Tag Archives: magic

Magic: The Blathering

magic-battle

I say this! Well I say that! Don’t cross the streams!

You’ll have to excuse the faltering nature of this post: My Facebook status is currently “Low on Mana.”

You know I like to think the Big Thoughts (har) and these mental excitations decidedly do not lead to good vibrations. In fact, more often than not, they lead to impasse.

Most people, I hear tell, have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Not me. I have a miniaturized and hovering Gandalf the Grey and he continually yells, “You shall not impasse!” For some reason, though, that’s not all that helpful.

What sort of big thoughts, you ask, oh helpful reader? Just wee trifling matters. Is climate change real and impacted by human behavior? Do vaccines kill my kids? Should girls be allowed to show a little shoulder in their high school yearbook photos? Will a little non-disclosed GMO kill me? Is it acceptable to harvest organs from poor people? Would raising minimum wage help or hurt the economy? Will we as a society literally swallow petroleum until it kills us? Does being armed to the teeth make society safer or more dangerous? Should politicians and people advertising products have to tell the truth? Does Earth orbit the sun or does the entire universe orbit the Earth? Does trickle-down economics represent the overall best solution for everyone? Why does Hulu Plus have commercials if there’s a monthly fee? Why does a good portion of the people on this planet feel it is acceptable for a 50-year-old man to marry a 12-year-old girl? Does Obamacare make our nation stronger or weaker?

It should be obvious my wee little brain is incapable of grappling with weighty issues like these (and many, many more). What to do? What to do?
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You Don’t Know Polite

politenessWhy does shit like this happen to me? (This is my version of the “dark and stormy” night opening as a literary device.)

My wife and I were out to dinner and having our usually jolly time. Things were clicking. My jokes were firing on all cylinders. I was witty. Our repartee was fast and furious on a highly intellectual level.

As we exited the restaurant I was feeling pretty good. (It could happen.) I saw four people behind us. They were far enough back that I could have let the door close and no slight would have been perceived. I decided to be nice and waited to hold open the door.

They came through single file. As she passed, the first person actually said, I kid you not, “Thank you.”

Wow. It’s a modern day miracle. I’m now that much closer to sainthood. I was momentarily stunned and at a loss for words. As quickly as I could I responded with, “You’re welcome.”

Oops. By then the third person was already walking by. She heard what I said and turned and looked at me. With dagger eyes. Of hatred and death.

Ah. She thought I was talking to her and assumed I was being snotty because she decidedly did not bother to say thank you.

Good intentions: 0. Crass misunderstandings: 1.

Bad form, Mr. Smee. Bad form.

And now some politeness tips from yours truly.
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Hyppo and Critter: The Snot Heard Round The World

Hyppo and Critter

And a bonus from the Hyppo and Critter archives…
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Tom the Half-a-Life

half-beer

Half a beer, philosophically, must ipso facto half not be. But half the beer has got to be, vis-à-vis its liquidity – d’you see? But can o’ beer be said to be or not to be an entire beer when half the beer is not a beer, due to some recent imbibery?

Positive? Negative? Is the beer mug half full or half empty? Beer isn’t just something that you drink. It’s something that you do.

I thought I knew beer. It was something I drank once in a while. Nothing special, nothing to write home about. But then I moved to Portland, Oregon, the microbrew capital of the world.

In July 2011, representatives from the Oregon Brewers Festival declared Portland had 40 microbreweries located within the city limits, more than any city in the world and greater than one-third of the state total.

–Source: Wikipedia – List of breweries in Oregon

Suddenly I was awash in the stuff. I was drinking a “pint” almost every day of my life. Sometimes more.

Sure, it was nice. The formula is simple:

More Beer = The Good

There was, however, a problem.  A big problem. (Surprised?) I don’t like generating cans and bottles. For one thing, in Oregon, you pay a five cent tithe per container. For another, you gots to lug ’em around and shit. And I despise going back to the euphemistically-named “redemption centers” to get those nickels back. Unless you love hacking and slashing your way through a literal jungle of flies with your handy machete. So we’d end up just tossing the empties in the recycling bin, essentially a cash donation to The State. For some reason that gnawed at the very fiber of my existence.

Then, by chance, it happened. I learned of something called The Growler.

It was at that moment I learned that I had been living only half a life. (Prior to that I was merely radioactive.) As is often my wont, I celebrated by bursting into song…
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Paranormal Investigations – Gerbil Edition #video

There are two great mysteries in the life that one must unravel before traveling to the Great Beyond. One is the nature of the Bermuda Triangle. The other is, of course, how gerbils cause household items to go missing from the space-time continuum.

Today we uncover a disturbing piece of evidence that goes a long way towards explaining what really happens. I took the following raw footage at great risk of life and limb.

If you’re not willing to invest one minute and 44 seconds of your precious existence in the following ode to cinema, then I guess you really do hate my guts.

Hang on tight and be prepared for the twist at the end. “I see gerbil people!!!”

Regurgitation: Special Kibble

special-boardWhat could be better for Regurgitation Sundays than a post about food? Perfect. It’s a match made in heaven. Dare I even say it? Special.

It was exactly over three years ago today (give or take a few months) that I wrote a sublime piece about how “specials” work in restaurants. Today I’m giving out a free “upgrade,” a side serving of regurgitation. You only have to provide your own sour cream, chives and bacon. As always, I bring the butter.

In a rare and provocative behind-the-scenes glimpse of how this blog works (I’ll be brief) you should know that not all of my posts are carefully planned and storyboarded months in advance. Not all of them. Sometimes they are knee-jerk reactions to last-minute things. I really should have a category called “Oh Shit.”

Take last night for example. My wife and I went out to eat. Mainly because our kitchen was destroyed by the act of packing for the big move. As we walked into the place the “specials” board caught our eye. We paused and gave it the once over.

“Hmm,” my wife said. “They have a carrot salad for $8. That sounds good.”

Whatever, crazy person. Good for their bank account, maybe.

Once seated I was perusing the menu without much success when I heard my wife say, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking up and suddenly terrified.
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Meet a formerly wild and crazy guy

The renaissance man in action back when he was younger, circa 1977

“Just the other day.. I went home with this girl.. and she had the best pussy I have ever seen….

AW CMON!! I was talking about her cat! You people make me sick!

[pause]

That cat was the best fuck I ever had…”

…Steve Martin (admittedly paraphrased by yours truly from memory)

It seems to me like women are all a gaga over Steve Martin these days. Comedian, author, musician, actor, screenwriter, and all-around renaissance man.

Poop on that.

Over 30 years ago I knew a different Steve Martin. One that was cutting edge and on the fringes of good taste. One that told ribald jokes. Yeah!

Then he went all soft and started making movies like “Father of the Bride” and “Cheaper By the Dozen.” Ungh. Admittedly, though, I’ve never seen either one of those movies. You can always pinpoint when someone cutting edge goes soft and gains commercial success, i.e., sells out.

Did you know that Steve Martin was inducted as a “Disney Legend” in 2005? He started working at Disneyland at the age of 10 (after school, on weekends and during the summer). He did jobs like selling programs and dressing up like a cowboy and selling lasso ropes. Later he spent a lot of time hanging around “Merlin’s Magic Shop” in Fantasyland. He learned jokes and practiced magic and made balloon animals.

I guess his status as former employee is why Disney claims him as one of their own.

To celebrate the 50th anniversary of Disneyland, Martin even appeared as a “co-star” with Donald Duck in a movie called, “Disneyland: The First 50 Magical Years.” I can’t help but wonder if he got second billing to a cartoon duck.

I wonder if Disneyland has the joke that started this post enshrined somewhere for all of the kiddies to see?

This post is basically a PSA. I just wanted all of the women in the world to know a little something about Martin’s earlier comedy stylings. Let us not forget the type of comedy he relied upon to make it to the big time. You know, back when he was really cool.

Now Martin has a new softer and gentler kind of comedy he usually employs. Here’s a recent example where he shows off his “atheist hymnal.” It’s cute but not quite like the old days.