Fashion Tip

If your fat rises and wraps around your bra straps...then I shouldn't be seeing them when you go out.  Simple.

Enjoy my artwork...

Funny Pics from My Bro

My little brother has a blog on which he posts many pictures (http://njfromnj.tumblr.com/).  I can't keep up, nor do I particularly care to...but there's some pretty funny stuff up there.  It's his birthday today, so in his honor, here are my three most recent favorites:

And...

And, probably the best picture I've ever seen...



HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BROTHER!

Carolla Steals My Shit

I had a rant all planned out about rescue animals, but then my friend sent me this link to some bloviating by Adam Carolla, in which that very subject matter is broached.  I can't, in good conscience, write the same stuff now that I know it's been done, so I'll at least let you enjoy his version: http://blogs.menshealth.com/whats-wrong-with-men/guys-i-cant-hang-out-with/2011/02/19/

You Think The Honey Badger Cares?

I've been obsessed with this video for weeks.  You will thank me for this.  If you don't find this funny, you're probably not human . . . or just not funny, yourself (if you're getting this via email, do yourself the favor and go to the actual site so you can watch):



Okay, bonus videos...

Vampire bats:



Great whites:



(Thank you, Wexies!)

We're Not So Different, You And I...

I look at women the same way they look at babies and puppies: Awww, I want that!  But then, once I get it home, I realize it's way more responsibility than I was ready for.  So why do women pretend to not understand men's desire for variety?

How about another analogy: shoes.  I know it's cliche, but women love shopping for, and purchasing, new shoes.  They have a perfectly good pair at home, but that doesn't curb their desire for new and different ones.  Get it?  Neither party has to act on these desires in either scenario, but that doesn't preculde said desires' existences. 

To be fair, buying new shoes usually does not result in the emotional crushification of another human being.

At Least I'm Not A Kid Diddler

You know what I realized the other day?  I generally won't jaywalk if there are kids around.  Just in case they're not paying any attention (which is pretty much their default setting) and run out into the street because they peripherally see me start to go.

See, I'm not all bad.  Life is like prison; there's a hierarchy.  Like, in a prison of murderers and thieves, they can still find the moral high ground to pass judgment on the lowly child molesters . . . and rape them.

"Real" Ingredients. Sure.

I hate these Domino's Pizza commercials where there's a Q&A session with "real" people, when suddenly, the walls collapse and reveal a lush lea where Domino's ingredients are supposedly grown.  The test group members are utterly shocked by what they see . . . but . . . did they fucking teleport there?  Wouldn't they have noticed the vast acreage of farmland when they pulled up to get paid in free-pizza coupons for answering questions about delivery fast food?  I'm not buyin' it.  Here's one of the commercials:

Counter-Insurgency

I hate when you pay for something, and you hand the cashier your credit card, and they swipe the card and then put it on the counter instead of handing it back to you.  If I hand you something that's mine, for temporary use, you hand it back to me.  You don't put it down on an other-people's-filth-encrusted, wet, sticky counter top.  That's just rude!  Next we'll work on eye contact and saying "you're welcome."

Shooting Oneself in the Foot

One downside of writing an unfiltered, stream-of-consciousness blog is that it prevents your exes from ever having a chance to miss you.  You know that dark side of you that secretly hopes your ex-gee-effs-slash-bee-effs will die miserable and alone never having ever gotten fully over you? . . . No?  Just me? . . . Tough crowd . . .

Anyway, I feel like this blog allows my ex-girlfriends to enjoy my humor without having to sleep with my marginally-above-average (?) physique.  In fact, not only will they not have the opportunity to miss me while over-idealizing the times we shared, there's a strong argument to be made that this blog actually, specifically reminds them of all the things that really annoyed them about me in the first place!

So, again . . . you're welcome!

Robin Hood That Shit!

You know how when celebrities go to restaurants, or bars, or clubs, they get treated like royalty and are often comped?  I take issue with this.  Why is the wealthiest, most successful person in the establishment getting his/her shit for free?  It's insulting.

So I propose the following: every time a rich and famous person dines out and the management would have covered his/her tab, one lucky table of other, regular diners gets its meal on the house, and the celebrity, who now pays for his own meal, gets the credit.  Like, "Gentlemen, your meal is on the house this evening, courtesy of young Master Bieber..."  Bieber tips his fresh-out-of-the-box purple Yankees cap to you, you nod back...  Everyone wins in this scenario!  The randomly selected table enjoys a surprise gift, the rich dude feels good about himself, and restaurant management probably ends up covering a cheaper tab because the comped patrons didn't know their meal was going to be free prior to ordering, while also drumming up a little extra business with a new gimmick... Whaddaya think?!

Then again, maybe people who haven't done anything special enough to be rich and recognized don't deserve a free ride...those useless, faceless, sycophantic leeches...

(Just so yous know, I wrote this post BEFORE I found the accompanying picture.  I had no idea Bieber had a purple Yankees hat.  That was just supposed to be a joke.)

The End of the NFL...For A While?

In light of the NFL season coming to a close, and especially given the looming threat of an increasingly likely lockout, I want to post some comments Hines Ward made prior to the Super Bowl because, while I don't particularly like the Steelers (too rapey), I like that Ward usually speaks pretty candidly about the hypocrisies of the League's administration.  Also, I think he has a very strong point here.  For context, NFL players were shown an instructional video outlining the new guidelines regarding what types of hits are appropriate, and which ones are illegal and therefore subject to heavy fines/suspensions.  Those guidelines are notoriously ambiguous, and the fines levied, very player-specific (though often deservedly, given certain players' histories).

Here's what Ward said: "Man, nobody paid attention to that video. We don’t know what they want. They’re so hypocritical sometimes. They came out with these new helmets that are supposed to stop concussions. If they care so much about our safety, why don’t they mandate that we wear the new ones? If they’re so worried about what concussions will do to us after our careers, then guarantee our insurance for life. And if you’re going to fine me for a hit, let the money go to veteran guys to help with their medical issues. To say the league really cares? They don’t give a fuck about concussions. And now they want to add on two extra games? Are you kidding?"

Doesn't bode well for next season...

Re: NFL Punt Returns...

How does someone not die on every punt return?!

Buzz Killingtons

Mexicans, Blacks, Jews, Gays . . . they all seem to have pretty good senses of humor when it comes to people poking fun at their denominations.  The most humorless people in the world?  Religious Christians and Muslims.  How annoying are these people?  It's like two groups comprised entirely of members who take themselves really really seriously . . . and those are the worst kind of people.  They really need to learn perspective.

These people exist as members of general population, as well, but mainly as outliers.  We all know that one jackass who ruins every joke by knowing someone who's afflicted by whatever it is you're making fun of.  You make a racist joke, and he goes, "My friend is black, and his dad was lynched."  You make a mom joke, his mom's dead.  You say "retard," his brother's Gilbert Fucking Grape.

I knew a guy like this growing up, and someone made an orange juice joke.  Orange juice!  Everyone was laughing, and then parade-rainer goes, "I knew this guy, who was tripping on acid, and he thought he was a cup of orange juice, and he wouldn't let anyone touch him because he was scared he would spill," which I thought was actually funnier than the original joke.  But no.  He couldn't even let me have that.  He followed that one up with, "No, I'm serious.  It was really bad.  His parents had to put him in a mental institution and everything."

Uggghhhhh . . .

AFHV

I had a thought the other day: Wouldn't it be awesome if they made America's Funniest Home Videos: The After Show? They could show the hysterical, slapstick clips and the audience cracking up from the original airing of the show first, then interview the people who were in the clip, in current time, still severely crippled even after years of slightly-less-hilarious physical therapy...

Holocaust Humor

My student told me this one:

"Did you know my great-grandfather died during the Holocaust?  . . . He fell off a guard tower."

Allow Me To Intervene

Speaking of masterfully crafted A&E television programs, I was just watching Intervention, and I noticed that it bleeped out the word "fuck."  This guy was in bed, dope sick, and he called someone and said, "I'm sick as--" BLEEP! 

They censored it.  This show has people sticking needles in any parts of their bodies imaginable, snorting shit off of floors, cleaning syringes with toilet water, prostituting themselves for drug money...but you can't say "fuck?"  Or "shit?"  Where the fuck are our priorities?!  Who, exactly, are we protecting in this equation?  If a kid caught an episode by accident, are the curse words really going to be the components of the show that haunt his/her ensuing nightmares?  We're so retarded...

Natural Selection

I was recently watching an episode of one of the best shows on TV, A&E's The First 48, a weekly, hour-long documentary series that covers one or two homicide investigations per episode.  It's amazing and educational...especially if you want to learn how to get away with murder, which I think is probably a pretty handy skill to have in a real pinch.

Anyway, the episode I was watching took place in Miami.  A neighbor reported that a terrible odor was emanating from a nearby apartment, and when police came to check it out, they found three dead bodies inside the apartment (a husband and wife, both 45, and their daughter, 24), all pretty well decomposed.  Homicide detectives were called to the scene, but couldn't seem to find any evidence of a murder.  Then they found a note.

Turns out the deceased were fasting, as a family, as part of some religious expression of devout faith, and made a pact that they would stay locked in the apartment and not eat until God provided for them.  But alas, God must not have heard them.  Yet another missed opportunity for The Big Guy to prove his existence; He's an elusive one, that God fella.  As Ricky Gervais has said, "God must have been too busy giving AIDS to babies in Africa" to save these retards from starving themselves to death in a country that's responsible for creating the Big Gulp and the fast-food adjective "Super Size."

I'm gonna go ahead and take the position that the world is better off without these people.  Good on ya, Darwin.

Marty McFly Had One, And That Was The 80's!

One of my students and I were laughing about how in every 80's and 90's movie set in the future, people have flying cars, and now that it is the future (according to those movies), people love to ask, "Where are those flying cars we were promised?!"  So I'll respond:

A.) You couldn't handle extra-dimensional locomotion even if they did have flying cars, you entitled, never-invented-anything-yourself couch potato.  You can't even handle operating an automobile in a planar milieu, so calm yourself about commandeering a jet-propelled motor vehicle.  (I think that made sense.)

B.) Oh, wait.  They do have flying cars.  They're called planes and helicopters.  That's what a flying car is.  What makes a car a car?  Wheels?  Planes and helicopters both have those and can drive.  The technology exists, we just don't all have personal helicopters, or "flying cars," as you call them, because, in a rare display of common sense, legislators know better than to let that happen (see letter A).  Now work on learning how to use a fucking blinker for a change...

Foodies

Ever watch those "foodie" shows, like Top Chef (which I love), for instance?  I really hate it when chefs describe any elements of their own dishes with unnecessarily florid, self-slurping verbiage.  Like, when you say, "...drizzled with a beautiful balsamic-fig reduction," or "topped with a lovely bacon foam..." that makes me feel like you're overcompensating for shittiness.  I, the diner, will decide if it's "beautiful" or "lovely" or "nice," not you.  Just say the ingredients and fuck off.  I'll take it from there, thank you.

P.S. - I still really want to bang Padma.

ACCENTuate The Positive...Or Negative. Whatever.

Accents are amplifiers.  What I mean by that is, if you're hot, an accent (Southern, British, Columbian...pretty much every accent except a Russian one) makes you so much hotter!  Think about when you meet a cute girl with an accent and you tell your friends about her.  Her accent is one of the first things you mention: "Dude, she has this super hot Tanzanian accent!"  Buuut...if someone's ugly and annoying, an accent makes them even more unbearable: "OMG, he sounds like Sling Blade."

So you see, accents are amplifiers.  Whatever you are...it makes you more that.

Animal Crap-House

I'm gonna go ahead and say it: Animal House isn't that funny.  Sorry.  If you wear a Belushi "College" T-shirt, I probably hate you because you're annoying and have a bad sense of humor.

What the hell?  While I'm already alienating lots of people, I'll go ahead and add that Dazed and Confused is also not very good.  Again, my apologies...only not really.

Sorry, What Was That?

Just so you know, if ever you're talking to me, and there's a string of saliva connecting your upper and lower lips...I'm not hearin' a word you're sayin'...

Locker Rooms

Look, I accept the fact that gym locker rooms are going to have a lot of male nudity, but the old men take the overall shamelessness and grossness to a whole new level. Like, fine, be naked when you change and shower, but you don't need to roam around the whole locker room naked, carrying on casual conversations as though you're not bare-assed in room full of other men.

Old people abuse this. They shuffle their droopy beanbags over to the urinals, where they stand, barefoot!, in puddles of other people's piss, and just fart and hock up gross chunks of phlegm and spit them past their floppy wieners... It's disgusting. Naked farts are disgusting. Then, you sit on that wooden bench in between the lockers, bending over to try and tie your basketball sneakers, and these guys unflinchingly put one leg up on the bench, right next to you, and dry their balls, right in your face! This is not okay! We're in America! There are personal-space heuristics in place that they are flagrantly violating!

The entire locker room experience is unpleasant enough. The smells...chlorine, body odor, cheap spray deodorant...please don't add to this unnecessarily...

Should I Hold Your Hand, Too?

I just saw a public service billboard with a picture of an adult wearing a backpack that said, "I always look before I walk. Pedestrian safety begins with me."  Listen, if you're over the age of nine, and not actually mentally retarded, but you need to be explicitly told to look before you walk . . . you should die.

How To Bat A Thousand...

I was out with a buddy recently, and we were laughing about how hitting on girls really is a numbers game. We were saying how probably about 10% of girls would fuck you, so if you talk to ten girls a night, you're setting up some pretty good odds for yourself. And my friend was like, "I know! Even if you only bat .100, that's still one out of every ten." And I was like, "Even if you bat .001, as long as you talk to 1,000 girls a night, you're batting 1.000!"

Do the math...

Carry This

I hate when you go out with a girl and she asks you this: "Can you carry my phone, gum, lip gloss, wallet, and keys?" No! It's not comfortable! That's why I never bring a lot of shit anywhere! That's why you have a purse. Use it. And stop acting entitled. Why should I have to endure your "super cute," bedazzled, chihuahua key chain digging into my upper thigh for the duration of our sure-to-be only date? Men aren't here to carry your shit. Do something.

You Have Boring Friends

I was at a house party a while back, and I was talking to some guy (heeeyyyy...) while getting wine out of the kitchen. He recommended one of the red wines, and I said, "Oh, I don't drink room-temperature liquids." He laughed and said, "That's weird. I've never heard anyone say something like that."

My first thought was, "Really?"

My second thought was, "If you though that was odd, stay close by; I'll probably do better than that in the next five minutes..."

That's Sooo Gay

Gayest hate crime ever: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/09/nyregion/09bias.html

"Hey, let's force this guy to strip naked and then shove something up his ass! Then everyone will definitely know we're not gay!" How insecure was this gang?!

I'm Rich, Bitch!

My buddy and I were talking about how regular, hot girls can so easily bang celebrities; it really just requires a chance encounter.  In fact, I know many girls who have turned down famous dudes who hit on them while out at a bar.  By comparison, think about how hard it would be for a regular, attractive guy to sleep with a female celebrity?  Nearly impossible.  I've never heard a story of a guy rejecting a famous chick. 

And then my friend goes, "If you're a hot chick, and you don't end up rich . . . you fucked up.  Full stop.  You fucked up.  Look at yourself in the mirror, and figure out where you went wrong when God gave you a golden ticket."

(Special thanks to my friend . . . who will remain nameless, for his own sake.)

Shut Up Already!

I'm all for diplomacy and being sensitive to people's local traditions/preferences, especially given how ignorant Americans generally are about the rest of the world, but this is getting ridiculous.  People need to calm the fuck down about stupid shit . . . here in America, too, but this particular example is the latest to get me all fired up.  I'm starting to warm to the idea of nuking the planet and starting over again . . . if it weren't for all those damn adorable animals!  Read:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20101214/us_yblog_thelookout/u-s-military-stokes-iranian-anger-by-calling-persian-gulf-arabian-gulf

I Love WOMEN!

I've been told, on numerous occasions, that I come off as a woman hater in this blog.  While I see where these people are coming from, let me give several reasons why those whores are wrong:

1. I love women!  Already, with three simple words, I have refuted their argument.  But seriously, I love women.  So much so, that I have extremely high expectations of the ones I choose to be around.  So maybe that means I'm all the more disappointed when they fail to meet those lofty (unrealistic?) expectations...

2. Following from reason number one, I don't date men, so they're not disappointing or annoying me nearly as often or in the same way as women are.  Hence, I don't complain about them as much.  Let me make this clear: men are insecure retards, too . . . I just don't give a shit because it doesn't affect me.  (Although, many women have argued that they, themselves, are disappointing and annoying in the ways I find them to be, because insecure and abusive men have made them react in those ways.  To which I ask, "So, you're arguing that you behave a certain way towards men because you essentially . . . allowed men to make you behave that way?"  Hmmm.  Granted, not even nearly all the women I've encountered champion this argument, but I've heard enough say it that it bore repeating.)

3. And finally, I don't ignore our innate gender differences (see previous posts about The Pill: http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2010/12/pill.html, and women in the workplace: http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2009/11/separate-but-equal.html and http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2009/11/fyi.html).  We are certainly equal, but we are certainly not the same.  Stop pretending like we are.

Watch back when Kevin Smith was good:

Yimmy's Yayo

I may have plugged this dude's site before, but I really enjoy it.  He's a photographer who puts up images and videos of other people's stuff that he appreciates for any number of reasons.  Sometimes funny stuff, sometimes nudie pics, sometimes just plain old fashioned art...ya nevah nevah know.  When you're too lazy to read words, here's some "visual crack for the ocular fiend," as he puts it.  Enjoy: http://blog.yimmyayo.com/

Slippery Slopes

At the end of the month, I'm traveling to Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand.  The most frequently asked questions after I inform anyone of this are prostitution-related, with a hint of ladyboy.  I think the most interesting part is that some of these people are dead serious, so let me explain why I think there's a very low probability of me putting my penis in an oft-shared vagina.

I mean, look, don't get me wrong, I totally get the appeal of prostitution; the idea of paying a hot chick to let her do whatever you want to her does seem kinda (very) fun every now and then, especially if you're busy with work and don't feel like putting in the extensive effort it takes to convince a normal hot girl to let you do stuff to her.  Because we all know, in the words of Oscar-winners Three 6 Mafia, "it's hard out here for a pimp."

But, no.  Uh uh.  If you've read my blog for any prolonged amount of time, you know the germ-factor alone is enough to dissuade me from sticking my P in any heavy-traffic V's.  But moreover, I have major moral issues with it, believe it or not.  Not in general; I actually believe prostitution should be legal, while strictly regulated, even if it isn't my cup of tea (for my more detailed explanation, read: http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2010/01/pimps-down-hos-up.html).  But prostitution in poor, third-world countries is not regulated at all.  Many women, or more accurately, girls, are forced into it.  And, those who aren't physically forced into it, but choose it , are often, as women, extremely limited in their options of viable career paths.  In a lot of these countries, a woman's body can be her sole financial commodity, and thus, while not forced into a life of prostitution, it may be the best way for her to earn enough money to be independent.  I don't really feel comfortable contributing to the perpetuation of that market by increasing demand.

You could, of course, argue that this monstrous market isn't going to miss my nominal contribution, and you'd probably be right.  Furthermore, you could even argue in favor of me contributing to that market by saying that if I give these girls more money, I may be affording them a better opportunity to escape their environments more quickly.  But to me, that's like giving money to homeless addicts when you could be donating it directly to rehab/treatment facilities instead.  Call it a philosophical difference.

Now for the caveat: the "Old Fashioned."  That is, the hand job.  This is the slippery slope, the gateway sex act, the weed of the prostitution world...  In the case of the ol' HJ, there is no penetration or risk of disease.  The prostitute is essentially giving you a massage in a region of your body where you don't usually get one.  No one would question it if she massaged the same spot on your back for about seven-and-a-half minutes in order to relieve some stress, but if she flips you over and moves about a foot south, it apparently changes things.  You could definitely rationalize it this way, saying it's just a massage . . . with a better feeling in the end, and she doesn't have to sacrifice her body.  Win-win, right?

Don't worry.  For the record, I'm still opting out.  I'm just saying . . . I understand.

The Pill

I recently read an interesting article in New York Magazine about how The Pill has resulted in a sort of "fertility crisis."  Not for the reasons you would think (i.e. aggressively fucking with a woman's body's natural hormonal fluctuations and cycles), but more because women often stay on it until they're well into their 30's, essentially ignoring biology to pursue careers, or just be free, and then expect to be as fertile as they would have been had they gone off it by their late 20's. 

But alas, the body doesn't work like that, and women are more frequently confronting the harsh reality that the freedom afforded them by The Pill has been accompanied by the potential cost of not being able to have children.  In a way, by comparing themselves to men, or maybe more accurately, needing to compete with men in a very real way in order to gain financial independence, women have neglected to fully acknowledge genuine physical differences that, I won't say limit them, so much as should probably lead them to reevaluate and create different, viable paths . . . if they even want to have children.  I think somewhere in the article there was talk about women having children in their 20's, when their bodies are most receptive to that, and starting careers later in life, altering the new traditional paradigm.

Generally, feminist organizations adamantly support The Pill and attack women who suggest alternate paths, such as the one I just mentioned, as anti-feminist, and supporting the male agenda.  But the article eloquently points out that it has been a very long time since men have viewed women as threats who need to be disarmed through incapacitation, “There’s a strain of feminist thought that’s still trapped in the mind-set that the male patriarchy wants women pregnant and has been withholding things like abortion and contraception from them because of it.”  The whole point of the article is to say that The Pill, while shockingly safe and pretty magical, is not completely magical in that it does not change the fact that women's ability to get pregnant decreases with age.

Anyway, the point of me mentioning this is to say that The Pill has led to people having fewer babies, and it's being called a fertility crisis. Crisis?!  I don't see what the crisis is.  Science wins again.

Here's the article, in case you want to read it: http://nymag.com/news/features/69789/

Now I Feel Unappreciated

I saw a homeless guy with a sign the other day.  It had the usual "I'm a Vietnam vet, give me money, blah blah blah" stuff going on, but then at the end, it said, "or at least eye contact and a smile."

I do that anyway!  'Cause I'm a nice person.  But when you go and make a sign like that, now I feel like you think I'm only doing it because you told me to and that's annoying.

I guess I've just always hated being told what I'm supposed to do.  It's like, no, I knew that already and would've done that on my own.  I want to be appreciated for not having to be told what logic and common sense and basic humanity already dictate.  How else are we supposed to distinguish between the assholes and the good ones?!

Low T

Just saw one of those new prescription drug commercials.  It asked, "Are you a 45-year-old male who doesn't feel like he used to?  No energy for those 18 holes?  No more passion for women like you had?  No fun for dancing?"  Then they went on to say, "You may be suffering from a condition called, 'Low Testosterone,' or 'Low T.'"

No shit!  You're 45!  Of course you don't feel like you used to!  Of course your testosterone levels are dropping!  They're supposed to!  That's not a condition, it just is!  Enjoy your newfound freedom from obsessing over sex 24 hours a day, and get some reading done, or something.  Jesus.

Muff-ins

I was having lunch with my married friend the other day, and we saw a smoking hot girl.  She was wearing knee-high socks and a skirt, showing just the right amount of thigh.  Then, she bent over to more thoroughly study the bottom-shelf muffins, accidentally exposing her glowing, smooth, perfectly tan, taut--Whoa!  Sorry.  I just blacked out there for a second.  What was I talking about? Oh yeah!--she exposed her breathtaking 19-year-old ass, in her cute, white boy shorts, and my friend turned to me and said, "You know, the only thing I miss about unmarried life . . . is fucking lots of girls.  That's it."

Which, obviously, is hilarious because, what else is there to miss?!  That's the whole thing! 

Then, later, we again found ourselves talking about the muffin girl's muff, and my buddy shook his head and said, "If my wife knew the shit we talked about..."  And I asked, "Would she actually care?"  And he replied, "C'mon.  Let's keep it real.  I don't think she'd be too thrilled to hear me perving out on some teenage girl's knickers."

My Soulmate

There's a new documentary on HBO called Public Speaking.  It's directed by Martin Scorsese and features Fran Lebowitz, the famed New York author, who may actually be more famous for her several-decade-long bout of writer's block.  Anyway, I think Fran is my soulmate . . . if only she were straight, hot, and, like, 23 years old . . .  Oh, well.  Here's a preview of the film:

Green Means Go

This is how stupid people are: Sometimes, at intersections, there are cops directing traffic exactly as the fully functional traffic lights above their heads dictate.  Ugh.

Curmudgeon Mailing List!

Hello, my loyal Curmudgeon followers!  You'll (hopefully) be happy to know that I finally got around to setting up a mailing list for The Curmudgeon.  This required some technological prowess I didn't know I possessed, but it is now done.  Now, every time there's a new post, it will be sent directly to your email! . . . As long as you write your email address in the box at the top of the blog and click SUBSCRIBE.

Keep in mind, it still helps me if you go to the blog itself, AND, there are often videos posted that won't be viewable in the email you receive, but it's a great shortcut for those days you're in a rush or even, God forbid, forget to check the blog itself.  Please refer all your friends to the blog and tell them to subscribe to the mailing list, too! 

You can still also follow me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/ImTheCurmudgeon . . . (I know; Twitter.)

Thanks for reading, and enjoy!
--The Curmudgeon

P.S. Warning: a lot of email accounts are redirecting the mailing list confirmation emails to spam, so please make sure you check your spam box.  Thanks!

Schleps

Why do Orthodox Jews always look like they're in a rush?

My Favorite Music of 2010

Here it is again. My annual, end-of-the-year music list (though I last year's was a month late:
http://njfromnj.tumblr.com/post/292760542/anyone-wanna-gauge-how-not-ok-i-am-i-actually ). I recognize that not all of these songs were released in 2010, maybe not even most of them. It's my list, and these are the songs I listened to the most in 2010. This isn't a music blog; deal with it. This takes time and effort to compile, so fucking appreciate it...and enjoy it... Oughta keep you busy for a while:

1. Rural Alberta Advantage's "In The Summertime" and "Don't Haunt This Place." "In The Summertime" is probably my favorite song of the year. I still have yet to tire of it:





2. Frightened Rabbit's "Nothing Like You" and "Swim Until You Can't See Land." This is far and away one of my favorite (relatively) new bands. I liked their last album better, but this one was pretty fantastic, too, and their lyrics are pretty damn good:





3. We Were Promised Jetpacks' "Keeping Warm." These guys remind me of Frightened Rabbit, who, as just mentioned, I love. This song has a little too much instrumental action going on for a vocals guy like myself, so feel free to skip the first four minutes to get to the meat...though the build-up is rather nice:



4. Phoenix's "Countdown (Sick for the Big Sun)." Yeah, everyone's heard about these guys by now, but this is one of their less-appreciated awesome songs:



5. Ra Ra Riot's "Can You Tell." They're like a better version of Vampire Weekend. They just released a new album this year, but this one is off their older, better album. Sorry, guys:



6. Vampire Weekend's "Cousins." Now, having just said what I just said about Vampire Weekend, they do have some pretty good songs, too. Here's one of the better ones. Plus, their new album was better than their first:



7. The Long Winters' "Portland (acoustic)." This band's really good and never gets any credit:



8. The Format's "Faith in Fast Cars (acoustic)." Great band. No longer in existence. Reincarnated as Fun...not as good:



9. Greg Laswell's "I'd Be Lying" and "Comes And Goes (In Waves)." This guy's made a few pretty good albums already:





10. Broken Bells' "The High Road." Broken Bells are the lead singer of The Shins and Danger Mouse, and they put out a pretty great album this year:



11. Aqueduct's "Just The Way I Are." This song is years old, by a band no one's really heard of, off an amazing album, with the kind of depressing lyrics that I like, and it reminds of someone specific, so it was in heavy rotation this year. I could only find a poor quality live version:



12. Nas and Damian Marley's "Patience." So not my normal bag, but I had this thing on repeat for, like, two months!



13. Harvey Danger's "Pike St./Park Slope." An incredible, old, obscure song from a band that, unfortunately, is only known for "Flagpole Sitta":



14. Weezer's "Kids/Pokerface." Self-explanatory. Kinda sad that Weezer's best new songs are covers, but this is pretty awesome. I especially love the part at the beginning when he fucks up what year it is!



15. Steel Train's "Bullet" and "Fast Asleep." Now, granted this is a friend's band, but these are some pretty great songs. I wouldn't force them upon you otherwise... Promise:





16. Florence and the Machine's "Dog Days Are Over." Sure, everyone and their mother's heard this song by now...especially since they used it in the preview for that shit-bomb, Eat, Pray, Cock...but for good goddamn reason:



17. Old 97's "The Magician." I've loved these guys for a very long time. This is off their new album, and this was the best version I could find:



18. Dave Smallen's "America." Never heard of this guy and don't even remember how I ended up with this song, but it popped up on shuffle, and I've taken quite a shining to it:



19. Cee-Lo Green's "Fuck You." Another popular one by now, but fuck that "forget you" version. This is the way it was meant to be:



20. The Revivalists' "Soulfight." Don't remember how I even heard of this one, but I don't care. This was the only version I could find. Quality's pretty eh:



21. Clem Snide's "Faithfully." Well, it's not really Clem Snide's; it's Journey's. Regardless, this is an awesome cover it:


Clem Snide covers Journey

22. Elvis Perkins' "While You Were Sleeping." Pretty haunting song, especially when you delve a little deeper into the subject matter. Hint: this is off an album that deals with his mother's death on one of the planes that crashed into the Twin Towers on September 11th. Yeah. I know. Stop bringing us down, right? So selfish:



23. Noah's "Cheers to the Vampires." This is my little brother, and he's really fucking good...I think. Didn't have a video to embed because he recorded this on his bathroom floor (hence the recording quality) one exceptionally depressing evening, or "Tuesday," as he likes to call it, so here's a link. Listen:
http://njfromnj.tumblr.com/post/292760542/anyone-wanna-gauge-how-not-ok-i-am-i-actually

If Anything, I Care TOO Much

I'm trying to sort out if my complete lack of interest in most other people and everything they do means I'm selfish, or that I just care that much more genuinely about the people who are actually close to me...

God Is Great!...Sometimes

My level of tolerance for a girl's inane religious beliefs varies directly with her hotness.

Wizard of Just Plain Rude

It always bothered me that at the end of The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy, right in front of everyone, tells the Scarecrow she's going to miss him the most. Kind of insulting to the others, don't ya think? Even as a kid I thought that. At least discreetly slip him a note, or something.

Sweet 17

I've been helping a buddy of mine look at apartments to purchase, an ongoing ordeal since he is, wisely, being extremely selective given the awesomeness of his current abode. Finally, a week ago, for the first time since we first started looking a while ago, we saw one that he loved right away! We walked out, and he knew he wanted to make an offer. To protect the identity of my friend, not that there's anything incriminating in this post, we'll call the apartment complex "Ocean Gardens."

So, the other night, after this same friend went on a date, I called him to ask how it went. And he goes, "She was pretty and cool, but she was no Ocean Gardens. When I fall in love, I kinda wanna feel what I felt when I first set my eyes on unit 17 . . ."

And you know what? He's absolutely right. When you know . . . you know . . . said the single guy . . .

What's Left to Say?

The rap, the dancing, the recycling of characters no one missed...and how about the narrator's voice in the second clip?! Ugh.

Defective Children

My friend recently got married. He's 40, his wife is 33. They're both awesome and are in no rush with the big life stuff like kids. But, he and I were walking one day and we saw a dad with his little baby in a baby bjorn, and my buddy goes, "Can you imagine? That could be me in five years."

And I was like, hmm, that's crazy, but I guess it also makes sense. Women have that there clock to worry about, and his wife would be almost 40 in five years, and they say the longer you wait to have kids, the greater the chance that the baby isn't healthy. He acknowledged this and then said, "If only there were a way to delay another five years..."

So I asked him, "If you could be given an extra five years, but you knew your kid would definitely be one of those sick, weak-immune-system, spontaneous-nose-bleed kids, nothing life threatening or majorly debilitating, as a result, would you do it?"

He thought about it for a minute, laughed, and then said, "No. . . . But what does it say about me that I'd consider it?!"

You Failed

I was on a first date recently, and not a particularly good one at that, but the girl was kinda beautiful so I figured I'd at least give it one more shot and follow up. I texted or called, don't remember which, but never heard back. I wasn't going to chase beyond that, but I was definitely curious what her assessment of me/the date was. This stuff fascinates me because everyone is so different!

So, because she was a friend of a friend's friend, I asked my friend to ask his friend to ask her why she didn't want to go on a second date, and to stress that she be honest because I wasn't going to find out, even though that last part was a lie. This is for science, people. Anyway, it turns out she didn't like my sense of humor. When I heard that, my reaction was, "Oh. Well she's wrong. That's awesome." Because I'm fine with my sense of humor as is, and it's not like she thought I was ugly, so I felt like I wouldn't have done anything differently, you know.

And that got me thinking: wouldn't post-date report cards be kind of amazing?! If people weren't such hyper-sensitive pussies and could handle some criticism, they'd become so much more self-aware, and probably way less awful to be around. You know, a few standard questions like, "Did your date talk about exes too much, not at all, or just enough?", or "Did your date get too drunk or not drunk enough?", or "Did your date order dinner even though you only asked her out for fucking drinks?!" And then there'd be a comment section at the end for you to freestyle a little. Then, if you got three date report cards in a row that said, "Rambles on about her ugly cat way too much," you might say to yourself, "Gee, maybe it's weird that I'm so focused on my disgusting cat all the time. What does that say about me?" Although, most likely you'd think, "Men are such insensitive, animal-hating jerks! Everyone's wrong but me." And, of course, the ones doing the grading would probably take out their own issues on the ones being graded. Because people are retarded and self-centered and massively insecure. But if this post-date-report-card system could save even one person . . . just one person . . .

Walk Nicer

Whenever I'm walking, and I'm behind an old person who's moving really slowly, I'm always hesitant to pass them because I feel bad reminding them of their decrepitude. It's like, you know they don't want to be moving that slowly; they don't want it to take an hour to walk one block. So when you motor by them at three miles per hour, I feel that it's like saying, "See what you used to be able to do?!" and therefore reminding them of their impending death.

So I try to pass them at a relatively slow rate so they can feel like they haven't dropped off that much. So they can think, "Hey! That guy's half my age and he's barely passing me!", you know. Then, as soon as I turn the corner, and they can't see me anymore...it's off to the races!

Veterinarians

I just overheard someone telling a friend that she's a vegetarian, and the friend was like, "Well, I guess I can cook a vegetarian stuffing, and..." then I stopped listening. Look, vegetarians, I totally get it...but you should know you're really fucking annoying.

I'm Getting Old

Yesterday I tried to unlock my apartment door with my electronic car key...

Hitch

Christopher Hitchens has cancer and some religious people have, therefore, publicly asked if he will now revise his atheist beliefs. Here's his response from an article/interview I just read:

"So now I know that there's another life in my body that can't outlive me but can kill me, it's the perfect moment to gratefully acknowledge that I'm a product of a cosmic design? Who thinks up these arguments? Actually it's an insulting question: 'I hear you're dying. Well wouldn't it be a good time to get rid of your beliefs?' Try it on them and see how they would like it. 'Christian, right? Cancer of the tits?' 'Well, yes, since you ask.' 'Well, can I suggest you now drop all that tripe?'"

He cracks me up. Here's the full article: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/nov/14/christopher-hitchens-cancer-interview

Guilt

Growing up with Jewish parents who frequently employed guilt as a tactic of persuasion has rendered me virtually impervious to guilt. The one time I do feel guilty? When it takes me a long time to cum while receiving oral sex; I feel bad when that happens. Then, I think, well, she should do better. But then I feel bad again. And then I think, you have a girl's mouth on your penis, why are you thinking this much? And then it takes even longer. And then I feel bad some more...shortly before feeling awesome. Does that mean I'm nice?

My Brother Is A Creative Genius

After going on a mediocre date, my brother came home and, in his best movie-trailer-guy voice said, "He was a hopeless romantic . . . but he learned the hard way, that sometimes, the worst thing you can do with a girl . . . is get to know her . . ."

I Don't Know You, But You Disgust Me

I feel like I've asked this before, but are there many things more enjoyable than sitting on a public bench in a high-pedestrian-traffic area and passing shallow judgment on hapless passers-by you don't even know?

Shush!

I hooked two friends up a little while back. The guy was nervous and asking me what to say and do, and I was like, "Dude, just keep your mouth shut." She already thought he was cute and had actively asked about him. She's interested; don't screw it up.

The rules are just different for guys and girls. A girl can say whatever she wants (on a first date--over time, you still have to possess desirable personality traits), and if she's hot, the guy won't really care; he'll still hook up with her. But a girl . . . she can get turned off by anything. Anything! One false move, one wrong word, and she can be taken out of the mood like-*SNAP*-that! Talk at your own peril, fellas.

Now if I could only heed my own advice . . .

Crosswords

What's the proper etiquette for completing the crossword puzzles in periodicals in public waiting rooms? You can do them, right?

Should I Start A Dating Consultation Firm?

When hooking up with multiple girls over short spans of time, sequence is of paramount importance. You gotta schedule the one who's a little rough with your junk last, because if you get beaten up at the start of your rotation, you're never gonna make it to the end. Also, I've found it best to increase the hotness level as you progress, because with each coming night (no pun intended) it takes more to get you excited. And, if you have a first date, it's a good idea to sandwich it in the middle because you can probably benefit from the physical reprieve, and your confidence will be peaking seeing as you just hooked up the other night and know you will be again in the near future. You're welcome.

JAM It Up Your Ass, Brah

I hate guitar solos, and I hate the people who obsessively like them. Same goes for jams and jam bands...ugh. Why are you so excited that Phish played a 74-minute version of one of their already-shitty songs?! (Sorry, Dave, Danny, and Micah.) That's retarded, not a selling point! You should be demanding a refund for the cost of your ticket!

Now, that being said, I fucking love the guitar solo at around the four-minute mark of Dinosaur Jr.'s "Get Me." I'm a hypocrite. So what? It's my blog; I do what I want. Listen to it. So good...

I couldn't find the original album version with the solo I like, but this is a good acoustic version:

Know When To Shut Your Face

Isn't it especially obnoxious when someone screws you over and then says something like, "Well, we can all learn from this, at least."? Really? What did I learn? That you're an asshole? Maybe a neutral party can say something like this, but certainly not the offender. If you're exposed as a terrible person, please just walk away...

Millionaire Matchmaker

A few months back, I had the misfortune of catching a couple episodes of Millionaire Matchmaker. That woman, Patti, is out of control. Abrasive, bitchy, hard on the eyes . . . and how defensive can someone be about ageism?! Patti, you didn't have trouble getting guys because of your age; you had trouble attracting men because you're fucking frightening and it looks like you let a three-year-old apply your makeup with finger paint.

Time for Takeoff, Asshole!

Seriously, how hard is it to back out of a parking spot? I'm all for taking your time if no one's waiting, but when you see a line of cars behind the car waiting for your spot, please stop being a self-centered asshole and vacate in a timely fashion.

My recently departed grandfather :( used to call these people "pilots," because, he said, it's like they have a laundry list of gauges to check before takeoff.

Don't be a pilot . . . unless you're actually flying my plane.

Selfish Cancer

(I have no idea what this recent preponderance of cancer posts is all about, but...)

I asked my friend what she was doing for Halloween weekend, and she was like, "Well, not sure yet because I'm running a 10K for cancer early Sunday morning."

Fuck cancer! It's not going anywhere. Cancer ruins enough lives. Can't it give us Halloween weekend off, for Christ's sake?!

Self-Proclaimed Ignoramus

I saw a nice, new BMW recently with the inane bumper sticker, "Easily distracted by bright shiny objects."

I don't think I'm even capable of articulating how much this pains me. Not because I care about cars, because I don't (see here: http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2009/06/guys-guys.html ), though the principle of so moronically devaluing your own property certainly irks me, but because knowing this stupid, idiotic person thinks he/she is being cute/funny and is circulating in general population just makes my skin crawl. Really? You're comparing yourself to a tiny-brained animal? Shiny objects distract you? Then hopefully you'll be distracted by the glare from the blade of my knife as I bludgeon your face with it.

There's A Test, And Everything...

Guess what? If we're driving towards each other on a two-way street and there's enough room for two cars, don't expect me to pull to the side, because it's not gonna happen. It's incumbent upon you to know how to drive. Call me idealistic, but that's the assumption under which I operate when you choose to get behind the wheel of a car.

Oh, Heeeyyy

A guy I know was telling me about how he was banging this girl in front of a mirror recently, and because he's been working out so much lately, he was turned on by himself. Does that make him gay, or just vain?

I Don't Care If I'm In Antarctica!

I hate when any establishment adjusts its thermostat according to the weather outside. The indoor temperature should always be 72 degrees. Always. You'll adjust. No need to be so reactionary.

Ugh! I Can't Believe I Have To Wait My Turn

I love these people at cafes who, after ordering, exhale incredulously every time anyone other than them has his/her order called. They're giving them out in the exact sequence in which the orders were taken. Chill the fuck out. Just because you finally made it to the counter to place your order doesn't mean the entire line of people that was in front of you when you walked in magically disappeared.

Por, No?

I have a female friend who was telling me and a buddy that all women like porn. We argued that 100% of men like porn, whether they admit it or not, and agreed that a much higher percentage of women than admit it enjoy porn, but not all.

So, if my female readers can please, anonymously if you prefer, comment on this post and honestly report whether you do or do not like porn, I'd be much obliged. This is for science people, so even if you don't normally comment, which is most of you, please do so now. I fully recognize that this isn't a significant sample size, but if even one of you says you honestly don't like porn, then it proves my point. Thank you...

Oh, and if you're a guy who honestly does not like porn, then please comment, too. . . though you're obviously lying.

Shakespeare Did NOT Have OCD

I recently read a biography about William Shakespeare (though it was more an account of how little we actually know about him), and in it they say that none of his manuscripts was found among his personal effects at the time of his death because, at that time, the owners of the theaters that put on the plays actually owned the plays themselves. The writers just received a relatively meager, one-time fee and handed over their written work.

Now, I know the printing press had been invented already, but there were no printers or copying machines. I never would've been able to write more than, like, three plays in my entire life if I lived back then because my borderline OCD would've required me to hand copy several copies of everything I wrote for fear that the theater company might lose the original, or the lone copy might get stolen, etc... I would've spent the bulk of my existence copying down what I'd already written!

Hyperbole?

The new season of MTV's Real World-Road Rules Challenge is called Cutthroat, and the big, physical confrontation at the end of each episode takes place in an arena that is being called "The Gulag." Now, I'm not a doctor or anything, but something tells me, if you survived an actual gulag, you might find this highly offensive, if not slightly hyperbolic. While I know the gulags weren't technically full-on death camps (despite high mortality rates), what's next, MTV? Is next season's gladiatorial battleground going to be called Auschwitz?

Uppers & Downers

I'll preface this by saying, I always put the toilet seat down after I pee, the result of both being raised by a single mother and an aesthetic preference.

But seriously, what's this absurdity with women assuming they have the right to dictate the default state of a toilet seat? Where does this sense of entitlement come from? Last I checked, about half the population has dicks, but you don't see us throwing a tantrum every time we walk into a bathroom where the seat is down, thus requiring the same effort on our part to adjust the seat according to our needs. In fact, I would argue that it takes more effort to lift the seat than it does to just drop it. And, you'd think women would prefer the seat to be up in between uses because that would diminish the chances of a lazy dude (of whom there is no shortage) micturating (look it up...if the context clues aren't doing it for you) all over the seat.

The only argument I find semi-coherent is that women always need the seat down, and even guys need it down some of the time, thus showing that three out of four below-the-waist bodily expulsions necessitate a seat that is in the downward position. But, this is deceptive because it's based on categorical variables rather than quantitative ones. And what that means is, while 75% of bathroom categories (man pee, man poop, girl pee, girl poop...though we all know that last one is as mythical as the female orgasm) require the seat be down, the actual volume of pees so vastly outweighs the volume of poops that this seemingly reasonable argument is, practically speaking, rendered null and void.

Bottom line, I'll keep putting the seat down if you promise to shut the fuck up when someone else does not.

Reality TV?

Why does every sitcom always have a semi-serious episode in which someone falsely accuses someone else of something terrible as part of some ridiculous misunderstanding and then apologizes later? And the person accused is always someone who would totally do exactly what he is being accused of, but because this is the one time he isn't guilty, he feels justified in getting all self-righteous.

Like the episode of ALF where ALF gets accused of eating the family cat when it really just ran away, or something. ALF gets all offended (in English, of course, which is clearly the native tongue of all those who hail from Melmac) that the family doesn't believe him, even though every single day since his spaceship crashed into their work shed he's either tried to eat the cat or at least made a joke about it.

Am I missing something? Is this something that happens frequently in the real world? I'm honestly asking because I don't think I've ever falsely accused anyone of anything...ever. Nor would I put up with some asshole, who in the past has repeatedly done whatever he was accused of, incredulously pontificate about how hurt he is that his accusers would think so little of him. No way in hell. That little sermon would end real fast.

Bag Ladies...And Gentlemen

I think people under-appreciate the value of a good bagger at the supermarket. That shit's a science. Separate hot from cold, soft from hard, heavy from light, double-bag when necessary...the permutations are endless, and there's a whole hierarchy involved. And for all the times they get it right, you really only notice when they screw up (an egg is cracked, your chips are crushed, your cold drink isn't cold anymore because it's next to your soup, etc.), and that doesn't seem fair.

That's Just Maff

I saw a store recently, and painted on the window, like, permanently stenciled and painted on the window, were the words, "We are always 50% off!" Ummm...then no, you're not. Get it? It's not like this place carried other people's products and then sold those for half the normal listing price; this was a boutique clothing store with its own line. If you're always 50% off, then that's just 100% the price. Sorry.

Pump The Brakes, Shorty

Pet peeve: when people continue to call/text/email when you haven't called, texted, or written back yet. I'm not retarded. I'm not gonna suddenly have time now that you called for the sixth time in a row. I'll get back to you, though your incessant badgering is making my subconscious want to punish you by never responding. Chill.

Legal Advice

I was talking to some friends the other day, and we were trying to figure something out. We have naked pictures of girls we hooked up with in high school, that we took, consensually, back when we, too, were in high school. So if our apartments were ever raided (for God knows what reason), and they found those pictures (which would be kinda nice, because I can't remember where they are), could we be convicted of being in possession of child pornography?

I said, no, because the photographs were taken by us when we were underage, as well. There's no way you're required to sift through all of your pictures immediately upon turning 18 and throw out any "inappropriate" (i.e. - so appropriate) ones. That pretty clearly seems to be too big of a burden placed on the average citizen in terms of forcing him/her to take action.

A more interesting, grayer-area question would be, what if you were caught in the act of masturbating to said photos? Aha!

Also, as a fun exercise, we came up with a few more intriguing, Talmud-esque variations on this theme: what if you're caught in possession of a picture of yourself from when you were still a minor? And, what if you get caught whacking it to that old picture of yourself?! Is it still illegal, even though it's you?! Furthermore, another friend added this wrinkle: what if you accidentally stumble upon an old picture of a young, naked girl from your high-school days while with a girl (of legal age), and that girl you're with starts jerking you off to the picture of the underage girl, so that you had no active role in it?!

These are the topics they should be broaching in Philosophy 101 at colleges. Not this Descartes and Kant crap... By the way, if anyone has any actual answers or interesting opinions on these matters, please feel free to comment.

(Special thanks to "The Universe," "Paps," and Pete...)

Uni-tard

I saw some girl on a unicycle the other day. She was riding it all casually and stopped right in front of me and pretended to read a sign, as if it's normal to ride a unicycle, and she's not a complete fucking freak who's screaming for attention.

Billie Fucking Jean

How many times can one song be played over the course of nearly thirty years and still make you want to sing along every time?!?!

All for Naught

I hate theater. Plays, musicals . . . I'm sorry, but they're just awful. Yes, all of them. Singing your lines? Seriously? Get the fuck out of my face with that. It just requires way too much suspension of disbelief. I can't get into it.

Look, I understand why plays were great when that was the best we could do, but we've advanced since then! You don't see people using ice boxes anymore; we stopped when the refrigerator came along. That's why we have movies now, where we get to make sure everything looks and sounds right (theoretically, of course. In actuality, most of these are complete shit bombs, too...just not as bad as plays) before we parade them around for public consumption. You're not confined to one stage or limited set dressing and props, or constrained by the time it takes your actors to change outfits...

Yes, I appreciate that much theater is very artfully written, and I appreciate that live performances require much more skill and effort on the part of the actors...I just don't care! I care about the end product. It's wasted effort, if you ask me.

Still with the Cancer?

So, my last post, a response to the negative responses to my cervical cancer joke, got more responses than the original post that prompted my first response. Therefore, in the interest of fairness, I've chosen to reprint one of the responses from a friend whose opinion I respect, and my response to that response. Pretty responsible of me, huh?

Don't get me wrong, I don't think the number of responses actually reflects the veracity of an argument. I don't think truth should be determined democratically. Everyone thought the Earth was flat, but that didn't make it so. Likewise, most people believe in God...

Point is, I thought this was an eloquent analysis of why people may have been/should have the right to be offended. Whether I agree or not, it forced me to more clearly state why I feel the way I do. Anyway, if you're still reading, here's his response, followed by mine...

HIM: "I just saw your last blog post about cancer. I totally respect that your stance is nothing is too sacred to joke about, and in fact, that is often a great way to make the tragic moments in life more bearable. It's a totally reasonable position, but you seem so dismayed that not everyone feels this way!

"You have to acknowledge that some of your fans/readers just don't agree with your stance on everything, no? That's the beauty of your blog: you write funny, controversial stuff and you don't compromise or pander. But the trade-off is that that you have to respect everyone else's viewpoints as well and take pains not to use your blog as a "bully pulpit." I don't think they are being quite as unreasonable as you seem to think. Some people take stuff more seriously than you do (or at least more seriously than you do in your blog)--that's okay, too.

"Thank god we live in America. I wouldn't want an authoritarian regime to tell me I had to make light of everything any more than I would want to be told that everything must be deadly serious."

ME: "I agree with most of what you're saying. One of my major issues with life/humanity is that I feel people take things WAY too seriously. I feel like so many people often SEEK OUT reasons to be offended and be self-righteous...maybe because it makes them feel better about their own shortcomings when they get to preach to other people about how they should be more sensitive? I really think the world would be a lot better off if people weren't so easily outraged about stuff that's not even intended as an attack.

"Now, granted, I most certainly represent the other extreme. There's probably a pretty strong argument that I don't take things seriously enough, and that's likely because, relative to the rest of the world, I've led an extremely charmed life (though I think that's also my natural disposition). I just find it amusing when people who read my blog, and know me, and know what I write about, and tell me how hilarious they find other stuff that can be interpreted as way more offensive than that one joke, then draw arbitrary lines in the sand. So I felt the need to explain why I think that liking that joke, and the joke itself, in no way SUPPORTS cancer, which is what would be offensive. No one HAS TO find it funny, but I guess I do kinda feel they HAVE TO not be offended by it. . . .

"Amendment: like you said, you can't mandate emotional states, so maybe I shouldn't say you CAN'T be offended, but if you are, you should be required to understand WHY before you open your trap!"

Done. Thanks for reading...

Cancer Isn't Funny

Duh. We can all agree on that, right? Apparently not. I've received several less-than-thrilled responses to my previous post ( http://iamthecurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2010/10/joke.html ). But you know what? I'm glad. Because this gives me the opportunity to discuss why people are illogically over-sensitive.

Clearly (I fucking hope!), I do not support cervical cancer. Clearly, being a fan of my blog does not mean that you support cervical cancer...even if there is a joke in which "cervical cancer" is the punchline posted on my blog. Furthermore, actual cancer is not what makes the joke in which "cervical cancer" was the punchline funny. The humor lies, first, in the misdirection of the question, and then in the absurdity of making a joke whose punchline is "cervical cancer," because it's SO clear that cancer is not funny. Laughing at this joke in no way demands that you find cancer funny. Just because the word "cancer" is said, and there's a joke in the immediate vicinity, does not mean you are required to be offended.

My father had a very scary episode with a brain tumor a few years back; that does not preclude me from enjoying the scene in Kindergarten Cop where Arnold Schwarzenegger screams, "It's not a tumor!" just because it's a joke in which "tumor" is the punchline.

So, in conclusion, all offendees can now relax in knowing that their readership in no way condones or contributes to the spread of actual cervical cancer in any way. You're welcome.

Joke

Q: What's black and eats a lot of pussy?




A: Cervical cancer.

I Might As Well Get An Ed Hardy T-Shirt While I'm At It

I recently caved and got a Blackberry because my old flip phone finally died on me...may she rest in peace. I instantly became a douche. It was incredible. There was no adjustment period or gradual, Kafkaesque metamorphosis. I'm on it constantly, I'm rude as hell whenever people are around, and I'm perpetually unaware of my surroundings. I really hope the novelty wears off soon, because otherwise, I am going to plunge to cavernous depths of self-loathing...

The Eternal Optimist

I just realized that it's still possible for me to fulfill one of my childhood dreams: a threesome with Nicole Eggert and Alyssa Milano. In fact, I would argue that it becomes even more possible with each passing year.