Just so everyone knows--my one reader--I'm not going to be posting here but will continue posting on my original blog: the blog about nothing.
I wanted to create a blog here that was just for comedy and left out most of the pop culture and politics that gets mentioned on the other blog, but now I realize that I can't keep up with both.
Please continue reading here, if you would:
http://www.justyler.blogspot.com
Pig Skin Breakout
I can’t say that I have Superbowl Fever. Today, I caught myself thinking about the season as history, not even remembering the event coming up in days. I have more of a Superbowl hangnail, or a Superbowl headache. But not the kind of headache that knocks you on the rear—more of the kind that’s not even bad enough to remember to take aspirin for.
Sure, I’m excited about the cola commercials, and the witty catch phrases that will be birthed on that Sunday eve, but I’m not real stoked about the game. Football in February? Why don’t I just eat some hot soup in August?
Kurt Warner is a good story, as always. He was bagging groceries as an adult male before being picked up in the CFL. I bagged groceries, and here I am. So there’s that.
If KW can go from bag boy to two-time Superbowl QB, can’t I live out my dreams? Can’t I make money writing bad jokes on a free blog? Or dance? That would be exciting.
After giving it some thought, I take it back, I have Superbowl acid indigestion.
Sure, I’m excited about the cola commercials, and the witty catch phrases that will be birthed on that Sunday eve, but I’m not real stoked about the game. Football in February? Why don’t I just eat some hot soup in August?
Kurt Warner is a good story, as always. He was bagging groceries as an adult male before being picked up in the CFL. I bagged groceries, and here I am. So there’s that.
If KW can go from bag boy to two-time Superbowl QB, can’t I live out my dreams? Can’t I make money writing bad jokes on a free blog? Or dance? That would be exciting.
After giving it some thought, I take it back, I have Superbowl acid indigestion.
New Year's Year
My New Year’s Resolution is to use the following year to think of better New Year’s Resolutions. It is a resolution to resolute, if I have the resolve.
Simple goals will not suffice. I need something exciting, like growing 3 inches in height, or learning non-assisted human flight. I would also like to create the opposite of the microwave and learn what sounds a giraffe makes. If possible I’d like to learn to speak Giraffe and control my own giraffe army.
2010 is going to be big.
Simple goals will not suffice. I need something exciting, like growing 3 inches in height, or learning non-assisted human flight. I would also like to create the opposite of the microwave and learn what sounds a giraffe makes. If possible I’d like to learn to speak Giraffe and control my own giraffe army.
2010 is going to be big.
Low Prices
If I have to be my own cashier at Wal-Mart now at the self check out, shouldn’t I be able to slip myself a 20 from the till at each purchase? That’s how I got fired from there in college.
If the Wal-Mart people have a problem with that, I’ll tell them it was a bad idea hiring me again, considering my record.
Rats And Water
Going to Disney World is like paying 48 bucks to have a heat stroke. The entire time you are trying to find shade and cold water, so much so that Adventure land becomes an adventurous quest against dehydration and cramps. You question your own future in Land Of Tomorrow as the hallucinations kick in.
Stuck in a world of magical robots, cutting edge rides, and 6 dollar sodas, you take it all in with a grain of salt. The grain has formed on your face from you sweating profusely, and that is helpful as you could just shake your head to season your 11 dollar fries.
And Mickey is like the Jimmy Hoffa of the place; you can never find him. Finally you find the spot where they set up an elaborate roped maze; you wait in line for an hour to hug the sweaty teen-ager who is manning the suit. And that teen is about three bratty kids away from going on a spree and booting tots left and right with those huge shoes. You’ve paid for this experience.
As a kid, you have no choice, as that’s where your favorite characters live.
Could we come up with this idea now if these places never existed? Come up with a few cartoon movies, get kids excited about them, and then build a place and tell the kids that this is where the cartoons are. People take out second mortgages to make the pilgrimage, and we rake in the dough. You have to credit Disney for being such a good showman.
My park would not have as lovable as a character as Mickey. Mine would be Pete the sock puppet. Pete’s movie would be animated by drawing him on a stack of legal pads and flipping them through the scenes on my cell phone camera. I would tell people that Pete lives in my back yard, under my grill.
There would be other characters like Ted the Weed Eater, and Chris the Lawn Mower. I would charge 50 dollars and allow the families to hang out with the characters while mowing my lawn. Magical.
But I would provide free ice water.
Stuck in a world of magical robots, cutting edge rides, and 6 dollar sodas, you take it all in with a grain of salt. The grain has formed on your face from you sweating profusely, and that is helpful as you could just shake your head to season your 11 dollar fries.
And Mickey is like the Jimmy Hoffa of the place; you can never find him. Finally you find the spot where they set up an elaborate roped maze; you wait in line for an hour to hug the sweaty teen-ager who is manning the suit. And that teen is about three bratty kids away from going on a spree and booting tots left and right with those huge shoes. You’ve paid for this experience.
As a kid, you have no choice, as that’s where your favorite characters live.
Could we come up with this idea now if these places never existed? Come up with a few cartoon movies, get kids excited about them, and then build a place and tell the kids that this is where the cartoons are. People take out second mortgages to make the pilgrimage, and we rake in the dough. You have to credit Disney for being such a good showman.
My park would not have as lovable as a character as Mickey. Mine would be Pete the sock puppet. Pete’s movie would be animated by drawing him on a stack of legal pads and flipping them through the scenes on my cell phone camera. I would tell people that Pete lives in my back yard, under my grill.
There would be other characters like Ted the Weed Eater, and Chris the Lawn Mower. I would charge 50 dollars and allow the families to hang out with the characters while mowing my lawn. Magical.
But I would provide free ice water.
Future Letdown
This is the future. According to Terminator 2, we should be being taken over by skeletal governors (who use lasers) by now, GI Joe promised giant battles full of weapons of mass destruction, shooting giant lasers without anyone getting killed, and then there was Star Wars, with the many lasers buzzing overhead and even swords that could be used as a laser stick to beat your least favorite family member with.
But now, in the future, we are void of any lasers, unless you want to get your eyes lasered, which actually improves things. Where are the lasers that destroy things? Where is our Death Star? If we had a star it would be called the Life Star or the Lilly Star, a Pansy Star.
The only recent sci-fi weapon I have seen come out is this one that shoots sonic waves. It's is a great non-lethal way to fight, but when you boil it down, it just makes the bad guys sick to their tummies. We don't need a multi-million dollar weapon for that, just go pick up some fish tacos off the vendor on 5th st, downtown Austin.
Lasers had a bit of a buzz when the laser pointers came out a decade ago. They were used to point at butts on the movie screen, or to allow your favorite animal to go nuts chasing something that is unfetchable, or my favorite: shooting the eyes of mimes as they try to practice their mimery--the perfect crime, because mimes don't talk. But what a let down laser pointers have been after that, never actually getting to the point where they can sear skin.
Bullets are so 90's. Lasers are in, but they aren't here yet. They're so in they don't even exist. Hunters could just lop the heads off of non suspecting deer with the swoop of their laser pen. Then the pen would be mightier than the sword, unless that sword was a laser sword, and then I would have to reassess this validity of this phrase using my laser powered abacus.
Could you imagine what lasers would do for our culinary industry? Imagine the taste of a laser cooked pizza. Deep laser fried buffalo wings. Laser Fondue? Forget the Foreman grill, you could just point your laser cooker across the room to grill that patty o' beef.
I know what you are asking yourself, why does this guy get to complain, was he born with a silver spoon in his mouth? No, it was a silver laser gun waiting for lasers to be invented, and yet it still sits idly.
Three words for ya: Laser flavored cola.
Robots:
And while we are talking about that, let’s talk robotics. How long has the Hall of Presidents been up at Disney, 20 years? And not once have the robots come to life to attack anyone or to try to attempt to become more human. Could you imagine a Robo-Lincoln as the robot that attacked America?
Not only would it be scary but inspiring. Robo-Nixon would be flashing his peace signs before he gnashed his teeth on our cities power supply so that the robo presidents could attack us at dark, and Robo-Clinton could go to all the jails and free all the criminals in a sort of robotic pardoning process.
Now let's talk hand drying systems for a minute.
Having a hot air hand dryer on the bathroom wall is the same as having a sign saying: “Dry your hands on your pants, germophobe.” Unless you want to take the full 6 minutes to see each bead of water roll off of your hands, these units are a farce, like wrinkle free pants or self cleaning ovens (also future letdowns).
It is respectful when they give you a choice and the bathroom has both a hot air dryer and a paper towel dispenser. Those with no jobs or anything else to live for can spend their time massaging their hands under the mounted blow dryer, while the rest of civilization uses a piece of paper.
And the paper dispensers are getting greedy; as with the new robotic sensors, you are allowed only one piece after you do some type of African rain dance underneath it. For 5 minutes I am flashing gang signs, sloshing water all over the floor and mirror, before the computer decides I am worthy enough to have a square sheet of sanding paper.
By now we ought to have animal powered solutions for these problems. The Flintstones had a dinosaur garbage disposal--can’t we have a squirrel powered hand dryer? The little guy runs in a circle for a walnut, spinning a soft cloth around your hands until he has a heart attack and is replaced by the next willing squirrel. Is this so wrong? Why hasn’t animal slavery been expanded? If gorillas can do sign language, they can do my laundry. Bald Eagle powered kite flying? Duck Billed Platypus grilled cheese sandwich flipper? Manatee pool floats?
Stay Back!
Driving down the road this morning, my truck was bombarded by several chunks of gravel. It was like the millennium falcon driving through an asteroid field. When I looked up at the truck well in front of me, I saw that little warning sign: stay back 200 feet, or company is not liable.
Now, I couldn’t actually read that, because I was around 130 feet back, and the only one who could read this sign from that far back would be someone with a robotic eagle eye.
And how would the company not be liable? If I filled my truck full of light weight steak knives and drove at high speeds, cutting off people and slamming my breaks to watch the cutlery fly overhead, would I be ok as long as I had a sign?
A person would walk up to me with a knife edge sticking through his temple, “Uh, sir?”
“Read the sign buddy,” I would say. And then he would cry. He hadn’t read the sign and it was his fault that he had a Ginsu sticking through his cranium.
Has technology not caught up with proper gravel truck tarp coverage? The other day I saw an artificial heart placed in an endangered Panda, but we can’t put a tarp on a gravel truck? Let the Pandas die, I say.
Why can’t a truck full of marshmallow have a faulty tarp?
Now, I couldn’t actually read that, because I was around 130 feet back, and the only one who could read this sign from that far back would be someone with a robotic eagle eye.
And how would the company not be liable? If I filled my truck full of light weight steak knives and drove at high speeds, cutting off people and slamming my breaks to watch the cutlery fly overhead, would I be ok as long as I had a sign?
A person would walk up to me with a knife edge sticking through his temple, “Uh, sir?”
“Read the sign buddy,” I would say. And then he would cry. He hadn’t read the sign and it was his fault that he had a Ginsu sticking through his cranium.
Has technology not caught up with proper gravel truck tarp coverage? The other day I saw an artificial heart placed in an endangered Panda, but we can’t put a tarp on a gravel truck? Let the Pandas die, I say.
Why can’t a truck full of marshmallow have a faulty tarp?
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