Senseful ramblings of an incoherent nature from a delusional schizophrenic (or my views on current events)

Monday, January 31, 2005

Just Let Me Die

So I was having an MRI done today and during the hour long period that I spent waiting in the waiting room so that I could have a 10 minute MRI scan a nearly non-functioning invalid rolled into the office. Well, let me back track a little first...... While waiting I noticed a special bus pulling up to the outside office. This special bus was equipped with an onboard elevator so that all the handicrapped people can easily get on and off the bus. However, this experience didnt start out as easy as it could. The bus driver got off the bus, unlocked the elevator, folded it out, and wheeled out the nearly non-functioning invalid. This nearly non-functioning invalid woman was dressed in white sneakers, black socks, pink sweat pants, a grey trench coat, a scarf covering her mouth, and a hat pulled down so that the only skin touching the cold elements of this blustery winter day was her nose, which resembled a fake pig nose worn by those fat burly men dressed in skirts who call themselves the "Hogs." The driver lowered the elevator and, whoops, it doesnt touch down properly so up it goes, back into the special bus. The daughter, who was also along for the ride, let out a heaping sigh (as evident by the puffy cloud of steam that eminated out of her mouth and into the atmosphere. Polluting bitch). The driver secured the nearly non-functioning invalid back into the bus, backed up, and forward, and left, and back, and unattached her, lowered her and scooted off like they didnt matter (and they dont).

The daughter then rolled the nearly non-functioning invalid up the ramp, and into the building. She then began to talk to the receptionist and gave all the info that was needed. The receptionist then asked the nearly non-functioning invalid what her birthday way. The daughter then took off the hat and unraveled the scarf thus revealing her eyes that were opened far too wide and staring at the ceiling, and her mouth, which was also open, tongue slightly sticking out towards the right, and drool slowly oozing down her face. "SHE ASKED WHAT YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS," yelled the daughter (yes, she used the word was, past-tense of the word is, as if the nearly non-functioning invalid doesnt celebrate them anymore). The nearly non-functioning invalid responded with a series of grunts followed by what sounded like two clicks and a whistle, which aparently meant September 12, 1928... The nearly non-funtioning invalid was then rolled into a corner (as she probably spends most of her days) and continued to star at the ceiling, except for one incident where she laughed uncontrollably for no reason whatsoever, nearly laughing herself out of her chair.

Naturally this image got me to think about mortality and my life and I have come to the conclusion that if I am ever that bad, instead of rolling me into an MRI imaging center, just roll me off a fucking cliff, and while I am falling, make sure to take pictures so that people can remember me. If the most excitement I am going to get during my last days is nearly falling off my chair, just let me go out in a blaze of glory, by swan diving off a cliff. And if I am not in a mountainous region, how about pushing me into traffic and allowing me to bounce of cars and buses like I was a pin ball. Maybe if I am hit with enough force I would be bounced into a store and then tilted back out again.

Maybe I should rethink what I am saying here... Do I really want to just limit it to being a nearly non-functioning invalid? Hmmm... Hell no! Say I get hit by a car and become a quadropaligic, thus eliminating my ability to download free porn from the internet, wheel me and my bed back into traffic so that another car can finish off the job.

If I loose my hands due to a horrid chess accident, leaving me unable to, uh, write, yeah, write, lop off my head so that I wont have to live without, uh, writing.

Say I have to get my tonsils out because they are inflamed, if you are the doctor, just cut my breathing line, I dont want to live without my tonsils!

Fuck it, why not just kill me now. Life and all this worrying about what is going to happen to me is just too much of a bother. If you know me, just stab me in the eye with a rusty nail and leave me out in the middle of the Mohabi where I can become lunch for some pack of vulchers and then returned to terra firma through there huge vulture turds.

Fine, this post went no where and it stunk, but in all truthfulness, never let me become a nearly non-functioning invalid. Sure it would be funny the first time someone had to change me and I purposefully left silo number 2 partially full for a sneak attack, but that gag would get old awfully quick. After 5 or 6 times just curb me and call it a day.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

The Slowing of Human Evolution

Let me preface this post by stating that I have always been a staunch believer in the survival of the fittest theory composed by Darwin. To me it makes perfect sense that the smartest and most fit of a species will live on to reproduce while the slow and dumb are left out for sacrafice (meaning the predators eat them).

When humans evolved from apes, our early ancestors must have evolved quickly as there is little evidence of a long drawn out evolution. We went from using rock tools to building computers in a blink of an eye in comparison to how long the earth has been around, yet I feel that this is changing.

Yes, we are still producing amazing inventions and creating things that 30 years ago was considered science fiction, but can this "Age of Intelligence," as I have labeled it, continue, or will it end prematurely, ironically because of our technological advancements?

So you are now four paragraphs into this post and are probably thinking, "what the fuck is this dolt talking about?" Well, let me lay it out for you: Nature follows the rules of survival of the fittest, us humans, dont. By keeping alive our elderly, making our obese fatter, encouraging the stupid, and supporting our "gifted," we are deluting our gene pool and making our future less than bright.

Ok, I know that statement sounds horrible, but hear me out. In nature, the animals that survive are the ones that get to reproduce, that means that superior genes and naturally occuring beneficial mutations are passed on to the survivors offspring. Sort of like if an Olympic athlete mated with an Ivy League professor.

Unfortunately that kind of mating in the human species doesnt happen all that often. Why is that? Basically because our sick, slow, and stupid are cared for, not discarded. If one fat, illiterate fuck marries another similarly fat, illiterate fuck, what are the chances that the produce an athletic, future Rhodes scholar? You can blame our society for pushing fast food, or our schools systems for not properly educating our youth, but when it all comes down to it we are all genetically made to either excell or fail. More often, especially in these days, we are seeing more failures than successes. And these failures meet and reproduce with other failures, creating even more failures.

By now you must be asking what can be done to stop this dumbing down of evolution? There is no one thing that can be done to stop this trend, yet I believe that there are ways to help regain our genetic edge.

First, we must let the elderly die. Honestly, is there any reason for us to keep them around after 4 or 5 heart attacks? It is obvious that nature felt it was this persons time to go, why delay the inevitable? Hell, all they do in their last 30 years is bitch and moan anyway, who needs that hassle?

Second, the sick are sick for a reason, because they are meant to die. Ask yourself this, how long does a wounded gazelle last out in the Serengeti?

Third, euthanize the "gifted." Sure they are a wealth of comedic gold, but I can live without that. Hell, they cant even reproduce, so why keep them around? Plus, it will save their parents money and time in their later years when they should be enjoying life, but are stuck changing a 45 year old's diaper.

Finally, we need to create a predator that solely feeds on man. Once we have created this half elephant, half lion, it will be unleashed on the general population without warning, thus testing the intelligence and fitness of each individual. Sure a few Noble Laurettes may get chomped, but many more failures will become lunch, and it is all for the greater good. (We could simply just neuter all the fat, dumb and happy, but that wouldnt be nearly as fun!)

Now, with the human population thinning (categorically and physically) our gene pool will be more specific and once again we can pass on our good traits while throwing the bad ones out with the bath water.

(PS - if you didnt find humor in this entire post, which was meant as a satire on human evolution, than you, yourself, are one of the failures;))

Monday, January 24, 2005

FUCK snow (The People are Morons Remix)

I know I already made a post about how much I now hate snow, but my hatred for snow has been surpaced by my hatred for people in the snow. Perhaps it is just a Philadelphia thing, where people act more idiotic than usual, but I have my doubts. I believe that this is a universal problem, where when it snows people with low intelligence levels stoop to newer and greater lows!

My first example of what I will call Human Snow Stupidity (HSS) occured whilst I was driving home tonight from work. I take the most windy road in Philadelphia, and quite possibly on the east coast (think Lombard St in San Francisco without the incline), Lincoln Drive, where during good conditions the state recommends that you dont travel above 25 mph. Today, as you already know, the ground was covered with snow, and since the road is complex it appears that it was hard for the plow operators to do an adequate job in maintaining two lanes in each direction. To compound the problem, it began to snow even more! As I meander, going a quaint two five, from behind me up comes a Volkswagen Bug going, oh, at least 75! This douchebag was not only sliding all over the place, pushing cars into snow drifts, and honking, but he was visibly smirking and laughing! It was almost as if he was traveling with a nitrous tank in his car that was jarred open by one of his slanting turns! I have never wished a fiery death upon a person before. As he passed me I thought about taking one for the team by giving his car a little nudge in the hopes of taking him out, however the thoughts of Dale Ernhardt slamming into a wall at Daytona and me rotting away in a jail, getting raped on alternate tuesdays by a huge Arian named Big Earl, led me to not act on my desires. After he passed me and traveled another quarter mile I lost him in the falling snow that was quickly becoming a blizzard. Hopefully his car is now parked in the bottom of the frozen Schuylkill River with him still strapped in the drivers seat.

As I continued to drive everything was going swimmingly until I got to Market Street in the center of Philadelphia. As I got halfway between 8th and 7th streets a lean, Michael Jordan clone ran out across the street and hurdled the two and a half foot snow bank that was piled up due to the snow plows. Like the lemmings that are many Philadelphians, a handful of people in worse shape followed suit. The first three people walked/ran across the street and climbed the snow bank slowly, but got across quick enough so that i didnt have to slam on my brakes (and by slam I mean gently apply the breaks and slide for 30 feet). However, the fourth person, a behemouth of a woman, sauntered across the frozen road, going slowly as to not loose her footing. Her heft alone should have allowed her to cross the road without any problems, however she gingerly stepped as if she were a ballerina trying to land one of those triple spins. As she approached the yellow lines, instead of stopping and looking she merely put out her hand in order for me to stop for the elephant crossing. She finally reached the end of the road, but her journey was far from over. To her, the pile of snow was like a daunting cliff to a mountain climber. She reached and reached, like a child on its tippy-toes reaching up as high as it could in order to grab the cookie jar. But much like the little tot who couldnt get the cookie, she could not get to the top of the pile. Degected, yet undetered, she walked along the snow pile to the corner where she should have rightfully crossed in the first place, taking up one lane of traffic as she shifted her weight from side to side. What I wouldnt have given for a camera phone, or rather a harpoon to put the poor beached whale out of its frozen misery.

Similarly, I have never seen so many people stand on the road waiting for the light to change instead of waiting on the sidewalk. It was as if they felt safer on the slippery road with cars zooming past them than they did on the remarkably shoveled and salted sidewalk! And must you wait for the bus by standing in a lane of traffic? Do you think that the bus is not going to stop for you unless you stand in front of it? While I dont have much respect for bus drivers and their intelligence levels, it is their one repsonsibility to look into the bus shelters, see the people waiting for the bus, and then apply pressure to the brakes, thus stopping the bus! And dont even get me started on the bike messengers who made it into work today. They should all fall, and slip under an oncoming Hummer.

And I used to think that the stupidest people only come out when it rains. Someone needs to study this HSS phenomenon and get back to me. While I will complain, bitch and moan, who am I to actually do any leg work!


And by snow, I mean that flakey white shit that falls from the sky, not the nose sentilating nose candy that so many enjoy and become addicted too. That shit I might be able to handle, but this cold stuff, fuck it I say!

I remember when I was a lil chum, my sister and I would play for hours in the snow with our mittens snapped on (and later with our Freezy Freaky gloves) tight and our hats pulled down to our eyebrows (I always wanted one of those full face hats with the cut outs for my eyes, nose and mouth, but that never materialized for me). Least I forget the snow pants that made us both look like Ralphie's little brother from "A Christmas Story." I remember sleading down a hill, towards the neighborhood creak, and getting so much speed that I actually fell in! Some parent grabbed me up and took me inside, but I swore up and down that I wasnt cold and could go back to sleading. It didnt happen, but i was ready to go back out. I remember a time when I would make snowball after snowball and launch them at my sister, only to get pelted just as many often as i was able to unleash fury on her. I remember never wanting to come in from playing in the moisty goodness, but alas, it was all ruined when I had to start shoveling the driveway.

My dad, for whatever reason, was one of the few people with a snowblower when I was in middle and high school. Normally that would lead you to believe that my dad would let me use the snowblower while he would sit inside, peering out the window with a hot mug o' cocoa, but alas, this is my family, and that was not the case. As I begun shoveling (up until 1993 with a flat shovel, and if I was unlucky, with the spade. Thats right, we owned a snowblower, but nary a snow shovel until later in my high school years) my dad would first mix the gas with the oil, then gas the blower up and then take about 15 minutes to get the fucking thing started. By that time I would have half the driveway done and the walkway leading to the front door. Naturally, he would start blowing the snow and where do you think said blown snow would land? Ah yes, right where I just finished shoveling. Eventually we would finish the job, but alas, the storm just started, this would only be the first of at least 5 shoveling periods. By the time I thawed out, had a deliscious cup o' joe, and watched some newcaster tell me about how bad it was outside and about how you should minimize your time spent out in the blustery winter weather, it was time to go back out again and start the process from the beginning. Even the mail man, who shant be stopped from his duty to deliever the mail, took time to laugh at my sorry soul.

So now I hate snow, although occassionally it is the cause for an extended weekend or a mid-week break, though not nearly enough for my liking. Today, not only is there over 12 inches of snow, but it is freezing cold out (freezy freaky's wouldnt even have worked, they would have just turned white, fuckin 1980s technology). My idiot neighbors, being the selfish bores that they are, decided that their sidewalk was more important than the small street that passes by my door, so naturally they shoveled their snow into the street, eliminating all hopes of the mini plow getting through my street. Instead of the foot of snow that would have been easily handled, there is now well over two feet of snow, completely blocking the street, which I am sure will remain that way until early April. Also, my car was buried in the now gray snow. Took me nearly an hour and a half to undig, although I did take a 30 minute break to warm up and watch the news, hoping that my work would be closed (kind of reminded me of when I was a boy, sitting by the heater, warming my digits and the radio ran through the school number: "Did he say 302? Did he say 302?).

The streets of Philadelphia (Springstein? eech) could have doubled for a hockey rink, all that was needed was a zamboni. It took me another hour just to drive out of the city! I guess every municiple worker was too busy getting drunk, sustaining their buzz, or passed out from the Eagles win to care about the roads. Makes me want to wish an icey death to those fuckers, but I am too enlightened to think that way. I will just use my jedi mind powers to keep them in their sullen, poor white trash lives so that when I am old and rich, they are still plowing the city streets and hating life. Serves you right, you drunken clods!

Friday, January 14, 2005

Super Special Post

Before we get to the meat of this post I need to spell some things out to make the post understandable for those who dont know where I work (which would be everyone). I work in a township government building which is right across the street from the local High School. Now, for whatever reason, quite a few high school students wait to be picked up at the township library, which is part of the building I work in, and right next to the door I use to access my office. For a parent to pick up their child the parent first has to drive through the parking lot, then pull in front of the building where all the kids pile into who ever's housemom's minivan who had the misfortune of being in charge of carpool that day. Usually there are all sort of kids that wait out there in their cliches, the wannabe intellectuals/poser goths, the cute lil asians, the skaters, the nerds/dorks/dweebs, etc. Today, as I pulled into the parking lot, a "special" gift was waiting for me;).

As bad as this is going to sound, I am going to refer to this "special" gift as an It, not because I am heartless or mean (although I could be considered both by someone who doesnt really know me and my persona), but because there was no distinguishing clue as to the sex of it. In other words, dont get mad at me for calling it, "it," blame its parents gene pool. It was wearing red mesh shorts which were pulled up way to high over a greenish shirt. Normally shorts pulled up that high could give a clue to the sex of the wearer by a distinguishing moose knuckle or lovely cameltoe, yet neither existed. It also had brown socks on with toeless sneakers. Toeless? Yes, it is not a new fad, but a reflection of the age of the shoes themselves. It also had short blonde curly hair (couldnt get the typical soup bowl haircut, otherwise known as the Pete Rose, that a normal special kid would, if you have curly hair, so I suppose the parents of it instead invested in the flo-be) and glasses designed with the specific intent of burning ants. It was eagerly awaiting Its pick up with an extremely large, dark grey backpack that probably contained 5 lunch pales (what else could It have in there? Books?).

As I pulled into my parking spot I noticed a tan colored, rust infused Dodge POS, circa 1981, classic pulling around the parking lot. Immediately I knew I was in for a treat! The POS pulled up in front of the library and It got eager with anticipation. I have never seen someone so excited about a car ride. It started to run around the front of the car, but not a normal run mind you, no, It's upper body began to run before It's lower body received the signal to start moving. It looked like a drawing compass stuck at 90 degrees while running forward! It clodded past the drivers door, threw open the back door and launched It's backpack/lunch receptor clear across the back seat, landing with a thud behind the passenger seat. Shit, It should have just opened up the back passenger seat door and placed the bag down, it would have had the same effect for It.

At first I couldnt really imagine why It would enter the car through the rear, drivers side door. I initially thought that It's mother didnt want It sitting in the front seat. Of course It's mom would demand that It sit in the back seat for protection, but I couldnt get the idea out of my head that It's mom didnt want to be seen with It. Regardless, that rational was thrown out the window as quickly as It's back was thrown across the car. After the bag landed, It closed the door, excitedly sidesteps to the left and opened up the driver's door! As soon as It opened the door It began to pounce up and down like a cheerleader cheering her team on. I nearly lost composure as I watched one foot leave the ground simultaniously as the other foot returned to terra firma. It had to wait a little while though, because for however athletic It looked while waiting, It's mother is the antithesis - fat and plodding. Eventually, Mom of It removed herself from the car and not wasting any time, or even giving the seat a chance to grasp for air or even cool off, It planted itself in the driver's seat and began to rev the engine. Mom of It slowly meandered around the back of the car, opened the POS door with a slow creak and sat down, giving the suspension an unneeded test of durability.

I then experienced something that I had only previously seen in the movies. The herkying and jerkying of a new, teen driver. Until about 45 minutes ago I had never seen someone start and stop in such a studdering way with the exception of every 80s teen movie starting Molly Ringwald. Seeing that the show was almost over I left my car and began to walk back into the office, and eerily enough right into the path of destruction. As I crossed the street towards the building It peeled out and nearly ran me over! I used what little speed I had left to get out of It's way, and none too soon! The last thing I need is to be an ornimate on the front bumper of that car. Hell, if It did hit me, It and Mom of It would have probably kept on going until they got home, where they would leave me stuck on the front bumper to die a slow death in their family garage.

Neither It, or Mom of It noticed my plight, or the stop sign at the end of the driveway as It peeled out like the Jerry Lewis Telethon was on and they were missing it. That is the end of the story of It, I can only hope that I experience It and It's driving talents again on a later date.

While the story is over, I am left with some quandries as to our driving laws. 1) Should people who's glasses were clearly made for the Hubble telescope really be allowed to drive? 2) Should It, and people like It be allowed to drive? I mean I know the DMV is one of the few places that would hire someone like It (hell, that's the most saught after job for special-ed, followed closely by the spoon and fork sorting plant - I shit you not, but that is a story for another day), but should they really allow them to get their own licenses? 3) Why didnt It, of Mom of It, notice that they almost ran over a completely normal person (me)? Did they know I had intentions of writing this post? That total lack of respect for the rest of us is what is wrong with this world! Hehe, just kidding of course

I wish It, and Mom of It, the best luck in their persuance of a drivers license for it. Warning to all the animals who play in the streets, stay away, stay far, far away. And if you people see a Tan/Rust 1981 Doge POS classic, make a quick U-turn and head the other way. Best to not even get involved. While the humor is worthy, the life risk is not.

Finally, I would like to give a shot out to my idol, Fat-Lip, formerly from the Pharcyde. It's good to see you working again man! For those of you who dont know what I am talking about, go check out the new Ludacris video, "Get Back," Fat-Lip is the dude getting the shit kicked out of him by a Popeye-ish looking Luda. Gotta love Spike Jonez videos. Good to see Fat-Lip working again!

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

A New Year...

...But all the same old bullshit. Was anyone else mortified at the sea of orange that was the new years celebration in Time's Square? Honestly, what the fuck? Perhaps they were handing out those orange hats as a way of saying that we have been on orange alert for quite some time? As if Time's Square wasnt already enough of a well lit target before the splash of added orange, but I digress. I enjoyed watching the celebration that was happening in Key West! There they lower a transvestite named Sushi, who just happens to be sitting in a huge highheeled show, from the second floor balcony to the ground. I suppose that gives a new meaning to the term "the ball dropping," although in his/her situation I guess we should be talking about the balls chopping.... Haha, snicker snicker, yeah, not too funny

Perhaps this new year means I just wont be funny anymore, but I doubt it. Maybe it means that this 2 month long headache that I have endured will finally subsist and leave me for good. I can always hope, right? Maybe this year I will talk about me instead of talking about what I feel on one topic or another? Yeah, I doubt it. If you really want to know about me, why not just call my phone? Hell, here is my number, 610-986-9051. If I want to talk to you I just might pick up;)

Alright, lets get this year started by talking about the Tsunami that ravaged the Indian Ocean. Yes, the Tsunami was a horrible thing, and I am, for once, at a loss of words in regards to the loss of so much life, but I have to get one thing off my chest and it has to do with all of you religious assclowns who either think that this is a sign of the apacolypse or that this Tsunami was large enough to be regarded as "Biblical."

First of all, the world is not coming to an end, not anytime soon anyway. Sure all human life might one day become extinct, but even then the earth will still survive (assuming we dont destroy it before it destroys us). And as awful as this next statement is going to sound, it is the truth: if any part of the world could survive a population hit like that Tsunami provided, it is that area. Yes, I know, horrible, but you know me;) That statement was not meant as a joke, I am being deadpan serious for once (it doesnt happen that often). Too bad there werent any library's around that people could run into and then seek the help of Jake Gillenhall (see, my seriousness didnt last long). Second, "Biblical," in terms of Noah and his Arc, was much larger than this Tsunami. Sure only half the world was known of at the time of the Bible (even though you should all know that I dont believe in that shit anyway, and by that shit I mean religion), but even then Noah had to take two of every species and put it on his boat. That means that half the world was covered with no survivors. Hmm, this Tsunami, not quite so biblical. It really is a shame that the people in Sri Lanka didnt have a Tsunami warning system that worked so well as Noah's. Shit, Noah had time to build a huge ass boat and collect all the known animals! Too bad we dont have his ancient technology!

Ok, I have worked on this post for long enough, and it has turned into crap... Hopefully this will be my one horrible post of the year and now that I have it out of the way we can move on and talk about some funny shit that i have been thinking about. Soon I will grace you all with my thoughts on todays drivers and how they stink.