them into solid fats that protect the Earth. It’s the Earth’s all-natural, instinctive response.

That said, I implore you all, do your parts to help the environment! Don’t buy hybrid cars! Don’t turn off your lights when you’re not at home! Those are stop-gap measures at best. Instead, drive your SUV’s and run your air conditioners all winter. Whatever feels right. It’s natural. But while you do so, snack, snack, snack! Take responsibility for your actions! Become a walking carbon depository! Each pound you gain removes massive volumes of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere in the long run. That’s why it feels so natural. Save the planet, one cheeseburger at a time!

Don’t listen to the dark, scary agenda promoted by “Jenny Craig.” If they were truly working in line with the will of the Earth, would following their program feel so very wrong? Would it take so much willpower and psychological pain? Of course not. “Jenny Craig” is destroying the Earth. You can feel it in your very soul, as it gnaws at you from your slimming, empty belly.

Packing the Heat of a Two-Foot Pink Feather Duster

The secretary for my building at work is probably not the woman you have so far imagined her to be. She’s in her early thirties, but before I found that out, I assumed she was younger than me. She swears like a wounded pirate when she thinks no one (who would care) is listening. She served a full term in the military (heterosexually, if you’re rushing to conclusions). She’s not really your stereotyped version of a secretary.

That’s why what happened to her earlier this year struck me as so funny.

First, let’s take a moment to talk about the cleaning service. Twice daily, a cleaning service sweeps through my building cleaning up the various messes we in the offices, lobby, lunchroom, etc. have created. About twice a week, they dust everything.

I approve of the concept of dusting my office. It’s one of the few cleaning chores that I do not naturally do myself. And for the Facebook readers among you, the pictures of my office I have posted will be more than enough to show you that dusting in there isn’t exactly simple. I have a lot of stuff in there.

Even so, I have no trouble spotting nights when the cleaning service dusted, no matter how groggily I stumble into the office in the morning. Most days, I turn on my light and see my things neatly lined up, stacked nicely, and generally tidy. Twice a week, it instead appears that all of my things were attacked by an army of birds such as those conceived by Alfred Hitchcock.

This is somewhat annoying. However, I know that the benefit of seeing dusting done well outweighs the inconvenience of straightening up. I’m not really complaining.

The reason I bring this up is that one morning, I discovered WHY dusting in my office causes this. I showed up and discovered my office exactly half dusted and an enormous pink feather duster sitting squarely on my keyboard. Ok. No big deal. I assume something came up.

Only one problem. I have no idea where that feather duster came from. Not my office, that’s for sure. So I did what anyone would do. I put in on the table in the middle of the offices for the cleaning service to easily find that afternoon.

That table is adjacent to the secretary’s cubicle.

That would normally not have been an issue for anyone. Again, our secretary doesn’t look very matronly. But on that day, in an absolutely unprecedented move, the secretary arrived two hours later wearing a bright pink shirt. Said shirt was the exact same bright pink color of the feather duster I had dumped next to her cubicle two hours prior.

She spent the next eight and a half hours having the following exchange with the thirty or so people who walked past that day:
Random coworker: “Nice feather duster! You playing maid today? Haha! That’s a good shirt! You need more frilly lace on the collar though!”
Secretary: “Heh.”
Random coworker: “No really where did you get that?”
Secretary: “It was just here this morning.”
Random coworker: “Did you notice that it matches your shirt?”
Secretary: “That might have been mentioned already…”
Random coworker: “Hahaha!” ::random coworker exits stage::
Secretary: “God dammit, why the f*ck is that stupid thing there?!”

Since my office is right next to her cubicle, I could hear all of this. It wasn’t very funny until the fifth time. By the fifteenth time, I was having one of my best days at work all year.

Lake’s Dance Party

I’m going to leave this post more obtuse and enigmatic than usual. I do this because even the people for whom it’s going to be clear what I’m talking about will likely get a solid laugh out of it at my expense. (And yes, my writing can be made MORE obtuse and enigmatic.)

Here’s the story: Earlier this week, I heard a song as part of a much larger media file. Actually, it was the soundtrack supporting spoken dialogue. It was glorious.

I looked into the matter, and managed to discover what the song was called and how to get it. I did so. But the soundtrack version was a much more somber rendition. Still beautiful, but not what I was looking for.

So I fired up the file again and made a sound recording of the section of interest. It’s two minutes and forty-six seconds long. The music itself has no words. However, the file in question features dialogue for those 2:46s. Even the dialogue makes me happy. This is the dialogue in question:

“I know this place.”
“Of course you do. Go inside.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Life has a melody, Gaius. A rhythm of notes that become your existence once played in harmony with God’s plan. It’s time to do your part and realize your destiny.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“You are the guardian and protector of the new generation of God’s children. The first member of our family will be with us soon, Gaius. It’s time to make your choice.”
“But I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Really, I don’t understand—”
“Come... see the face of the shape of things to come. Isn’t she beautiful, Gaius?”

I have since listened to this exchange on loop more or less ever since. Including on several trips to and from Chicago. Doing some math on the relative length of that commute and the length of the file, I’d estimate I have listened to it now about 400 times. But it’s worse when I’m just walking around with my headphones on, because it makes me really smiley and makes me want to dance. I let the smiling happen, and don’t fight the dancing too hard either.

Yesterday at the grocery store, the checkout girl asked me what I was listening to as a result of this. I told her. I think she’s probably still confused, because I replied (arguably correctly) in Italian.

The people who have a clue what I’m talking about have probably wet their pants laughing at me by now. I think that’s enough.

It’s Raining StrawMen!

The other day at work, I was staring out the large, plate-glass windows in the conference room next to my office and the secretary’s cubicle.

I heard her walk past behind me.

I called out, “Why is it raining hay?”

She called back, “You are so weird!”

I answered, “No really. It’s raining hay. Are they thatching our roof or something?”

Walking up behind me, she asked, “Seriously, you are so funny.” Then she stopped and stared, because, sure enough, to all appearances, it was raining hay.

A few hours later, I managed to discover that the source of the haystorm was the fact that some contractors two buildings over were attempting to lay down grass seed highway-style in the middle of a windstorm. That wasn’t going so hot.

But our secretary, to this day, insists that no one else on Earth can get away with saying things like, “Why is it raining hay?” and seem wise for having asked a few hours later.

Career Day

Today I give a presentation to a full house of middle schoolers on how to be just like me. That’s right, the local school district has asked me specifically to come and give a presentation on that subject. I’ll be molding those pliant, developing young minds for 35 minutes (best estimate). You might ask why the local junior high has decided this is a good idea.

It’s because I’m awesome.

Knowing that I could easily prattle on about that subject for days (maybe even weeks!), they’ve asked me to try to focus on my work as an engineer as the unifying theme of the presentation. It’s an odd choice. Not the most pulse-pounding foundation I could have suggested, but I’ll do anything for the fans. They were hoping I could spend some extra time discussing the challenges and qualifications relating to doing work in an engineering discipline.

Everyone knows that the biggest challenge faced by most engineers is communication skills. If you’re an engineer, everyone assumes you can solve pretty much any problem. The trouble is in telling the underlings how you plan to do that without resorting to a language of grunts, shouting, antisocial rage, and general derision. To show that it’s possible to get past this obstacle, I was thinking I could spend some time sharing some selected samples of my writing with the students. I think I’ll do a few readings from my blog. My eleven-part series on “Why Pedophilia Is Sometimes Ok” is an in-depth argument on a serious problem. I’ll bet that would make my case while still being a hit!

Next, people complain that engineers don’t know how to be creative. This is the point where I can really dazzle them! I’ll just throw some slides of my webcomic together in a “Powerpoint” presentation and chase them with some slides of some of my most involved paintings. After all, one of the most important ingredients is a solid presentation is a generous helping of humor! Maybe I’ll break my own rule and let them try to work through the mystery of my largest painting as a group (instead of individually)!

Since this is a class of middle schoolers, it would probably be wise to try and tell them that a life in engineering doesn’t have to be boring. A lot of young people think that the job goes hand in hand with a dull social life. To try and defeat that notion, I think I’ll just go through the “contacts” directory in my cell phone and tell the most interesting story for each person there as it jumps into mind. There are a lot of people in there, so I’ll have to be pretty quick. “If you ever visit C.A., don’t sit on his couch. Trust me. Oh, and then there’s G.A! A lot of people think he has abs like that because he’s a top tier ice skater, but no. And if you ever visit J.A., don’t eat her brownies unless you know what’s up. By the time you finish one, you’ll have forgotten. And let’s not forget A.B.! Ever since July, all her friends call her Frosty the Snowball!’”

By the time I get through with that, time will be running short, so I’ll just sum up my current career in a nutshell. Something like, “And if you do well in Chemical and Biological Engineering, you can do pretty much anything you want. If you pay attention and get good grades in class, I’d be willing to bet that any one of you could come out able to make pretty much ANYTHING from the comfort of your own garage or kitchen, let alone in an industrial setting!”

At that point, I could just relax and take some questions. This should be fun!

It’s Snowing Early This Year! Global Warming… Ha!

I was cleaning out files from my phone the other day and turned up a classy little number that I took with you guys in mind. I had forgotten about it until now.

Before you read any further, check out the picture I unearthed:

http://www.lakewaterontap.com/Misc/CSnow.jpg

Isn’t it a peaceful looking winter landscape? Want to make snow angels with me?

I took that picture in June.

Those piles of white powdery delight lying on the ground? The ones just begging to be scooped up and used in a snowball fight?

That’s powdered sodium hydroxide. Solid base. It would turn the skin on your hands into soap if you touched it. (Seriously.)

Yeah, we had a little spill on our site this summer that required some cleanup. I’ll bet you’re curious what a chemical plant does when it spills a ton of liquid caustic on the ground.

We dig up all the dirt, soak it in water, mix it up, and add acid until it becomes neutral again, of course. Then we put it right back where we found it, good as new, but slightly saltier. (Also true.)

This is bad for the grass in the short term (looks a little yellow, doesn’t it?), but it’s surprisingly harmless if handled properly and quickly.

The longest-lasting negative effect is a photo-fun blog post by a snarky engineer. And now that you've suffered through that, you can start healing too.

Unless all your grass died from reading this. It's not the reason I'd prefer people to give when asked why they think about me in the shower, but I'll take what I can get.

Bathroom Sex

At work, we don’t stock paper towels in the bathroom. Instead, we use those roller towels that you sometimes see in public restrooms. Ours are usually a lot cleaner than the ones you see in public restrooms, because, again, as a chemical plant, we take our shit seriously. Once a week, a laundry service comes to my building and washes all the uniforms, towel rolls, carpets, shower towels, etc.

The men’s room in the admin area (where the manager, secretary, and myself work) has two of these hand towel rolls. Recently, the one on the left stopped rolling up the crank on the bottom as you pulled fresh towel from the top. This resulted in a pile of roll towel laying on the floor next to the sink.

The next morning at shift change, in the crowded room before the formalities of pass-off began, the building manager asked me to have our laundry service guy fix it for us. I thought about this quietly for a second. It was 6:00 AM. I had not yet had a cup off coffee (and I was more or less an addict that week). He had not yet had his cigarette (and he’s an addict outright).

I mention this because his request was silly on a couple of levels. The guy he was speaking of is basically a delivery serviceman for fresh and soiled linens. He shows up with fresh towels, picks up the dirty ones, and repeats. He does not fix things.

In contrast, the maintenance department next door to my building fixes many things.

It took me a second to realize this myself. Again, it was early and I was not yet drugging it up. Rather than thinking of the maintenance department, I instead thought of the laundry guy the manager had mentioned. I imagined myself asking him to take care of this for me. It was a somewhat amusing mental image.

The guy who handles the linens for my building is a skinny blonde guy who looks about 16, but is probably closer to 22. He does not give off an aura of a maintenance guy, or of any outright masculinity at all, really. He wears shorts all year round, excepting only the deadliest winter days. He’s actually pretty cute and he smiles a lot. But he does not fix towel dispensers.

A few seconds after this thought occurred to me (but before I decided to tell the manager I’d have maintenance fix the problem instead), he realized the same thing and suggested I see if I could have maintenance do it first.

I agreed, but then had a thought.

End of year reviews are right around the corner. There would be just enough time for me to try to get the linen service guy to fix this anyway. And if I did…

I would be able to honestly put, “Talked the towelboy into mounting my crank in the men's room.” on my review. I think it would look good in the “Teamwork” section.

I figure that one item alone should be worth an extra 2% raise.

I’d Do You…

Today’s post is an unabashed cheap laugh. I promise it’ll be worth it.

http://blog.5thgearmarketing.net/2007/10/bad-day.html

Now that you got the nasty grin out of your system, I’ll bet you’re thinking how superior humans are to animals. “That’s just horrible!” you’re thinking.

Now check this out:

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,260242,00.html

Oooooh. Bad call. Turns out humans are way sicker. We fuck long-dead creatures cross-species.

Want to go camping with me and get back in touch with nature? You know. It’ll be spiritual.

Gifted Students

Parents in Houston were outraged earlier this year when two eight graders had hot boy-on-girl sex in front of a rapt, full-house audience of their peers in their school classroom. This apparently happened after the teacher left the classroom for a bit. So, in a nutshell, these two kids had unsupervised sexual contact in school, during normal school hours, while all their friends stood around watching.

http://www.click2houston.com/news/14284329/detail.html

I can see why the parents are pissed.

I remember the reaction my parents had when they found out I was going to be taking Honors Algebra in the seventh grade. They were all like, “In my day, Algebra was for juniors!” It’s hard for a lot of parents to discover that their kids will blow past the apex of their own formal education before they’ve wet the bed for the last time. It’s gotta be a blow to the old ego. So this really has to be a soul-crusher right here.

Remember, the teacher wasn’t in the room at all when this sex act happened. That means not only were these gifted kids fucking at the 12th grade level, they were doing it without any teacher support whatsoever. A lots of kids are book smart, but these two were acing the lab portion of advanced sex ed before they had even done the pre-reading.

I just say that it’s amazing what kids can accomplish when they’re motivated and clever. This right here is proof positive that the American Education system works.

It almost makes me wonder if we need sex ed in schools at all. Sure looks like that subject is being derived just fine from first principles.

This Year, Christmas Never Comes

I suffered a crushing disappointment last month about my Christmas shopping this year. That’s right, I do my Christmas shopping months in advance. Deal.

I had found the perfect gift for a few people.

Puppies that hump your computer’s USB port.

Oh yes. It’s real.

http://www.crestock.com/blog/entertainment/top-ten-gadgets-every-designer-should-live-without-95.aspx

I planned on buying several of these little miracles and giving them away with little cards that said something like, “Were any of your ports not getting enough action this year? Have I got the solution for you! This ought to help you dust the cobwebs out of those dusty, cobwebby hard-to-reach places you’ve been bitching about!”

And these little guys are really professionals too. Plug one of these puppies in and he can hump for hours before having to stop for a breather.

Unfortunately, my Japanese was not good enough to be able to order any. I managed to find a site that appeared to be from the vendor, but no method of purchasing was apparent. I was crushed to conclude that either these items are not available for export, or I was not clever enough to figure out how to do so (in five minutes).

It’s like Santa died.

Depressing.

Dumbledore Is Gay

When I wrote this, I had a huge backup of written-yet-unposted blog material. That said, by the time you read this, it will likely be old news.

In the week following J.K. Rowling’s choice to out her most powerful wizard, huge volumes of articles appeared complaining about how it was done. One such article is provided here: http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1674550,00.html

The theme uniting most of these articles is something along the lines of, “As the token gay man at my organization, I was asked to write on this topic. That said, it should come as no surprise that I object to this outing on the grounds that Dumbledore was not nearly gay enough in those books.”

I read stuff like that and think to myself, “Uhm… ARE YOU INSANE?!”

I have heard exactly zero arguments in line with my own view on this topic. If you don’t like the idea of Dumbledore being gay, that’s your right (sort of). However, not gay enough? Ok. I’m going to do all of you a favor and explain to you why Dumbledore was plenty gay enough as is. I’m going to do this by rewriting a few sections of the published books in which I gay him up a little. Remember, as an elusive, secretive old man, he did not get a lot of face time in these books. And the books were all told from Harry’s perspective. As a result, this is what you’d end up with if you “Not-Gay-Enough-istas” had your way:

[From Harry Potter I, The Philosophers Stone]
Prof. McGonnagall:
“I have here the Sorting Hat. This wise hat will be placed on each of your heads, and look inside your deepest thoughts. From what it finds, your placements into the four houses of Hogwarts will be decided.”

Dumbledore:
“NOOOOOOOOO! Minerva! Stop! That hat is hideous! How dare you take it out of my closet! It’s for sentimental value only! It’s the hat I was wearing when I first… Well. YOU know. But it would totally clash with their robes! They’re first years! They can’t wear a thread-bare old hat with their brand new robes! Didn’t your mother teach you ANYTHING about accessorizing?!”

McGonnagall:
“But then how will we do the sorting?”

Dumbledore:
“That’s not as important as proper fashion! I don’t know! Put them all in Slytherin or something this year.”


[From Harry Potter II, The Chamber of Secrets]
McGonnagall:
“Headmaster, there’s been another attack! What do you make of it!?”

Dumbledore:
“Minerva, isn’t it clear? The Chamber of Secrets is open again!”

McGonnagall:
“Headmaster, that’s hardly appropriate. Not only do I not want to hear about your personal life, but this attack literally just happened! Show a little sensitivity!”

Dumbledore:
“No really! I’m sure the students are all in grave danger! The giant serpent is on the loose again! One look from his eye can…”

McGonnagall:
“LALALALALALALALALA… I can’t hear you!”


[From Harry Potter III, The Prizoner of Azkaban]
Harry:
“What’s Azkaban?”

Hermione:
“Having been raised by muggle dentists, I was a little unclear on that myself. So I read four books on the subject and went to Dumbledore’s office hours to ask a few additional questions. It seems that Azkaban is the wizarding prison. Bad wizards are held there and punished!”

Harry:
“How are they punished?!”

Hermione:
“Well…”

Harry:
“Hermione! Tell me!”

Hermione:
“To be honest, I’m not to clear about that either. I asked Dumbledore, but he mumbled something about Dementors totally pwning the inmates. Literally thriving off using them and manipulating their emotions. Then he started to say something about ‘the most intimate kiss’ and how it literally swallows the essence of a man… But then he coughed kind of abruptly and left the room.”

Ron:
“Have you seen Scabbers?”

Hermione:
“Yeah. Dumbledore took him last night. I asked him why, but he just smiled knowingly and left the common room. Scabbers looked awfully worried about it, but I’m sure Dumbledore had his reasons.”

Ron:
“Scabbers!”


[Harry Potter IV, Goblet of Fire]
Harry:
“Headmaster! Headmaster! The Goblet of Fire was a portkey! He’s back! Headmaster, he’s back! And Cedrick… Cedrick… He, he, asked me to bring him back to his parents…!”

Dumbledore [said with a twinkle in his eye]:
“Harry you little scamp! And in the middle of the contest too?! What spunk! We’ll have to take points from Gryffindore, of course. Using sleeping potions on classmates for the purpose of ‘getting that winning edge’ is strictly forbidden! But then again, Cedrick IS quite the looker! I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about sneaking into the Hufflepuff towers late at night a few times myself!”

Harry:
“No! Headmaster! He’s back! He, he tied me up, and there was magic, explosions…”

Dumbledore:
“Harry Potter! I never would have thought you the type! I’m so happy for you both!”


[Harry Potter V, Order of the Phoenix]
Dumbledore:
“I’m so pleased to have such a capable and devoted group of warriors working with me to protect the world from evil. But here, in Syrius’ stronghold, we can meet in secret and security. None of us can speak where this place is, or threaten us here, because I have put strong protections around it… That said, who among you wants to take a guess why they call me, ‘Headmaster’?”


[Harry Potter VI, Half-Blood Prince]
Dumbledore:
“Harry, you’re right. I have been keeping secrets from you. But there’s a reason. I have believed that a part of my enemy, He-Who-I-Don’t-Speak-About-Since-What-He-Did-To-Me-In-The-Ministry-Hallway-After-Hours, has been inside you. And that this contact has left a little piece of him inside you still. I think of that little bit of his essence inside you and it makes me want to avoid you. But you are right. It’s not your fault. You’re so young, and eager. I shall keep secrets from you no longer. For starters, I’m gay. Not gay in the “happy to be alive” sort of sense like men my age still sometimes say. I mean, ‘Let’s go oil our wands together!’ gay. Really gay. Second, you’re right that leaving your defensive education to Professor Snape was, well, a disaster. So, Harry, now that we’re not keeping secrets from each other any longer, I want you to come to my tower late at night for special sessions with me alone. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Everything. It may seem strange at first. I was hoping you’d be older before I had to teach you these things. But you’ve always been clever, Harry, and we’ve been so distant for so long…”

[Harry Potter VII, Deathly Hallows]
Voldemort:
“Well, I mean, once I figured out that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, it didn’t take a whole lot of thought to figure out he had himself buried with it. I mean, did you ever meet the guy while he was alive? He couldn’t keep his hands off of wands in life either, if you know what I mean. I hated him, but his wandsmanship was known throughout the wizarding world.”

How Dare You Question Me!

[Originally Posted 11/7/07]
So exactly one unexpected person took objection to my ridiculous post about Britney and has devoted several occasions during the past few days to trying to set me right. It seems that when I derived conclusions from an article (stating that she spends less than half her money and has massive existing investment holdings) I was incorrect to assume that this means she is actively saving her money like I claimed.

Beats me. I wouldn’t know. This assertion came with several supporting news links of which I read roughly 0%.

It does kinda seem likely though.

Ok, ok. I’ll do what any mature humor writer would do and stop to take a moment to post an entry designed to correct my er…

WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????1111111 WHAT HAS SHE EVER DONE TO YOU BUT GIVE YOU TONS OF GOOD CDS AND MUSIC AND SO MUCH MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111111 OH MY GOD IT’S LIKE MY WORLD IS COMING TO AN END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111 MY SOBBING SHAKES THE EARTH LIKE THE TITANS BEFORE US AT THE BIRTH OF HERCU... Wait, sorry, that’s not right at all. Let me pick that back up at “my sobbing.” Ok… MY SOBBING WETS THE EARTH WITH A MILLION EMO TEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111 WHY MUST I DROWN IN THE WATERS OF MY OWN SORROW??!?!?!?!??!!?!?! SHE LIVES A SHITTY LIFE IN REHAB AND SHE TRIES SO HARD AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111

There. Now that that’s over, I hope we can all just dry ourselves off and get back to our lives. See, I saw right through that vile trickery. I’m going to continue to defend Britney without checking facts for one bulletproof reason. I’m still pleased with myself for describing her and Ann Coutler as ‘the tea party of unlikely women I’m defending.’ That tea party is going to keep rolling until I get my own cast of “The View” going here. Deal!

Body Odor

I’ve been doing stand-alone blog posts for too long now. Time to bore you all with another on-the-job post!

What follows is a real, unedited email chain I was involved in at work. The humor will appeal mostly to chemists, but I think it might just work for everyone.

Email 1)
From: QC Chemist (a friend of mine)
To: Me & our building’s scheduler (another friend of both of ours)
Dear Mr. Sarcastically Respectful,
How does someone tactfully point out to certain individuals that bathing is more efficient if water and soap are used? Would a bar of soap in their mail box give it away? Do we know what the MSDS is for Lysol, and can it be used as a body deodorant? [MSDS = Material Safety Data Sheet. It’s a list of hazards associated with a chemical compound.]
Any suggestions, let us know.

Email 2)
From: Me
To: All
Good God, I hope that wasn't meant to be a hint. I think I'm going to reserve comment until I figure out who/what is being targeted. I'll have you know until this moment, I thought my deodorant was working totally fine.

Phone Call
From: Building Scheduler
To: Me
[Much laughter, and the revelation that the people in question are a couple of newly-hired Chemists who spend a lot of time in the close-quarters smaller control room.]

Email 3)
From: Me
To: All
I think the only remotely tactful way to handle this would be a mixture of excessive linguistics paired with the pretense of apathetic oblivion. (See!? Already halfway there!)

In other words, you should select any chemists/operators in question and fish their last three or four finished preps [like a recipe, but for chemical production] out of the files. Rubber band them together and attach a sticky note that reads:
"Customers complained of excessive bromhidrosis odors on final product. Side reaction? Can this be removed by longer drying? Edit next revision to try to minimize."

Dump the assembled package into their mailbox and wait three days. If that doesn't make the problem go away, nothing will.

Email 4)
From: QC Chemist
To: All
I think that would take too long and might still not be direct enough.
Maybe we could retro fit the helmets with automatic air fresheners that shoot a spritz of deodorizer every 15 minutes? It would have to be stronger that Febreeze. Or better yet we could hang pine tree car airfresheners from their helmets. That probably would be less expensive.

Email 5)
From: Building Scheduler
To: All
Maybe if we just enclosed them in a Saranex suit for the day, they could deal with it themselves and not expose the rest of us!

Email 6)
From: Me
To: All
I could get quotes to have a vapor purge system installed on the control room HVAC controls, like we have in the process bays.

Email 7)
From: Building Scheduler
To: All
Instead of a vapor purge, can we get a "vac purge" installed? Just suck the air out of that room!

Email 8)
From: Me
To: All
I doubt it would work. I think the whole problem here is that we're dealing with "unscrubbed exhaust." [Engineer joke. Don't worry if you don't get it. But I'm still laughing about it.]

Britney Spears Is A Good Mom

My last post about Britney turned out to be a smash hit, despite the fact that I have to look up how to spell her first name every time I think about her. (Not often.) That said, I’ve decided to risk it again and remind you all that you think I’m crazier than she is. I’m going to do this by demonstrating why I think she should keep custody of her kids.

This argument will draw HEAVILY from today’s article in which financial details of her and her husband are revealed. It’s boring, but feel free to read it anyway. http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/us_and_americas/article2792281.ece
Oh wait. Everyone read this already. Nevermind. Let’s continue.

The article was written to try and blast Britney for spending lots of money shamefully and wastefully. My concise summary of this “insightful” observation reads as follows:
“Duh.”

My expanded summary of my take on this is as follows:
“So would you, if you had that kind of money to spend.”

Of course you don’t think that now. You’re busy thinking how horrible I am for suggesting that you could be as decadent and hedonistic as Britney. But I know a lot of you, readers. I’ve seen pictures of most of you drunk off your ass. I’ve seen some of you doze off in a puddle of your own vomit. (Ah, college.) If you’re willing to get drunk off your ass, the only thing seriously stopping you from doing more hardcore substances is a lack of quality control for street drugs. That and the fact that you usually have someplace to be in the morning. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between rat poison and heroin. Britney has people who do that sort of thing for her, and other people who make sure she arrives where she needs to be on time. [Note: I don’t know what drugs everyone thinks Britney is doing. All I know is that I like how the word “heroin” is spelled.] [Second note: I’m pretty sure a few of you CAN tell the difference between street drugs and rat poison, and do so regularly.] Only very rare people are intrinsically productive and reserved, and it’s usually the result of some sort of childhood trauma. (“Still not clean! Must scrub harder! Still not clean! Must scrub harder!”) I’m not going to demonize Britney for not being one of these people. She’s produced a hell of a lot more in mind-altered haze than most people will in their lifetimes. I base this not off of an aesthetic evaluation of her work, but rather its impact on the GDP. It’s the only fair scale I can think of.

In summary, Britney is about as much of a hedonist as anyone else I know, excepting that she has more regular opportunities. This does not strike me as dangerous yet.

Let’s start sifting through that article I linked above. It complains that Britney gives only $500 per month to charity. That’s not a huge fraction of her income. But let me point out two things on that note:
1) She’s got me beat. My charitable contributions in 2006 were worth less than two grand and were divided between donations to the alma mater and giving away “slightly used” clothes to Goodwill instead of dumping them. She’s probably got you beat for charity too.
2) If I were Britney, I wouldn’t give a cent to any of us whiney bastards or our poor cousins. We as a planet have spent years teaching Britney that there are two types of people in this world:
--Her fans, who obviously have more money than they really needed and aren’t too worried if cynical bloggers can summarize her song lyrics as “ironically undisguised renditions of active pedophilia” for a cheap laugh and
-- Everyone else, who get mental boners reading newspaper articles like the one above.

If I saw the world as a split between two types of people like that, the only charity I’d be giving to would be called, “Dollars for Shoving Things Up the Asses of People Who Don’t Like It, and Removing Things From the Asses of People Who Do.” Again, since I think this is pretty much the name of the charity Britney is giving to, I’m not seeing any real character flaw here. Keep in mind, this blog post is probably the nicest (and still somewhat respectable) thing that will be said about Britney all day. That’s not really the sort of situation that makes you feel charitable. Contrast this with Bill Gates, who gives obscene amounts of money to people constantly. His life is spent going to work where he’s surrounded by super-genius programmers hand-picked from around the globe and going to conferences where his products are used and praised. (Even if you’re a Mac user, you should be aware that this is largely true.) If I lived a life like that, I too would be under the impression that humanity is inherently good, has unlimited potential, and is worthy of getting a kick-start from my own success.

My perspective is actually in the middle. I go through life thinking that people are inherently neither good nor evil. Instead, there are people who go through life tending to break or damage everything and everyone they encounter (the teeming hordes), and a small fraction of people who spend all their time cleaning up the mess and making new things. From my point of view, giving away used items is the perfect charitable compromise. The items have been used sensibly and responsibly, but have reached the point where they can best add the other joy to the world by being taken for granted and abused by the people who are into that sort of thing. I do the same thing with computers and computer parts, but don’t claim this on tax forms. People love computers, but most people think that there is no value in knowing how to use them. These people break them often. They should not be trusted with new ones unless they pay through the teeth for it.

Returning from that digression, let’s finally get to the point. I think Britney should keep custody of her kids. Why do I say that? Two reasons:
1) The kids have three options here. Go home with Mommy, Daddy, or strangers.
2) Mommy is better than Daddy or strangers.

Why is Mommy better? Let’s prove that she’s better than Daddy first. Referencing the above article, Britney manages to save more than half the money she earns. Stop and digest that. Ignoring how much money she spends, she has a 50% savings rate. That is some SERIOUS responsibility right there. I’m not kidding. My savings rate is about 35% and is considered 99.9th percentile. When you consider further that she’s an uber-celebrity, that more or less makes her one of the most responsible people on Earth. Compare this to Daddy. Daddy made about $500,000 last year. After “business expenses,” guess what his annualized salary comes out to be. About $7,000. That’s right. About a years worth of workstudy paychecks. Outstanding. Plus, I think everyone agrees that Daddy appears to be a huge douche. He’s not winning on the personality side of things either.

Why is Mommy better than strangers? Let’s say you were Britney’s kid. Would you like to realize on your 21st birthday that you could have had a life of carefree opulence? With a mom who has an investment strategy that will result in her owning the state of Louisina by the time she’s 45? (I’m being almost serious. It was that little tidbit that inspired me to write an article defending Britney. Her sense of humor is obviously underrated.) But instead, the newspapers decided for you that you had to grow up as “Binky Brown,” ward of the state? Mommy wins.

I am now adding Britney to the two-person list of “Unlikely Celebrities Lake Is Defending.” She and Ann Coulter will have some fascinating tea parties at the weekly get-togethers.

Gay People Come From China

(Conspiracy Theory II)
You heard me last time! I’m in the mood to pretend to be pissy! Let’s create our own conspiracy theory!

Making conspiracy theories from scratch is surprisingly easy. All you need is four simple ingredients.

1) A group of people whom you hate for some reason.
2) Something in the world that is either changing or has changed.
3) Some path through the “common knowledge” folklore connecting the first two items.
4) A feeling of group pride for your followers.

You can do this for practically anything. Let’s start easy by proving that homosexuality is a vicious plot engineered by the Chinese.

We’ve already taken care of the first ingredient: “Those damned Chinese peoples and their booming industry have slighted us for too long! How dare the Chinese people give us loans to cover our rapidly-expanding deficit! It’s like saying we owe them! We will not be oppressed! Their slanty-eyes and rice paddy sandals will never be able to spot us or hold us down!”

See?! It’s easy! Just like that, I’ve decided to hate Chinese people on the grounds that all of them are rice farmers, which I object to because… Well, let’s not get bogged down in the details.

As a second ingredient, we need to find something about the world that’s changing. We decided that too, in the title: “Have you looked around lately! It seems like you can’t hock your chewing tobacco at the spittoon anymore without hitting a homosexual spitting something else into a tissue! And that doesn’t even count the three others who think tissues ‘aren’t intimate.’” Clearly, based on the fact that we’ve decided to dislike both the Chinese and booming homosexuality, there must be some connection.

The third ingredient is simply to add stream of consciousness writing until we make that connection. This is the fun part. Stream of consciousness writing is notoriously difficult to read on account of the fact that it sounds exactly like conspiracy theories. That’s not a coincidence! Allow me to forget rules of grammar and cause and effect while I pinch out a steaming mound of ingredient number three:

“Damned Chinese bastards and their rice paddies all turning a profit and taking jobs from tax paying Americans need to stop walking on those rickety platform shoe things they have and stop making babies what with freaking five trillion Chinese people already or whatever you’d think the bastards don’t know how to do anything but hump like the bunnies in the noodles I heard about that the chop suey place on state and Madison used and also had dogs in their food when they ran out of bunnies and no one could tell the difference cuz of all the MSG they use with all that chemical in their food next they’ll be stir-frying babies if they’re not already because I heard that Chinese people can’t have more than one baby without paying a huge tax so I bet that’s what they do cuz I also heard that the Chinese or Indians or whatever (savages) only like boy babies because women are too whiney so they sometimes kill girl babies and put them in the food so as not to waste still all that whining has to go somewhere since God made whiney women on the sixth day so you gotta realize all that extra whining must be going into some men since there aren’t enough women to hold it all but men can’t be whiney like that without becoming girls so the extra whining from the dead Chinese girl babies must be making some boy babies really gay.”

See how easy that was! We’ve managed to blame the Chinese people for making gay babies around the world without once stopping to waste time on punctuation. The resulting mess has enough stereotypes and bigotry in it to have a huge appeal for racists, misogynists, homophobes, and religious nuts alike. That’s pretty much something for everyone, so we know we’ve done a good job. Plus, that “paragraph” will give pretty much any intellectual a headache, ensuring that it won’t be targeted for too many scholarly rebuttals. What’s best, though, is that our premise can’t be argued without some attempt to rephrase or quote sections for clarity. That means we can conclude ahead of time that any and all debate we do encounter will be “taken out of context.” Since it’s additionally almost impossible to separate the thoughts in our premise, we can be confident that even if someone manages to disprove some assumed premise, it will be possible to reply that having done so was to “miss our point.”

Step four is really just for bookkeeping. As I’ve said, anyone can create their own conspiracy theory. But it takes real talent to make one that will stand the test of time. Our fourth ingredient is just to make sure that the theory collects enough followers to “keep it real.” If you did your stream of consciousness writing properly, this step is easy. All you have to do is read over what you wrote and highlight all the things that you hated on accident. The people who also hate those things will be your followers. Looking above, we see that this conspiracy theory will appeal to blue-collar conservative workers, women-haters, steak-and-potatoes lovers, and manly men. That’s a pretty solid group, so we’ve got ourselves a winner!

There you have it folks! Gay babies are a Chinese plot!