Cuties & Cookies

It's time to face the facts, Earthlings! Welsh Corgis are too cute.

Exhibit A

According to Welsh folklore these stumpy-legged canines were the beasts of burden for fairy warriors riding into battle. Cute little saddles. Cute little stirrups. Dangerous little animals. You haven't even seen a specimen in the juvenile state.

Exhibit B

Disgusting. The flood of joy, the need to protect the seemingly helpless life form, and the baby features that evolution has cruelly and favorably selected are sickening. Humans may have figured Evolution out, even beating the mistress at her own game, but at the end of the day she is our mistress, and a bitch of one. With these cuties on the Cute Market, the value of Cuteness will reach an unprecedented level of cute inflation, ever widening the gap between the cutes and the cute-nots.

In other news, Triscuit will soon wake up to some bad news coming through the alarm clock radio. A competitor is soon to rise. Out of Oklahoma will come a new form of snack cracker, more aptly named: Bread Cookie. What do people love? Since the dawn of time: bread. Since right after that: cookies. It's not a new product, just a better-sounding one.

I'll Get You My Pretty

So I guess Christine O'Donnell once admitted in the past to having "dabbled" in "witch-craft" in the past. Oh brother! News anchors are actually giving this air time. This confession is so weak by the way. As someone who is no stranger to evangelicals and their say-whatever-it-takes tactics, I do not take her the least bit seriously. When I was lost and searching for answers to getting rid of my gay problem, I learned that pastors, evangelists, scare-apists, and lay God warriors will "confess" to having "struggled" with "same-sex attraction" in the past. They only say it to make it seem more possible to come out of being homogay. Give me break! I think most Christian kids who grew up in the nineties remember the big witch-craft/Marilyn Manson/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Harry Potter scare. I still remember the catchy tune on 91 FM that played during the broadcasts of teens and young adults who told their stories of their witching pasts. So, lay off the phony confession of O'Donnell and start laying into her ignorance of basic science, human sexuality, and domestic and foreign policy.

Time for some humor.

I now present photographic evidence of Christine O'Donnell's dabblings.

These people are jokes, but I'm not laughing.

Saucy Serial Killers

Get a load of these good-lookin' killers!

Randall Woodfield
AKA

The I-5 Bandit, The I-5 Killer
Convictions: Attempted Murder, Second-Degree Robbery, Sodomy, Sexual Assault, Murder
# of victims: 18

Life imprisonment plus 165 years

Gary Steven Krist
# of victims: 1 kidnapping, possibly more than 4 murders
currently in federal prison in Florida, possible parole in Nov. 2010

Charles Schmid
AKA
The Pied Piper of Tucson
# of victims: 5
Stabbed to death in prison.

Ted Bundy
Admitted to 30 murders
executed by electric chair in 1989

Jeffrey Dahmer
17 known victims
murdered in prison by bludgeoning of the head with weight in 1994

I Had a Dream

I was on a planet other than Earth. Unlike Earth's vivid colors, the colors of this planet were dull and poisonous. The sky was a shadowy purple, the trees were murky orange, and the ground was dirty blue. I was a sacred demon. My body was thin and hunched. My face was slanted inward. Large claws grew from my long fingers and sharp, ghastly fangs protruded from my mouth. I was evil; I was sacred. The natives of the planet worshiped me. I was given an area of land that was solely mine. Trespassers were sacrifices. I had an old, dreary house to live in. Two Earthlings, a couple, a blond female and blond male stumbled upon my territory unaware of the sacrilege they had committed or the danger their lives were in. I hunted them down to kill them. The natives of the planet, my devotees, took pity on the ignorance of the Earthlings and protected them by fighting me back with spears. I continuously hunted the couple, but always I was hampered by the natives.

Lexicon

do-mo-sex-u-al [doh-moh-sek-shoo-ul]

noun
1. someone who gives sexual favors out of obligation or pity rather than personal pleasure or desire.

Usage: I slept with George after his grandma died. I'm such a domosexual.
He bought me a really nice pair of shoes, so I slept with him. Was that domosexual of me?

Timeline of the Cosmos

If gravity really is the basis of time.

To the Poll

Dictionary

I recently acquired a big, thick dictionary full of wonderful words. I know this sounds like I'm trying too hard, but I really do like to read the dictionary. As you look up one word it can lead you to another word, especially if you have one of those nice dictionary-thesaurus hybrids. If I didn't have that dictionary, I would have no idea what a strumpet, jade, coquette, or trollop were! Can you imagine?

As I pondered the nuances between "perhaps" and "maybe" I began to fantasize about writing my very own dictionary, but then I realized my first imagined step was to get my grubby hands on an older dictionary. What a trollop I would be to simply copy the meanings to thousands of beautifully crafted words and slap my own name on the cover. It would be nothing but the work of a purloining charlatan! In order to write a dictionary I would have to take note of every single word I encountered, determine how that might be spelled, and write it down for others to follow. The endeavor of creating a dictionary suddenly became the most daunting task I could imagine.

But people have done this. Noah Webster created his first dictionary in 1806 in which he changed spellings and meanings of words to Americanize them. His efforts created spellers, dictionaries, and readers that standardized American English. One guy gets to establish the nuances between "maybe" and "perhaps". It's the spelling part that gets me. Spelling isn't easy. It comes natural to some folks, but others struggle with it throughout their life. Who can blame them? Phonetically speaking it makes perfect sense that "addition" can be become "addishun". Granted one should maybe pick up on the pattern that the suffix "-ation" denotes an action. Multiplication, subtraction, addition, decapitation. These things are acts, acts that are related mathematically speaking.

I like it when words look alike but don't rhyme. Good and food, mistress and distress, fear and bear. It's fun to make them rhyme, trading off their pronunciations.
That was some good food. That was some good food.
My mistress is in distress. My mistress is in distress.
I fear the bear. I fear the bear.
Don't even get me started on combos like "bare bear" or "mere fear".

Buried for Less

Wal-Mart sells caskets. At first it seems strange, but upon further reflection it's quite fitting. I think my personal favorite is "Lovely In All Ways". Other than the rotting corpse of course. Bury me with my cold, dead fingers clutching that plastic sack. Also available are Executive Privilege, American Patriot, Regal Wide Body, and Dad Remembered. Dad's death isn't all that inconvenient anymore. Rather than deal with the funeral services assholes, I'll just drive on down to the local friendly Wal-Mart and pick up that casket along with the Puritan dress clothes he'll be buried in, the Great Value hair gel for his still-growing hair, and Ol' Roy dog food to feed his left behind dog. In fact, do they come with wheels? I'd rather just put my groceries in there while I shop rather than try to fit that thing in a shopping cart. Maybe even let junior ride up front. Don't worry Mom, when you kick the bucket, we'll get you Mom Remembered.

I've already discussed my burial plans with my mother. Wrap me in a sheet at least, put me in a wooden box at most, and throw me in the ground and plant a tree over me. No embalming. No make-up. I want to rot and be reduced to the simple elements that compose my complex form. If there's a memorial service, play the Jurassic Park theme and sing karaoke songs that remind you of me.

The one thing I regret about dying is not getting to see my own funeral. Who came? How'd they act? Who didn't come? What's your fucking excuse? That's no excuse! I thought we were friends! I'm glad I'm dead, that way I don't have to put up with your shit anymore. Like my former step-pa said to my mother when she reminded him to do his cancer treatment,"If this is what living is like, I'd rather be dead!"

I don't believe in an after life. People try to use that as a scare tactic. I'm comfortable with dying. Get over it. You're just not that important. Sometimes I look forward to it. Like my grandma said at Christmas 1992,"I'm sick of all this shit!"

My brother was born by Caesarian. It was my mother's first pregnancy. When the doctors had administered her anesthetic they pricked her with a needle and asked if it hurt. Having a high threshold for pain, my mother said no. They commenced with the surgery.
In his first picture with his first child my father is beaming ear to ear. In his first picture with his second child my father has a forced, pained grin.
I hate looking at pictures of aborted fetuses. It chills me. Not because of the abortion, but because the sight of the slimy mini human is frightening. Beady eyes. Red skin. Rounded limbs. It's the fetus that horrifies me, not the procedure.
Trapped in a small space with someone with a nervous tick. "Why do you do that?" "I can't help it." I didn't ask if you could help it. I asked why you do it.
I feel asleep after eating week old turkey. I woke up with the most terrible taste in my mouth. It stuck with me for days.

Not to be pretentious, but...

I'm sorry I don't have more pictures of myself that make it look as if I lead an interesting, envy invoking life. You see, I'm too busy doing things to constantly take time and stop to pose as if I were actually doing something.

Lexicon

po-mo-sex-u-al [poh-moh-sek-shoo-ul]

- noun
1. A person who is not defined by his or her sexual orientation.
2. Person who loves another person regardless of his or her gender.

Usage: Why is Lindsay Lohan dating a woman? Oh well, she must be a pomosexual.
Ricky Martin had twins by a surrogate? Is he pomosexual or something?

OUTBREAK!

Easter

I wanted to share with you the Easter story in the best way I know how.

This one helps the next one make sense.

SB'09

That just about sums it up.

Little Dab'll Do Ya

I've had at least one nose-bleed a day for the past week.
It's a combo of allergies, low humidity, and stress.
My friend, Lakroya, says it's because I think nasty thoughts, but I think that makes blood rush elsewhere.
My other friend, Laura, knows a guy who gets erections when he gets angry.
I went to a party and the house was lit with black lights. You could see every spot were a supposed animal had pissed.
I weigh the most I've ever weighed. My brother says I'm becoming a man.
I have a feeling Ill die in a calamity like a tornado, war, or genocide.

I leave for a 6 day trip and the University of Oklahoma goes straight to the looney bin.

1.) Girl gives birth to a one-month premature baby in her Walker Tower dorm room. Girl didn't know she was pregnant. How's a girl not know when she's pregnant? According to the OU Daily she just all of a sudden up and started having labor pains and gave birth in the bathroom of her suite. The baby was delivered by her roommate, who, get this, has apirations of becoming an OBGYN. God works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? There's only one girl in my life who could claim to not know she was not pregant and I'd believe her. I'd like to get a peek at the unsuspecting mother, but the Daily has not released her name. I would resort to JuicyCampus.com but this recession has hit us where it really hurts: college gossip websites. Is there a clause in the stimulus package for websites like JuicyCampus and Ruckus?

2.) Apparently a man named Michael Childers attacked a professor. Allegedly there was a gun involved, but eye witnesse claim it looked more like he was tying to push the prof down the stairs of Kaufman Hall. Naturely Ol' boy went to jail, but not before he could update his facebook status, something to the effect of it's all just a bunch of post-Virginia Tech paranoia. Virginia Tech or not, bro, you threatened someone with a gun! If VT had never happened then what? Blame it all on post-JFK assassination angst? I mean really.

I Had a Dream

I was looking at a hill. Over the crest of the hill, I could see something rising as it walked towards me from the other side of the hill. It was an ambivalent alligator with an open mouth. From his open mouth came a lullaby that lulled me into a deeper trance.

I'm starting to hate the future. You get to know people you can never meet. Strangers can see my front door from thousands of miles away. Coke machines are annoying. I blame the atom bomb.

I Once Had a Dream

that Oprah was protested for justifying materialism with philanthropy.
that my roommate killed my fetus with a hand-drill.
that a man hacked me to pieces with meat cleavers.
that I was a 19th century botanist exploring the newly acquired Louisiana Purchase.
that someone stole my Hot Pocket when all I owned was a pair of underwear.
that Bill Clinton said the word "rats" was unpatriotic, so we took a vote and renamed them "victory vermin."

Darlin' Can't You Hear Me?

I wish.