Overview The Cahulawassee River is soon to be destroyed, along with the beautiful country that surrounds it. Eager to make money from the indigenous population before they're displaced, entrepreneur and outdoor fanatic Puerileuwaite creates a business opportunity for him and his blog buddies to sell and deliver pizzas to the mountain men and backcountry people. Little do they know, they're in for much more than they originally bargained for. Selling pizzas to the unwashed masses anywhere can be an extremely unpleasant experience... especially deep in the American backcountry where nobody's on your side, and the tips that you are likely to receive are the ones that you would least likely want.
Delivery #1: 6:15PM Mountain Man: Ray Don! Get yer ass on down here, now. There's a man from the county with some high-fallutin' e-quip-ment. Says he wants to do sum testin' fer ya! Ray Don: Yes, pop? Mountain Man: Jus' yankin' yer chain, son. It's really the pizza boy. Mountain Man: [to Puerileuwaite] Why don't you take off that itty-bitty logo embroidered poly-cotton blend polo shirt. Them khakis too.
Delivery #2: 7:00PM Mountain Man: I'm gonna make you cry like an onion, and slimy like an anchovie. Now squeal like a Honda Civic taking a right-hand turn at 40! Weeeeeeee! Puerileuwaite: Weee! Mountain Man: Weeeeeeee! Puerileuwaite: Weee!
Delivery #3: 7:55PM Mountain Man: What do you want to do now? Toothless Man: [grinning] He's got a real purdy cap and name tag on him, don't he? Mountain Man: Ain't that the truth. Toothless Man: [to Puerileuwaite] You gonna do some prayin' for me, boy. And you better pray real good. Puerileuwaite: Ummm, guys, please don't take my cap and name tag. My manager is a real asshole, and he'll dock my pay if I don't turn 'em in at the end of my shift. Mountain Man: Dang, boy! No can do. See, Earl here, he collects caps, and hell, I need somethin' fer my troubles. Toothless Man: Got dat right. Sheeeut. Puerileuwaite: Look fellas, can't we make some kind of other arrangement? How about if I drop "trou" and bend over yonder log, and let you both sodomize me? Anything. Just not the cap and name tag. Mountain Man: Damn, boy, how come ever' time you deliver a pizza, you try'n get us to sod-o-mize yew? Dat's wha the sheep is fer. Toothless Man: Got dat right, Sheeeut. Mountain Man: What you need is a lady friend, boy. (Puerileuwaite recoils in horror, turns quickly, runs away)
Delivery #4: 8:40PM Puerileuwaite: Damn, you play a mean banjo. Mountain Man: Well, thanky, podner, but like I told you las' time, I ain't into sod-o-my, boy. So you jes leave it alone, friend.
This business idea was inspired by Malnurtured Snay, and a recent post of his in particular. I feel for you, brother! This one's for you.
I thought I would go with that greeting for variety, and also because I love that song by Todd Rundgren. "It's important to me, that you know you are free." For the longest time, I hadn't a clue as to what he meant. Now I do. It's an oblique and therefore classy way to get rid of someone, while convincing them that it's really their idea. Brilliant!
Well, the writer's block continues, hence the unimaginative title. Fortunately, though, it may have dawned on me WHY I have been in this funk. The torture weasels running this place have been forcing me to spend time thinking about work-related matters, thus depleting my natural reserves of witty introspection.
Also, vendors have been calling to vie for my attention, without offering any swag of note as fair compensation for feigning interest in whatever they sell. One guy had the absolute goofiest title for his software product. Whoever came up with that doozy should be calling Betty Ford to see if the extended stay suite is available.
How can I let him know, without actually saying it, that - for this week, not every one - I just want to be left alone to blog and generate carbon dioxide for local plant life? But these vendor dimwits are totally inept in the fine art of interpreting subtle hints.
In good times, I probably would've considered a pity purchase. But these aren't, so I see the sales guy quickly (and involuntarily) moving on to the next phase of his "21st century Willy Loman*" (* from "Death of a Salesman", I threw this in as a homework assignment so that you could Google SOMETHING other than your own damned names for once) career progression as a telemarketer. He will, of course, then make a point of calling me once again with yet another exciting new offer, continuing the circle of jerkiness.
Another culprit that may be contributing to my blockage are the phrases that have become lodged sideways into my already misshapen brain, interfering with those few precious neurons that carry sane and practical thoughts. Phrases such as "frame of reference", "if I frame it this way", and "cheeky bounder".
"Cheeky Bounder" in particular has been driving my up the wall. It sounds cute, like "wanker", but probably is equally insulting. I even got off of my lazy ass (well, technically I didn't, but I was too lazy just now to come up with a more accurate phrase that would properly illustrate the pain that the gesture caused) to actually Google it. I received 881 hits, but the first 10 were articles that would force me to read more than two sentences, so no thanks. I'll make this YOUR homework assignment, instead. Yet another opportunity to remind me that you know more than I do.
"Frame of reference" and "framing" concepts in general are phrases that my boss likes to sprinkle liberally throughout conversations. For instance, a typical comment of his would be: "Well, it's really not so major of a setback if you "frame" it this way ... (then he describes the way that it could be alternatively framed). I can only sit there and fantasize about a scenario where he is convicted of a homicide, and shortly thereafter I visit him in prison and console him, agreeing that yes, indeed he was framed.
It makes me wonder what phrases people use in your daily lives that drive you nuts. Let's compare and contrast, shall we?
I trust that you are all doing well. Actually for most of you, I know this is the case, since I've been spending more time lately on your blogs than my own. Easier to comment than create, or so I've read.
Well, since my Internet connection is thwarting my efforts to upload pictures for a post that I'm working on, I may as well go heavy on the verbose for this one. However there is a slight problem. I have writer's block! It's true. I cannot think of a single coherent topic to ruminate upon. And yes, I AM capable of coherency! Codependency too. So pipe down. Or better yet, hold me.
And yet, hungry verbiage vultures that you are, quotas must be met. I have fallen victim to your expectations of high volume at low prices. So I have no choice but to "wing it" with whatever comes to mind. Sure, I could've surrendered my will to the considerable power of the meme, but I'm trying this foreign approach known in some circles as abstinence. I've been told it makes the heart grow fonder. And yet, I've never been fond of women who force it upon me. Go figure.
I guess that it was unavoidable: I would eventually have to post on mundane details and musings from my marginal existence.
So, what to do. Wait, a thought just occurred to me. Don't you HATE mosquitoes? Those little pests are everywhere right now. I can't even go for a run, which I wanted to do instead of posting. I read somewhere that "lemon eucalyptus oil", whatever that is, is a natural repellent. Is there such a thing as a lemon eucalyptus? I thought the two were mutually exclusive, much like me and popularity.
And where can I obtain this oil? Would it be in the same aisle as frankincense and myrrh? And what would I smell like with it on? Would I smell like hippies do when they wear that chulupa oil? Do they still call them hippies? Or is it no longer hip?
This reminds me of an old SNL Weekend Update joke, as follows: "Liza Minelli had hip surgery earlier this past week, which is the first time in 20-years that the words "Liza Minelli" and "hip" have been used in the same sentence.".
By the way, now is probably not the best time you inform you that I plan to launch a second blog. That's right. Apparently I am way too prolific, and have an overabundance of great material for just one URL to safely contain. Okay, I'll come clean. The REAL reason is because I have ideas and topics that really aren't appropriate for this forum. For point of illustration, this blog is meant to display all of the shiny, tasteful(?) tschotschkes that I polish and set out for company to fuss over and become enamored of.
The "other" blog is to be the black sheep that I hide in the back room until company leaves. Then I have my way with it. Just kidding. It's a metaphor, people! A better description is that it represents all of the crappe that I quickly cram into drawers (cramming crappe into drawers? that doesn't sound right either) and closets while the doorbell is ringing. Anyway, stay tuned. I'll let you know when it's ready, if anyone is desperate enough to be even remotely interested.
On another unrelated topic, I was able to get in a solid workout today, despite the fact that, due to fate's cruelty, "The Big Cheese" (nice man, a millionaire too, though I regret to inform that his management style closely resembles that of Dilbert's boss) is in town. So it was either flee the scene, or get tapped to count the number of toilet paper rolls hung improperly throughout the campus.
For the majority of my time there, the weight room was empty. So I could focus with laser precision on my routine and bask in the solitude. I love solitude, and wish you all could've been there with me to enjoy it.
To further isolate, I listened to my iPod. Most of the songs are fairly innocuous, classic rock fare. But since headphones are involved, no one needs to know (much like my secret fetishes for Kuchina Dolls and Faberge Eggs) what I'm into. Don't ask, don't tell, don't sing along.
As a result of this freedom from drive-by criticism, I always sneak a few guilty pleasures into the mix. Right these would include "Cruel, Cruel Summer" by Bananarama, "Toxic" by Britney Spears, "Uncontrollable Urge" by Devo, "I Got You, Babe" by UB40 and Chrissy Hynde, and a couple of Joni Mitchell tunes. I've really been on a Joni kick lately. I know why, but I can't tell you, since I know that you're all good for shit at keeping secrets. There's more, but these should arm you with enough arrows to shoot back my way.
Thank you for helping(?) me through this. I hope to start thinking again real soon.
(I refuse to refer to my female readers as "ho's", since, unlike some of you "popularity weasels" and your oh-so-trendy-blogs-where-you-get-a-much-better-turnout-than-I-do-with-my-half-dozen-or-so-hapless-victims-if-I'm-lucky-enough-to-have-them-stumble-onto-me-whilst-Googling-porn-meanwhile-you-deviant-exploiters-have-the-luxury-to-be-able-to-show-open-contempt-for-your-life-devoid-flocks-of-mindless-lemmings-and-actually-get-away-with-it!-types, MY audience is limited, so I cannot afford to intentionally alienate anybody.) It is time for my inaugural "Pimp Daddy (or Momma) Contest".
Even though memes are suddenly like "crack" to me, and my hunger for them is insatiable, I have vowed to limit my meme-ing to once a week, at most. This doesn't mean that I won't be making numerous, furtive trips to random bookstores and newsstands within a 300-mile radius so that people won't get suspicious as to what I'm up to, which is scouring for and collecting back issues of Reader's Digests in order to extract and distill quizzes contained therein into devilishly potent memes; or that I won't start a "meme-lab" in my basement with special filtered venting apparati so that it is virtually undetectable by the Good Taste Gestapo.
But I will try to keep my own meme addiction under reasonable control, so that I can comfortably profit from your collective lack of will power and endless appetite for toxic trivia.
This causes me great heartache, and yet, at the same time, answers the future meme question: "What causes you great heartache?".
So since I rarely have one, but this time I do, let's go with "Plan-B" for this post. I heard, second-hand from family members that the local news this past weekend ran one of their "insipid, cutesy-pie attempts at feigning community interest" segments. And as I would rather watch Ernest Borgnine and Shelly Winters ensconced in a nude lambada to Yoko Ono's "best of" then watch the local news, I took their word for it.
This is what disturbs me. The piece was about an elementary school fair, where one of the attractions was "PIMP My Ride". I don't know much about the scope of this particular activity, or what the kids had to do, but those details are not relevant to my point* (* which is not relevant to anything ... it's a recursive relationship ...), anyway.
WHAT THE HECK are we doing, people? Why are words such as "pimp" being embraced into public lexicon, to the extent that elementary school kids are now being encouraged to "pimp" things?
I just cannot for the life of me picture some of you mommies helping your son or daughter to pimp out his or her school project!
What does this mean for the future of arts and crafts shoppes? Will they become even seedier then they are now?
Let's agree to fight back on this. Write your school boards and your government representatives, and let them know that - though THEY may be prostitutes - WE don't want to be pimps!
But, I do know my viewer demographics enough to realize that some of you may truly want to be pimps (and already dress the part), so here's how:
Hopefully this disturbing trend will soon meet its demise. While we wait, we may as well spend some of our own leisure time in the red light district. I would like to ask EVERYONE who has suffered through this post to participate in the following contest, before pimp prohibition is legislated into effect. Consider this a b*tch slap back at me for the anger that my previous, disobedient posts may have caused.
To get started, click on the following link to get your official pimp name (unless you already have one). Remember, only a fool would use his/her REAL first and last names. Use your blog name (break it in two, if need be) instead, holmes.
Then provide, in a comment to this post: 1) Your PIMP NAME. 2) WHAT you would like to "pimp". 3) WHY it should be "pimped". Be creative and have fun with it!
The dopest (do they still say that?) answer will win the coveted "Puerile's Pimp Daddy (or Momma) of 2006, Yo" Award, and will have a tribute post created in his/her honour by yours truly.
Contest deadline is midnight, Mountain Standard Time, Wednesday, July 26, 2006. Local restrictions may apply (in other words, check with your significant other first, to see if it's okay if you become a pimp). Offer void in Utah (I'm kidding! Anyone - multiple wives or not - is welcome to participate. And let's face it, multiple wives - if anything - should give Utah residents a natural pimp edge).
Let's bust a move, my p-dub posse!
"Pimps is an UGLY word ... we can call ourselves ... Love Brokers." - Michael Keaton, Nightshift (1982)
My last post (My First Meme!) seems to have resonated with a few of you, along with myself as well. Memes are intriguing to me. For some sick reason, I get a kick out of reading - and answering - them. Depending on how well they are constructed, they can provide some illuminating insights into the participant's personality. And indeed, this latest version gave me cause for self-examination.
Additionally, it was enlightening to discover - through your revealing commentary - how you see me, based on my answers to the meme, as well as previous posts and my comments on your blogs. And so it was, that I became concerned with the possibility that I may be skewing your perceptions of myself a tad too far from actual reality.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I like a healthy facade of anonymity and mystery. Mom used to have a saying: "familiarity breeds contempt". Mom had lots of sayings, a few were not as negative as this one. Here is a more "upbeat" saying of mom's.
Though somewhat cynical, there IS some truth to the "familiarity breeds contempt" adage. And I certainly cannot bear anymore contempt than you've already shown. I'm kidding of course! For the most part.
So please allow me to correct the course of perception to one that is more accurate. The first thing you should know is that I love music, and I enjoy playing musical instruments. Here are a couple of guitars, and an amplifier, that I keep in my office.
I take pride in the way that I live. And I am not ashamed to admit that I like nice things.
I am pragmatic, and I do realize that, try as I may, not everyone is going to have the same appreciation for me as you - my loyal readers - do.
But, do you know what? It doesn't matter to me what my detractors may think. I believe in myself. I have worth. I am a good person. I am in tune with myself. Heck, I even cry on occasion. How many of you can remember the last time you cried? I can. It was during a very emotional and symbolic "Dove Release" at my cousin's wedding.
I am glad that - despite being a man - I have never turned my back on my tender, compassionate side. Sure, there have been times during my gradual and prolonged transition from childhood to maturity, where I have encountered disillusionment.
But I have never allowed these cruel revelations to cast a permanent shadow over me.
I have a big heart for my fellow man and all living things.
If you know me at all by now, then it should be apparent that I love animals, so whenever I am asked to donate in order to help an endangered species, I am always eager to jump right in and contribute.
I am a hopeless romantic. I really do enjoy candlelight dinners, and making love with a partner (ideally) during a thunderstorm. And though I don't always have the stamina of a young buck, and tend to tire easily, I still love to take long walks on the beach.
Thank you so much for letting me into your hearts, and for taking a little piece of mine.
Courtesy of Blackbird, here is my first meme. And if I embarrass myself enough, it is likely my last!
• What is your salad dressing of choice? > It's a tie between Oriental Sesame Ginger and (REAL) Blue Cheese.
• What is your favorite fast food restaurant? > Wendy's.
• What is your favorite sit down restaurant? > It varies. Right now I'm jonesing for Ranalli's Pizza on Clark Street (Old Town) in Chicago. The best pizza on the planet.
• On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? 15 - 20%. > 20%, at least, always. Unless the service was REALLY BAD or VERY UNFRIENDLY (I do factor in how busy they are, or if the wait staff is dealing with issues beyond their control); then I usually say something, yet still give 15%.
• What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? > This is a tough one. Two safe choices are good pizza, or good Mexican food.
• Name three foods you detest above all others. > Head cheese (mom used to buy it; WTF is IN it?!; I'd never touch it; do they even still make it?), cow tongue (yuck, I'd rather French-kiss a live cow; mom had weird eating habits), liver (had to eat it once a week as a kid; at that time it was supposed to be good for you ... rich in iron; now, it evokes images of Hannibal Lechter ... maybe if I had it with a glass of Chianti ...).
• What is your favorite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? > Dun Show Ping, my favorite waitress! She love me long time. Okay, you want SERIOUS answer. Okay, then. Schezchuan (i.e. - Kung Pow Beef or Chicken).
• What are your pizza toppings of choice? > I'm a plain cheese guy. As for toppings: veggies.
• What do you like to put on your toast? > I alternate. Either just butter, or with grape or strawberry jelly. I like to live on the edge.
• What is your favorite type of gum? > Trident Sugar-Free Whitening: Cinnamon, Spearmint, Peppermint or Winter Fresh.
• What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? > Stop! There may be kids reading this! Okay, I'll go with a socially-acceptable answer: my general physique (6'1", 185 lbs).
• Are you right handed or left handed? > Right-handed. But for some off-handed reason, I shoot pool - and rifles, usually from office buildings - left-handed.
• Do you like your smile? > It's okay, I guess. I don't spend a lot of time in front of a mirror, so I don't have a strong opinion on this topic. Crocodiles always smile back at me, for what it's worth.
• Have you ever had anything removed from your body? > BESIDES my soul? Not voluntarily. But who knows what happens during my frequent alien encounters? I am likely THEIR version of the "Operation" game.
• Would you like to? > Well, I just watched "TransAmerica" the other day, so it got me to thinkin' ... what is SO important about being able to stand up to urinate?
• Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? > Wow, there's FIVE? I gotta get out more ...
• When was the last time you had a cavity? > Mid-'80's. Not big on dentists, so I take care of my chompers. Whew! Thank God you didn't add "search" after that question!
• What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? > Well, there still may be a few underagers reading, so I'll go with my tool case. Oh, and weights.
• Have you ever been knocked unconscious? > Yes. I am only semi-conscious right now.
• If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? > No way. The suspense would kill me! Make it a surprise. Oh, and make it quick.
• If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? > Right now, I'm thinkin' "Superfly". But it varies with mood. In fact, I suggest that first names SHOULD be changeable to reflect current state of mind (example: "Asshole Smith, party of one").
• How do you express your artistic side? > I "tag" railroad boxcars.
• What color do you think you look best in? > Natural flesh tones ;-)
• How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? > It depends on whether I play "hard to get". The courting ritual alone could take 6-months.
• Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? > Well, I HAVE dined at Taco Bell in the past, so I'm going to assume that I have.
• If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? > Well, if I were from the south, I would argue with the "bound by society's conventions" statement. But I'm from the north, so I'd say Uncle Ernie.
• How often do you go to church? > This is the proverbial can of worms. NEVER, if I can help it. Let me say that I am very open-minded, and am always researching and seeking divine enlightenment. Having been raised as a Catholic, I WANT to believe. I also think that we shouldn't be pricks to each other for the majority of the time, just to behave in a special building for a few hours out of each week. Earth should be an extension of heaven, not a morally barren place full of judgemental, self-absorbed and materialistic assholes. Organized religion, in general, has a manipulative agenda all its own, one that is exclusive from the Supreme Being's (assuming/hoping there is one). But hey, if it works for you, then great. I believe that at some point this should become an educated, individual journey. If some of us wind up in the same building, and do no harm to others, then, okay. End of cuckoo rant.
• Have you ever saved someone’s life? > Probably. Every time that I successfully fight the impulse to push someone in front of a train, I feel that I'm doing my part. Oh, and stay away from Taco Bell! There, I just saved at least one of you.
• Has someone ever saved yours? > Yes. This story is personal, though.
For this last section, if you would do it for less or more money, indicate how much.
• Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? > Absolutely. But first, show me the money. No "I-owe-you's" like last time. Let me know in advance, please, so that I can start my Enzyte and Viagra training regimen.
• Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? > Only on weekends, as part of my second line of work. Oh, and not on the lips. I don't want to fall in love like "Pretty Woman".
• Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? > I can get reimbursed for these activities? Cool.
• Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? > Well, I have until Friday to come up with the money. So we'll see.
• Would you never blog again for $50,000? > Who put you up to this? Is there really a collection going? C'mon, my blog can't be THAT bad.
• Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? > Sure. They do still publish "High Times", don't they? I'll be the "before" shot for the Enzyte ad.
• Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? > What do YOU think?! Duh! In these parts, we call this drink the "Flaming Sphincter".
• Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? > No. Thou shalt not kill.
• Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? > You betcha. Throw in a double-date with Sinead O'Conner, the singer from "Live", and one of the Manson girls, and you've gotta deal, pardner.
• Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? > Okay, who put you up to this? Why, this reminds me of the time on "The Courtship of Eddie's Father", where ...... oh, never mind. Sure, okay, I'll do it, you sadists. If there's no better way for you to get yer jollies!
I would like to take the opportunity to introduce you to a new concept known as "phoning it in". Let's agree that it's my lame attempt to buy some time as I work out (or, for those of you who know me well enough already, WORK IN) some kinks in new material I'm "developing" for my next "real" post.
Oh, and why not? ... I should add that - having "grown up" on a steady diet of Mad Magazine (how many of you are GENUINELY surprised?) - I am a sucker for "*THINGS* We'd Like To See" posts. So my blog is a natural outlet for this kind of crappe* (* New favorite word, thanks to Blackbird. My definition? A "crap frappe". Classy!).
These are some of my favorites. I hope you enjoy them.
My apologies to the early birds who have already viewed this and commented. I almost forgot the joke that goes with this last billboard.
*** Obligatory KY Joke: Did you hear about the lady who confused KY-Jelly with Window Putty? Her windows fell out! ***
I am starting to wonder if my blog may, for the majority of viewers, be somewhat akin to that occasional serious car accident folks encounter while en route to their preferred destination. Unavoidable obstacle / annoying delay becomes morbid curiosity / rubberneck entertainment. That sort of thing, only less interesting.
I wonder, because lately I've been following the same routine myself. I cruise through blogs to see what grabs me, but usually become enthralled with the first obscure, banal, bizarre offering that I stumble across, rather than continue to search for more palatable, socially redeeming fare.
My theory? Eroding taste due to mental fatigue results in accidental readers staying on my blog long enough to become asphyxiated by the content and trapped by the resulting carbon monoxide. An Internet Roach Motel, if you will. And I'm glad to have you, you sweet sticky things.
Now as some of you may have noticed by my profile, my television viewing habits are somewhat offbeat, even geeky perhaps. And, because this blog panders shamelessly to my narcissism, I know that I must torment you with specifics as to WHY these shows have me in their kung-fu grip.
Fortunately, since I like to keep my posts to a reasonable length, and need to ration out my limited and rapidly diminishing number of brain droppings through long-term installments, today's post will focus on my preoccupation with "true crime" shows.
Needless to say, I am a die-hard (note the clever use of the word "die") aficionado of "Psychic Detectives", "City Confidential", "Unsolved Mysteries", "Forensic Files" and "Body of Evidence" (starring Dayle Hinman! ... I MUST do a future post about HER! File cabinets AND legs! Her show could be a "mobius strip" of just that opening/closing file cabs/legs segment ... and I'd still be hooked! Bureaucracy and sex: mutually exclusive NO LONGER! CSI, meet Caligula.).
And there are many others as well.
In fact, I just watched a NEW one on Monday night, but - lucky you - the name escapes me. I do know that this genre must be popular, since new variations seem to pop up like weeds every half-season or so.
The steady proliferation of these programs has me pondering the possibility of a sinister future where new crimes are orchestrated for no other motive than to keep these shows in fresh material and acceptable ratings.
I would have to say that my favorites are "American Justice" and "Cold Case Files". Why? Because both shows have a secret weapon: Bill Kurtis!
Having originally grown up in the Midwest (in the same city that you recently visited, BB ;-), I have listened to Mr. Kurtis since childhood, as he was (and I'm assuming - still is) based out of Chicago. His deep, soothing voice, and mastery of timing and inflection are hypnotic, and they never fail to suck me instantly into the story line.
Unfortunately, the story lines are graphic retellings of true crimes, almost always murder related, and as such they inevitably go into grisly detail. In the wrong hands, these accounts would likely be horrific and perhaps cause nightmares. In fact, as a child, I could NEVER read a true crime book or view a movie of this type WITHOUT having great difficulty going to sleep for the next few nights. I had to avoid them.
But with Bill Kurtis at the helm, I am carefully guided though stormy seas of human tragedy and depravity feeling safe, secure and ... entertained. This goes against human nature, I think. Subject matter of this nature SHOULD have a disturbing, disconcerting effect.
Yet here I am, time and again, working, eating and blogging with an audio/visual landscape of mayhem and murder lurking in the background, serving as a soundtrack for my life. And creepier still, American Justice and (especially) Cold Case Files ("CCF") are my lullabies, my preferred method of nodding off to sleep.
Bill Kurtis' deep, smooth voice is pure, aural NyQuil. And as icing on the cake, a warm and soothing 3-tone bass triplet (possibly played on a harp) announces every new scene on "CCF". It's relaxing ... peaceful. And it doesn't matter what Bill is describing. It could be hideous, gory, blow-by-blow carnage. It doesn't matter, as I am calmly serenaded to sleep.
It has to be a case of shorted wiring at the subconscious level.
I am reminded of a Saturday Night Live faux home security commercial, where the "product" is a collection of mannequins in burglar garb, holding weapons. One is brandishing an ax, another is jabbing with a knife; all are in threatening poses. They are arranged at foots of beds. One bed contains the kids, comfortably tucked in and blissful. The other has mom, in her room serenely drifting off to sleep. The selling feature is that any actual burglars that may be peeping in are tipped off that THIS house is already taken.
It's me again. And I've been doing some more thinking. Since a few of you said that the practice might do me some good. Bastards. Oh, not you nice folks, I have one of those Sunday morning political shows on.
Before I get started with today's post (that makes THREE posts in THREE consecutive days, people, so the "slacker" comments must stop), I must apologize in advance for the dark nature of these new business ideas. Apparently I'm dealing with a current bout of mean-spiritedness in response to a cruel and unforgiving world. I should be better than that. So maybe with this one last purge, I will be done with it, and resume my usual "happy-go-get-lucky" demeanor.
Either that, or the rain and fog that we've had all weekend - which I should be glad about because the moisture is sorely needed - has cast me in this funk.
Or perhaps it is also due to "the man" (and by this, I mean my fellow bloggers and their evil commentary) trying to "keep me down". Jealous of my modest talent and even more modest success, some of you (who - since I am a professional, dammit - shall remain nameless) are doing your best of turn me into the blog version of "Joseph and his coat of many colors" (from the Bible ... don't you people read ANYTHING that is NOT in blog format?!), and are doing your darndest to cast me into a pit of despair in order to sell me into emotional slavery. In a manner of speaking.
Okay, for those of you (what? only one person left? traitors!) who truly are appreciative of my efforts, and are eager to embrace my ideas, here are several more business concepts.
"Get Bent". A yoga center for Type-A, hard chargers. For those high-energy yuppies out there who let nothing - and no one - stand in their way. Wreaking havoc and hatred everywhere they go, yet striving for inner peace. Those fingers extended to them from vehicles that they cut off serve as constant reminders of their standing 1PM yoga sessions.
"Good For Sheet Music". A humble, old-timey emporium for any form of music that can be transcribed onto paper. From ABBA to ZZ-Top, we have it all. Yanni, pan-flute solos, there is nothing that we cannot provide. Attractive females are welcome to ask about our lay-a-way plan for expensive out-of-print music.
"Mechanic Depressive". An automotive repair center for us emotional roller coaster types. Upset about your latest breakdown? So are these folks. Steamed about the bill? They are equally out-raged. Delighted about the quick turnaround? As you will note by the free-flowing alcohol throughout the shop, so are they. Despondent that the automakers just don't make 'em like they used to? Why, they are downright suicidal.
Hi all. Girlgoyle wrote a recent post on her blog where she contemplated possible alternative careers. And as often is the case, she provoked me into serious reflection.
So today I find myself mulling over my own career path. Am I complacent enough to continue doing what I've done for the past umpteen years? Or is now the time to pursue something wildly different? An endeavor perhaps that is challenging, but not too daunting?
I should get off of my lazy ass and do something.
So I went through my wish list of those professions that I find intriguing, as I periodically do, to see if the time is right for me to take the plunge and commit to a new line of work.
Based on preliminary research, I've arrived at the most viable option. Law.
Now don't get me wrong. I have self-doubts and questions about my own mediocrity that concern me considerably about my chances for success in this demanding discipline. Sure, I look GOOD in a suit and all, but is that really enough?
Fortunately, I've just come across some new information that has removed all doubt.
The exchanges immediately following are taken from ACTUAL COURT TESTIMONIES. In light of this new evidence, I believe that I just may have what it takes to hold my own in a courtroom. Move over, Matlock.
ATTORNEY: What is your date of birth? WITNESS: July 18th. ATTORNEY: What year? WITNESS: Every year.
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact? WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
ATTORNEY: This "myasthenia gravis", does it affect your memory at all? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory? WITNESS: I forget. ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
ATTORNEY: How old is your son, the one living with you? WITNESS: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which. ATTORNEY: How long has he lived with you? WITNESS: Forty-five years.
ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning? WITNESS: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?" ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you? WITNESS: My name is Susan.
ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo? WITNESS: We both do. ATTORNEY: Voodoo? WITNESS: We do. ATTORNEY: You do? WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning? WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
ATTORNEY: The youngest Son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he? WITNESS: Uh, he's twenty-one.
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken? WITNESS: Would you repeat the question?
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time? WITNESS: Uh ....
ATTORNEY: She had the three children, right? WITNESS: Yes. ATTORNEY: How many were boys? WITNESS: None. ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated? WITNESS: By death. ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual? WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard. ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney? WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people? WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to? WITNESS: Oral.
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body? WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m. ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time? WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy on him.
ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample? WITNESS: Huh?
ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy? WITNESS: No. ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor? WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar. ATTORNEY: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless? WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law
If there's one thing America needs, it's more lawyers. Can you imagine a world without lawyers? - Lionel Hutz
I never thought that I'd reach this comfort level with you folks so quickly into this new hobby. So I hope that you don't think me too presumptuous in extending this offer.
You see, I'm trying to sell a bed frame I recently purchased. I ordered it over the Internet, and must admit that it was a bit of an impulse buy. Now that it's arrived, I realize that it doesn't go with any of my oak furniture.
I can't send it back because it was made to order. The bed frame is 100% hand carved and imported from India. The mattress is orthopedic, is brand new, and hasn't been slept on.
I thought I would give you, my loyal blog readers (that's right, all 3 or 4 of you), first dibs, but if you do know of anyone else who might be interested, please pass this on, as I'd like to sell it ASAP. I have end tables to match.
I haven't thought of an asking price yet, but if you're interested let me know and we'll sort something out.