Off the Top of My Head
I’m introducing a new feature here in the salt mines fueled by my insatiable desire to innovate. Off the top of my head I’ve decided to call it Off the Top of My Head. It’s part hair-raising excitement, part brainy thought-provoking ideas, a healthy dose of attitude, a smattering of snark, and, of course, snow drifts of dandruff.
Here’s just a little slice of the all-American pie known as Shit I’m Pondering Lately. This is stuff right Off the Top of My Head. (This post contains very little actual research.)
- A doctor was diagnosing people with cancer when they did not have cancer. He even gave them chemo.
- A doctor has been diagnosing women with MS when they did not have MS and putting them on a potentially dangerous battery of expensive medications.
- Stories about sexual misconduct by doctors when patients are under have been in the news of late.
- A priest installed a hidden camera that looks like a power outlet in the women’s restroom in his church. Before he could be brought to justice he bravely fled the country. Amen.
- I’ve always known about the existence of hypocrites yet somehow I can still feign surprise when they are dragged out and exposed to the light of day. The case of John Duggar, a hyper-energetic evangelical Christian (see Quiverfull) is interesting. On one hand he’s an upstanding member of the community and fights for causes he believes in, like the sanctity of marriage (aka “seedbed of virtue”) while serving on an organization known as the Family Research Council. On the other hand he’s paying $250 for an account on AshleyMadison.com, a web site that helps married people have affairs. Absolutely breathtaking.
- Then there’s the case of Jared Fogle, Subway pitchman and part-time child pornographer. Let’s see. What’s the tally now? Bill Cosby? Horny. Brett Favre? Horny. Anthony Weiner? Horny. Tiger Woods? Horny. John Edwards? Horny. Sandwich guy? Really, really horny. Need I continue? I think I see a trend.
My point? None, really. Except, perhaps, that people like these actually exist. They are out there. They walk among us. They are, like Mr. Rogers likes to say, some of the people in our neighborhoods.
Who has a stronger moral code than humans? Try the humble amoeba. For starters.
Bonus read: Quiverfull of Shit: a Guide to the Duggars’ Scary Brand of Christianity (Gawker.com)
Topsy-Turvy: Things I Notice
To me, a Topsy-Turvy is worse than a Catch-22. The latter is a logical impossibility due to contradictory rules. Topsy-Turvy, on the other hand, is pure and utter bullshit.
Here’s a couple examples I’ve noticed of late.
1)
A new term has cropped up recently to describe the act of publishing a person’s real name, address and other personal information on the internet with the intent to cause harm.
Yes, it happens so much there’s a word for it now.
The term is “dox.”
Years ago, long before it was trendy, I was doxxed. I had banned a couple of racists from an online forum and they were none too happy about it. So they threatened to kill me. “You have 24 hours to get out of town. Or else.” Seriously? You just did that? I didn’t realize I lived in the town of Tombstone. Oh, look. There goes a tumbleweed. Somewhere a chicken clucks.
I reported the emails to the police. They contacted me and I showed them the printouts. “That happened online? That’s not real. There’s nothing we can do.” True story. Good times.
Later the racists doxxed me on Craigslist, published photoshopped pictures of me and my wife, and took credit for killing my missing cat. Craigslist wouldn’t reply to my requests for help. Remember, I was years ahead of my time. Again, I turned to the police. I had proof I had been doxxed. Their reply? “Nothing we can do about that. It’s not illegal. That’s public information.”
Fast-forward to today and the Topsy-Turvy part: Oregon currently has about 55 “juvenile sex offenders” attending class in 24 different school districts. Parents and other students are not notified of their presence. Why? Because of federal and state laws that protect the privacy of the sex offender student.
How do you know when a situation is Topsy-Turvy? When it only flows one way – against you – at every possible turn. That’s Topsy-Turvy!
2)
You may remember the name Ethan Couch. Recently his name has been coming up in the news again. He’s the Texas teenager who used the “affluenza” defense to get out of serving jail time for killing four persons while driving drunk at over three times the legal limit. He was 16 at the time when he crashed into a stalled pickup on the side of the road.
A CBS television station in Dallas, Texas, reported yesterday that Ethan will be released “very soon” from about a year spent in rehabilitation. Once released, he will be on ten years of probation. He will not have served any jail time for his actions.
And now some Topsy-Turvy: A 90-year man was arrested and taken away, in handcuffs, by Fort Lauderdale police. His crime? Feeding the homeless.
For 23-years Arnold Abbott has operated a non-profit organization called “Love Thy Neighbor” which distributes hundreds of meals per week to the needy. The mayor of Ft. Lauderdale supports a city ordinance that essentially bans food sharing among local citizens.
The mayor was initially defiant. “Just because of media attention, we don’t stop enforcing the law,” he said. Now, in light of media attention that threatens tourism and the local economy (which consists primarily of horny millennials drinking lots and lots of booze and having gratuitous sexual relations with each other and inanimate objects like fire hydrants) he has adopted a more conciliatory tone.
A killer of four walks free among us while a 90-year old man is “dragged away in cuffs” for feeding hungry people and threatening the rights of young people to act like assholes. That’s a whoop ass can full of fucking Topsy-Turvy.
Apple to change iPhone naming scheme
You might think that Apple is about to announce the iPhone 6 but they have one more surprise up their sleeve before the big day finally gets here. In a move that will stun the uncivilized world (societies with iPhones) they’ll abandon the practice of naming each iteration of iPhones in boring numerical sequence.
Instead, in clever fashion, they’ll use words that sound similar to the numerical scheme we’re all expecting.
Yes, tomorrow they’ll be introducing the iPhone Sex. Siri gets a major and surprising upgrade in this one. Nuff said, I hope.
This will be followed in later years, of course, by the iPhone Heaven. This will be the one time in the history of iPhones that they won’t actually change anything. They’ll just release a new version that’s exactly the same to satisfy the cravings of early adopters.
The iPhone Mate will feature an enhanced personality matrix so you’ll no longer need to bother with the formality of legitimate marriage within the confines of the real world.
The iPhone Spine will usher in a new era of cyborgality with an interface that will make Google Glass look like quaint child’s play. Remember the good old days when technology remained outside of your body?
And, finally, iPhone Hen will exponentially build upon marital aspects originally introduced in iPhone Mate with hyper-realistic calendar reminders and much, much, much, much more. This will also be the first iPhone to incorporate state-of-the-art hammer-resistant technology.
The future for iPhones looks bright but who’s counting?
Such Nice Boys
We photobombed ourselves before it was cool.
As a pubic service, from time to time, I take the lyrics from hit songs, roll ’em around in my head a bit, think and ponder, and run them through the universal translator.
Do they mean something? I’ll find out.
“Hey, nonny, ding, dong!”
Yikes. Something tells me this one is going to be far too easy. As easy as drilling for oil in the quiffed pompadour of a 50s doo-wop singer.
Today’s blue plate special is a rockin’ little ditty from 1954 called Sh-Boom as performed by The Crew-Cuts.
Trivoids: Sh-Boom was originally an R&B hit for The Chords.
Sh-Boom
(excerpt)
Now every time I look at you
(hey you, across the room, i’m creepin’ from a distance)
Something is on my mind
(i’ll give you a hint, it’s sex!!)
Dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-duh
(is my clever onomatopoeia subtle enough?)
If you do what I want you to
(romance is doing what the man wants)
Baby, we’d be so fine
(by “we” i mean he who must be obeyed)
Think about these lyrics. Really think about them. I think you’ll see what I mean. If this song doesn’t make you want to Elvis your pelvis you don’t know diddly.
Elvis lyrics translated into English
The lucky sperm about to penetrate the ovum.
I have decided, as a pubic service, to run some Elvis Presley lyrics through the universal translator. I hope you enjoy these as if hearing them for the first time.
Doubt my qualifications? Don’t. I was literally married under a velvet painting of Elvis in the Graceland Wedding Chapel, Las Vegas, Nevada. (But not to my wife, mind you.) I’m qualified enough.
Now bring on the big romantic ballads…
It’s Now Or Never
It’s now or never
(Daddy is in the mood)
Come hold me tight
(I will direct the action)
Kiss me my darling
(This had better be good)
Be mine tonight
(This will decidedly not be a long-term relationship)
Tomorrow will be too late
(Parts of me are feeling blue)
It’s now or never
(No promises after the booze wears off)
My love won’t wait
(There’s a BP situation in my pants)
Wasn’t that fun? Are you feeling all romantic? Make the jump and let’s do one more.
Continue reading →
That Logic is Gay
Humans tend to get into trouble when failures of logic fail to kill them.
That’s because a logic failure that doesn’t produce death is interpreted by our evolutionary brains as “success.” The more complex the logic the greater the opportunity for a false assumption of a logic win.
That’s all. Let’s explore our sexualities together a simple example.
“Gay people can’t reproduce.”
Orly?
That must make managing teh gay very, very easy. Simply cull from the herd anyone missing reproductive organs, right?
Continue reading →
Apple Bamboo
We recently hosted a quasi-invited guest. (She sort of invited herself. It was a Thanksgiving kind of thing.) We took this person downtown for shopping, out to dinner and put her up for the night. But this guest wasn’t alone. She was possessed of an uninvited interloper. It was an iPhone.
Introducing the “bamboo” sound.
DA-DA DA-DA DINT DA! Thwap!
The sound was a lot like that coffee commercial jingle only a lot more woody, with a strong, robust finish. It was like Juan Valdez had chugged too much tequila and was getting jiggy on the marimbas.
DA-DA DA-DA DINT DA! Thwap!
That sound haunts me. It chases me in my dreams, where it is the size of the Death Star and I’m running but making no progress. “The rebel base will be in range in 15 minutes.” Only, in this dream, there was no Luke Skywalker to eject a torpedo pulse into a tiny little hole and save the day. The floating space-suited black helmet dudes fired that sucker and blew me and my planet up. And guess what? The sound the Death Star beam made? It was the iPhone bamboo.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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