a tiresome series of pithy observations

“You got somethin’ to say? Nobody wants to hear it!” - Flag of Democracy

I’ve got nothin’ to say in particular, and don’t feel like just typing up movie reviews, but I don’t wanna get lax on my post-a-week bit this early in the game. So I figured I’d just pull a random bunch of observations and comments out of one of the Se7en-psycho-like notebooks I have full of this garbage, and let the world decide if they’re worth contemplating. Considering that we have entire colleges devoted to theology, I figure this shit’s worth a chance, y’know?


- “Warming” and “harming” differ by only one letter, but they don’t rhyme. “Warming” and “storming” do rhyme, though, even though their letters aren’t nearly as similar. Even odder, “wa” and “ha” do rhyme, but “wa” and “sto” sound nothing alike. Contemplate that on your road to madness.

- If I ever have to get part of one of my arms amputated, I’m gonna dress up as Mickey Mouse, stick a glove over the end of the stump, and trick-or-treat as a watch. That way, I think everybody’ll at least say “There’s that clever bastard” when they see me, which is cooler than just “there’s that bastard who’s missing part of an arm.”

- Speaking of watches, you don’t tell time, you assign it. So, stop saying that.

- I think if you ever kill a bunch of people, you should arrange the bodies into the letters of profanities, just to make the cop who draws the chalk outlines write bad words. Yeah, I’m a murderer, but you write vulgar graffiti at the scenes of tragedies! Who’s more crass?

- What happens if you have more than one parakeet? Is it just a keet then? And how come when one trooper jumps out of a plane, he becomes a paratrooper? What if a parakeet jumped out of a plane? Would it be a paraparakeet? And what if two parakeets jump out of a plane? We’re gonna be stuttering if we even try to discuss that one. Let’s just pray the situation doesn’t come up.

- “Humpty Dumpty”… it’d be interesting to know the story behind that name. Sounds like what happens if you fuck the shit out of somebody. And is fucking the shit out of somebody really desirable? Talk about arguing about who has to sleep on the wet spot, jeez. “Did you come?” “Nope, but it was almost as good!”

- Speaking of names, I understand the origin of most last names. “Smiths” were iron workers or what-not, “Browns” probably had brown hair or something. What I can’t come up with is a presentable explanation for Lipshitz and Upjohn.

- Why aren’t tee-shirts appropriate wear for tea parties?

- How come you can talk about “wiener dogs” all day and people think it’s cute, but if you mention dog wieners you’re sick and inappropriate? And pussy cats, oh, we can talk about those with grandma, but mention cat pussy just once and you’ve ruined Thanksgiving. Same words, but the order damns us? Doesn’t seem fair.

- If you have a rare dime that’s worth a hundred bucks, then that’s not really a dime anymore, is it? After all, a dime is a ten-cent coin. So, what the hell is it, then? I don’t like things that screw with the dictionary definitions… that opens the door to chaos.

- That “Focus On The Family” organization is getting pretty crazy and radicalized, and they probably bear watching, but coming up with a Focus On Focus On The Family group might get kind of redundant. Especially if that group also got radicalized and needed a subsequent watch-group.

- If your last name was either “Conjoined” or “Siamese” and you had twins, that could lead to some confusion. Especially if they were conjoined twins. It’d be nice if they’d have conjoined triplets every once in a while, just to up the sales of newspapers.

- What if the popular beans in Lima, Peru, were actually kidney beans? If you ordered lima beans there, it could lead to some confusion. Especially if your last name was “Conjoined.” What would you feed the twins?

- I wonder what happens to conjoined babies in the wild. Surely there are two-headed deer and possums and such being born, and some are surviving. You do have some slim hope of shooting a 20-20 point buck. If you’re hunting for trophy deer, should you be using .00 buck? Seems like that’d defeat the purpose. They need to invent something like 24-point buckshot. And what about doe season… how come you can still kill doe with buckshot? Worst specialized product ever. I’d like to kill somebody with a shotgun, but I’m very precise about the equipment I use, and I don’t know anybody named Buck. I need some Steve shot, damnit. Wouldn’t it be ironic if Buck Owens were killed by a shotgun… wielded by an assassin who’d been promised a dollar to do it?

- I know a guy who’s such a gun nut that if you tell him you’re going to hang out and shoot the shit, he’ll start recommending what kind of load to use for that.

- Chicken pot pie isn’t a good “ala mode” kind of pie. And what the hell is chicken pot, anyway? Is it like monkey grass? I don’t think you should get chickens high… they act stupid enough as it is. And if you smoke tumbleweed, does the room spin? How do those fuckers grow, anyway? What’s the farm look like?

- If you were in a band called The Culprits and somebody stole your equipment, that could result in one really weird police report. So it’s probably best not to name your band that, or The Thieves, The Perpetrators, The Suspects, or The Guys Who Stole The Band Equipment.

- How the hell are pacifists supposed to fight for what they believe in?

- If the world gets much weirder, people are going to start wondering what the big deal is about Dr. Seuss.

- If you were small enough you could probably use a lunchbox as a suitcase. That’d be kinda cool, having, like, Evel Knieval luggage.

- How come nobody ever goes in the rest room just to take a breather? If you ever do build a room just to rest in, you’re screwed, because people will go pee in there. “Who defecated on the couch? Was it the twins?”

- Passionately wrong is so weird.

- “Here comes the guy who carries around a sack full of his own poop!” Oddly, nobody ever sounds happy when they say that.

- If somebody gives you the option to have sex with anyone, living or dead, I think you should pick someone living, and tell them they’re sick for even asking such a question.

- You really have to have contempt for something to name them “pooka shells.”

- I’d buy a harmonica, but I don’t know any girls named Monica… at least, none I’d like to harm. Monicas, apparently, have nervous systems that are very susceptible to corny wheezy noises.

- I think as a joke we should sometimes drop bombs loaded with Superballs instead of shrapnel, so they can ricochet all over the place and the enemy can get a good laugh before the real stuff comes down.

- Where does the Easter Bunny get all the money? Candy ain’t cheap. If he makes it himself, then he should be sued for trademark infringement, ‘cuz I’ve gotten Nestles before.

- Who in the hell is the marketing genius who thought “Hopalong” would be a good name for a cowboy hero? What’s next, “Arizona Skippy”? “Frolicabout Jones”?

- Do people who work in factories making cheese the right size or the people in candy factories who pack the fudge in boxes ever find it awkward telling people what they do for a living?

- Since it’s rolled in wet flour, fried chicken is essentially paper mache chicken. That’s handy to know if you want to wallpaper your colon.

- Since these products are manufactured and marketed, there must be dildo factories and dildo salesmen. Can you picture the meetings with guys in suits, holding up charts and graphs, nobody giggling? “We’re falling off in the northeast!” “I have a marketing slogan for our new model J457A - 'Go Fuck Yourself!'” Same deal with whoopee cushions. For someone these things are serious business.

- Speaking of whoopee cushions, what are they really used for, if coitus is referred to as “making whoopee”? Nothing kills romance like making that noise. And why is sex referred to as “hanky panky”? I think that should be the term for masturbation, because that’s when you need a hanky.

- I hate things that are marketed as “collectable.” I’ve seen that used for a cut-out NASCAR car on the back of a Chicken In A Biskit box. ANYTHING is “collectable” if you’re of warped enough mind. Just ask Ed Gein.

- The bands that wrote all that music and the people who designed those video games never went on killing sprees, so everybody should retire that particular argument.

- “Slow and steady wins the race.” Maybe so, but you’ve still got to be the fastest slow, steady person.

- Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday. And tomorrow is the yesterday you’ll think about two days from now.

- Why do anti-abortion activists show gory photos? Why would the fact that a procedure’s gross-looking stop somebody? Do they use that same logic with appendectomies? “Don’t get your tonsils out, it’s gruesome!”

- Why put “In God We Trust” on money, when money is maybe the biggest proof that we don’t trust God and all his “birds of the air” stuff? It’s like writing “Thou Shalt Not Kill” on your box of Teflon bullets.

- Your funnybone is in your elbow, your sadness bone is in your pelvis.

- Since green tea is full of antioxidants, can I use it to rust-proof my swingset?

- Any percentage of infinity is still infinity. So what’s the use of a clock?

- Whoever said “breaking up is hard to do” obviously never had a cell phone. By the way, the cell-phone cancer clusters are starting to show up now. Sleep tight!

- You can’t do anything tomorrow. Tomorrow is a concept only. When you actually do the thing, you’ll be doing it now. Tomorrow is unreachable. “Tomorrow I will go to the horizon,” you might as well say.

- Trying saying “We were out of syrup, so I used dishwashing liquid” when serving waffles at breakfast sometime. Somebody might think it’s funny, and when they laugh, it makes it easier to weed out the weirdoes.

Yeah, I’m probably stupid, but if you think so and you’ve read this far, you’ve been tricked out of your time by an idiot, then, Bonzo. Ha!

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