Honoring a great man

He was a great man. He always remembered people's birthdays. He sent thank you cards for everything. He was patient with children. He looked both ways before crossing the street. He danced in a way that was neither too provocative nor too prude. He always cleared his plate. He washed his dishes. He didn't pick his nose in public. 

He was a great man.

Yet, no one liked him. He wasn't edgy enough. He didn't cheat on his girlfriends, and he refused to tease people. His sunshiny face and bubbly demeanor even pissed off Sesame Street Characters not named Oscar. He was too perfect. He was an outcast among the Muppets, and Barney cringed when he saw him at PBS awards benefits.

He did what society asked of him, and society hated him for it. In essence he was society's b*tch. 

Good bye friend. You were one of the greatest men to ever not live.

Last Night's Amazing Thing

Last night something happened.

You might think, "Yeah, and so what? Things happen." Well this thing that happened was amazing. It was empowering. It was unfathomable. Well, maybe not unfathomable, or amazing. But it was life-changing, glorious, edible, fecund, green, and fascinatingly bourgeois. Well, not edible, or green, or glorious. Ok, what happened wasn't really that exciting.

The front blinds on our big window we drawn closed and all the lights were off in the house. Some might think that means we're asleep, or not home. Some might be wrong. My brother and I were in fact watching an episode of one of my favorite shows, Boston Legal. And, our blinds are missing one little piece that gives us inside a glimpse of our front lawn. So, as we were watching, my brother noticed out of the corner of his eye through the open slit in the blinds people frantically running back and forth on our front lawn. He didn't mention this to me until after the show of course, because he's so considerate. 

When he told me that they were putting signs up I got a bit flustered. The reason I was bothered was because I thought it was an old room mate who I had gotten into a quarrel with over a political sign. So we went outside and ripped them all out and put them into a pile and waited. Not too long after we sat down to watch another episode, a dark figure came to our door. We peeked out the window. We couldn't make out who it was. The person was leaning on the door, so my brother walked over, gave the door a yank and we got our prankster. And, it wasn't my old room mate. I cannot say who we caught that night, but it was a victory for us. 

Inducing deep thoughts and vomiting

Sometimes I wonder, "How can I best engage my readers? What polemic or ridiculousness will incite them to continue reading this? What topic will induce deep thoughts, and which will induce vomiting? Can I get both?"

I know when I look for things to read I generally like good titles. Like this one:

Jogger runs mile with rabid fox locked on her arm

or this one:

Dried Mushrooms may slow global warming

Whether I strike a chord with people, or just offend them, I want them to keep reading. I want them to think. I want them to get red in the face or flustered. I want a reaction. An anemic people produce nothing great. I want people to strive for greatness. They need to be charged. They need to believe in themselves. Of course I disagree with people. Even the most similar of people disagree from time to time. But that's not the point. I just want people to think. To react. To internalize. To digest. To push for change, or to hold on to tradition. I want them to do something, or do nothing, but for a reason.

And with that, here is a funny, but irrelevant clip from a British sketch comedy show called Man Stroke Woman on BBC3.

All Hail Lord Obama!

Well, it's finally over. We can now sing praises to our new King. Obama the mighty savior of the USA! Now we won't have to pay for gas, the financial crisis will disappear, we won't have to pay for healthcare or mortgages and we will all work for the new national civilian defense force. If that weren't enough we will now have no sadness. Every single person is guaranteed absolute happiness through master Obama's new proposals.

Our mighty new Emperor will bring prosperity to all. He is leader. We all serve him with one heart and mind. He knows best. We will all get everything we ever wanted for our birthdays, and other holidays. A new holiday will be added to the calender: Lord Obama's birthday.

Your tap water will turn into your favorite drink. Your refrigerator will be automatically refilled with your favorite food, courtesy of Obama's intangible, but real love for all of us. You will become more physically fit by watching his speeches. Your yard work will do itself. You will receive twice your salary for half the work. You can have 27 wives or 32 husbands regardless of sex (you can also have both options). 

We will party all day wading in a velvet sea. And this could be our new anthem.

Props to the Prop that's propping the Prop

(Sasha Baron Cohen (Borat) crashes the party)

Out here in Provo, and I'm sure in other cities, counties, and states people have been promoting ballot initiatives. But, the interesting part for me is how many people here have no idea what initiatives or representatives are on their local ballot, but yet are deeply informed about California's ballot propositions. And, particularly prop 8. 

I am not saying that you cannot, nor should not be interested in other states' initiatives, but I find it somewhat hypocritical to be promoting one, while having little to know knowledge about your own. The argument could be made that I shouldn't listen to you on the mere grounds that you have no idea what is on your own ballot. Of course I don't entirely believe that, because your knowledge of local politics does not transcend your moral and religious convictions, which are indeed important. 

But here are some of the things that irked me a little bit, perhaps because of their zealotry, and perhaps because most of these people have never been politically inclined or willing to galvanize themselves over any prior issue, which may have had just as much import. These are some examples of facebook status lines and even text messages that I saw and received:

Voted! Yes on Prop 8!

Pray for prop 8.

Join with us and fast for prop 8

so and so has donated their status to remind everyone to vote Yes on Prop 8 today.

Yes on Prop 8!!!

hoping CA votes yes on prop 8!

is voting yes on prop 8!

*PrOp 8*8 pRoP

already voted Yes on prop 8 two weeks ago. And believe it or not, I'm not ignorant nor discriminatory... I even have two gay friends.

YES ON PROP 8! AND PROP 102 FOR ARIZONA!

reminds everyone to VOTE YES ON PROP 8!!!

VOTE VOTE VOTE! Mccain & YES to Prop. 8!!!!

is praying and fasting for the election. YES on Prop 8 and other important values!

Then there were people like me, who wanted to point out the perhaps unintended ridiculousness of it all:

Yes on 8... and 1A, 2, 5, 7, 9, 11 No on 3, 4, 6, 10, 12. Oh yeah... and John Galt for President.

And here was mine:

Michael gives props to props and those voting for props. He likes prop 345365462634523456345623.

So, any thoughts?

Discovering male close family that dress as women

I have always had respect for a certain member of my immediate family. He studied hard, worked hard, ate well (as in healthy food, not necessarily large quantities), and has for most of his life been admirably normal. Well, not normal, but admirably great in the normal way of being great.

Well, I have recently re-thought that admiration. You see, I was on facebook, as is my custom, and saw a few interesting photographs. This family member was tagged in them, but I couldn't really see him. Well, not as I expected to see him anyway. What I did see was a very top heavy woman with little poise and plenty of floozy mannerisms. What I saw was a drag queen. 

I spoke to him about it and he said it was for a contest, and that he had won it. Well, as much as I like a winner, I don't know if winning that contest was really a win for him. His mentality was, "Well, if I was going to look like that I was going all out, and I was in it to win it, otherwise it would have all been for nothing." 

Winning. 

You chose winning over redefining your life-long image of masculinity. Thank you for that. You left me with great pictures to show your future children. I promise I will use them. Frequently.

Mystery of the missing forks

After coming home from church, I was happy with the prospect of eating. I was going to reheat the pasta I brought home last night from a local Italian restaurant. And, I successfully reheated it, and even offered some to my brother. However, when we sat down to eat it, we realized something horrifically disturbing had occurred. We had only one fork. 

I checked the sink for dirty dishes. There were only 2, and no fork. I checked the drying rack. There were only spoons and knives. I checked the silverware drawer. Again, only spoons and knives. I checked the random kitchen utensil drawer. No forks. We had no forks. 

No hope. 

So, I ate my meal with a spoon (begrudgingly might I add). Oh, and to make things worse, the fork we were left with was a midget-sized one. Yeah, a shrimp fork. My brother used it, with tears pouring down his face.

I honestly do not know what happened to our forks, but I should have seen this coming. About a month ago we lost all but one of our big forks, and just today we lost all but one of the shrimp forks. But, I do have some theories as to how this has happened:

1. First and foremost I will blame the trash collectors, who have not only refused to take our trash, but now have absconded with our forks (Probably so they can do some weird trashman mystic rituals).

2. We have a clever criminal who has a moderately refined taste for IKEA silverware, and particularly forks. He could be Swedish, given that IKEA is a Swedish company, or he could be Chinese, because all of IKEA's stuff is made there.

3. Our forks left us. They just could not tolerate our cooking any longer. They probably ran off to Italy so their could skewer sausages for the rest of their lives.

4. Ashton Kutcher has devised his most carefully orchestrated PUNK'd episode ever. The filming is over the course of several months. He is starting to mess with us by stealing our forks, then he'll move on to where it hurts: our house plants and pillow cases. Bastard.

5. There are gnomes that live in our house, and they are plotting to take over by creating super-powered fork thrower that they will connect to the back of their pet fox. Their leader David will ride out gloriously in the midst of a charming Christmas dinner party and all hell will break loose.

PS - If you have any ideas as to the whereabouts of our forks please contact us immediately. This is a picture of Fred the fork, last seen with this pasta dish: