Crappy Color Awareness

Another Breast Cancer Awareness season is upon us, leading me to reflect on how a once-noble cause has become the bane of my available color spectrum. Pink is no longer the odd color out in the crayon box or an overpriced men's store - it's cheap business code for "we care. seriously, we care."

I get it, it's pink, you'll donate some of your Chex Mix to help those suffering from this shockingly pervasive disease. But come on, corporate America. You came up with the McGriddle and you're telling me you can't do any better than pink?

There's isn't a disease or cause out there today that isn't color-coded: LiveStrong, Orange Revolutions, the altogether bewildering mix of Autism's colorful wrath. It's been this way for a while, too.

the only cancer that kinda makes me feel bad for looking at boobs

One day, when I was in school years ago, people were handing out white ribbons. I had already taken the appropriately blasé stance towards color-coded causes at this point, so I declined their offer. Was everyone wearing one? Yes. Were they intended to protest the KKK rally nearby? Yes, though I was unaware of that at the time. Regardless, I stand by my choice given the information I had at the time.

Point is, you can't just go with the flow, breast cancer. You're the original upbeat color of suffering! If Wal-Mart and Co. really wanna make bank off of this disease like they should, add some spice to your act. It's like exercising - nobody wanted to do it until someone literally jazzed it up.

My suggestion: red camo. First off, red is much closer to the color of blood than pink is (excluding Star Trek: VI) and blood is a sure-fire way to sell stuff. Secondly, nobody wants to be smeared by Glenn Beck for not supporting the troops and camo anything is the only way to show your authentic, unwavering support for our men and women overseas.

Boom. Cancer solved, money made, everyone's happy.

Uncelebrate

For those active job-seekers out there, might I suggest inquiring at Fidelity Investment's Marketing Department.

The job placement ad practically writes itself when I get emails with subjects like this:

"Celebrate September. Save more for retirement."


Am I missing something? Is there an anniversary I've forgotten about?

DOUBLE SPECIAL UPDATE

Best...meme...ever. Here and elsewhere.

God's Gift to the Internet

When I'm 24

I'm not sure when the Alzheimer's is going to set in, but lately I've realized my mental aging process has sped up rapidly.

I used to be able to oversee my capacity for forgetting why I crossed a room. Not anymore. Let me go over the new things that I recently realized bring me happiness:

- Getting excellent creases from dry cleaned pants

- Going to bed at 9:30 on a weeknight

- Sitting

- Eating food that requires little effort to chew (most notably, pudding)

- Walking slowly

- Sitting


I wish I could point to some factor that's increased my senility, but, then again, I don't think I want to. Hell, I love pudding.

Oh My God

Blackout

After Jimmy Carter's hilarious cry of racism on some who oppose Obama's healthcare policies, the head of the GOP has now called out Obama's racist attempt to depose New York's governor.

Move over Anti-Semitism - your days as #1 name-smudger are over! Racism is the new, slanderously potent kid on the block.

After the p.c. years of the Clinton era, regular folks like you and me have their ignorant swagger back. I'm tired of having my feelings oppressed, too! If I wanna underscore my own racism, then I'll be damned if you're gonna stop me from pointing out someone else's.

fig. a - Racism

I doubt there can be any foe powerful enough to stand in my anti-racist way. Did you just cut me off walking through the subway doors? Maybe you shouldn't have that racist attitude. Blaring loud music on your SUV? Turn it down, Bull Connor.

No raise at work? Racist. Gum on my shoe? Racist. Calling me a cracker who should leave your neighborhood? Up for debate on the grounds that I don't want to get beat up.

Especially after another annoying-as-hell round of local Democratic primaries here in NYC, racism could be the key to my happiness. Wanna shake my hand every day in the subway when I go to work? I shoulda stood outside every day next to every candidate and called them out for who they really are - racists.

Eureka

So I've been following my dreams for a few weeks now, trying to write down what I remember and trying to remember what the hell happened in the first place.

Aside from the obvious bizarro things that everyone gets (rectangular rashes, lost teeth, having a friend's parents party too hard and prevent me from getting to work on time, etc.), I've been shocked by the number of "no shit" and "this is utterly meaningless" visions.

"Mr. Hooper?!"

Yeah, I get it dreambrain - I'm worried about paying those bills on time. And yes, I know, it was sweet to ride go karts. Having an unconscious image of unpaid bills flying around me while I drive a go kart does nothing to change the matter.

The real shocker was a couple weeks ago when I woke myself up with laughter from a joke in a dream.

What was the joke? I have no idea. But I do know the punchline: a thunderously delivered "JULIA CHILDS!!"

I've long considered sleep to be something enjoyed whilst doing it but, for the most part, an extreme annoyance that gets in the way of doing real things like watching TV. With the arrival of this culinary master into my deep subconscious through a farcical form, I can say for sure that my brain is in on the rouse. If only it knew better.

Dropped But Not Forgotten

Friday links, dedicated to the guy who dropped his iPhone onto the subway tracks at Union Square this morning. Inexplicably, he just walked away after dropping it. Consider it gone, my friend.


Chart of News Articles from 1980-1989 concerning "pudding" - Google

There appears to have been a surge of pudding-related articles around 1950, a rate not matched until the '80's.

This is ridiculous. I love Google.


JON AND KATE'S KIDS START SCHOOL! - NY Post

Speaks for itself.


Bald Penguin Gets Sunburn Wetsuit - BBC News

I'm not uncovering some hidden story here, but humans altering the Darwinian fate of cute animals always brings a smile to my face.

Vacation, All I Never Wanted

ALERT ALERT. In case your summer reading list isn't already weighed down with books you'll never open, check out the Obama family's vacation reading list.

Of course, I could care less about this list because books, by definition, are stupid. I only bring the internet and a Game Boy with me on all trips I take.

The important results of this news are the democracy-engendering comments produced by America's self-defeatingly witty readers. As always, the poorer the grammar the more effective the blow:

"1. Bob Mandakas 08.25.09
How about reading the CONSITUTION that would be good"

Touche, Bob - that would be very good. Never mind those party poopers who followed your comment by referring to Obama's time as a Constitutional Law professor at Liberal State U.

I'll leave it to a vaguely Eastern European internet user to complete the next logical thought:

"14. Lynn 08.25.09
Is it a custome for the President in US to have a book-reading list in vocation? I think it’s good! And with a Bible would be perfect!"

To quote a man much wiser than myself, "I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free."

Entering the Unknown

When I was a kid, perhaps the sweetest purchase I could make was the grab bag at a local drug store. To be honest, it didn't matter what was inside - it was a variety bag to be grabbed, so the entertainment was inherent.

I had mostly forgotten about this until a few weeks ago when, poking around eBay, I decided to look up some lot auctions that sell a bunch of things at once.

Immediately I came across an auction of 30 shirts...for $60. That, my friends, is a bargain. And not only is it a bargain, but the seller refused to describe the different sizes of the shirts, maxing out the intrigue factor.

They could all be my size or all XXXXL - there is much potential to waste $60 here. But then again...it's a grab bag of shirts. A grab bag.

I ended up not bidding but it left me with the impression that grab bags are the perfect way for any store to come through in these recessed times. I could give a rat's ass about most retailers, be they online or storefront. But if poorlyconstructedhandbag.com had a grab bag sale...I might be needing some handbags.

Hell, why don't car dealers give it shot? Lord knows I'm not going to consider buying a new, American vehicle unless it's the last running motor on earth. And I'd probably still go for the Honda. But if Chevy offered me a random assortment of vehicles for $50,000...I'd be tempted. They could be the complete, brand-new line of electric vehicles or a fleet of '86 Novas but that is a risk I am morally obligated to take.

Brute Hilarity

People all over are decrying the return of right-wing extremists these days, be it the Homeland Security folks, the SPLC, or your friendly, neighborhood liberalite.

First off, I thought their "return" was the past eight years. But more importantly, I say bring on the nutjobs. God willing, the FBI and whatnot will keep a tab on the violence, because these guys are just too darned funny not to have around.

When was the last time someone brought a gun to a public meeting on healthcare? Why on Earth would this be necessary? Of course it's not necessary, but it is hilarious.

I know we've reached the line of no return when people do stuff like this:

This week, the Secret Service detained a man outside a congressional town hall meeting in Maryland. He was carrying a sign reading “Death to Obama.” Referring to the president’s wife and daughters, the sign also read, “Death to Michelle and her two stupid kids.” (Christian Science Monitor)

My only real complaint, aside from the death part, is that these people can't find more creative ways of voicing their unecessarily vehement anger. If chanting "death to blankety-blank" is the best they can do, they gotta reassess their priorities. Although I do admit, those kids might be stupid.

at a recent town hall meeting, Lebanon, PA

I'm not going to listen to something from the colloquial chum bucket - get some rhymes in there! Refer to a long-standing yet unrelated event that provokes irrational anger! How about a haiku to put those Ivy League tightwads in tizzy:

Barack's healthcare? Great.
But my healthcare? Not so great.
Roe v. Wade? Still dumb.

That's free of charge, nutty right-wingers. Now go back out there, preferably without so many weapons, and show those communist surrender monkeys who really represents 1.3% of the population.

Love in My Tummy

Apologies for the lack of posts lately. I will give you no acceptable reason for my e-absence.

I am a big fan of web page comments. I am also a ginormous fan of Nong Shim Ramen. Today, the interweb and noodle gods have conferred and blessed me with this piece of love from Amazon's Nong Shim Spicy Ramen (the best kind, really) page:

good snack and meal, April 2, 2009
By D. S. Lee "dong" (silver
spring, md)
My family like all kind of Ramyun. I like spicy but my children
doesn't. But this Rymyun my chuildren like very much. All family enjoy Shin
Ramyun.

I gotta agree with Dong on this one: all family do enjoy this product, especially my family of one.

Everything But The Kitchen Link

Believe.


HO-BROKEN: MAYOR QUITS AFTER 3 WEEKS ON JOB AMID CORRUPTION SCANDAL - NY Post

Classic Post.



Dubai's Twirling Tower - Christian Science Monitor

Worthy for this comment which I, at first, took to be a poem. After thinking it was just another comment, I now think that it is actually a poem:

"Stacey 06.26.08

Frankly, I think it’s ugly,
and bad fung shui to boot!
Millions for an apartment in that?
What a waste of money.
Just another testimony to the grasping emptiness of shallow worldy values.
pfft!"

Commuter Cat is Star of Bus Route - BBC News

Poor Britain. Once the world's greatest power, now its top source for cat-commuting trivia.

So my office is insanely awkward. Maybe it's just because I'm one of the youngest people here by a long shot...actually, no - people here are just really awkward.

What's worse is that my cubicle is right next to a main walkway and the walls of my cubicle are about 3 feet high, so anyone that walks past will see me.

Do I say hello to all these coworkers? I'd be happy to, but only a handful actually say hello and sometimes these people don't even recognize my presence. This leads to an incredibly awkward and erratic pattern of me saying hello, people not hearing or ignoring me, people saying hello to me while I'm trying to ignore them, thinking they won't say hello, etc., etc.

I've come upon a solution, however: an automated greeting machine, similar to the Halloween decoration we had when I was a kid that made a six second-long "spooky" noise whenever you walked past. Six seconds is way too long for a MIDI-generated ghost noise.

remove the cheer and beating heart and we've got a deal

If someone walks by my desk now, I could dispense with the meaningless formalities and give them an automatic greeting. Settings could be adjusted for different times of the day, different people, or even changes in the weather! People would no longer feel compelled to awkwardly greet me and I would no longer have to put up with having to guess if people don't like me, don't hear me, or just don't care.

Even better, this could make the situation more awkward than it already is. People would then avoid walking past my cubicle altogether and I would never have to worry about someone seeing the 13 sudoku puzzles I do every day.

233 Years of Freedom From This

Leave it to the British: The Lying Down Game. See the Facebook page for more convincing evidence.

It's all the rage over there these days but I feel conflicted. This is fucking retarded. But this is also hilarious.

I've decided that it's probably a good thing since the internet memes of yore, like suicide bombers in Iraq, don't have quite the same impact that they used to. LOLcats? A blessed reprieve from the dark days of 2008, but nothing more at this point.

I will be taking bets on when this will start taking over the American interweb. Over/under is 45 days from now.

Important Office Security, Pt. 2

401(k) optional

I've complained about my office internet-blocker before, but today it's provided me with a touch of joy.

If you're interested in global security (*adjusts glasses*), I suggest you check out Jihadica. Informative news and analysis - the kind of the thing that actually qualifies as news.

Anyways, I thought to check out the site today and see what's going on for all those misguided youth out there when, inexplicably, the page was blocked by my office. It gave me this, which I can only assume means we're now using Iraq's internet-blocking service:


"THIS WEBSITE HAS BEEN BLOCKED.

REASON: THE CATEGORY "JOB SEARCH" IS FILTERED"


Touche.

Like a Fine Wine?

I've discovered that New York has a habit of making up for its sins against you, though in its own New York way. Recent experiences:


I HATE NEW YORK...: While at a treacherous crosswalk by my office, the "walk" sign turns on. Me and some older guy start to walk across when the old guy suddenly holds out his hand to stop me. A ritzy car has pulled out from BEHIND CARS STOPPED AT THE RED LIGHT and proceeded to RUN THE RED LIGHT WHILE TRYING TO KILL ME. I make an ineffective show of exasperation towards the driver.

...BUT I LOVE NEW YORK, I THINK: The old guy flicks off the driver and says in a thick, local accent, "That fucking scumbag. I hope he fucking dies on the way home." The old man may or may not have had a full complement of teeth.



I HATE NEW YORK...: I was walking to an appointment with my landlord the other day when I noticed a bug had landed on my suit. I try brush it off when I discover that it is not a bug but is, instead, bird poop. Bird poop on my suit. I touched bird poop with my hand.

...BUT I LOVE NEW YORK, I THINK: At the appointment, I got to shake my landlord's hand with the hand that touched the bird poop.

Give Me That Old-time Science

At this point, I can speak for all of us when I say that the predictions of science and literature from the past 50 years have let us down tremendously.

Okay, the moon landing worked out alright. But come on, smart-alecky folks at MIT, NASA and Issac Asimov's brain trust - where are all the cool things we were promised? No colonies on Mars, no eradication of disease, and, most importantly, no spaceships capable of light speed captained by William Shatner.

We shouldn't get all chipper about the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 landing. If people in the 1960s could get to the Moon, why the hell are we languishing here on Earth today? Do you realize this is the same decade that brought us Gumby and Lawrence Welk?? Those people got to the Moon, yet we, 40 years later, cannot even leave Iraq. Slam dunk, 1960s.

I will give us this: we've got the creepy thing down pat. They barely had rock 'n roll back then - today, we have trumpet-playing robots that would weird out even HAL of 2001. But I guess we could always count on the Japanese for that.

oh, how far we've come.

If I could go back in time, I'd have some choice words for the people of 1969: "You better effin' enjoy this, because it's only going downhill from here. The space program may have gotten you to the place of man's dreams, but from here on out it'll only get you an endless orbital program that generates hilarity, pointlessness and diapered pilots. But don't worry, this will cost billions, too."

I'd probably tell them that everything else will be better, though. Especially late-night programming on PBS.

All the same, with the American psyche at a low matched only by the Herbert Hoover years, we could use a jump start. Better to resurrect our crushed dreams than a darn confusin' economy or dismal foreign policy. Afghanistan? Pfft. I don't see Afghanistan on a space map.

Two Birds with One Homeless Man

As I was sitting on the subway today for a couple of lunchtime rides, I encountered a homeless man on both ends of the journey. Upon arriving to each station, the man would state with excellent enunciation what subway-line transfers were available. At 34th street, he noted with a musical flourish that a connection was also available for PATH trains to New Jersey.

At a time when the MTA could not be further from the top of the "list of things I'm pleased to pay money for", a new answer dawned on me: why can't the homeless run the MTA?

Points to be made:
- The homeless do not require state-draining pension plans
- They obviously know the city like the back of their unkempt hands
- 24-hour service is no problem
- Homeless people are more likeable than the MTA
- They live in the subway, as it is
- We would all feel less guilty about ignoring them
- Urine smell would be less disconcerting

get off that bench - and into our hearts!

Most importantly, I can never understand a god-damned word over the P.A. system in the subway. This homeless man's voice, and delightfully intoned touch at the end, could not have been clearer. Think about it; all homeless people do is make announcements all day. Why not steer their vocal training away from street corners towards a less annoying and more productive endeavor?

To be honest, I bet an assembly of homeless people could do a better job with the state senate, too, but I'll stick with the subway for now.