Cashin'-in the Family Jewels

Recently, a friend mentioned she is neutering her male puppy. Since her husband is a friend of mine, I hoped for his sake she was referring to the dog ...

- doesn't matter if it's a gnat, a dog, or a fellow human being, most men wince whenever the topic of castration rears its ugly head. It's only natural, after all. We were born with those dangling nuggets of fascination, and would feel like less of ourselves if they were somehow neutralized, or, heaven forbid, removed.

Oh sure, neutering a dog eliminates the risk of producing unwanted puppies, but some people use this procedure to control behavior as well. Is your dog too aggressive? Neuter him. Is your dog trying to impose his dominance on your chinos? Neuter him. Does he jump up too much? Neuter him. Does he bark? Neuter him. Does he seem to actually give a shit about anything? Neuter him. In short, if you want your dog to act like you bought him at Build-A-Bear, neuter him.

This attempt to modify behavior isn't exclusive to dogs, either. Historically, human beings have also been castrated in an attempt to make the male subject better-equipped for a particular task.

Ever hear of a eunuch? These poor bastards sacrificed their manhood so they could guard harems. That's right. The resident kingpin had a bevy of wives for his fornicating pleasure, and the eunuchs got clipped so they could be trusted to stand guard, and not succumb to any sexual temptations. I don't care what you do for a living, that guy has you beat on the shitty-job-continuum.

How about the castrati? In the old days, women weren't allowed to sing in church, so young boys with angelic voices would get snipped so they could continue to sing the upper register into their adulthood. Of course, those young boys weren't making those decisions for themselves, some adult did them that favor.

This is ancient history, though. Right? Society has evolved too far for this to be a modern problem. Well, not so fast. Alessandro Moreschi, the last eunuch in the Sistine Chapel choir, expired in 1922. That was less than a hundred years ago ...

I look at my young sons, and imagine someone asking me if I'd like to donate their gonads for the sake of this year's Christmas pageant, and I believe, without too much hesitation, I'd reply: "are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?!!!" What sort of nut-case agrees to this sort of proposition?

So that brings us back to the big question: when is the right time to neuter someone or something?

First of all, I don't think castration and behavior modification should ever be used in the same paragraph. If you need to get someone or something to behave differently, try training them or getting them therapy. Keep the sharp implements away from the family jewels, okay?

That said, practically speaking, I suppose it's responsible to neuter a dog or cat so they don't overpopulate the world, but boy, even as I write this, I can't help but think how happy I am that WE'RE not THEIR pets ...

Roadkill

Every year, when summer begins, there are certain constants upon which we can rely: car-travel increases as vacationers take to the streets to reach recreational destinations and, in response to that increased traffic, fuel prices increase for no better reason than there are extra profits to be made.

Well, apparently, the animal kingdom got the memo, and they've decided to take action!

This morning, in Fredon, New Jersey, a black bear "unexpectedly" ran onto a highway, and collided with a northbound motorcycle. The cyclist avoided serious injury, and it was reported the bear returned to the woods, seemingly unscathed.

Three days earlier, a raccoon, described as acrobatic and mean-spirited, knocked out power to the area and was blamed for creating a five hour traffic delay in Memphis, Tennessee.

These are not random acts, people. We have encroached upon the animals' domain to such an extent, the animals are now exhibiting signs of exhausted tolerance.

For centuries, man and beast coexisted, but as man's insatiable thirst for conquest continued to stretch the boundaries of its society, consequently reducing the free-range animal lands, relations between the two groups have become strained.

Even if they agreed to recognize man's legislative group and its self-proclaimed authority, without the privilege of opposable thumbs, the animals are physically incapable of drafting thoughtful prose requesting agreed-upon boundaries. Therefore, they must be a collective species of action-takers. It seems, at first, they are willing to merely be disruptive, and not take human life, but as this summer season progresses, I fear the damage inflicted by these embittered beasts will become more perilous and terminal. No doubt, both sides will sustain losses.

As a word of caution, please beware of potential attacks as you travel to the beach or into the mountains this summer. The nation's wild residents have sent a message. To those who do not heed that warning, imminent peril awaits, whether it's physical injury, or the torturous mental warfare imposed by hours of unnecessary traffic.

Let us all consider ourselves warned.

To Tweet or Not To Tweet, That is the ...FIRE!!!

Last week, in a small room in a Utah penitentiary,Donnie Lee Gardner was executed for his crimes against society - probably no big loss there. What makes this particularly newsworthy is the fact that Gardner selected firing squad over lethal injection as his preferred method of execution. The REALLY newsworthy part of this is this may have been the first execution that was caught on Twitter.

Utah Attorney General Mark Shurtleff tweeted "I just gave the go ahead to Corrections Director to proceed with Gardner's execution. May God grant him the mercy he denied his victims." This was the extent of the message the news media shared; however, according to reliable sources, the Attorney General went on to tweet "and I had the burrito of a lifetime at lunch. Man, I need some Beano - stat! LOL!"

Obesity: the Heavy Favorite for Solving Our Problems!

Think about this for a second:

By definition, one is considered "obese" if one is 20 pounds over one's ideal weight. According to the Center for Disease Control, 30% of Americans are obese.

To put this into perspective, the US population now exceeds 300 million people. That means there are 90 million obese Americans ... and about 7 million obese illegal aliens!

Oh sure, it's sad that our population is fat and getting fatter every year, and it's too bad everyone can't exhibit the will power of a tri-athlete, but let's look beyond this finger-pointing and get down to the real guts of the issue: Obese people are a very large demographic; therefore, there's a LOT of money to be made exploiting them!

Here's an example.

A typical casket is 28 inches wide, but a company named Goliath Caskets (the name kind of says it all, doesn't it?), provides over-sized caskets for large (ie: obese) people. These caskets range in size from 29" wide ("Harvest Style" - only slightly larger than normal), to 33"-35" wide ("Heartland Style"), to the grand poobah of hugeness, the "Homestead Style" which increases all the way to 52 inches wide.

The average person is 18" wide, so you could practically lay out three average people side-by-side in a Homestead (which is the width of a full size bed).

The owners of Goliath Caskets, and their competitors are brilliant. Shockingly, obese people tend to die, just like the rest of us, but until now, their families have been forced to bury them in piano cases, or used Hyundais. Now, they can enjoy the same morbidly arcane send-off as the other 70% of the population. Oh sure, they'll probably require more than the standard half-dozen pall bearers, but fat people are jolly, so they probably have plenty of friends who would be willing to help.

Clearly, there's serious cash to be made from a 90 million-person group.

The 2010 study of "The U.S. Weight Loss & Diet Control Market" estimates the diet industry consumes nearly $80 billion per year. That's the equivalent of 22.4 billion Big Macs, or 248 Big Macs for every obese person - about one every day-and-a-half!

Along those lines, can you imagine 22.4 billion Big Macs being sold per year? Well, guess what, McDonald's actually sells FIVE HUNDRED FIFTY MILLION Big Macs per year (or about 6 Big Macs per obese person per year), producing gross sales of nearly $2 billion. Of course, not all these Big Macs are sold in the US. A few dozen per year are probably sold in other places, like France, or Canada.

We're all griping and moaning about the economy, and we're wondering what's going to pull us out of these doldrums. Financiers and economists point to Federal bail-outs, banking reform and technological advances as the necessary catalysts to rescue us. I disagree.

All we need to do is focus on fat people. Give them what they want, because clearly, they are consumers. Produce and sell more fattening foods. Convince them they need to lose weight and push the pills, foods, and equipment necessary to help them accomplish these goals, and then prepare for their failure by making everything in full sizes - clothes, chairs, doorways, elevators, etc. Ultimately, standard sized items will need to be replaced in wholesale fashion, and the resultant retrofitting of America will spur on EVERY industry.

Back in the 80s, there was Reaganomics which was basically the theory that an increased availability of money for investment will increase productivity, economic activity, and income throughout the economic system. Today, I'm proposing we adopt a new term: "Chubbynomics."

If all the chubbies out there start spending more, more money will be funneled into the economy which will spur on the entire economic system. As for me, I'm doing my part. I had a Sausage McMuffin with Egg for breakfast, and placed my order for a "Heartland" this afternoon!

How a Man Protects Himself from Alien Mind Control

There once was a man from Des Moines,
Who wore aluminum over his groin,
When plainly asked why,
he said “I won’t lie,
my brains are contained in my loins.”

Have I Got a Deal for YOU!

Say "car shopping" to some people, and they groan and climb back under the covers where it's safe. "Call me when it's over!" is their battle cry.

For these people, car-buying is a long, drawn-out, dissatisfying process that leaves them financially, emotionally and physically drained. Frankly, it's a lot like a colonoscopy, without the entertaining flatulence.

For some of us, though, car-buying is an invigorating process, complete with hours of research and preparation. A true car-shopper walks into a dealership prepared for battle. That consumer knows everything about the car - list price, invoice price, what the manufacturer is giving the dealer as a sales incentive, what residual rates are, what the money factors are, etc. He or she is a fair player who tells the salesman exactly what is desired and expected, and then both parties begin the dance.

Today I went off to war, with the family in tow, equipped with reams of knowledge and tactics, and arrived at a dealer who informed us straight away that they have a strict "no haggle" policy, and they post their best prices on the windshields of the cars in their lot. Receiving that kind of news is like getting ready for a blind date and then finding out the blind date is actually with your sister.

I was crippled with ennui.

We drove the car and liked it, and the salesman insisted on telling us how his dealership is different, how competitive their prices are, and how he doesn't get a "commission" for selling cars, but rather a "volume incentive."

Does anyone actually believe this garbage?

These guys are great at sharing statistics to back-up their claims, too. We were informed that "64% of car shoppers don't like to haggle." My response to that was 78% of all statistics are made up.

What kind of spineless worm walks into a car dealer and accepts the dealer's price at face value?

The goal of a savvy car-buyer should be to leave the dealer with as little profit as he'll accept. In the "haggle free" arena, because the price isn't being tested, the profit is quadrupled. Of course the car dealer doesn't want to haggle; he's making a fortune on every deal by not negotiating. Don't buyers recognize this?

The car salesmen in the haggle-free environment are pretty lackluster, also. They're just "order takers" spewing words off a script. Our saleskid today actually read us his pitch straight off a flip chart.

The first item on the chart was "we value your time." How can they possibly value our time if they're going to wantonly waste it by forcing us to sit through a flip chart presentation?

Several pages later, he got to "payment options," and the chart actually listed "cash." Was that entry really necessary? Are there people out there who are not aware that a purchase can be made with cash? Really??? This just proves what insipid sheep they believe their customers are.

Finally he asked the magical questions: "what do you expect to receive from your trade-in and what kind of payment are you looking for on your new car?" These are ridiculous questions. After all, if I was to be perfectly honest, I'd reply that I want at least double what my vehicle is worth as a trade-in, and I want to remit one, single lonely dollar each month as a payment. For the sake of perpetuating a productive relationship, though, I shared my expectations for a trade-in, based upon statistical facts I'd compiled, and also provided a payment ceiling, again, based upon research and hard-data.

Even though the dealership valued our time, it squandered more than thirty minutes of it to come back to us with answers: the trade-in was $3,000 less than expected, and the monthly payment was $240 more than our ceiling. Apparently, this dealership was not only a "haggle-free" zone, but a "listening-free" zone, as well.

At no time were any actual facts provided to validate their numbers, just more fabricated statistics and dismissive comments about our own data.

We left.

Two hours later, we leased a new car ... from someone else.

Dealership #2 greeted us candidly: "There are eleven days left to the month. I have a quota and things have been slow. If there's a deal to be made, we'll make it."

Armed with the same facts and expectations, we convinced this dealer to offer us a fair value for our trade-in, and we negotiated a sales price that netted them a $500 profit. That's how this stuff is supposed to work!

The mere existence of haggle-free car dealerships proves there's a conspiracy against the spineless segment of our society.

In years past, if one didn't wish to negotiate with a car dealer, he, or she, merely paid the sticker price. Everyone knew the sticker price was an inflated rip-off, so the commonly held contention was anyone who paid list price was a rube.

Somehow, the auto industry marketing wonks have convinced an entire segment of the car buying community that paying a slightly marked-down version of a list price is acceptable. It's as if they're telling these weak-kneed buyers: "Here's a token discount, so you can tell your friends you got a deal and didn't pay list price, even though everyone here at the dealership is going to point and laugh at you when you walk out the front door with your new set of car keys." And people are buying into this!!!

Please, folks, don't encourage car dealers to implement such obscene business tactics. Caving into this behavior will just validate the process, and then more dealers will move in that direction. If that happens, some day, there will be no more haggling at all, and these final bastions of the free market process will die.

Worst of all, without negotiating, there's no need for true sales people, so car show rooms will be filled with pitch-quoting sales drones, instead of slick, competitive, negotiating adversaries. When that happens, the world will start spinning on a different axis - the market for plaid sports jackets will evaporate, and cheap gold jewelry and chest hair will vanish soon thereafter.

Next time, before you venture into that churning caldron known as the dealership salesfloor, ask yourself: "Am I a negotiator, or a spineless jellyfish?" If you're not up to the challenge, don't disgrace the process by succumbing to price fixing. Instead, accept your lot in life, and purchase a used moped on E-Bay (all things considered, you'll probably prefer the "buy it now" option). You may even want to take the next step, and simply take the bus from now on. The roadways are a competitive arena, and if you can't negotiate the price of your car, you're probably not appropriately equipped to negotiate your way through traffic with the rest of us.

And here's another fine mess

Smoking is the leading cause of death for both men and women in the United States. About 420,000 deaths occur each year as a result of cigarette smoking. By comparison, about 150 people per year die from coconuts falling on their heads, so you can see, this smoking thing is pretty serious.

Stan Laurel (comedic actor) was born on this day 120 years ago. Although he had been a heavy smoker most of his life, Laurel quit smoking at the age of 70. He died five years later of a heart attack (apparently no coconuts were involved in any way). Good thing he quit smoking!!!

Oz never did give nothin' to the Tin Man ...

Click on the image for a more-legible-sized image.

Julie/Julia/Paul

In the spirit of the now infamous Julie/Julia blog (where a young woman spent a year making Julia Childs’ recipes every day and commenting on it, blah blah blah), I’ve decided to incorporate something similar into this blog: Comments from Paul Childs as he endures Julia Childs’ cooking obsession.

Day 312:
- Not sure I can endure another day of this absurdly rich French food. I no longer own pants that fit, and my bowel movements have grown in size to the point they have clogged every sewer line from here to the Seine. I fear not refuse these meals, however, as my linebacker of a wife will most-certainly inflict severe physical harm upon my person if I fail to submit. Have you ever seen her wield a cleaver at a rack of lamb? For now, I sign off, your humble blogger, Paul

There's Safety in Our Dangerous Nature

This entry is going to require some open-mindedness and some willingness to bend one's belief system.

For a moment, let us dispel all disbelief and collectively agree there is, in fact, a supreme being. For some, that is a simple effort, but for others, it requires some serious logic-suppression.

Now that we have theoretically, collectively accepted the existence of a supreme being, let's stop there and refrain from trying to convince one another that one supreme being is the true supreme being and that other supreme beings are merely poseurs. For the sake of today's post, let's agree there's only one supreme being, and instead of trying to label him or her with a commonly accepted name like "God," or "Allah," or "Zeus," let's just call ours "Pat" - an appropriately androgynous label for a hypothetical supreme being.

Now, let's assume for a moment that "Pat" lives on an appropriately ginormous estate with acres and acres of rolling lawns and well-manicured gardens. Nestled within one of the gardens is a special, treasured plant, which Pat visits every day to observe and nurture. One day, Pat's gardener, Clovis, who's the equivalent of a middle-school drop-out from Arkansas, accidentally runs over Pat's favorite Pegasus with his zero-turn lawn mower.

Understandably, Pat gets ticked off and reprimands Clovis. Clovis' two brain cells synapticly connect for a fraction of a second, and before he returns to his mobile home, he exacts his revenge by using his other-worldy weed-wacker to chop down Pat's precious garden plant.

Now, let's assume we were a spot on the back of a ladybug on that plant. Freakin' Clovis!

This entire academic endeavor was intended to illustrate how we may not be the top of the food chain after all, but merely a speck in the universe. - not too difficult to fathom, really, is it? Religion mongers won't be too thrilled with this concept, since the basis for their teachings is that God is a man who looks and talks like us, has lived among us at some point in history, and will return again sometime in the future. Other people will also be uncomfortable because they need this validation of our own importance in the universe to feel safe. For some of us, however, the thought that we may be nothing more than a cog in a wheel is strangely liberating.

For example, if we accept the concept that we are only one sample among bazzilions of beings throughout our (and possbily other) universe(s), then perhaps we can also accept that other beings from other places roam our planet with us. Frankly, this is really sort of comforting, as it would explain the existence of "people" like Ru Paul, Hillary Clinton and Simon Cowell.

Other people are troubled by this concept though. Some, for example, believe other (let's call them Alien) beings will do them harm and, possibly, suck out their brains. For them, "Pat" created aluminum foil, so they can fashion themselves lovely head-wear to protect their precious grey matter ... no matter how flawed and damaged it may be. Truth be told, even sans aluminum foil, these people are safer than they may realize.

Before the aliens can ruin us, we'll most likely ruin them.

Consider the plight of one of our most notorious aliens: Tiger Woods.

Clearly, there is no other feasible explanation for Tiger Woods' existence than he is an alien. If you play golf, you completely understand this argument.

Much like how Jonathon and Martha Kent adopted Superman when he landed on Earth, so, have I assumed, Earl and Kutilda Woods adopted Tiger when he landed. Jonathon and Martha, and Earl and Kutilda nurtured and protected their fledgling super-beings, and kept them out of trouble, but just as Jonathon's death sent Clark to Metropolis to dress in tights, Earl's death sent Tiger into a philandering frenzy.

Why did this happen? Why did such perfect creatures adopt such strange tendencies? Because the human race is the most dangerous, corruptive force in the universe and we can pervert anything, anytime, anywhere. It was only a matter of time before the world's most-perfect golfer would have to check into a sex addiction clinic. That's outlandish, you say? How 'bout this.

What's the first thing a human being thinks when he or she happens upon a location of astounding and pure beauty? - "I need to buy this and build a house!"

We have this uncontrollable urge to change and pollute things, no matter how perfect they may be. Can't you just imagine the conversations in Eden?

Eve: "Adam, isn't this place beautiful?"

Adam: "Uh-huh."

Eve: "I think we should redecorate."

Adam: "Are you nuts? This place is perfect!"

Eve: "Adam, do you ever want to have sex again?"

Adam: "Oh, did you say redecorate? I completely misunderstood. Redecorating is a fine idea. Have I told you how small your ass looks in that fig leaf?"

Eve: "Eat this apple; grab a paint brush, some wood and a compound mitre saw and follow me."

Isn't it ironic that we fear beings from outer space coming here to destroy our planet when history repeatedly proves what a good job we've been doing on our own?What are they going to do, come down here and shout out instructions?

Aliens aren't coming to Earth to do us in, and they're certainly not coming here to study us. We're just not that interesting or important, although we like to believe we are. No, we're just going to live here by ourselves, killing off the perfect planet we were given, and naming athletic footwear after the occasional god-like beings who come down and live among us. In the end, we'll finish ourselves off, or Clovis will wipe us out with a piece of lawn equipment. At this point, it's a footrace, and judging by Clovis' intellectual limitations, I'm betting on us!

GET IN MY BELLY!!!

I looked in the mirror this morning and realized I need to do one of two things: lose about 60 pounds, or buy a fun-house mirror that makes fat people look skinny. Since I made it through that crossroads with a slice of cold pizza and a diet coke, I'm thinking $65 for a carnival mirror might not be such a bad idea.

A few months ago, I dropped twenty pounds after four months of working out every day, reducing my caloric intake, and eating healthy foods. Then I fell off the wagon, stopped exercising, ate more food every day than a bull elephant, and invented a new concept: dessert after dessert. Usually, within an hour of so after my second dessert, I needed something salty and crunchy - hello chips!!! Let's face it, it was more like I jumped off the wagon with cinder blocks shackled to my ankles.

Why do we crave foods that are bad for us, and so much of it? After numerous successful diets, followed immediately by self-destructive over-consumption, I've come to realize that even though I feel and look better when I eat right and exercise, I still crave salt, fat and sugar. Why is this so?

Guess what ... CONSPIRACY!!!

Sugar and the taste of sweets stimulate the brain by activating beta endorphin receptor sites. These are the same chemicals activated by heroin and morphine. Face it, we're addicted to sugar and, as a result, after we deprive ourselves of it, we overcompensate as soon as we cave in and try it again.

People who are addicted to recognized drugs (ie: alcohol, heroin, cocaine, etc) or cigarettes endure intensive cleansings, become members of support groups designed to help keep themselves clean, and then have to avoid being around whatever it was to which they had been addicted. As difficult as that must be, it's achievable, but what in the heck do we do about sugar? It's in EVERYTHING!!! It's even in things that we'd never suspect would contain sugar, like McDonalds cheeseburgers.

Restaurants and food packagers recognize how addictive sugar is. The food they serve or sell is laced with sugar to hook customers. There's been research proving this. It's common knowledge, but still the practices continue and we continue to purchase those products ... BECAUSE WE'RE ADDICTED!!!

Imagine restaurants lacing their food with cocaine. - think this would raise a few red flags and immediately elicit government agency action? Me too. But not sugar. Nope. Sugar's legal and a lot of people make a lot of money off sugar, so what's more important, avoiding a fat population, or creating fat wallets? - stupid question.

Since we really can't afford to keep replacing our wardrobes to accommodate our ever-burgeoning waistlines, we need to take action and regain control over our own bodies. I, for one, intend to speak to a nutritionist to identify a healthy diet, and then I'm going to try to stick to it, and exercise. Then, I'm going to lose a bunch of weight. Then I'm going to celebrate with a spoonful of ice cream. Two months later, I will have regained all the weight I lost and will have added a few pounds beyond that for good measure. Then I'm going to bitch about my situation and complain about my lack of will power. Then I'm going to go speak to a nutritionist ...

Take off the aluminum foil hats, folks, and wrap the leftover brownies in it. That way, tomorrow morning, they'll still be moist and tasty for breakfast. Don't forget to heat the brownies, lay a scoop of ice cream on it, and then top the whole thing with chocolate sauce. Avoid the whipped cream, though. After all, we're dieting, remember?

Une Petite Limerick

There once was a chef named Claudette,
Who refused to cover her tete,
Without her aluminum foil,
Her brain was destined to boil,
While her recipes aliens would vet.

It's all about the beautiful people

Anybody out there heard of Debralee Lorenzana? If not, you probably will very soon.

Apparently, Debralee is suing Citibank for firing her. Her complaint is based upon the fact that she's too sexy, and her sexiness was distracting employees of the opposite sex who couldn't work efficiently, because they were too busy thinking about sex ... and her. This brings to mind several things, not the least of which is sex.

First of all, are you freaking kidding me?

Secondly, why is she singling out male co-workers? Is she anti-lesbians?

Thirdly, who was the genius who thought up this law suit, and why hasn't that person been taken out and beaten with a large stick?

Here's a news flash. According to a recent British poll, men think about sex 5,000 times per year, or 13 times per day. And those were BRITISH guys, so normal guys probably think about it two or three times that often! Between thinking about sex, sports, our next meal, cars and, well, "stuff," the average man has maybe 3 minutes every hour to dedicate to actual work-related thought.

Face it. We're already woefully unproductive, and we don't need Debralee to make us any worse.

The sad fact here is Debralee wants us to believe she's being discriminated against because she's attractive. That's exactly wrong.

Remember those Pantene commercials in the 80s when Kelly LeBrock would sadly peer into the camera and sulk "don't hate me because I'm beautiful?" Well, being beautiful got Kelly her gigs. Why haven't we seen Kelly lately? Because she's been hanging out at Krispy Kreme, looks to be about 300 pounds, and has enough Collagen in her lips to look like she went three rounds with Mike Tyson. Kelly's next stop is on one of those celebrity-fit-camp reality TV shows. That's actually true. I'm not making that up.

In reality, being good looking means a woman is more likely to be employed, and that her wages will be greater than those of her chubby peers.

According to a Cornell University study, women are more likely to advance at work if they are more attractive, thinner, taller and have a more youthful appearance than their female colleagues. The study went on to reveal that white females who put on 64 pounds see their wages drop 9%. Of course, the study didn't mention that as their wages went down, these fat women couldn't afford to eat as much, became thinner and more attractive, and subsequently got huge raises which resulted in eating rich meals with bosses and clients, which resulted in massive weight gain, which caused pay cuts ... GOOD GOD WHEN WILL THE MADNESS END?!

As if that wasn't bad enough, obese women take a TWELVE percent wage hit.

This all flies in the face of common sense, doesn't it? After all, society believes fat people are happy. Shouldn't employers prefer hiring happy people instead of sad ones? Pretty Kelly was pouty, but she got work. Fat Kelly is jolly, but she's unemployed.

Why don't employers like happy people? It's a conspiracy. Work = drudgery. If you don't look like you're already in the throws of misery, how can you possibly function as an employee?

Employers discriminate against fat people because they think they're happy, and that's inconsistent with possessing a strong work ethic. Skinny people are waifish, sullen and look like they're used to being deprived of life's simple pleasures, like food. They already grasp the basic tenets of being an employee.

Let's consider Santa Claus, shall we?

He's rotund and jolly, right? Or is he really only laughing on the outside? Isn't it more likely that Santa has food issues, and is only Santa Claus because no one would hire him? Maybe he just gives out presents because he doesn't know how else to convince people to love him. And have you noticed Santa doesn't hire tall, skinny, pretty women. He mostly hires fat, male dwarfs, and probably not out of sympathy, but because they'll work for 12% less than good looking skinny women!

Debralee should give up this law suit. Unless she finds a jury full of super-models, I don't think she's going to get a lot of sympathy from Mr. and Mrs. Spare Tire. Instead, she should enjoy the attention she believes is being showered upon her while she can still get it. Thirty years from now, she's going to look like Kelly LeBrock, and then, as she tries to shove her size 20 frame into her size 0 jeans, she'll look back on these days wistfully.

Another "wee" limerick

There once was a man from Lake Erie.
Who believed a conspiracy theory.
The government, here,
placed explosives in beer,
so to pee he became quite leery.

A wee limerick

There once was a man who feared toil,
And wore hats of aluminum foil,
He sat on a curb,
Begged alms and smoked herb,
And believed aliens lived in the soil.

Well, there go my plans for New Year's Eve, 2012

Have you read anything about the apocalyptic predictions for December 21, 2012? Apparently, depending upon which experts you believe, millions of people from the Mayans to the Mormons believe the end is nigh. I'm sure, if we mis-study some of Nostrodamus' writings, we can even find references to his prediction of the end occurring in 2012. We can probably also find references to 2-for-1 Slurpees at 7-11. Nostradamus' predictions seem to be fodder for some pretty open interpretations.

I love Cherry Slurpees, but that's not important right now.

Of course, there are many conflicting opinions about this (the 2012 thing, not Cherry Slurpees. The inherent goodness of Cherry Slurpees is sacrosanct). For validation, we need look no further than Dan Aykroyd (aka: Elwood Blues).

According to "december212012.com," Aykroyd believes "the UFO phenomenon is going to figure greatly" in a 2012 "revelation," when "the end of the world will come."

"It won't be the end of the world physically as we know it, as depicted in the movie (sic: "2012"). But it will be the end of consciousness and the end of perception as we know it."

This must be true, after all, Aykroyd imparted this wisdom while autographing bottles of his home-brew (Crystal Head Vodka) at an Albertson's supermarket in Vegas. I'm not making this up.

Other credible celebrities share Aykroyd's beliefs: Lil' Wayne, the Smashing Pumpkins, Woody Harrelson, Jesse Ventura, Janeane Garafolo, Shirley McLaine, Joe Rogan, Mel Gibson, Darren Daulton and some guy named Canibus. There's some serious intellectual horsepower here, and no one anyone would ever refer to as a "crackpot" ... maybe I should delete this paragraph.

The sad fact here is, if the world is going to end on December 21, 2012, we're going to need to seriously reassess our lives. I'm not talking about going back to church, or being a better person, or not kicking the dog, or anything ridiculous like that. I'm referring to practical issues, here.

For example, what the hell good is a tax-deferred retirement account at that point? With my luck, my 401K will finally break even from the tech-bust of 2000 five minutes before the bright, life-ending flash of light ignites my monthly statement! And no, I'm not paperless. Frankly, screw the trees. They're all going to die in two years anyway. Right?

More importantly, what are we going to do about Christmas shopping that year? It's common knowledge all the best bargains occur early in the season, but if Christmas isn't going to come in 2012, shopping early is a waste of money. And then what if the predictions are wrong? We're going to have to rush around like lunatics between the 22nd and 24th or there are going to be a lot of disappointed people come Christmas morning. What a quandary!

Don't even get me started on making dinner reservations for New Year's Eve.

Personally, I don't believe a religion, philosopher, or omniscient celebrity can predict the end of the world. In my mind, actions, not words will portend the apocalypse: the Cubs or Indians will have to win the World Series; The Maple Leafs will have to win a Stanley Cup; The Clippers will have to become NBA champions; Sarah Palin will have to be elected President, or, the most-obvious sign of all: I will have to win Powerball.

If any of these things occur, rush to your local Albertsons, eschew Dan Aykroyd's personalized bottle of hooch, and race to the aluminum foil aisle. You're going to need the whole roll to make yourself a foil football helmet!!!

Yet Another Cleverly Concealed Conspiracy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9R-cQ_A_6w


No doubt, you have seen the video linked here from April of this year when Rep. Hank Johnson (D-GA) inquired whether or not adding more troops to Guam would cause it to capsize. For many, this is the definition of confusion - hysterically funny and excruciatingly sad on many levels, all at once, and sometimes for the same reason.

By my own admission, I'm no scientist. God knows, I only graduated from high school because I promised my chemistry teacher that, under no circumstances, would I ever pursue a career in the sciences, but even with my own personal ignorance clearly evidenced here, I realize islands cannot capsize because, as I vaguely recall, THEY'RE CONNECTED TO THE EARTH!!!

Maybe it's because I grew up on the East coast and visited the Jersey Shore frequently throughout my youth, but the fact that ground exists below the water line seems pretty obvious to me. Perhaps, being from Georgia, Mr. Johnson is not familiar with such technical aspects of Earth science - yes, his state borders the Atlantic Ocean, but he may not have been a beach-goer.

Regardless of Mr. Johnson's intellectual shortcomings, I applaud the Naval officer who was being questioned by Mr. Johnson, not because he knew islands can't capsize, but because he was able to respond without so much as a smirk, snicker or guffaw.

I can only imagine the training these Naval officers must endure before they can withstand the intense interrogations of Senate committee members - hours of being tied to a chair, watching the Three Stooges, Monty Python, Abbott and Costello, and Al Gore's Powerpoint, etc. How else could they spontaneously keep a straight face when asked whether or not an island can capsize???

But wait. Perhaps we're being dismissive, here. Did you happen to notice how the Admiral skirted the actual question? He said "We don't anticipate that happening," and then went right into discussing the island's population. No laughter, indeed.

Perhaps the ridiculed representative from Georgia has a point.

Maybe Guam isn't actually an island at all, and is actually some sort of secret lair for some governmental agency, or super hero league. The Admiral covered pretty quickly, but the question clearly took him off guard. Guam is probably an acronym for something ... I don't know what, but SOMETHING!

I've read enough comic books in my day to know there's always a marketing genius hiding in the wings producing brilliant acronyms, and we all know comic books are merely government leaflets created to distract us from the reality of the existence of superior beings.

Put on your aluminum foil hats, my friends, a dangerous conspiracy is afoot. Our government has secret bases disguised as islands, and they're at risk of capsizing. You think that gigantic sinkhole in Guatemala is a coincidence? I think not. It's probably just the entrance to yet another secret lair, or maybe it's a ventilation tube, or the end of a really large trumpet. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!!

Good for you, Senator Johnson. Many may think you use the nickname Hank instead of Henry because multi-syllabic words confuse you, but we know better. You're exposing military secrets, and we owe a debt of thanks to you. Neither you, nor I will be surprised when Guam capsizes one of these days, just as we weren't surprised when Mt St Helens exploded 30 years ago. Oh yeah. That was a natural phenomenon. Sure it was.

Cartoon #1