"..And now, give a big Senate Floor welcome to Metallica"

Not too long ago I listened to music, but never really listened to the music. I didn't listen to the musicians either. In retrospect, it was probably better that way, because as I've found, some musicians can be idiots.

It seems like there's an ever increasing number of musicians and actors/actresses that are trying to put in their two cents on the political scene. My question is this: Why do they think they're qualified to speak out on anything other than music/acting? I don't go to a plumber to get financial advice, and conversely, I don't ask a financial advisor how to unclog a sink. It just wouldn't make sense. Everyone knows that the ego's in Hollywood are, well, slightly inflated. I think that's where this whole trend started. Someone got a little big for their britches. While sitting in their 25,000 square foot mansion they decided that America needed to know how they felt. Why wouldn't we? We're paying them millions to pretend, logically we desperately need to know who they're going to vote for. Right? Wrong. I don't know any Rock and Roll hall of famers, or anyone who's made a multi-million dollar film personally, but judging by the media there are some pretty immoral, irresponsible people in the entertainment industry. Drug abuse, alcohol abuse, 15 minute marriages, and a varitable cornucopia of other run-ins with the law seem to be the norm. Granted, they are American citizens, and they do have the right to voice their opinions, and vote for whomever they please (unless they've commited a felony...no voting for them), what really stews my bean is why anyone would actually listen to them. Why people? What makes us think that they know anything more than we do? Maybe in between films and concerts they're studying political science? No, maybe they've got a direct line into Washinton, they're privvy to classified information that we don't have? No, maybe they're just a load of pompous windbags that think we'll listen to them because we "love" them. Bingo. Sadly enough plenty of people do listen to them. People my age have grown up watching hours and hours of TV, it's become the loud Uncle. You know what I'm talking about. The one uncle that's always telling dirty jokes, always teaching you a new bad word, always fooling you into pulling his finger. We've gotten to the point that if we see it on TV, it's gospel. It has to be true. Thus anyone that's been on TV has to be trustworthy. Hopefully we'll see a paradigm shift in the near future. The youth (and some of our elders) will start listening to people who actually know politics. But that's a slippery slope too. Define 'know politics'. But that's another story. Moral of this story, don't be an idiot...and if you can't help but be an idiot, don't talk, and for heavens sake don't vote.

Devious Interference

Hello all. I've just returned from a riveting jaunt through the local shops here in town. Why? Chocolate frozen yogurt. Yes. That is the sole reason I left the house. It's been raining for two straight days, so I was more than content sitting here at the house, but the prospect of chocolate in frozen form was more than I could handle. You may be saying "What is this? Who cares? Where's the beef?" I'm getting to it. Wait for it. Ok.

Whilst walking through one of these stores (full of 'home decor', rustic type things, manly things I assure you) I was drawn to something. I couldn't explain it. It was a clock, it had a fish on it. At that moment I knew I must own it. The sign outside said 25% off everything, so I'm thinking I can get this thing for about ten bucks, it was huge, so logically it exceeded my $4.00 clock price maximum. I look for a price tag to no avail. So I asked the shopkeep. She informs me that it's ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS. It's a clock. It does nothing but tell time. There is no way on God's green Earth that I would pay that for something that has a single, albeit important, purpose. I walk away, sure that I'm the only intelligent person in the shop. The only person smart enough to not give into this madness. Across the room I see two guys whipping out credit cards. I was completely confused. These were men...buying lamps? Ugly lamps at that, they had some frilly bead things hanging off of them. Then I noticed one had a purse (I know there's another name for it, european handbag or something, but really, lets call a spade a spade). It hit me. These two guys weren't near as straight as I am, in fact, they may not be straight at all. For some reason my patented Gaydar hadn't registered a thing. I stood motionless, frightened at the prospect of a life without Gaydar. I noticed a soft music playing in the background, it was John Mayer. That was it...the store was running Gaydar interference. It was devious. It clouded the mind. I knew something was wrong the moment I walked in. Something in the back of my mind said "Oooh, 25% off" and "Look at that tea cozy". Thoughts that had never graced my mind. This store wasn't satisfied catering to only women and gay men, they were drawing in the straight men as well. Like I said, devious. I knew I had to get out of there, my straightness could only withstand so much John Mayer and scented candles. But...just....can't...leave...need to...spend...money. NO. There's nothing here for me. Nothing. Or was there? I couldn't be sure. Nothing made sense. Up was down, north was south, John Mayer wasn't as gay as I once thought, was he?

The story doesn't end there, I wish it had. Good news is that I made it out alive, and still batting for team Hetero. Bad news is that I walked out of there with a $200.00 set of Moose antlers. Before you judge, take this into consideration: someone had to kill that moose to get those antlers, and thats just manly enough to not be gay.

Breaking Scientific News

In exactly one week I will be another year older. Doesn't seem like it's been a year, but I've got a theory about that. You see, I believe that time spent in front of a computer goes double time. Something about a flat panel monitor bends the space-time fabric, makes an hour feel like a half-hour. Hard to substantiate? Yes. So in the intrest of science I'm going to perform a study, the whole theory looks a little something like this:

Lets say that the average human male lifespan is, oh, 77 years. According to my theory those 77 years would actually feel more like 38.5. Knowing that, my life span should extend to 154 years, double what it should be. The more pressing question is this...if that theory holds true, does it not stand to reason that the 154 years would also seem like less time, thus doubling the life expectancy again? Could this not continue infinitely?

I know what you're thinking..."Sweet fancy Moses! That brilliant, sexy, unbelieveable wordsmith/genius has stumbled upon the fountain of youth!" To that I say...guilty as charged. It just came to me, no degree from Stanford, no apprenticeship with Stephen Hawking, no Atkins Dieting...just sheer and complete genius. I've already performed preliminary testing on male chimpanzee's with LCD televisions...the results are astounding. Not only did they live longer, but they also gained the ability to block out the vocal sound wavelength of the female chimpanzee or "angry noise" as we grew to call it. This split our camp in twain. Half of the scientists stood firm in the belief that the LCD screen itself was the source of the life lengthening; the other half now believes that it is the chimps new found ability to block out "angry noise" that did the trick. Both sides could be right, it's just too early to tell. One thing is certain, the results of this experiment will likely change the lives of every male chimpanzee, and human, forever.

"I'm, like, a total non-conformist...turn on the Mtv"

It happened sooner than I thought. Can't say I didn't see it coming, it's been a slow going process. I've grown jaded. No doubt about it. As I sat in my hotel last week, bored, I flipped on the TV. Unfortunately I've got 17 channels to choose from, two Mtv's, a VH1, as well as the standard assortment of local channels. I'm 22, plenty young enough to watch a little Mtv. I dial it in and kick back. Immediately something catches my eye, some guy standing there in an Anarchy t-shirt. This started a late night think tank in my Holiday Inn Express hotel room. Define Irony: A teenage boy wearing an Anarchy t-shirt on the channel that touts it's "non-conformity"stance, all the while causing hundreds of thousands of kids to conform to their non-conformist way of thinking. Confused? Stay with me on this. Picture young Jimmy. He's a skater that listens to Green Day, thinks Che Guevarra was an anarchist (he wasn't, he was communist), and wears his black anarchist shirt to stick it to the man. He's a self proclaimed non-conformist, yet by listening to Green Day and wearing his Anarchy shirt he's conformed on oh so many levels (I didn't forget the Che Guevarra thing...anyone who wears a shirt without knowing whats on it and what it stands for is an idiot, but thats another story). The problem is that human beings are almost completely incapable of being non-conformist. We want to conform, we need to conform...because we need to belong to something. Some join a bowling league, some join a book club, some claim to be non-conformists. I don't really have a beef with them I suppose, though I disagree with everything they believe (the whole "let man govern himself, we don't need no stinkin government" thing...yeah right), I guess I just wish they would call themselves the name they used to go by...Punk. Thats right, anyone who lived in the late eighties/early nineties knows what I'm talking about. Anyone who listened to Rancid was Punk. They didn't have Che Guevarra T-shirts, they just thought that by dressing like cadavers and putting metal studs where they don't belong they could be different, and they were. Then they tried to apply some sort of message or mission statement with it, and it all went down the toilet. I think my point is this, if you really want to be a "non-conformist" don't wear an anarchy t-shirt, in fact, don't wear a shirt at all. Shave your head and tatoo a big L on it, wear a kilt, paint your toenails hunter orange, and listen to Perry Como. I'll bet everything I own that there won't be another person like you on this earth. Don't want to do that? Then quit with the "I'm so different, look at me" bull. It's ok to be different, most of the time, but you nullify your non-conformist stance by wanting people to look at you. I think that about does it. I'm not sure it all makes sense, sort of came out like a stream of consciousness. Any questions can be forwarded to the "Adopt a washed up hippie/confused non-conformist Foundation (AWUHCNCF for short). Until next time...

North Bound

Just thought I'd drop in and make a quick post, trying to keep up my "post a month" status you know. Early tomorrow morning I'm bound for the great white north...Michigan. Now, normally visiting Michigan in the spring would be nice. A decent 60 degrees. Weather forcast for my stay? 30-50 degrees at best, windy, cloudy, and a chance of rain/snow. Cold weather and I don't get along well, I live in Texas, if it gets down to 50 we're starting a fire. So, my suitcase looks like I'm going on an Antarctic voyage (still haven't decided whether I'm taking the Thermal Underwear).

Now, for those of you who know me, you know that I cannot post without stating an opinion about something. The target of my disdain this evening...telemarketers. I know they need a job, probably have families and bills and blah blah blah. But honestly, do I need someone to call me every night to fill me in on the benefits of satellite television? I'm sure it's great. Clear picture, 150 sports channels and all the Home Shopping Network your checkbook can stand, but crap, if I've turned you down fifteen days in a row, what makes you think I'm going to give in now? If I was giving in, I'd have done it thirteen days ago. Whats worse is that they're calling me with a recording now. It's one thing to be mentally assailed by a live human being, you get the tactile pleasure of hanging up on someone, thinking you ruined their evening in the same way they did yours. But a machine, it has no feelings, it just dials the next poor chump. I only hope that those recordings don't record what I'm saying to them. I'm pretty sure if those tapes got out it would ruin my chances at running for Governor of Texas. Along the same lines, I've started accrueing an unusual amount of junk mail. Piles of it. Credit cards, magazines, SATELLITE TV ads, people asking for donations, and the list goes on and on. I have enough credit cards, ask my bank if you don't believe me. I don't subscribe to magazines anymore, because for every fifty pages I pay for, forty-five of them are ads. I wouldn't mind having satellite TV, but if I gave in now I could never look at myself in the mirror again. And I do donate money, every two weeks, lots of it. A large portion of my salary goes to Joe Dontwannajob so that he can buy the good beer and afford a new hood for his '83 Firebird. If all that wasn't enough, I get even more crap in my email. Though these ads are a bit saltier, and a bit insulting. I mean, one male enhancement pill ad I can handle, but sixty a day? Makes me think someones been talking...and I'll find you. I was sure that the worst was over though. These foul temptresses of the advertising world had infiltrated every medium in my life...except one. My cell phone had remained pure, until yesterday. I picked up the phone and SatPro TV service began whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I sat there, nonplussed, and simply said "Ah SatPro recording, we meet again."