I don’t like taking showers. It’s not that I’m a dirty person, or that I don’t clean myself everyday; it’s just that everyday I postpone the process of cleaning myself for as long as possible. One problem with this strategy is that I also hate feeling dirty. In fact, the only thing I hate more than taking a shower is feeling dirty. So, in the precise moment when my disdain for feeling dirty has eclipsed my desire to put off taking a shower any longer, I am probably the most fearsome creature on the face of this Earth. I often try to alleviate the monster that is created by the meeting of these two hates by drinking heroic quantities of coffee, and reminding myself that water feels better than acid. But these tactics do little, and prove but temporary as the beast within me rages.
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There’s a time and a place for all things, and now is the time for great learning. So, you know your ABC’s; you know of the space/time continuum; you know the eminent musical minds of generations; you know of the pleasure of beer; but do you know of the Chan? Here is a pleasure of which without, your life is a meaningless collection of platitudes and flagellation. For without the Chan, life is not life at all and smells of ass. But with the Chan, life is enthralling and smells of the sweet fragrant nectars of the gods’ good smelly stuff. So, I say unto you in the words of the Chan himself (translated here for clarity and dramatic tension): “Don’t try to be like Jackie. There is only one Jackie. Study computers instead.” Repeat this mantra daily for mental and spiritual clarity– three times before each meal and four times before any sexual relations; this will remind you of your mortality and save you from the indignation of the injuries that would have ensued if you had attempted that pretzely thing you read about in the Kama Sutra. Such twisty body contortions are for the Chan and the Chan alone. Your joy comes by way of watching and saying, “Holy shit!” And much joy it will be! For the Chan will open your life to the limitless possibilities of what you can’t do; knowledge that will bring you true humility; humility which will bring you true veneration; and veneration which will bring you closer to understanding your unworthiness of the Chan. But the Chan giveth nonetheless. For it is the guiding principle, the generous spirit of the Chan, to perpetually absolve all followers their athletic deficiencies and derelict comic timing.
Although I’m a fairly large guy I’m pretty much a baby when it comes to animals. Even if the animal is tiny, I have an innate fear of actually interacting with it (as if the animal’s aura were threatening to take my lunch money). Over the years, and by way of having no choice, I’ve managed to overcome my fear of domesticated animals like cats, dogs, and pet rocks, but that’s pretty much where rational thought begins and ends. It’s not that I wish human beings were the only living things on Earth, it’s just that most of the time I wish I didn’t have to interact with anything else. I find dealing with human beings overly complicated as it is. Throw a pet iguana into the mix and, honestly, I’m at a loss for words.
So, you need to choose a presidential candidate and you have come to me, the all knowing, all feeling, all flowing source of information. There are many good candidates and the decision can be difficult, but let me offer you some wisdom from the Bygott tree. Let’s say perhaps that you are a McCain fan. First, I would like to ask you how you got this address and then I would like to remind you that, although I did skip history class on occasion, I would rather you didn’t blow me up. It’s not that I don’t appreciate explosions; I’d just rather not be part of one right now, or ever. I’m sure this is a foreign concept to you, being such a fan of fireworks and flying dead people, but I if you could just imagine yourself as one of those dead people, flying, and being dead, and not enjoying it… are you doing it?… good… now remember this feeling on election day… it’s like you’re so dead you CAN’T EVEN MOVE… perfect! This feeling of paralysis is exactly how you will best serve your country on that great day. Keep that in mind baby! YOU CAN’T EVEN MOVE! And I don’t even charge for this stuff!
Well, it’s about time for another entry on this blog (I know you still get no input… hang on… I’m lazy). Let’s talk about diets. I’m on one. I’m always trying to be on one. It rarely works. Here’s the thing about diets: the word doesn’t sound particularly healthy. I mean any word that begins with “die” is not a word that has your best interest in mind. Maybe if we called them “live-its” people would be less intimidated. Anyway, I’m on this low carb diet; which basically means I eat as much unhealthy stuff as possible and lose weight. It sounds great until you try eating that much unhealthy stuff. Suddenly you’re craving fresh fruit and oatmeal. Who the hell craves fresh fruit and oatmeal?! A sick person, that’s who! So, you lose some weight, but meanwhile, you go crazy. You’re like a deep sea diver dreaming of a parachute. Stop with the parachute and look at the fish, baby! You don’t need a parachute! The fish are beautiful! But you can’t see how beautiful, because every fish is starting to look the same, and smell the same, and taste the same, and you can’t stop thinking of how good that parachute must taste! Okay, I shot that metaphor to hell, but seriously I wonder how many carbs are in a parachute? That’s the other thing: carb counting. I don’t even know what it is I’m counting. But I sure as hell am counting it. I mean usually you can see the thing you’re counting. That’s how you count. First you see it and then you assign it a number starting with 1 (proceeding sequentially) and ending with when you don’t see it anymore. Not with carbs. I’ve never seen a carb, not a single one, not ever and yet I can count them. I look at the back of the package– where it says “Nutrition Facts”, and then “carbohydrates” and then I pretend to take into consideration “serving size” and “servings per container” (because god knows I’m going to eat it all immediately), round everything to 5’s and 10’s, think about multiplication and then decide the butterscotch donuts are probably not on my diet. Repeat process for Ho-Ho’s and frozen pizza. It’s like I’m searching for the holy grail of low carb food: frozen batter dipped in orange fudgesickle with spinkles and mayonnaise, then fried: 0 carbs! And even though this food could only exist due to a typo in the “Nutrition Facts”, it doesn’t stop me from searching. Columbus had his India, Shakespeare had his acting career, Inspector Gadget had his disguises, and now I have the search for the perfect low carb food. That is, the food with more carbs than one should ingest in a lifetime with a typo. Bring it on! Some would say it’s a fools errand, but if it keeps me from eating parachutes, that’s a few less carbs for me and a few more carbs for the guy who eats the parachutes. Which leads me to my final point about diets. Maybe our whole approach to diets is backwards. I mean, would I really need to be skinny if I could just make everyone else fat? I got you thinkin’ there, huh?
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