The Metaphor of the Pet Fish

Try to pull a life lesson or sophisticated metaphor out of this:

At the beginning of this semester my brother agreed to take care of three guppies when a girl he hardly knew said her landlord wouldn't let her have them. So, we, or should I say I, ended up caring for these fish. I kept their tank clean, changed their water, fed them, and did all the normal fish care essentials. Unfortunately, I had to leave for winter break. While I gorged myself in holiday dinners and moped around my parent's house, the fish were back at school, all alone. I told a friend of mine to feed them and water my plants, and thought not much of it.

Then I returned. One of the fish was dead. Another was doing strange acrobatics and water Tae Bo that led me to believe he was also near the end of his days with us. A few days later he died. They were of course given their due respect with a proper fish burial, involving a net and a toilet. So now I have one fish. He has remained chipper, and one might even say "plucky." He eats well, swims well, and seems to enjoy being the king of his domain. 

So I suppose my question is this: Which fish are you? 

Are you like my last remaining fish who held on with faith until after the master returned and still lives in harmony on his fish throne?

or

Are you the fish who died before his return?

or

Are you the fish who held out long enough to see the master, do some stupid tricks to either save yourself or impress me, and then die shortly thereafter?

Things Worth Dying For...

There are many things in live worth dying for. However, one thing that I wouldn't want to die for is murder. Not to say that states don't have their rights to electrically roast up or juice fry their worst criminal offenders... I'm totally for that. Kill the killers. What I'm saying is I don't think murder is a good idea. Really. It may or may not be hard to believe that, but it's true.

That being said I want to talk about homicide for a moment.

There are a lot of shows out there recently that are making bank off of telling stories about mayhem, murder, money and manslaughter. And while that's all well and good, (Or actually evil and demonic depending on your opinion), I had a friend who said something interesting to me a little while ago. He said, "I suppose I like watching these shows because they depict an aspect of the human ego that all of us possess, we all have the power to become as these killers, and it is intriguing." (Not a real quote) At risk of sounding insensitive to my friend who should seek professional help, that is wrong! We don't all watch those shows because we like to toy with the idea of the power gained from taking life!

I think we watch gore and insane murder mysteries for one simple reason. It is fantastic. (Meaning exotic and imaginative) It is a world we do not live in, like a galaxy far far away. I think the reason I like watching CSI, and not CSI Miami cause is sucks, is because I like watching them catch these beings who are anything but human. Murderers are not like you and me, they have become alien to a society that exists in harmony when death is not on the menu.

So, there's a show out there called Dexter. About a serial killer who kills serial killers. People love it. They root for a murderer. Is this bad? No, go on ahead! Watching that is no different than watching a discovery channel special about a tribe off the coast of the edge of the world who drinks cow blood for breakfast. It's not my culture, I'm not a serial killer. I'm not even a regular killer. But, by golly they are a fun bunch of people to make up stories about, huh? Like vampires or werewolves, except not as cool, and murderers actually exist in the world. Ok, so really, don't call me a creep for enjoying stories of death. If you do, I'll kill you.

No no, I'm just kidding.

Fear of Public Speaking

(Above image taken from this site)

I know some of you have heard of a top list of what people most dislike. Many of them go something like this:

1. Traffic

2. Work

3. Public Speaking

4. Death

It is an interesting list. People dislike public speaking more than death. A bit extreme? Perhaps. I however, am a very staunch outlier. I love public speaking. Public speaking is my superficial domain. When I stand up in front of a group I can be bigger than myself, gather attention with my inflection and pauses, and be lauded for my eloquence.  In common conversation with friends and family I cannot have the same dramatic effect. So I relish in it when I can get it.

On another note, I wanted to post the Schmidt Sting Pain Index of painful insect bites, that I'm sure most people would prefer to public speaking:

1.0 Sweat bee: Light, ephemeral, almost fruity. A tiny spark has singed a single hair on your arm.

1.2 Fire any: Sharp, sudden, mildly alarming. Like walking across a shag carpet and reaching for the light switch.

1.8 Bullhorn acacia ant: A rare, piercing, elevated sort of pain. Someone has fired a staple into your cheek.

2.0 Yellowjacket: Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine W. C. Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.

2.x Honey bee and European hornet: Like a matchhead that flips off and burns on your skin.

3.0 Red harvester ant: Bold and unrelenting. Somebody is using a drill to excavate your ingrown toenail.

3.0 Paper wasp: Caustic and burning. Distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like spilling a beaker of hydrochloric acid on a paper cut.

4.0 Tarantula hawk: Blinding, fierce, shockingly electric. A running hair drier has been dropped into your bubble bath.

4.0+ Bullet ant: Pure, intense, brilliant pain.  Like fire-walking over flaming charcoal with a 3-inch rusty nail in your heal

Tarantula hawk image taken from this blog 

Chicken Extermination Order

So a couple days ago there were marching orders in Hong Kong to kill all the chickens. Apparently they were afraid of the bird flu again, and rather than take any chances, they ordered all the chickens that are typically bought and sold at markets and the like, slaughtered. I mean, sure, they were going to be killed anyway, but now they are being killed and going to waste. When I heard about this I began to wonder. What if there was some deadly disease that threatened to wipe out mankind and the carriers were our favorite flea bags, man's best friend, the dog? Would we, consciously make an extermination order? I mean I know some of you who hate dogs are awaiting the day, but for the rest of us, could we do it?

And, on a similar, albeit entirely different vein, what if a certain section of society had some incurable illness that threatened to decimate the world population? Would we exterminate them? Chances are good that the answer is no, however, there was at one point a leper colony on the island of Molokai in Hawaii, so maybe we'd just isolate them. Maybe we'd build them a fortress of solitude like the one Superman has in the north pole. There are so many possibilities.

I think many of us might cringe about the prospect of such things, but the fact is, chickens are being killed in Hong Kong. An entire population of chickens will be forever erased. It's true that they were all on death row anyway, but what if some of those chickens were innocent? What if some of those chickens were free from bird flu? What if there is a cure, and if we had only invested some time we could have saved the chickens? Save the chickens, save the world. Save the cheerleader, save the world. Sounds eerily familiar.

Gladiator!!!

Tonight at 10:30pm my brother and I are holding gladiatorial games at our house. I have thus far put 2 benches, 4 chairs, and a tent on the roof for viewing of the 'arena.' It should be a very exciting and abusive event. We will have 2 on 2 battles, the individual tournament and chariot races. And, as my brother is going back to Mexico and Haiti to make more documentaries for humanitarian projects, people are asked to bring a little contribution if possible to help the people of those regions. Proceeds will go to covering some of my brothers limited expenses and anything beyond that feeds the hungry.

But, I want to point something out for a moment. Gladiatorial games originally were dreadfully horrid affairs with carnage, death, and debauchery. They were something the Romans did to entertain their citizens so the government could sway public opinion in their favor and get people to look away from their frequent ineptitude. However, as we have our event this evening, we do it for a charitable cause. To elucidate the plight of the voiceless. To feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and bring peace to the war-ravaged nations and peoples of the earth. So while the event is violent, competitive, and even fun, the effect is peace, unity, and love. Just an interesting juxtaposition.

Hillary Dead? Yes.

I'm going to proclaim her political death right now. Hillary is gone. But, strangely enough, it is a bittersweet farewell. She was a pandering, lying, self-promoting, scandal-ridden ho, but oh she was loved! That blonde hair and wrinkly over-done face. She could stare down a dead person. Even more so now that she's dead. She gave us all so much fodder! Food for thought. I will never forget the debate with her and Obama when she said "It's the government's job to fix the economy." Oh what genius. Free markets are needless and stupid with Hillary around. But, alas, she walks, she talks no more. She would have been smoked by McCain. She was a time bomb waiting to explode. But now she's gone. Without so much as a poof.

I'm a dog lover, I like a good bitch every now and then. Hillary was no different. Obama has the nomination wrapped up in the pocket of his designer jeans along with the hearts of the media. He may have to provide a bonus incentive to his staffers and followers: kneepads. Like Michelle Malkin so bluntly put it. But Hillary has no one waiting on her. Ogling her every move. Well, I was (Well not really, but it was fun watching her make a fool of herself). Goodbye Hillary! I'll miss you.

My funeral

I hope when I die and people make a facebook group about me, they explain how I died, so people don't try it themselves. That, and when I kick the bucket I want the bucket to be at my funeral. That and a lot of good food and music. I mean, who wants to be remembered as the guy who had crappy food at his funeral? And oh, please for goodness sake don't wear black. Wear polka-dots, tie-dye, fuschia even, but no black, unless you wear black nail polish, then I laugh at you. Maybe I'll even roll over in my grave. And then that roll will cause a cataclysmic event that triggers an earthquake and swallows up all of Los Angeles. Then they'll remember. Not like I honestly care if they do or don't. I mean when I'm dead I could not care less who remembers me. If you want to, because you think it's polite and makes you feel better then fine, but please don't feel obligated to "remember Michael". And I want it to be like a spelling bee for eulogies. The one who screws up gets kicked off...kinda like survivor, and the best one wins. Oh yeah and I want that Billy Joel song "Only the Good Die Young" playing...because my guess is, I won't be dead for a while...