Six winning coin tosses in a row! Lady Luck has hit it big in the Iowa caucuses by the flip of a silver quarter. But that should be no surprise; money has always worked in Hillary Clinton’s favor. I look forward to the next tie breaker by way of thumb war or paper/rocks/scissors at the next state’s electoral primary. Will Bernie get his game on? Or shall we prepare ourselves to see the Empress of Ice Cream* bulldoze her way back into the White House via forces beyond our control? Then again, at this point, what difference does it make?
*The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream in reference to Wallace Steven’s poem “The Emperor of Ice Cream”.
Here are ten things Hillary Clinton will do as President of the United States.
1) Email the FBI a note of thanks, on a secure network of course.
2) Have the First Husband expand the West Wing into a “woman’s think tank” to keep Bill occupied.
3) Revise Obamacare to be reintroduced as
4) Appoints Chelsea a seat at the United Nations for homework.
5) Makes Huma Abedin her White House Chief of Staff codenaming her “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” to mimic the Muslim Brotherhood.
6) Invite Vladimir Putin over to the White House to challenge her to a game of Russian roulette to demonstrate who has more brains and balls. NOTE: Gun made in China.
7) Ensure Vice President Bernie Sanders that she will let him out of his pet crate for occasional bathroom breaks.
8) Replace Michelle Obama’s organic garden with a goat pen because “(blood) sacrifices must be made.”
9) Rehire Monica as an intern to make Lewinsky her bitch.
10) Will ask Goldman Sachs for a significant raise.
This corpse bag is a step up in terms of creepiness versus all the predictable cotton-candy-cute costumes I wore as a child: (Warning: I may lose you readers here via BLAHHHHH…) ballerina, French maid, generic pre-Disney princess (of what I still haven’t determined), Alice in Wonderland (sporting Frida Kahlo eyebrows), and seriously pissed-off little beaner girl (the year my parents decided we wouldn’t participate in the devil’s party).
How I wish I could, for once, look sexy on Halloween…on Christmas…on New Years… and on National Cat Day too for that matter. But I wish for a lot of things. The following are celebrity costumes I wish I could see on other celebrities.
A) Miley Cyrus as Helen Keller
B) Pope Francis as a skateboarding Tony Hawk
C) Clock Boy as the iWatch
D) Caitlyn Jenner as Bruce Jenner
E) Barbara Walters as Whoopie Goldberg
F) El Chapo as Donald Trump
G) Justin Beiber mocking Justin Beiber
H) Beyoncé as a bucket of KFC (original recipe chicken)
I) Hillary Clinton as Monica Lewinsky
J) The Geico Lizard as Flo from Progressive Insurance
K) Oprah as Bill Cosby
L) Kayne West as Kim Kardashian (ironically, this seems to be slowly happening anyway with each fashion event they attend)
HONORABLE MENTIONS a.k.a. The Ones My Husband Declared “Crappy”
M) Snoopy as Grumpy Cat
N) a copper penny as rapper 50 Cent
O) Tom Brady as a La-Z-boy recliner
P) My 2001 Hundai Elantra dressed as 2015 Tesla electric car
Q) The Swiffer Mop as Paris Hilton
R) Oscar the Grouch as anti-gay-marriage activist Kim Davis
You know you’ve had a rough week when your home care nurse runs her Honda into the side of your house (luckily for you, she missed me by a couple cluttered rooms)
or your favorite ex-Kardashian star is recovering from too much penile performance drugs. So where should one turn to in order to take back some control? One turns to the healing art of MEMING (or MEMEING?). Somehow, I was like many of you out there, recycling the same old Grumpy Cat memes, totally oblivious to taking creative power into my own hands. But a scary thing happened on the way to my smartphone yesterday: I MEMED UP.
Though I was tempted to upload my own photos of ex-boyfriends or strange animals (same difference) to meme, I wanted a real challenge. I would only use the generic photos my “free” meme app would throw at me.
Here are the 20 rookie memes (in no particular ranking order) I came up with in less than 2 hours to get Lamar up and “functioning” again. Feel free to pick and recycle the worst of them. Leave a comment as to your favorites.
NOTE: If any of these memes happen to look or sound like any other previous memes floating on the internet, it is by sheer bad luck on their part (aka “coincidence”).
1) Evolution will mutate the Kardashians down to an annoying form of foot fungus.
2) Cancer cells will be used to fuel spaceships.
3) The Rolling Clones will be taking their tour to a planet near you.
4) Laser bathing spas will overpopulate the planet Venus.
5) The United States swears in its 91st robot as president, but stays lukewarm to the idea of electing a female.
6) The Pacific Ocean will be sold by the gallon to make room for more real estate.
7) New York City gets revamped as New Warped City, still overcharging for castles built in the air.
8) The planet Oprah will eclipse the sun for a day in honor of Black History Month.
9) Breathing will run off megabytes.
10) The 122nd Amendment to the United States of America’s Bill of Rights will be ratified ensuring the right to marry your cloned self.
11) Crematories will cease to exist with the sun being readily available (NOTE: valid permit required during regular business hours 24-7).
12) Gummy bears will still taste awesome.
13) Holographic Visas will be required to cross the ozone layer.
14) Mind farts will be used in combat to create time warping worm holes.
15) Yoda, the Jedi Master, writes and publishes “The Force for Dummies” becoming a bestselling book.
Ever wonder who curates all the rock n roll memorabilia at the Hard Rock Café? Well, I don’t. I do, however, contemplate on some of the artifacts displayed at various Hard Rock locations. Take, for instance, Jim Morrison’s leather pants at the clutter-filled Hollywood restaurant just down a ways from the actual one-star hotel he used to reside in. If the Lizard King had ever fallen for veganism, would a pair of flimsy cotton pants ever have the same effect on us? Nyet my friends ’til the end.
Or how about Izzy’s (Guns n Roses) acoustic guitar (also at the Hollywood Hard Rock Café) that helped shape the melodies to the song “Patience”? Did he ever imagine the sound hole would one day become home to a nest of spiders under museum lights? I’m ready for the Hard Rock to step up their game and really shock me with some truly Hard rock artifacts to get ahold of. The following are ten of my suggestions in no particular order.
1) Jimmy Page’s cocaine fingernail clipping from his “Stairway to Heaven” phase. I don’t care how many rehab centers he’s funded, Led Zeppelin has never been the same without the master guitarist’s china-white pixie dust. If only I could get Jimmy to turn on his hearing aids, maybe we’d get somewhere.
2) Sid Vicious’ toothbrush. For the obvious reason…did it even exist? The possibilities are pretty vacant for this Sex Pistol star.
3) Britney Spears’ green umbrella a-la-shaven head phase. When the poppy princess went on a rampage against the paparazzi a few years back, why didn’t anyone think of saving her arsenal? Think of all the money that umbrella could have raised if auctioned off to benefit the National Mental Health Association? Hit me baby one more time!
4) Janis Joplin’s diaphragm. Think the birth control, not the stuff making up her massive lungs (though that would be a first for the Hard Rock Café). Considering all the male groupies the hippie chick banged (lucky duckling!), I am sure her heart wasn’t the only piece of her she wouldn’t do without. Make love, not war..man!
5) Jimi Hendrix’s doodles. I know they’re out there…Jimi’s renderings…of flying nymphs and purple hazes (the Himalayas of hipness) sketched out for me copy and get tattooed on my chub rub. So who designed your ink? Joe the plumber?
6) Hank Williams, Hank William’s Jr., and Hank Williams III’s used socks. I want all three of their honky talk socks displayed separately under glass with a smelling tube to affix my nose to in order to judge who had the swampiest feet. Anyone else’s Hard Rock memorabilia can MOVE IT ON OVER as far as I am concerned for these shit kicking, bad-ass musicians.
7) Elvis’ rhinestone-studded toilet. OK,so that rock relic doesn’t actually exist, but wouldn’t such a throne be fit for The King of Rock n Roll? Miley Cyrus, shit your heart out.
8) Diana Ross’ ’60’s hairpieces. Considering how Ms. Ross is known to be less than amicable, I consider such memorabilia from the lean Supreme to be every hairdresser’s holy grail. These may be harder to come by than obtaining an electric guitar played by Beyoncé. No child, not gonna happen. I love you Diana, but baby…where did our love go?
9) Marianne Faithfull’s cigarette butt. Imagine all the cigarette stubs left behind by Dame Marianne in Paris, in London, in New York, in donut shops and Cartier shops alike! Thousands of them! Now picture the Hard Rock Café handing them out as a kind memento on your way out the doors of one of their eateries. I’d take the stub straight to a DNA lab to extract her genius and clone her butt into the next millennium. Yes, folks that’s how much I adore the whiskey voice behind Metallica’s “The Memory Remains” background songstress forever blazing away. God save the queen!
10) Madonna’s shampoo collection. What every drag queen and bald person wants to see: the millions of shampoo bottles (assembled from 1985 to present day) that have kept Madge’s hair forever healthy despite all the chemicals that have been dumped on her head. Only Chernobyl could be more toxic than the Material Girl’s platinum locks by now. How are you still even alive my lady? By some sort of ray of light perhaps? She is definitely one lucky star.
Haven’t you ever wondered if the Chinese get sick of eating Chinese food? When I (the Googly, restless American) grow bored with the usual hot dog or the Hamburger Helper stuffed burrito I concocted, I turn to other food sources…in particular Asian cuisine (besides Cup O Noodle). Problem is, every time I do an engine search for Chinese recipes, the ingredients require me to shop Chinese markets. While there, I can never decode what all those Chinese characters on Asian food packaging mean, because, like most Latinas, I don’t speak, read, or even think (as in “mathematically savvy”) Chinese. Yes, of course, the store will sometimes translate into American English (on price labels) what the Chinese characters on the packaging say…but that is cheating! In my usual auto didactical manner (which comes around as frequent as my country tends to stay out of war), I, as of today, decided to make a game out of decoding Mandarin, Cantonese, and Chinese pig Latin (whatever that is).
The first lesson (and really only lesson) in decoding Chinese via the American way is to follow an artsy, Lesbian’s advice (kinda like Gertrude Stein…actually just Gertrude Stein) by applying the words to one of her famous poems: “A rose, is a rose, is a rose.” If a figure looks to be in a shape of a tree, by Georgie, you may just be right in guessing that the Chinese script reads “tree”. In watered-down semiotics: if it walks like a duck and stinks like a duck, its most likely:
a) not edible
b) inspiration for a red-neck reality show
c) a duck
d) all of the above.
If you answered “d”, then you need “special help” like I do.
Basically, you must look inward and find that entomological Zen within to crack the vast buffet of Chinese codes. How else would you best enjoy wearing that T-shirt you picked up for a dollar on that Hong Kong business trip?
Here are some Chinese (?) characters I have come to decode in enigmatic style:
***NOTE: Actual translations not known.
Premature Ejaculation (aka “Smile, its raining.”)
Death By Stabbing (aka “Drop dead!”)
Magic Potion (aka “Another trashy perfume by another trashy Pop star”)
Fellacio (aka “Eat Me!”)
This Side UP (aka “Idiot, this is in Japanese.”)
Alright, Alright, Alright (aka “I’m doing well.”)
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.–Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.
(aka “Old man from west make long wind.”)
And last (and most least), I crack the mystery behind the Chinese script that doth spell my first name “AMANDA” which literally translates into:
Beware of Crazy Woman (aka “If I should knock on your door, don’t just stand there, run like hell!”)
I love commercialism because it sells junk to everyone indiscriminately, the ultimate show of equality. And I sure bought into it; all that junk made its way to my woman cave closet. I am definitely feeling capitalist love at the moment, especially after Jesus’ birthday. Its been said (by me?) that rich people are the most interesting to watch when they act poor. But I may have to revise my own fast-food-philosophy. It’s poor folk like myself who may be the most entertaining when I appear rich. I’ve accumulated enough useless stuff to pollute two moons! Time for an updated installment of exposing what’s in my closet.
I have this dress (accented with road kill) preserved for Jackie “O” in case she raises from the dead and makes her way to Bombay. Since I’ve heard that Miley Cyrus was possibly copulating her way into the Kennedy clan, anything is possible right?
If we ever have a zombie apocalypse, I will sure as hell be ready to look as youthful as possible with all these moisturizing creams. Hades is unkind to your skin.
This is what happens when you watch too much of Judge Judy: I wanted to rescue this gavel when I saw it for 50 cents at a junk store. But my hopes for overturning unruly decisions at home were quickly squashed when my spouse informed me that this was, instead, a “red-neck nutcracker”. When in doubt, do what Judge Judy would do…put testosterone under your thumb.
“Journals are bumper stickers to the literati.” And I have a million of them…journals that is. The literati, I am still working on.
Back in the day where you could actually get a living telephone operator to take all your collect phone calls (wasn’t it fun rejecting them), they had magazine covers the size of your bedspread. Rats who sleep under these old Rolling Stone magazines would agree.
You know you need some mental evaluating when you start to collect dirt. But this clump of dried-up mire is straight from America’s belly button: The Grand Canyon (no, not the one between J-Lo’s legs). The only magical powers it has bestowed upon me is the power to wonder what the crap to do with it. EBay anyone?
Great talisman and excellent fetish for all those ex-lovers that need curses put on them. Proof that I have a heart!
I stole this from a Pilipino transvestite who swore she was going to be the next Ellen DeGeneres. Joke is not on her now, but me!
Just when you want to say “Enough junk already!” I have to pull out this salvaged relic. I attempted to join a ban of Navajo’s in Arizona,but of course they banned me instead.
And just when you thought you’d seen it all in my closet, you find this thing: Medicinal Pretzels. I bet Einstein ( eh Chef Boyardee?) never envisioned this gastronomic concoction. Thanks to a well meaning friend (one of the perks of going to art school) who wanted to curb the ills of my chemotherapy, I have this hidden next to my fancy bras (which I hope to one day wear after a boob lift at my embalming). I have yet to savor these loony snacks (Really think I need these?) . Good thing they are vegan. I wouldn’t want to pollute this brain with any tainted mad cow. Bad thing they probably got handled by hundreds of germy stoner hands. Like my fancy bras, I’ll save these pretzels for my death. Embalmers get hungry too you know.
There he was…dead, not some cheese-ball actor rolling over and playing dead zombie, dead…this was heart can be used as a stone paperweight dead…some sort of synthetic liquid clogging all his veins dead… His eyes shut forevermore, cheeks caved-in dead. Yet, like most politicians, he looked better dead than alive! It was Grandpa Jose, the only person I ever saw who had officially “beamed up” into the great beyond. His casket was open. His face was glowing. Must have been the Max Factor Mortician makeup. I couldn’t help but pinch one of his cheeks to determine how his skin was doing. Damn it, softer skin than my own! Not fair. Do I have to wait til I’m in a giant jewelry box to finally get a silky complexion? I fear it may happen. Thank god for alternatives to caskets and cremation urns. Like Burger King, I’m gonna serve myself up my way…HELLO cannibals! Talk about having Mexican for lunch.
Unlike death, corpses, or ghosts( which I do not fear) there are some strange things you’d be surprised to hear that scare me. The following are ten of such things, in no particular ranking order. HAPPY HAPPY HOLLeRWEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1. Cats with 6 Toes (on each foot): I had a good friend when I lived in South Carolina who owned a cat with such a feature. Lets just say my friend and the cat should be thankful they aren’t living in the 17th century New England…otherwise they’d never want BBQed ribs again.
2. Electric Vibrators: No, not the kind that you use for your feet or aching lower back dearies. Unlike most of my “unjuiced” female friends, I have never owned one and never will I don’t care how undersexed I am (like North Korea, lets not go there). With my great fortune, I know I’ll get electrocuted. Picture this: Eight year old boy walks into mother’s bedroom wondering why mommy hasn’t got up to get him to school. Mommy is on the bed, not breathing. A strange purple vibrating “lightsaber” looks stuck inside mommy’s “pee pee place”. Enough said.
3. Ironing Boards: You know the kind, old school, a pain in the butt to adjust, a rusty horse that is wobbly and unruly, annoying to lug around and store. It’s not that I don’t like ironing…my O.C.D. can’t go a week without straightening out those cute, little wrinkles. There is this magical, flat place called the floor people who use unstable ironing boards should discover; no purchase necessary.
4. Uni Sushi (out of season): I know, sea urchins are meals meant for killer whales and fisherman who wear bones through their nostrils. But, in season, when the uni is ripe and ready, it tastes just like butta. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to know in advance. Out of season, you might as well put a homeless wino’s dirty underwear in your mouth…not far reach from something growing in the ghetto of the sea.
5. Men Who Show Their Teeth Too Often: I don’t know, maybe it just gives me terrifying flashbacks of all the pastors I met growing up. Whether they do it for the sake of joy or for hostility, in terms of creepiness, it is up there with Steven King’s IT Clown on my imagination island. Hmmm…pastor and clown connection? Thank God for Freud; he never showed his teeth.
6. Necklace Clasps: In particular, those “Q” shaped ones. I feel I am going to go cross-eyed one day by trying to see how I will put a tiny chain link into a ring the size of one of my white blood cells. More a phobia than any elevator or fear of Ebola in my Halloween candy (Roger, don’t get any ideas!).
7. Selfies Forced Upon Me: When you are born with a condition that causes your face to freeze into stupid positions at the sight of a camera lens, you might as well move in with the Amish.
8. Waiting at Bus Stops: I don’t care how many cops they send out on the street, I still feel like a fat money bag set out to see who will come and swipe me up. I prefer walking down the Tenderloin District in San Francisco at 2 am alone (ok, being a bit buzzed helps), than seated at some intersection all by myself in upscale Marin County at 12 noon waiting for the 45 to take me home. Maybe I watch too many Forensic Files episodes.
9. Southern Baptist Apocalyptic Propaganda Films: Somehow, my parents never had a problem dragging my eight-year-old self to some revival seminary where the theme was ARMAGEDDON but never allowed me to watch movies such as “Halloween” or “The Exorcist”. At these revival events, they’d show films about the end of the world, people being tortured, imprisoned, and executed just because they sang “Jesus Loves Me”. Just when the script starts to become a feel good movie, Satan himself makes a cameo appearance as a gigantic, two-headed dragon. The righteous “believers” get killed off. No worries though, folks, because all the “good guys” get to go to heaven. It’s no wonder I piss people off when I watch slasher movies today…”horror” flicks make me laugh.
10. Anything Tijuana: Seeing that the border town is just a nose-pick away from my home post of San Diego, I have had my share of disturbing adventures there. When I say anything Tijuana, I do mean anything: street tacos (cat or dog today?), hotels (bars on windows, keep you in or them out?), street dogs (count the number of ticks and infected sores for PETA pleasure), taxis (anywhere but here!), plastic surgeons (I prefer to keep my nose from looking like Mike Tyson bit it off), bathrooms (pay for toilet paper?)….and I haven’t even mentioned the druggie gangs there. When you wake up and find dead bodies laying out by your local elementary school for the whole world to see, you know everyday is Halloween in Tijuana, Baja California. Gringos BEWARE!!!
If the whole world is a stage, I must be the fool that gets to sweep up a la broom de jure afterwards. Ever since I failed to win the lead role as Kermit the Frog in my elementary school’s production of the Muppets “Rainbow Connection” musical when I was 8 yrs old, I gave up auditions for sticker collecting. Scrath-n-Sniff stickers don’t boo you off the stage. It is not to say I didn’t exercise my phony-baloney acting skills from there on. How else could I have survived years of Sunday school?
Sunday school teacher: “Do you love Jesus with all your heart?”
8 yr old Amanda (nodding with bulging puppy eyes): “……………………………”
Sunday school teacher (handing crucifix-shaped cookie on napkin to child): “Ok, sweetheart, here is a cookie.”
And how would I have cruised my way through 11 yrs of marriage without some improvisation?
My husband: ” Amanda, did you spend the last of the Christmas money? I was thinking of donating it to Toys for Tots.”
Myself (smiling beatifically after spending $70 at thrift store on corny knickknacks for myself): “OH, Ugh…I already donated it to the Salvation Army.”
My husband: “Oh, ok.”
Though, I have come to enjoy playing all the crazy sides of yours truly, there are some film roles I believe I’d love to play before I croak. Here are my top ten favorite movie roles I’d find delightful to burn my way through:
1. The Wicked Witch of the West in “The Wizard of Oz”—- This should be obvious. Need I say more, dearies????
2. Godzilla— You get to stomp bank buildings, kick Army tanks, and eat police officers. What could be more enjoyable?
3. Any role in “Apocalypse Now”—From the military men who get to throw Martin Sheen in the shower to Dennis Hopper’s role as a hyped-up, drug-fueled journalist trapped on an island to the water buffalo that gets slaughtered (there should be an academy awards category for animals, but who would have accepted for this beast?), any part would be a blast for me to play. THE HORROR…THE HORROR!
4. Gene Kelly’s legs in “An American in Paris”—Hands down, the sexiest legs of Hollywood’s golden age. I am jealous of possessing those movements. There is something to be said when a dancer can turn such a simple dance routine, such as Kelly does in the song “I Got Rhythm”, into something profound. His audience isn’t for the snobbish elite or the woman down the street, but children, which is refreshing. You see him mock the military man’s movements and make art out of the banal. I’d gladly take a leg cramp for his rhythm anytime.
5. Oracle Girl in Mel Gibson’s “Apocalypto”—There are hundreds of awesome female characters any actress would die to play, myself included: Norma Desmond in “Sunset Boulevard”, Margo Channing in “All About Eve”, or Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” But this bewitching role screams climactic fulcrum to a film that was too quickly overlooked (Mel, stop drinking!). It helps to have some Native Mesoamerican blood, as I happen to lug around with me everywhere. Who would think a snotty little kid could carry such a weight? Whenever I re-watch oracle girl’s role, I think of the waves of indigenous children that made their way to American borders by train recently. Are they bringing vile diseases to us…or are we infecting them with all the ills that come from modern-day Westernization? Only the oracle, and time, will tell.
6. Hamlet (backwards)– Yes, I would love to play the role of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” backwards, beginning with his death by sword, to the moment he witnesses his queen mother wed his evil uncle. It seems like every actor plays the Danish Prince, I figure why not make the role a bit more challenging? Be to not, or be to? You decide.
7. Stanley Kowalski in “A Street Car Named Desire”– The best part about Brando is that he never acted. That’s right. Picture the scene where he is smiling, smirking, and eyeing Blanche DuBois (played by Vivien Leigh) right before he is about to assault her sexually in the Kazan film. In his autobiography, Brando admitted wanting to bed Leigh during the production of the film. Leigh had no interest in the younger Marlon. So you can see how easy it was for Brando to unleash all that repressed sexual tension on the prudishly vulnerable Vivien blazing away as Ms. DuBois. I know its sick of me to say, but I would find it fun to play a low-class, sex crazed, spouse-beating, baby-babbling brute. Maybe it’s not so far away from my real self? hmmmmm
8. Chavela Vargas in a biopic about the musical artist—I know most people don’t know who she is or what she sang, but I would be right there hyping up such a role to a piñata hilt. Too bad the film doesn’t exist…yet! Singing in Español, I can do. Cussing out men, I can do. I just wonder if I could water-board myself with so much tequila….ehhh…anymore.
9. The Pink Elephant(s) in “Dumbo”— So Dumbo gets a bit tipsy. Cute. But the real star of that animal abuse movie is or are the pink elephants that come dancing into Dumbo’s head. Metamorphisizing, expanding, and exploding…it would be a trip to play the piper to an acid trip. With all the internal intestinal gas I get, I’m not too far off the mark. Beware! Beware!
10. Peter Fonda’s Harley Davidson chopper in “Easy Rider”— I know it’s almost impossible to play a piece of machinery, but I can dream can’t I? Fonda’s motorcycle artistically performed better than all of Jennifer Aniston’s movies put together. To be so cool and to make my way across America ripping through such an awesome landscape as this motorbike is priceless. I dig it.
…lets also be crime scene investigators and criminal profilers. If Shaq and Steven Seagal did it, why not an unemployed macaroni gluer from Southern California? After watching the 2000th episode of the TV show “Forensic Files” (yeh, yeh 78% of the episodes were repeats), I’ve come to gather some of my own arm chair statistics in the same tradition as professional criminal profilers. You can think of me as Clarice Starling of “Silence of the Lambs” minus the good skin and the willpower not to suck down a warehouse full of donuts… boxes and all. I have come to profile the types of killers lingering in major American cities. Nevermind that the closest I’ve ever been to exercising my forensic skills is when I check for the wetness factor on my son’s toothbrush to make sure he isn’t lying to me about his hygiene. Let’s hope the kid never wises up to check mine.
Note: Please send all hate male to the post office.
New York City: the “Hey, it’s just business” killer
Detroit: the “Drive By” killer
Washington D.C.: the “Patriotic Act” killer
Atlanta: the Braves success killer
Minneapolis: the bored killer
Miami: the “I’m too sexy for this blood” killer
Birmingham: “The white cloaks are coming” killer
New Orleans: the “I was drunk off my ass” killer
St. Louis: the “Just passin’ through” killer
Houston: the “Serial Killer” killer
El Paso: the “Run for the border” killer
Wichita: “The tornado did it” killer
Salt Lake City: the “Expendable wife” killer
Las Vegas: the “It’s just for show” killer
Anchorage: the “Oh, crap, I meant to shoot the animal” killer
Seattle: the “Mud on the boots” killer
San Francisco: the “Vegan, environmentally friendly” killer
Los Angeles: the “I did it for the fame” killer
And last but not least, my hometown: DRUMMMMMMMROLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
San Diego: the “Fuck this job!” killer whale
As you can see, the FBI’s got my number…eh, maybe for all the wrong reasons.
Lets put it out there: I suck at science. Nevertheless, I thrive at elevating bullcrap to an art form. To me, graphs are picture shows put on by left brainers to convince the right brainers that left brainers still have right brain visual capabilities. To God, graphs are the green boogers that are left over from his breathing divine destiny into the human experience: Useless after-blow!
But once I saw Kurt Vonnegut’s line graph evaluating the good and bad fortune of the Grimm’s Fairytale character Cinderella, I knew I had to apply my own assessments to this particular “mind craft”. The following are ten line graphs of various states of being, situations, and people I wonder about (when I am not meditating on Cocoa Puffs or Vladimir Putin’s pout).