There goes your phone,
again, falling down alone
as you watch in fright
at your baby in mid-flight
you open your mouth to scream
battery life flashing before its screen
and you wonder if just once
it will simply just bounce
but you know that the floor
has never before lost a war
oh, what a tangled web we weave
when our screen the ground does cleave
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Friday, July 01, 2011
A Guys Night Out
I recently went to a peanut-floored establishment with my brother-in-law and soon-to-be-brother-in-law (I had my punctuation supplier on speed dial in case I ran out during the course of the night). We told our wives and soon-to-be-wife that we were going there to get to know each other better as people, connect on a deeper level as brothers, and enjoy some manly fellowship. In reality, those things were all convenient side-effects created by the main purpose of drinking adult beverages (coffee, Pepto-Bismol, prune juice) by the pitcher-full.
In between chugging and quaffing, we also played some games that are of an appropriate skill level for the people who frequent the location. Namely, hitting balls into holes with the ends of sticks, and sliding metal pucks from one side of a table to the other. In other words, games that require absolutely no coordination to play (a small amount is required to play well, but not much). We opted for the shuffleboard for most of the night since the pool table didn't give us its balls unless we gave it money, and our religion does not condone pool prostitution, or whoreballing.
I had never played shuffleboard before, so it took me a few seconds to master it. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't make a fool of myself by trying to eat the substance on the table that looks invitingly like salt. They are actually silicon beads that help to reduce friction (I'll take Wikipedia's word on that one).
It's a great game for the coordination impaired, as even the most inebriated fellow can lean against a table, pass out, and have his head hit the puck, probably giving it enough momentum to reach the other side for at least one point. However, old drunk people should not try this, as it voids their AARP warranty.
Really, the hardest part of the game is focusing on and adjusting the strength of your slide as you become more and more perfect in every way (at least that's what the alcohol tells me). I suppose this is good in more ways than one. It allows for the sort of deep male conversation you hear routinely at fine bars worldwide, like "You guys done with the pool table?", "Where's the bathroom?", and "That's not my vomit, officer!"
The sweet hoppy nectar does more than just loosen the tongue, but it also greases the axles of the rusty male brain that is perpetually driving in first gear if not sitting idle. Conversations happen that are normally restricted (by choice) to the female gender, with topics like birthplace choices, marriage, and personal hygiene. But after a while (read: a few pitchers of beer), these and other topics suddenly are as riveting as playing sports or grilling meat on a BBQ or playing sports while grilling meat on a BBQ (also known as the best day a man can possibly have).
Of course, these topics could also have surfaced out of necessity brought on by the shuffleboard table being used by two couples who were, shall we say, definitely not thirsty. They were chucking the pucks as hard as they could and laughing at the inevitable "PLUNK" as they (the pucks) smacked into the wood on the other side. I don't know who thought it would be a good idea to have only one shuffleboard table at a bar. That's like expecting a roomful of unsupervised two year olds to play nicely and share the one toy in the room. How every night doesn't end in tear-streaked bruises and scrapes and everyone calling for their mommy is a miracle in my eyes.
In between chugging and quaffing, we also played some games that are of an appropriate skill level for the people who frequent the location. Namely, hitting balls into holes with the ends of sticks, and sliding metal pucks from one side of a table to the other. In other words, games that require absolutely no coordination to play (a small amount is required to play well, but not much). We opted for the shuffleboard for most of the night since the pool table didn't give us its balls unless we gave it money, and our religion does not condone pool prostitution, or whoreballing.
I had never played shuffleboard before, so it took me a few seconds to master it. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't make a fool of myself by trying to eat the substance on the table that looks invitingly like salt. They are actually silicon beads that help to reduce friction (I'll take Wikipedia's word on that one).
It's a great game for the coordination impaired, as even the most inebriated fellow can lean against a table, pass out, and have his head hit the puck, probably giving it enough momentum to reach the other side for at least one point. However, old drunk people should not try this, as it voids their AARP warranty.
Really, the hardest part of the game is focusing on and adjusting the strength of your slide as you become more and more perfect in every way (at least that's what the alcohol tells me). I suppose this is good in more ways than one. It allows for the sort of deep male conversation you hear routinely at fine bars worldwide, like "You guys done with the pool table?", "Where's the bathroom?", and "That's not my vomit, officer!"
The sweet hoppy nectar does more than just loosen the tongue, but it also greases the axles of the rusty male brain that is perpetually driving in first gear if not sitting idle. Conversations happen that are normally restricted (by choice) to the female gender, with topics like birthplace choices, marriage, and personal hygiene. But after a while (read: a few pitchers of beer), these and other topics suddenly are as riveting as playing sports or grilling meat on a BBQ or playing sports while grilling meat on a BBQ (also known as the best day a man can possibly have).
Of course, these topics could also have surfaced out of necessity brought on by the shuffleboard table being used by two couples who were, shall we say, definitely not thirsty. They were chucking the pucks as hard as they could and laughing at the inevitable "PLUNK" as they (the pucks) smacked into the wood on the other side. I don't know who thought it would be a good idea to have only one shuffleboard table at a bar. That's like expecting a roomful of unsupervised two year olds to play nicely and share the one toy in the room. How every night doesn't end in tear-streaked bruises and scrapes and everyone calling for their mommy is a miracle in my eyes.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Turn-by-Turn Innovation
These days, it seems like every car company is trying to outdo itself and others in the following aspects: safety, reliability, incredibly ugly designs, and obnoxiously conceited commercials...
*cue 30 second spot*
*dim lights*
The commercial opens with artistic shots of a sleek black luxury car gliding along twists and turns in a far-away exotic mountainous region (Chino Hills), while a deep-voiced narrator reads the following:
"Have you ever wanted to become one with the road? Have you ever dreamed of being so attached to your car that it becomes one with you? Have you ever desired to feel the wind beat ripples into the supple fabric of your Armani threads as you soar along the highway, your cares and worries flying from your brow like the beads of sweat on the brows of your subordinates? Well. This is the car for you. Lexus: If you don't already know how good we are, you don't have enough money to buy one."
But somehow, lost amongst the hustle and bustle of innovation, bailouts, and takeovers, oh my, something basic has been forsaken and thrown along the wayside like so many Justin Bieber CDs.
The turn signal.
You may be unaware that the turn signal has been around since the stone age, on the earliest model of the Volkswheel sedentary vehicle. Its purpose was just as it is today: to alert one's intention to turn, as well as to specify which direction. Of course, back then there wasn't much traffic, so it basically only alerted the saber-toothed tigers to let them know which way the food was going.
Now, nearly hundreds of years later, virtually nothing has changed! The turn signal still only lets the person or carnivorous feline near you know that you are either turning left or right; however, in a brilliant evolutionary breakthrough, if you are in an emergency situation, you now have the option to press a special red button that makes both signals blink simultaneously, allowing free reign to do whatever insane maneuvering you want in the name of "emergency".
This sort of innovation is something that has been lacking for the turn signal and its constituents (Light Bulbs Local 863). There is obviously an untapped amount of potential to modify the standard turn signal.
For instance, why is there not a special variation for U-Turns? How many accidents have been caused from some person slowing down to one mile per hour to make an unwieldy 180 that would barely miss the curb on the opposite side, only to be slammed from behind by someone paying less than adequate attention (and in this person's defense, probably not expecting someone to slow down to near-stopping in the left-hand turn lane)?
By my expert analysis and research, a lot. Quite a lot, even. I would quote my sources, but I don't want to bother making them up.
Why not have a setting on the turn signal bar that puts the blinking to half speed or even slower, alerting the driver behind to be prepared to slam on his brakes when all instincts are telling him "that green arrow isn't going to last long, GUN IT!"
And how about a special setting for when you want to merge across two or more lanes of traffic, but you've got some Big Money Wielder (BMW) who sees it as an attack on his masculinity for anyone to merge into HIS lane, and his raging alpha male hormones will make him do everything in his horsepower to keep you from merging, even though you are just passing through into the next lane and possibly beyond.
You know the kind of person I'm talking about. You can picture him now, white-knuckling his leather-caressed wheel, shoulders peaked in tension as a terrifying thought grips him about how there is money in the world that doesn't yet belong to him, top shirt button unbuttoned to keep it from popping off into space as his bulging neck muscles resemble a swollen bunch of celery, shirt sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow so they don't get in the way of his driving gloves. Yeah, that guy. The guy whose motto is "Time is money, so get the $@&!% out of my lane!"
Finally, there should be a setting installed that detects when a turn signal has been on for more than 30 seconds, and automatically changes the shape of the regular intermittent flashes into intermittent flashing question marks, signifying an "eventual left or right turn", which is a legal maneuver for anyone over the age of 65 and means that they might make a turn between now and the second Thursday of next week. So be prepared!
Of course, all this is probably unnecessary, since no one uses their turn signals in the first place, so to expect them to learn new variations and put them to use is as improbable as expecting people to finish their blog pos
*cue 30 second spot*
*dim lights*
The commercial opens with artistic shots of a sleek black luxury car gliding along twists and turns in a far-away exotic mountainous region (Chino Hills), while a deep-voiced narrator reads the following:
"Have you ever wanted to become one with the road? Have you ever dreamed of being so attached to your car that it becomes one with you? Have you ever desired to feel the wind beat ripples into the supple fabric of your Armani threads as you soar along the highway, your cares and worries flying from your brow like the beads of sweat on the brows of your subordinates? Well. This is the car for you. Lexus: If you don't already know how good we are, you don't have enough money to buy one."
But somehow, lost amongst the hustle and bustle of innovation, bailouts, and takeovers, oh my, something basic has been forsaken and thrown along the wayside like so many Justin Bieber CDs.
The turn signal.
You may be unaware that the turn signal has been around since the stone age, on the earliest model of the Volkswheel sedentary vehicle. Its purpose was just as it is today: to alert one's intention to turn, as well as to specify which direction. Of course, back then there wasn't much traffic, so it basically only alerted the saber-toothed tigers to let them know which way the food was going.
Now, nearly hundreds of years later, virtually nothing has changed! The turn signal still only lets the person or carnivorous feline near you know that you are either turning left or right; however, in a brilliant evolutionary breakthrough, if you are in an emergency situation, you now have the option to press a special red button that makes both signals blink simultaneously, allowing free reign to do whatever insane maneuvering you want in the name of "emergency".
This sort of innovation is something that has been lacking for the turn signal and its constituents (Light Bulbs Local 863). There is obviously an untapped amount of potential to modify the standard turn signal.
For instance, why is there not a special variation for U-Turns? How many accidents have been caused from some person slowing down to one mile per hour to make an unwieldy 180 that would barely miss the curb on the opposite side, only to be slammed from behind by someone paying less than adequate attention (and in this person's defense, probably not expecting someone to slow down to near-stopping in the left-hand turn lane)?
By my expert analysis and research, a lot. Quite a lot, even. I would quote my sources, but I don't want to bother making them up.
Why not have a setting on the turn signal bar that puts the blinking to half speed or even slower, alerting the driver behind to be prepared to slam on his brakes when all instincts are telling him "that green arrow isn't going to last long, GUN IT!"
And how about a special setting for when you want to merge across two or more lanes of traffic, but you've got some Big Money Wielder (BMW) who sees it as an attack on his masculinity for anyone to merge into HIS lane, and his raging alpha male hormones will make him do everything in his horsepower to keep you from merging, even though you are just passing through into the next lane and possibly beyond.
You know the kind of person I'm talking about. You can picture him now, white-knuckling his leather-caressed wheel, shoulders peaked in tension as a terrifying thought grips him about how there is money in the world that doesn't yet belong to him, top shirt button unbuttoned to keep it from popping off into space as his bulging neck muscles resemble a swollen bunch of celery, shirt sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow so they don't get in the way of his driving gloves. Yeah, that guy. The guy whose motto is "Time is money, so get the $@&!% out of my lane!"
Finally, there should be a setting installed that detects when a turn signal has been on for more than 30 seconds, and automatically changes the shape of the regular intermittent flashes into intermittent flashing question marks, signifying an "eventual left or right turn", which is a legal maneuver for anyone over the age of 65 and means that they might make a turn between now and the second Thursday of next week. So be prepared!
Of course, all this is probably unnecessary, since no one uses their turn signals in the first place, so to expect them to learn new variations and put them to use is as improbable as expecting people to finish their blog pos
Friday, February 25, 2011
If God had a Facebook Page...
His profile picture would be a burning bush.
He would run out of room in the About Me section of His profile, so it would just say, "For more information, read The Bible".
He would send friend requests to everyone on Facebook, and if you decline it, He would send it again until you accept it.
He would max out His capability to add friends millions of times over.
Religious views would simply say “I Am.”
Political views would say “Theocracy”.
Instead of three pull down menus for the day/month/year of His birthday, there would be two pull down menus that each had one option: Alpha; Omega.
Languages would just say “Silence”.
Favorite movies would be "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", proving once and for all that God does have a sense of humor.
If God poked you, you would feel it.
His wall would consist of people asking “Are you there?”, “Did you get my message?”, and “Did you see that good deed I just did?”
God would always be online to chat. You'd never see a little moon next to His name.
His ad sidebar would consist of the following ads: "Get your halo 50% shinier, or your money back!", "Are your clouds as fluffy as they can be?", and "Watch 'When Popes Attack', a new Fox Special, airing tonight at 8/7 central."
His login password would be the entire book of Leviticus, no spaces. He would type it all in three seconds.
Instead of a “like” button, He would have a “love” button, and He would “love” everything that shows up on His feed.
His status would be permanently set as “Take up your cross and follow Me.”
He would have one event pending at all times. It would be called "Second Coming", and the date would be "Soon". All His friends are invited, but He is still "Awaiting Reply" from all of them.
If He ever edits any part of His profile after joining, His friends would receive the following message in their feeds:
“God changed his profile.”
Christians worldwide would go into a panic, screaming, “CHANGE?? WHAT CHANGED?!?!?”
And finally...
Could God make a Facebook page so popular that even He couldn’t “like” it?
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