For
example,
If
ghosts could really cause any damage, they wouldn’t mess around with measly
ole’ spooking, but instead they’d go straight to creating bona fide ghostly
havoc. We should have learned this lesson from watching Scooby-Doo, which is
that ghosts always must rely on good special effects to be successful. But
they’re phonies… merely ghosts of their former selves.
I
don’t know what that has to do with this next point, but I just thought I’d
bring it up. Life is so serendipitous that the serendipity seems to many of us
to be normal. Some say the mere fact that we’re here presents a bias to try to
think it would be unlikely to be in this situation… firmly ensconced in 2012
writing in English over the Internet via light-emitted diodes into each of our
respective corneas. Who knew? I mean, I never expected to have an influence on
other people’s corneas. Technology is nothing if not a wonderment.
And
in the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that I do believe everything I
read. But fortunately I don't believe everything I write. A man's got to have
some scruples, after all.
When
you hear someone apologize for any inconvenience that they’re anticipating,
they don’t really mean it, because if they meant it, they wouldn’t have caused
the whole inconvenience in the first place. They make it sound as if they have
no control over it. “We apologize that we are intentionally making your life
harder.” They’re purposely doing something that they know in advance is going
to make things more difficult for you, and then they want to get off the hook
to try to place the blame elsewhere. It just happened, and nobody knows why. Apologizing
means you didn’t mean to, even though it was still premeditated. Danged
apologists… who needs ‘em?
People
ask me where I get my ideas. I find that the mind is often a good repository
for ideas, but that’s just me. My whole curiosity on the topic lies in where
else they think I might get them. Perchance they posit I cultivated them out
back in the garden?
I'm
going to wait six years to buy a new phone because I want to make absolutely
sure I have the latest model. And then nobody will have one newer than me, and
I’ll be the one they “ooh” and “ahh” about when I pass by. “Look at that
amazingly new phone,” they’ll say. “He must be an amazing person to have such
an amazing phone. We suddenly have this strange urge to heap endless amounts of
praise on him and offer him copious sums of money.” Then people won’t be
laughing that I waited so long. I’ve got it all scoped out in my planner. Oct.
24, 2018, at an undisclosed location that will only be revealed when I open the
sealed envelope the day before, which is also at an undisclosed location.
The
lesson of history is clear: Don't become an assassin or else they'll tell
everybody your middle name. Either that, or be wary of James Earl Jones.
Myself,
I wasn’t so much concerned about whether Leonardo DiCaprio survived the Titanic
or not, but what I really want to know is if the cameraman made it out alive.
They’re always so unappreciated.
For
every human being* on Earth, there are over 1 billion insects. (*-not counting
zombies) This is an underutilized opportunity for the pet industry. If we fed
and trained these insects right, they might think we're the queens. We could
play pet wars on the weekends. My army of fire ants against your cockroach
regiment (all domesticated, of course). Heck with ant farms. I want colonies,
swarms, and veritable insect metropoli. I want my billion-critter allotment,
dang it.
People
ask me what I’m like in real life. You mean as opposed to online life, where I
role-play my actual persona? I’m fairly normal, as far as unconventional people
go. By the way, what is real life anyway?
This
is the NBC Nightly News, I'm Rusty Southwick... Our top story: Cavemen protest
in front of Geico headquarters. But first, a look at breaking news... Somebody
threw a brick through a window somewhere, and we'll have more later. But first,
our on-the-spot reporter, Tim… Oh Tim? .... Um, Tim had to go get a bite to
eat, and he'll be back soon. ........ And in case you're wondering, I'm
not wearing contacts, either......
Tim,
can you at least tell us what you're ordering? .... Oh. Oh really? It would
appear he's also going to catch a movie, so we'll be waiting just
a smidgen longer for his always fine report. Thank you, Tim, and
now back in the studios... I've got some really shiny lights all around me. I
should tell you that they're bright too. And now I'm straightening out my tie.
Am I squinting too much? In case you didn’t realize it already, you're watching
the NBC Nightly News.... And I’m still Rusty Southwick. We’ll keep you up-to-date on any new developments
in my name.
I
like to do random Google searches and then after all the results come up, laugh
at cyberspace by saying, "Ha, ha! Fooled you! I didn’t really need to find
that!" Entertainment doesn’t really need to cost all that much if you think hard
enough.
Lost
track of time today, but the funny thing is it didn't care and it did just fine
without me. Turns out I don't need to be timekeeper. Lousy $30 watches!
What's
everybody else talking about? That's what I want to talk about... Because I'd
like to conform to whatever else is being talked about. If I tried talking
about anything different, I might be left in my own discussion, and outside of
the active circle of discussion. No, that’s way too risky…
I
just came from the future, by the way. It's got lots of interesting plot twists
and the acting is decent, but I kept running out of popcorn.
I've
got this idea for a new video game... You run and jump over things, and then
hit them or shoot at them. And when you make contact with them, they blow up.
But if they make contact with you, then you blow up. It would almost be like a
war simulation, but only different. And then you get bonus points for
collecting valuable shiny glowing items. The object of the game is to amass as
many points as possible before you blow up. I think this could catch on if it
were marketed right.
All
I need is a semblance of order, a false sense of security, and a modicum of
sanity. After that, I'm in my comfort zone.
This
is me at this moment in time, typing letters from an alphabet I didn't invent
or even approve of. What more do you want from me?! I’m a victim of my
circumstances!
All
I need is a semblance of order, a false sense of security, and a modicum of
sanity. After that, I'm in my comfort zone. Oh wait, I said that already.
Don't
hate me because I'm imperfect. Hate me because I have no redeeming qualities to
speak of and I set your lawn on fire.
After
the "oops", whatever comes next can't be all that great. Oops means
brace yourself for something doubleplus ungood. Oops, a telephone pole jumped
out in front of my car. Oops, Britney Spears released another album. Oops, it's
morning again. Oops, someone ordered olives on the pizza. Oops, you're
completely surrounded by army ants.
I
don't think, therefore I am not Descartes.
I’m
working on country metal lyrics about a medieval pickup truck that haunted a
hick town and made my dog possessed. So far, "Rarrrr! Rarrrr!" It’s a
work in progress. I always hate the kind of works that are not in progress.
Kids
know better than adults how to pronounce words. Adults want to complicate
issues by attempting to negotiate all the sounds in a word, even if they aren’t
conducive to one another. The layman speaking colloquially (my favorite way,
incidentally) will often wisely forego the formalities, however the syllable-of-the-law
narrator-types will attempt to piece together the –st sound at the end of a
word in the plural, producing the awkward “sts”, which is one of those things
that’s better left unsaid. Kids instinctively realize that if you run into an
–st with a plural, you add a separate syllable to keep them from melding
anachronistically. “Ghosts” is therefore properly pronounced by a four-year-old
as “ghost-ez”. I like it. Much less maintenance. It’s not perfect, but it
surely beats the wildly grown-up “ghostststsss” as one elongated syllable
reminiscent of a well-worn tire unceremoniously going flat on a sweltering hot
day in July. Or possibly even August. You see, the adult relies more on logic,
and the child relies more on instinct. This is also why children are happier,
less apt to get institutionalized, and have a longer life expectancy than
adults. The child’s system being less formal, with less overhead, less
paperwork, less bureaucracy, less process, and more results-oriented instead of
method-oriented. Ergo, kids know more than we do, because we forgot what they
know after we were their age. That’s why we feel obligated to attach impressive
titles to our names to remind everyone how smart and important the grown-ups
are, the PhD’s, the LLC’s, the M.D.’s. Look at me! I’ve got lots of letters
after my name!
100
[blanks] to do/see/eat before you die... First of all, that's your list, not
mine. And secondly, my life doesn't consist of check boxes. I’ll graciously pass. Only a hundred??
Just
think if Henry Heimlich had instead pursued his deep-rooted love of ballet...
We might have a whole different perspective on the Heimlich maneuver.
My
motto, slogan, mission statement, credo, philosophy, outlook, creed and
perspective... are unfortunately all different things, so I imagine they're
usually battling it out for top billing. I currently don't have a maxim or an
axiom, so I'm taking applications for those. I could also be swayed on another
mission statement, which is presently a rather unambitious "I'll get to it
when I get to it." I use it to inspire me when I don't even think I'll get
to it. I'm quite resourceful that way. For example, if someone tells me to take
a hike, I interpret that to mean that they are concerned about my well-being
and want me to exercise and keep myself in tip-top shape. My outlook likewise
needs work, which is simply the anticlimactic "ugh". Generally three
good "ughs" and I'm all motivated for the day.
I
always thought it would be fun to invade a country without using weapons just
as a flash mob, and then run back out and see the looks on all their faces.
I
wish aliens would come down just to abduct everyone who uses ringtones. All the
while utilizing the soundtrack from Close Encounters, no less. This would be poetic
justice of the fourth kind.
I
continually come across hundreds of people every day who are completely
oblivious to anyone else around them, unaware that I'm the one who's important.
Were
horoscopes truly realistic, they'd acknowledge there are some days when it's
just better to cut your losses and not get out of bed. While they often say to
beware of something, they then proceed to open the floodgates and let you out
into the very situation that you need to beware of. How reckless of them! I don’t
have any need for such vague “beware” statements. I need to know specifically
where the “beware” objects exist so I can deliberately “not” go there. All Virgos hide in your basement until the coast is clear, which may be next week. That's the kind of horoscope I'd like to hear.
I
finally discovered the meaning of life. It’s on page 473 of Merriam-Webster's.
Turns out I'd been looking under the H's all this time by mistake. I thought it
was rather odd for the meaning of life to be “a function between two
topological spaces that is continuous, one-to-one, and the inverse of which is
continuous.” Man, that was really messing me up.
I
thought technology was supposed to be all about convenience... Why on earth
would I want to stir the mashed potatoes halfway through cooking my frozen
dinner?
I
don't know what's so special about the whole vaunted time-space continuum.
Whoever said it was necessarily supposed to turn out that way the first time
around anyway? Tinkering with it a little here and there might even spice it up
a bit... give it more of a rustic or genteel look that it's sorely missing.
Existentialists just need to be a little less rigid about their hobbies, that's
all.
The
Enlightenment began shortly after the Trojan Horse incident, at which point
people started realizing that the enemy doesn't give you gifts.
I'd
like to order a sense of accomplishment, contentment, satisfaction,
appreciation, comfort, security, stability, continuity, serenity, peace,
simplicity, hope, solace, relief, carefreeness, karma, bliss, upliftment,
enlightenment, fulfillment, wonder, awe, intrigue, enthrallment, passion,
transcendence, rejuvenation, harmony, unity, purpose, identity, balance,
symmetry, variety, well-being, wholeness, and closure. And that's all I need.
And this chair... And that's all I need. I don't need anything else.
It's
hard to whistle and stay sad at the same time. Unless another sad person
punches you in the mouth for whistling, then that would probably make you sad
again.
I
need to make a decision today. Or rather about 7000 or so decisions, while also
weighing and measuring the alternatives, and then sort between the conscious
decisions and the subconscious ones. And then I have to break them down further
into subcategories of conscientious and incidental, simultaneously recognizing
that what not to do is just as significant as what to do, and then not forget
what I've already decided so I can base some of my decisions on previous
decisions and/or legal precedent. But before finalizing them, I have to
prioritize them and put them in order, in which case some get pushed back to
2017 for further review. So if you ask me a question and I give you a blank
stare, know that there's an underlying method to it.
Don't
argue with me... It gives the impression that you don't realize I'm right.
The
lost and found is for things that were lost but not found by the right person.
If the lost item was found by the person who wanted to find it, then it
wouldn't be at the lost and found. It would just be at the found. To me, it
would be more meaningful to call the lost and found simply “the lost”. Finding
that it was lost is differentiated from looking for it and then finding it,
because even after the surrogate finder "finds" it, notice that it
continues to be lost. I would maintain that the qualities of lost and found are
mutually exclusive, so they can't exist at the same time. I suppose you could
make it an optimistic conditional, so that it could be referred to as the
"lost to be found," which also gives it more sense of purpose.
I
don't care about my 15 minutes of fame. It's my 2 minutes of being Batman that I'm
most looking forward to. And I’ll be ready, mark my word.
While
it’s true that stupid people technically don't make me smarter, they do help me
recognize I'm not nearly as dumb as I originally thought I was.
You're
about a hundred times more likely to die on the way to buying a lottery ticket
than to win the lottery. The lottery is dangerous!
If
someone's sneeze actually comes out pronounced "atchoo", then it's
got to be a contrived sound from a learned response, because what are the odds
that a purely natural sneeze would produce that canned sound? This is worthy of
a study. Do bushmen sneeze like that? I think around age 2 we begin mimicking
the sneezes of other people. Some parents even push the issue by helping their
child sound it out. This is clearly sneezing indoctrination. But this isn't
all. One would think the "atchoo" mutation would have died off after
a few thousand generations. But no... The only rational explanation as to why
it persists would have to be zombies. Just be a little suspicious of how people
sneeze from now on.
"That
which doesn't kill me makes me stronger"... Practical translation:
"As long as you don't fall off the cliff to meet your demise, it will turn
out to be very good exercise." And this helps me how? They might as well
cut to the chase and just say “don’t die.” Was that so hard?
It
takes a big man to admit when he's wrong, but it takes an even bigger man to
never be wrong in the first place.
Watching
a Christopher Hitchens vs. God debate on YouTube. Hitchens isn't giving any
ground.
A
photo can always be cropped further, and so I continually wonder if I should
crop it even more. I do this with every photo, until it gets all the way down
to 1 pixel, at which point it’s physically impossible to crop it any longer.
Although, for some strange reason I’m still in pursuit of the dream to crop the
uncroppable picture. I’m looking for a support group for this, but so far no
luck.
That
moment when you're washing a plastic spoon and it breaks. For that split
second, time stops and you come to the silly realization that what you’re doing
now has no appreciable value anymore.
This
reminds me of a battle-hardened sergeant losing his hard-earned money to a
good-for-nothing swindler. It’s hyphenation wars…
Picture
for a moment Elvis impersonators spinning yo-yo’s during the running of the
bulls. Not only within the realm of plausabilities, this one would be worth the
price of admission. Whoa, a whole hunk o’ love there.
I
won the Megamillions lottery and stored the winning ticket in my dresser
drawer. Now, if I can only remember where I lived…
We
haven't evolved as far as we think we have when a wreck on a divided highway
causes a traffic jam in the other direction. All the world’s a stage, and we’re
a bunch of gawkers.
There
are only two letters in the alphabet that constitute a full regular word. We’ve
been wasting the other 24. At least the texters are trying.
Listening
to the Beach Boys when you're melancholy just makes you want to kill the Beach
Boys.
We’ve
come so far with computer programming, we’re at the point where if you type in
two w’s for a web address instead of three, it won’t know what you mean. It can’t
divine the idea that because two w’s doesn’t exist in most universes, you
probably — just probably — meant three w’s. After all, we wouldn’t want to jump
to conclusions and try to read your mind. This is so intuitive it’s scary and
stuff. Yeah, we’re real close to artificial intelligence. We’re practically
swimming in it as we speak.
I
was up three nights in a row trying to decipher the distinctions between
approved and pre-approved. I got stuck on the “pre-” part for some reason.
I’d
like to go to Venice, if only to find out how they deal with jaywalkers there.
They probably just let them drown.
Most
figurative gluttons are so for punishment, but there are also some who are
gluttons for other worthy causes too, like gluttons for amnesty, gluttons for
martial law, gluttons for hedonism, gluttons for the equal treatment of
Anglo-Saxons (GETA), gluttons for ventriloquism, gluttons for palindromes,
gluttons for the elimination of the faux pas, and gluttons for bad hair days.
All things we can rally behind and become a glutton for.
There
are days when you wonder how you’ll get through it all. I’ve been there myself
on occasion, and it can really get to you. Sometimes I just feel like curling
up in a corner and going to Mazatlan.
I
know some things you don't, but I'm not going to say them all right here
because then I wouldn't have things to write about later.
I
don't trust anyone with a beard. There's way too much temptation for them to
run off with it.
I
can't solve all of the world's problems by myself. Sometimes I need to
delegate.
People
occasionally ask me how I write blogs*. First I get some ideas. Then I scrap
them. Then I think of what I shouldn’t write about, and consider what’s left.
And approach it from roughly seven different angles in order to hone in on it.
In other words, I wing it.
(*-it
may happen in their sleep)
Snopes
has verified that the Internet is a hoax perpetuated by Tibetan monks who were
just trying to play online blackjack.
You
get out of life what you put in. But then I start wondering: why not just keep
it in the first place?