Thursday, December 23, 2010

The Man, The Myth

By now, you’re probably saying “OK Snake, you’ve made me laugh so hard snot came rocketing out of my nose and into the Cap’n Crunch I was eating, causing it all to splash back into my face. You’ve also made me slap my knee with so much enthusiasm that I missed my knee and my hand landed in a beaker of sulfuric acid I have next to me for my chemistry project. Now that I’ve showered off and returned from the hospital, I’d like to get to know you a little bit.”

Well, first of all, thanks, glad I could provide some laughs. Second, I must apologize. I should have included a disclaimer that one should not read this blog while in the presence of dangerous acids or chemicals. It’s a common mistake and a real bonehead omission on my part. You’re right though; you’re entitled to know a little bit about me if you’re going to continue reading this little farce I’ve put together. So with potentially face-scarring acids put safely aside, I’ve prepared a “Get to Know Me” quiz for the reader.

Let’s start with an easy one…

Question 1:

I live in LA with

a) One small, hyper dog
b) Three Brazilian women and one mongoose
c) Ernest, my imaginary best friend from Austria
d) The world’s largest collection of snap bracelets

Answer: A. I know what you’re thinking, “He really seems like a mongoose man,” but it’s A.

Question 2:

My dog has done all of the following except:

a) Eaten a pebble
b) Eaten cat feces
c) Taken a dump in someone else’s shoe
d) Pissed on another dog’s face (R. Kelly’d)

Answer C. Hasn’t happened yet, but he’s a mischievous little tyke, I wouldn’t put it past him.

Question 3:

I have slept in all of the following places except:

a) On the side of the road underneath a Kia Optima
b) On a cement driveway with my head on rocks
c) In a ditch
d) On Joe Rogan’s pullout couch

Answer: D. These incidents were never sober, but always memorable. Keen readers know that Joe Rogan lives on a cot he carries from roof to roof after he comes down from a crazy crack binge.

Question 4:

My favorite type of music is

a) Indie
b) Punk/Pop-Punk/Rock
c) Hip Hop
d) Steve “Leatherback” Johnson and the Polka Poppies

Answer: All of the above! You can’t go wrong with any of these choices. I can’t believe you are doing so poorly. You should have studied beforehand.

Question 5:

If I formed a band, it would be called

a) Blood Skunk
b) Crass McGass and the Flailing Farts
c) Pickle Dick and the Wenises
d) Grumpy Grandpa’s Oatmeal

Answer: D. We would be like Sarah McLaughlin meets Eminem meets Creed meets Kelly Clarkson. I know—that just blew your mind. It’ll happen one day; I just need to find a decent oboe player.

Question 6:

My favorite 90’s sitcom is

a) Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
b) Boy Meets World
c) Salute Your Shorts
d) Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper

Answer: B. Toughest question out of the bunch—they are all classics. I have to take Boy Meets World though. I still watch that show with a box of Kleenex…….for the tender moments when I cry softly. Why, what did you think I meant?

Question 7:

My favorite food is

a) Poached quail eggs
b) Wheatgrass tips
c) Donkey rectum
d) Pizza

Answer: C. Considered a delicacy in Sri Lanka, donkey rectum is surprisingly tasty and nutritious. I like to pound some rectum before hitting the gym. I’ll even get my lips on a good rectum or two before bed for sustenance.

Well, that seems sufficient in describing me in a nutshell. R Kelly dog, sleep in a ditch, Corey Matthews, Donkey rectum: yep, that pretty much sums me up. If you can’t get a good grasp of a person after a hastily put together seven-question quiz, maybe you should be reading Sarah Palin’s book and wearing a helmet.

If you have any more personal questions about me, I’d be more than happy to answer them, just send me an email at GrumpyGrandpasOatmeal@yahoo.com. If you happen to get an angry email back from a guy named Sal, you probably forgot the “s” in Grandpas—try it again and ignore Sal, he’s a dick.

Snake Alley Song of the Day: Florence & the Machine - Dog Days are Over

Happy Holidays, see you next year!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Road Rage

“Get out of the way you fucking fuck!”

That statement certainly isn’t the crassest thing you’ll ever hear; it’s not even the crassest comment on this blog. But when you hear this exclamation spewed out of the mouth of a kind, sweet, caring person—it comes as a bit of a shock.

The only place this happens with any sort of frequency is when people are driving. Road rage is a crazy beast that can capture us all at times. The most patient people all of the sudden can’t wait two seconds for someone to turn. Honks and hand gestures are exchanged, and both parties remain pissed off for the next 30 or 40 seconds. We essentially turn into crack heads with good and bad moods that spike quickly then revert back to normal.

I occasionally do it too, when people drive like morons and weave in and out of traffic, or when people go 20 mph under the speed limit on a busy road and don’t realize they are causing a hazard by going so slow. Once the crazy speeders and weavers are past me and I’m safe of their Nascar-fetish-fantasy I don’t mind so much. I figure it’s only a matter of time when they get in a terrible crash because of the way they drive. I would assume they’ll stop driving like that afterward, if they survive. With the extreme slowpokes, I just tell myself it’s either an elderly person who has lost the appropriate strength to push the gas pedal down any harder, someone who is stoned (I told you to stop doing that mom), or a 15 year old driver’s-ed student (If I actually see “student driver” on the side of a car, I like to pull up right beside them, roll down the window, and blast Welcome to the Jungle as I stare at them maniacally. Regardless of where I may have to be, I stay with them until they start crying. They learn best through intimidation).

The phenomenon is more fascinating than anything else. The most gentle, polite people flip a switch when they get in a car. To an extent it makes sense: you are operating a very expensive vehicle (except you Toyota Tercel owners) at speeds high enough to cause damage and even death. It’s okay to be a little more hyper-vigilant. But when you’re screaming at the 90 year-old woman hesitating to make a right turn at a red light, I think we need to take some chill pills (xanax will do the trick). My ex-girlfriend is a prime example. The quote that began this chapter originated from her mouth. She is a kind, caring, nice, person. Put her behind the wheel however, and it’s not uncommon to hear her call other motorists “douchebags,” “assholes,” “dumb-fucks,” “dick-faces,” and my personal favorite as mentioned before, “fucking fucks.”

It seems as though most road rage could be easily prevented. Subtract all the weaving speed demon assholes, the teenage girls texting and singing along to Justin Beiber at full blast, the elderly people who are trying to pay attention but operate as if heavily medicated, and distracted businessmen talking about ‘The Stephenson Account’ or some such nonsense on their Bluetooth, and you’d at least have a much more civilized, alert roadway.

According to a survey, 57% of people don’t use their turn signals. What the fuck? How hard is it to take your finger and push a lever? That’d be like going swimming in the deep end without arm floaties--too scary! That seems like an easy problem to resolve. If people are too lazy to use turn signals, have the car’s signals activate automatically when the wheel is turned to a certain degree. I know I’m just a Rec & Leisure major, but that seems like a quick fix (Get on that, automakers! Oh that’s right, you’re bankrupt). According to a Gallup Poll (second best Poll/Pole next to Stripper), more people are worried about road rage than drunk driving. Solution: get high and get on the road. You can’t be considered drunk and you certainly won’t be aggressive.

So, in order to sum up in an expedient manner, let’s just condense this thing into one decisive blanket statement. Slow down, speed up, stop weaving, use your turn signals, pay attention, relax, be courteous, be alert, get in your lane, and get out of the way (you fucking fuck!)

Snake Alley Song of the Day: Ra Ra Riot - Dying Is Fine

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Ballad of Axel Ruggert

I found the following letter when I took a drive through rural Tennessee. I stopped to stretch my legs next to a small lake I spotted. It was actually a dirty retention pond, but lake sounds better, so we’ll go with lake. Shortly after urinating into an adjacent bush, I noticed an empty bottle of Colt45. I smirked a little—but I was in rural Tennessee, so I wasn’t surprised in the least. A slightly closer look revealed a piece of paper stuck inside the bottle. I figured it was trash, but checked it out anyway just out of curiosity. As it turns out, it was a long lost love letter, set adrift in a small trash-ridden retention pond. Someone must have mistaken one of the main aspects of sending a ‘message in a bottle.’
Regardless, I found the content of the message to be a poignant lesson to be learned from our lovesick friend in Tennessee.

Dear Joan,

I hope this letter finds its way to ya. It’s been forever since I’ve seen ya and I miss seeing yer smile. I’ve been lonely here, the house seems so empty. I remember that one time I got chicken at the store and you said you liked beef more, so I switched it out for the beef, which made you smile. It was good too, you were right…you’re always right. You’re so smart.

I feel like I need you back in my life. We’d be such a good team. Remember that one time you were having a bad day and I cheered ya up by spilling all that milk and pretending to fall down in it and cry? That was one of the best days of my year that year, just seeing ya smile like that.

Where did you go sweet Joan? Where did you go and why did you go? You’re gone now and it hasn’t been the same without ya. I’m 42 now and I ain’t gettin’ any younger. I want you to come back. If I had to guess, I’d say you finally graduated and went off somewhere to college. You’re so smart. It seems like it has probably been about four years now and you were starting to look like you were goin’ from smaller teens into the later teens. I don’t know if that made sense, I’m starting to ramble now. Listen, bottom line is it took me all those years to finally get up the nerve to ask you out, then when I go into the good ole grocery store, the manager says you don’t work there no more. I never had a girlfriend I didn’t have to pay for. I wanted you to be my first one. I always see in the movies that if you put your message in a bottle and throw it in the sea, it will reach the person you wanted it to. So that’s what I’m gonna do. This is it right here.

So please come back, at least for the summer if you are at college.

Love,

Axel Ruggert, the guy who came in every Tuesday with the toothpick and ponytail

The clear lesson here: if you are a man and wear your hair in a ponytail, you will never find love in this world and should probably start collecting flannel shirts and lurking around the cereal aisle in the grocery store. The conversations you have there with customers as you pretend not to know the difference between Count Chocula and Cocoa Crispies will be the extent of your human interaction most days. So either cut it off, or tell the night manager at Piggly Wiggly I said hi.

Snake Alley Song of the Day: The Kooks - See the Sun

Monday, December 20, 2010

Sports Analysts

I’ve always loved sports. I can pretty much turn on any game in any sport, regardless of the teams, and watch it purely for the entertainment value (aside from most baseball and golf, which can get pretty boring). What is interesting to me is the recent need for dozens of “analysts” dissecting every aspect of every player on every team. When I was young, it was just Sportscenter. It was two guys telling me the scores and showing me the highlights. Maybe if it was really in-depth, they would tell me if anyone got hurt, who the teams were playing next, and Stuart Scott might throw in a “Booyah!” or two.

Now, I am overwhelmed by arrogant nerdy men analyzing every little part of sports. We’ve got shows where people just debate random sports issues and act as extreme and animated as possible, we’ve got a show that assigns scores to how well people debate sports, we’ve even got TV shows that simply show sports analysts doing a radio show! Whose idea was that? Who is listening to their sports talk radio and saying “Gee, I wish I could see these two titans of sports minutiae sitting in their chairs and talking into the microphone.” Is it not enough to hear their discussions? We need to see their mustard-stained Beefy XL t-shirts and unkempt hair?

We've also got individuals who get paid to simply try to predict playoff matchups and NCAA tournament brackets (the much revered 'Bracketologist'). Last time I checked, this wasn't a profession, this was just called 'being a degenerate.' What’s worse is that we can’t just watch level-headed analysts talk about the issues. Intelligent sportscasters like Dan Patrick and Eric Kuselias (see, you don’t even know who that guy is, do you?) don’t get as much air time as self-involved windbags like Skip Bayless and Tony Kornheiser. The more opinionated, polarizing, and worked up you can be, the better. It doesn’t really matter if what you’re saying has any merit.

I also get the feeling many of these people who dedicate their lives to the smallest little sporting details have never played sports in any significant way. Mel Kiper Jr: that man looks like a former mob boss who got kicked out of the ‘family’ for using too much hairspray. John Clayton: Jesus Christ. That man looks like a cadaver that should be playing ‘dead body’ number three on CSI: Beirut. Trey Wingo: aside from the great name, he looks like he was at best an average badminton player. Last but not least Chris ‘Boomer’ Berman: just because you eat like an offensive lineman doesn’t make you an athlete. “Back Back Back Back Gone! ...to Hooters.”

I’m as big a fan of sports as anyone—I could write an anthology on my crazy antics during and following Florida State football games or how I sustained a serious shoulder injury cheering for the Green Bay Packers. I just wouldn’t devote my life to studying the finest details of something that really doesn’t have a big impact on our daily lives (other than when daddy gambles away the mortgage on the Celtics game). I realize it’s a huge industry; it just seems like if you want to spend your time analyzing other people playing games, politics might be a better place to start. Those cats are crazier than sports analysts any day!


(By the way, I’m a huge hypocrite; I totally watch most of these programs and sportscasters. At least I can call myself out from time to time)


Snake Alley Song of the Day: Givers - Up Up Up

Friday, December 17, 2010

Everything In, (Screw) Moderation

A free-wheelin’ free-ballin essay by David J. Tucker

Teachers, parents, and authority figures have always told me “everything in moderation.” “Don’t eat too much candy,” or “don’t get too excited/upset,” or “if you continue to poke that grizzly bear with a stick, he will wake up.” I say rubbish!

What kind of a life would I have if I held back? Where would I be in ten years? Probably stuck in a mid-level job with a wife and a Pug-Pomeranian mix. Not that that’s a bad thing; it’s just too safe. Where are the thrills going to come from? How can we preach staying on course in life all the time? My most memorable times are when I’ve done something to excess or took a risk, not the times when I played it safe. Why do you think movies are so popular? Everyone that takes everything in moderation go to the movies to watch the characters that don’t.

Everywhere I look, people seem preoccupied with their future. Then, suddenly, a switch seems to flip and they are trying to reclaim their past. It’s “school-school-school-where do I go to college-what’s my major-what job can I get-awesome I got a job-wait now I’m working 50 hours per week-I want to go back to college-man high school was great-maybe I can sneak in a 6 pack of light beer after work tomorrow before I drop off the dry cleaning.” It seems to me that it’s far more enjoyable if you just tell the cultural norms and expectations to go fuck themselves and simply do your best to enjoy whatever
stage you’re at--which is precisely why I’m writing this teetering off a glacier in Nova Scotia. I was supposed to go to the dentist this week, but I thought “fill a cavity and listen to a bitter sounding dental technician tell me to floss more, or take an impromptu drive up the coast and get in some sick ice climbing.” It was an easy choice. Sorry Ms. Fenwick, I know I told you I had the mumps but I’m kind of explaining my absence and writing a killer essay at the same time, so can we call it even?

I guess what I’m saying is LIVE people, just live it up and don’t do what everyone expects you to do. Don’t go off the deep end and get fired from your job or kicked out of school or disowned by your parents. Just have some fucking fun as you go through life. If you want to get blitzed on PBR and belt your heart out to old Springsteen albums, let it rip. If you want to make a bunch of picture albums on facebook and then wait to see who comments, upload like there’s no tomorrow. If you really truly like being safe, then put on a reflective vest and coast through life. As for me, I think I’ll hurl myself down this steep embankment I just climbed up because it looks like a giant frozen slip and slide. If I break an ankle or something—who cares? At least I’ll have a better story to tell than “You should have seen how much my ‘Pugmeranian’ pooped after I gave him an extra Snausage!”

-David Tucker was a sophomore in college when he wrote this. He tragically passed away as a senior when he snorted a large amount of cocaine and didn’t securely fasten the straps on his bungee cord.

Snake Alley Song of the Day: The Academy Is... - Ghost

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Random Thoughts

-We should call anyone who plays the trombone a “Tromboner.”
-We should call anyone who plays the clarinet “Nancy.”
-Why do elementary schools have mascots? Is there some competitive badass elementary sporting event that I’m missing?
-The state of Kansas should only be used to store leftover equipment from amusements parks. We should also create some sort of ‘moving walkway’ system like at airports, but meant for cars. Stretch a few of those across the whole state East/West and North/South so we can get through that godforsaken wasteland as fast as possible.

-I think old products should come back into style like fashion trends do. I want to get my mouth on some vintage Shasta. Remember that crap? Me neither. Or how about RC Cola for that matter? I think they use that as the principal ingredient in Drano now.

-It’s hilarious that you can place wagers in Vegas on the World Series of Poker. Gambling on gambling. Someone please start a testosterone-fueled “U.S.A!” chant.

-A list of actors who I think are terrible:
Keanu Reeves, Cameron Diaz, Matthew Broderick, Matthew McConaughey, Drew Barrymore, Paul Walker, Shia Lebeouf, Charlie Sheen, Freddie Prinze Jr

-My idea of what to do with these actors:
Tell them they are going to be in a major movie and send them right into the middle of Kansas. They’ll have to fend for themselves. After Paul and Freddie get done giggling because they just tipped over a cow, the whole bunch will freak out and hopefully start fighting. Factions will form, and I have to think that worst case scenario, a couple of them don’t make it back…

-So, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we need to put an end to “bad” words. You know exactly which words I’m talking about. They are only considered bad words because someone randomly decided they were. They are just words with no hate or meaning behind them (N word, this does not include you, you fuckin asshole). The words “shit” and “fuck” might as well be “cake” and “clams.” So my proposed idea is to just stop giving a shit about "bad" words and it won't be such a big deal. In my world, a kindergarten conversation might sound something like this: “Hey, nice sippy cup fuck face.” “Thanks, nice Thomas the Train lunchbox shitstains.”

-I’d like to end this entry with a commentary directed at male readers. Ladies, you can take a break to scan the newest issue of Cosmopolitan magazine to find your man’s secret pleasure zone (spoiler alert: it’s his penis!). Ok, so guys, I just want to know…who decided it was okay when you’re in a public bathroom to piss all over the floors? Is it because it’s a public restroom and you don’t have to clean it? Do you not get splashback on your feet? Are you that bad at aiming or are you just a jackass? Seriously, just aim at the toilet. K? Thanks, douche.

Snake Alley Song of the Day: Rogue Wave - Solitary Gun

Monday, December 13, 2010

Top 10 Albums of 2010

Top 10 Albums of 2010
10. Mumford & Sons – Sigh No More
            -Great new band. Little Lion Man was/is a big hit on the radio, and rightly so. The album as a whole is also excellent. Best use of the banjo since numerous sketch comedy bits about rednecks.

9. The National – High Violet
            -Really glad I gave this a chance. This sound is so far off from my normal range of musical tastes, yet after a few spins, I was loving it. Super mellow, but captivating. Also, I think I get three hipster points for liking this, which brings my total to three.

8. Steel Train – S/T
            -Their best album to date. Led to a lot of terrible car-singing (note to self: get windows tinted in order to retain public image)

7. Against Me! – White Crosses
            -Oh, you had me at St. Augustine and references to Spanish moss on lost Florida streets. Digging their new sound on the past couple albums. I may lose a hipster point for that, I'm not sure.

6. Hellogoodbye – Would It Kill You?
            -Total shift in sound for this band--this album is awesome. Still trying to figure out how they took a picture of my bedroom wall for their album cover...


5. Jimmy Eat World – Invented
            -This band has never disappointed me. I’m pretty sure they are incapable of making a bad album. I sincerely hope I did not just jinx this band into making an album of Miley Cyrus covers.

4. You, Me, & Everyone We Know – Some Things Don’t Wash Out
            -I’ve always had a soft spot (maybe I should get that checked out) for this band. High-energy, sarcastic, and a little bitter—they totally come through on their first full-length. The lyrics are what separate this band from their peers.


3. The Gaslight Anthem – American Slang
            -One of my favorite bands. Tough to follow up ‘The 59 Sound,’ one of my favorite albums of all time, but they did an admirable job. Really strong musically.


2. Rogue Wave – Permalight
            -Indie-tastic! Just get this album and listen to it. It’s damn good.

1. The Wonder Years – The Upsides
            -Here we are, my favorite album of the year…and none of you will probably like it. Is it incredible musically? No. Does the singer have an amazing voice? Nope. Is it ambitious and does it have variety? Nah. So why is this number one? A couple reasons: first of all, it’s that up-tempo classic Snake Craney style music. Second, the lyrics are great. Third, you know those hippies always touting some old record saying “that album changed my life man,” then taking a bong hit? Well, pass the pipe folks…this album helped change my life in a big way. I’ll leave it at that, if you’re interested in the full story, call me at 1-800-Live-Links, we’ll chat about it and maybe you’ll get turned on.


Other Good Ones:
Alkaline Trio – This Addiction
My Chemical Romance – Danger Days
Anberlin – Dark is the Way, Light is a Place
Motion City Soundtrack – My Dinosaur Life
Fake Problems – Real Ghosts Caught On Tape
Guster – Easy Wonderful
Neon Trees – Habits
Four Year Strong – Enemy of the World

Stuff I missed that I need to check out in 2011:
Valencia – Dancing With A Ghost
Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
LCD Soundsystem – This is happening
Transit – Keep This To Yourself
The Graduate – Only Every Time
The Black Keys - Brothers

Top 15 Songs of 2010
15. Arcade Fire – The Suburbs
14. We Are Scientists – Jack and Ginger
13. Yeasayer – Ambling Alp
12. Tokyo Police Club – Boots of Danger (Wait Up)
11. The New Pornographers – Crash Years
10. Cee-Lo Green – Fuck You
9. Florence and the Machine – Dog Days Are Over
8. Motion City Soundtrack – Pulp Fiction
7. Rogue Wave – Solitary Gun
6. Jimmy Eat World – Heart Is Hard To Find
5. Anberlin – Pray Tell
4. Fake Problems – Grand Finale
3. Sage Francis – The Best of Times
2. Mumford & Sons – Little Lion Man
1. Steel Train – Bullet

2010 Guilty Pleasures:
M.I.A. – XXXO
Flo Rida – Club Can’t Handle Me
David Guetta – Memories
Wiz Khalifa – Black and Yellow

Snake Alley Song of the Day: Steel Train - Bullet

Friday, December 10, 2010

TV Weathermen/Weatherwomen

If I told you I’d pay you half a million dollars per year, give you full benefits, you only had to work a few hours per week,  and you didn’t even have to be good at your job, would you take it? Damn straight you would.

TV weathermen in LA have six-figure salaries, sometimes upwards of a half million dollars or more. The best part? They don’t even have to be right. If they’re wrong, everyone just says “Oh, well it’s the weather, it’s unpredictable.” You know what else is unpredictable? Just about everything. If doctors misdiagnose someone, they get sued. If restaurant employees screw up too many orders, they get fired. If psychiatrists aren’t smart enough to treat their patients, they do their own TV show. Sorry to the many rabid Dr. Phil fans, but just because you say something authoritatively and tie some mediocre southern metaphor to it, that doesn’t make it correct (or as Phil would put it, “That don’t hit the cow’s spit bucket!”).

I realize the weather is unpredictable, but don’t we pay you and other “meteorologists” all that money for something other than a guess? Shouldn’t you have come up with a decent way to predict it by now? For Christ’s sake, scientists are mapping the human genome and we can’t figure out whether it’s going to rain in Boise?* The amount of times weathermen incorrectly predict the weather is appalling. Last time I was in school, if we got 30% correct, we were sent to a “special” class with pictures of kittens on the wall and plenty of nap time.

I don’t necessarily have anything to offer the world of weather forecasting. I don’t have a better prediction system or any answers, I just can’t get past the fact that the guy on TV for five minutes reading off a prompter that may or may not be accurate is making as much as the person responsible for organ transplants or surgeries or third-nipple-ectomies (thanks again Dr. Mantlebaum!). Maybe if we started a system of punishment for incorrect forecasts, they would try a little harder. Here’s an appropriate punishment system I thought of while sloshing home through the rain that a certain someone forgot to tell me was coming. Hopefully this catches on:

First incorrect prediction: weatherman is docked $10,000 pay. Oh shit! Better make that Evian a Crystal Geyser.

Second incorrect prediction: weatherman must appear on TV the next day wearing an ‘I’m with stupid’ t-shirt with an arrow pointing up.

Third incorrect prediction: weatherman is sent to the public stockades. What? We don’t have those anymore? Jesus, what is wrong with this country? How about public stoning? No? Okay, just take away his convertible.

Incorrect rain prediction: if anyone sees weatherman at a picnic, sunbathing, baseball game or any other outdoor “good weather” event, they are free to shoot him with super-soaker water guns.

Incorrect snow prediction: news anchors drunkenly use weatherman as urinal and “write their name” on weatherman’s face.

Incorrect wind prediction: weatherman is forced to work in Kansas for two weeks.  Side-Note: weathermen already working in Kansas receive no punishment, we feel bad enough for you already.

Incorrect storm prediction: force weatherman to do a “field report” from the eye of the next major hurricane.

The ball is in your court local news stations. Hold your weathermen accountable…or at least don’t pay them such a ridiculous salary—you are aware there are kids in Sudan that haven’t eaten in five days right? Coincidentally that was the last time it rained in Sudan, so they were able to get some fruit that fell from a tree. Side note: the local weatherman did not predict that rainstorm.

*It’s not. Put away those goulashes Pat and Irene, your relentless boredom will be a dry boredom today.


I'll be back next week with my annual Top 10 list of the best albums and songs of the year. You won't want to miss this, unless you hate music, or you hate me. In either of those cases, that's a shame.

Snake Alley Song of the Day: Fake Problems - Soulless

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Cherry Poppin' Daddies

My first blog entry. This is it? This is what it feels like? I had pictured more partying and groupies. Anyway, here I am. I write all sorts of comedy and am part of The Niche Players. We do sketch comedy, stand-up, and a live podcast called TNP Live. This blog is going to be a home for basically anything I've written or anything I feel like writing about that I can't find a proper place for. I'll also throw in some thoughts on music and current events. So without further ado, my first entry...


AN OPEN LETTER TO DICKS EVERYWHERE


Dear Dick,

I’m assuming your given name is Richard, as I have yet to meet anyone with “Dick” imprinted on their birth certificate. My question to you stems from curiosity and is not meant to be mocking. I’m wondering why, when given the name Richard, you have made the conscious decision to be known as “Dick.”

Dick, in today’s culture, mostly refers to A) a penis, or B) a mean, rude, pretentious, or otherwise disagreeable person. Obviously this couldn’t have been in the forefront of your mind when the decision was made, but how have you not taken this into account? Your name brings about one of these two connotations to anyone who meets you. It’s not like you were named Cornelius and are stuck (although I suppose one could be called “Neil,” but unless your goal is to trudge through mid-level office jobs with IT firms, that’s no good either). You have a wealth of options: Richard, Rick, Rich, Ricky, Richie, hell—I would even take “Chard” if the other option was “Dick.”

So what was it then? The decision had to be made as a well-informed adult. I’ve never met a teenager, child, or toddler named Dick. If I had, I probably would have shaken that kid’s hand (or given a fist-bump to said toddler) and wished him luck. Was it influenced by a popular or famous figure? Dick Tracy? Dick Van Dyke? (Side note to readers: use caution when doing a Google search for “Famous Dicks”) Or perhaps you were in fact influenced by one of the two aforementioned connotations. Did you come upon a beautiful painting or sculpture of a penis and think to yourself “This has my essence bursting out of every bit of it. People must know, and address me as such.” Or maybe you mistakenly turned on the TV and caught a few minutes of Glenn Beck talking (or crying). His absurdity caused you to go under a slight hypnosis. After a few minutes of Beck praising former Vice President Dick Cheney, you fell in love with the name, seized the opportunity, and immediately ordered new business cards.

However the decision may have come about, you weren’t the only one. There are Dicks everywhere. Big Dicks, small Dicks, hairy Dicks, Dicks of all shapes, sizes, and upbringings. I’m not just here to pose the question, or to get you thinking. I’m here to put an end to this. Have a ceremony, funeral, good-bye party, whatever: let’s retire “Dick” as a name. It will have its place in history next to all the other outdated names like Horace, Clancy, Percival, Barnaby, and Honus. Richard Branson, Richard Dreyfuss, Richard Gere, Richard Prior, Ricky Henderson, Rick James, Richie Rich, and Ric Flair can’t all be wrong. Come back to reality Dick. Let’s leave your name where it belongs…in the pants of America’s men.

Kindest Regards,

Jake D. Craney
(No, the D doesn’t stand for Dick, Dick)

 
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