Archive for July, 2012

Here’s the deal. Forget about the fact that the world is going to end in less than six months, there are far more important issues to be discussed today…like, who the hell buys crunchy peanut butter?

Look, if I wanted chunks of peanuts I’d buy…peanuts. I want a smooth creamy spread that glides on to my bread like an elegant, bedazzled ice skater. Crunchy peanut butter will tear through your toast like an angry golfer hacking up divots.

Peanut butter is a semi-solid and can therefor...

Chunks need not apply.

And it ain’t pretty. Do a Google image search for “peanut butter” and you’ll see picture after picture of pure, creamy goodness. Crunchy peanut butter does not photograph well. No one wants to look at that stuff and no one should be eating it.

Just check out, a fantastic website that states, “What kind of world do we live in? Does anybody need a website dedicated to loving peanut butter?” Actually, it probably doesn’t say that. I’m willing to do some research, but I just couldn’t click on that site because the answer is no, nobody needs a website dedicated to loving peanut butter. I mean, come on, how much can you really explore that topic?

“Hey, do you love peanut butter?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty tasty.”

“Cool, I agree.”

That’s it. End of conversation. Unless, of course, we’re talking about the downside of crunchy peanut butter – now that’s a topic with legs. Or, as Skippy calls it – Super Chunk Peanut Butter. Who were the marketing geniuses behind that name? I don’t want to eat anything called Super Chunk. I don’t even want to be in the same room as something called Super Chunk. Unless it’s the name of the world’s first overweight superhero. Now that I could get behind. Us fatties need role models too.

So, Skippy calls it Super Chunk, but Jif and Peter Pan call it Crunchy. And it’s just this simple, one’s butter should not be crunchy. If you bite down on butter and there’s a crunch, we’ve got a serious problem. And, by the way, what’s up with Peter Pan Peanut Butter? Sure, it’s delicious, but why the name? Oh, I remember now…Peter Pan was the mythical character who lived with Lost Boys, fairies, mermaids and pirates, he could fly and he never grew old due to this magical ability to convert dry, roasted peanuts into a paste…no, that’s not how the story went at all. Peter Pan has nothing to do with peanut butter. In fact, if I recall correctly, Wendy had a peanut allergy, so it’s really not cool.

Anyway, I think I’ve made my point. Intelligent people can disagree on things like politics, religion, world affairs, but no one could possibly think that crunchy peanut butter is superior to creamy.

And don’t get me started on jelly.


Here’s the deal. Maybe the Mayans were right. Perhaps this is our last year. Things certainly seem to be going downhill.

Everyone knows what happened in Colorado. And, despite the fact that this lunatic amassed a military arsenal that no individual human could ever claim to need unless they were Arnold Schwarzenegger retrieving Alyssa Milano from a group of South American mercenaries, conservatives continues to insist that this is not the time to talk about gun control. Wow. This man had over 6,000 rounds of ammunition. And people are still arguing for the right to…I guess…go hunting and shoot 6,000 squirrels? Or defend your house from 6,000 burglars? I mean, there is no reasonable argument for the types of weaponry that’s legal for our citizens to purchase and shoot each other with. Many on the right will say, “He was deranged. He was going to hurt people regardless.” I think that’s almost certainly true, but perhaps it’s not a great reason to allow him to murder more effectively.

Maybe the Mayans were right.

And don’t start with that second amendment silliness. That was written at a time when it took forty five minutes to load a musket. If someone pointed a gun at you, you could just casually stroll away. And why do so many people assume that our founding fathers got everything right? Originally, the Declaration of Independence had an anti-slavery passage but it was removed because too many of our faultless founding fathers wanted to maintain their inalienable right to own people. They were just politicians with some good ideas and some bad ones. If you think they knew everything, then how do you explain the way they dressed? Satin breeches, silk stockings and powdered wigs…they looked freakin’ ridiculous.

Maybe the Mayans were right.

English: A series of Chick-fil-A trucks at the...

Mmmm…tastes like bigotry.

Meanwhile, crazy storms are conveniently alleviating much of the country of electricity, nations around the world are going bankrupt, politics has sunk to the level of playground name calling, Michele Bachmann is trying to resurrect McCarthyism, Chick-fil-A has inexplicably come out as the first openly anti-human rights fast food joint, and, worst of all, I don’t post on my blog for three weeks and it fails to effect my traffic. Yep, apparently I get just as many readers regardless of whether or not I create new content.

Maybe the Mayans were right.

So, I likely won’t be posting quite as often anymore. After all, much as it is in the bedroom, I’m just as popular when I do nothing. I feel like the Woody Harrelson character in 2012 – broadcasting important truths to a couple dozen people. I’m not a tormented artist. I don’t write because I have to. I write for an audience. So, to my seven loyal readers…I blame you…why didn’t you recruit a couple of thousand more followers each? What have you been doing? Hanging out at Chick-fil-A? Well, I’m sure you did your best. Anyway, I’m thinking of using my newfound spare time to go shopping for a new powdered wig. I think that look might just be coming back.

Maybe the Mayans were right.

Here’s the deal. We’re only a few weeks away from the start of the 2012 London Olympic Games. The best athletes in the world will be running, jumping and swimming their way into our hearts and record books. But many are unaware of the fact that each year the Olympics offer a number of exhibition sports in addition to the more traditional fare. And wouldn’t you know that those silly Brits are bringing Muggle Quidditch to the Olympics.

English: The Olympic Flag flying in Victoria, ...

“Six elevated ring-shaped goals”…are you telling me that Quidditch is now the official logo of the Olympics?

First things first, you probably think that was a joke. It was not. It is a truth. Here’s the story if you don’t believe me. Second things second, as one of the fourteen people in the world who has neither read any of the Harry Potter books nor seen any of the Harry Potter films, I don’t know what Quidditch is.

Let’s see…according to my old pal, Wikipedia, it’s “an extremely rough but very popular semi-contact sport, played by wizards and witches around the world. Matches are played between two teams of seven players riding flying broomsticks, using four balls and six elevated ring-shaped goals three on each side of the Quidditch pitch.”

Is it just me, or does participating in this activity in the real world present a number of problems? The most obvious dilemma – “flying broomsticks.” A secondary issue – “wizards and witches.” And my greatest concern – this is freakin’ crazy.

But it’s gonna happen. Quidditch is an Olympic event. Those naked Greeks are probably rolling over in their graves. But it got me to thinking, if Quidditch made the cut, what sports were denied access to the games. So, for your Muggle pleasure, I offer…

The Top Ten Rejected Olympic Events

11. Two Meter Dash – Let’s face it, we live in a fast-paced world. Who has ten seconds to watch an entire 100 Meter race? I think the two meter dash would be the most exciting track and field event of all time and am saddened that it didn’t make the cut due to “a tremendous lack of interest.”

10. Hungry, Hungry Hippos – While a mighty rivalry has built over the years between Finland and Zimbabwe at the Hungry, Hungry Hippos National Championships, this thrilling sport still lacks international respect and has been repeatedly denied access to the games.

Years of overindulging on marbles had ill effe...

Which nation’s hippos are hungriest?

9. Jumping to Conclusions – The major impediment here is the lack of a universal rule book. Some countries measure their champions by the speed with which they jump to conclusions, others favor accuracy, and some still give points for creativity.

8. Celebrity Apprentice – This looked like it was going to happen, but Trump trumped the notion of an international panel of judges, declaring that he alone would award the Silver and Bronze medals (further complicating issues was the fact that he preemptively awarded himself the Gold). There is, however, some discussion of a possible Cash Cab event for Rio in 2016.

7. Scrapbooking – In a competitive setting, much more thrilling than you might expect. I’ve got my fingers crossed for the Winter Games.

6. Sitting in a Meadow on a Summer Afternoon and Contemplating the Meaning of Life – Strangely, no one can recall who proposed this in the first place. The main problem with implementing this as an official Olympic event is that it’s very difficult to determine a winner.

5. Calvinball – This one is my personal pet project. I say if J.K. Rowling can invent Olympic Events, why not Bill Watterson? For those unfamiliar with Calvin and Hobbes, Calvinball was a game invented by a comic strip boy and his tiger friend and involves a volleyball, badminton set, flags, masks, a hobby horse and time-fracture wickets. The only rule is that the game is never to be played twice with the same rules. And, as Calvin said, “Sooner or later, all our games turn into Calvinball.” This is great, as any time any Olympic event started to get boring, it could just morph into Calvinball. (I’m also lobbying for Fireball from Friends, Brockian Ultra-Cricket from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and Flonkerton from The Office)

4. Javelin Catch – This nearly made it through. Each javelin thrower was paired with a catcher and we were all set to introduce a new sport…unfortunately, not a single catcher survived the trials.

3. Speed Dating – I’m a big fan of competitive speed dating. It simultaneously pushes athletes to their limits while fostering global relations. Sadly, your more socially awkward countries keep voting this down.

2. Red Rover – I really would love to see this played on an international level. “Red Rover, Red Rover, send the Czech Republic right over.”

1. Synchronized Swimming – This was rejected for many, many reasons. First of all…what? This wasn’t rejected?

Here’s the deal. I went to Vegas last week and on the drive home I was battling sleep. You know the feeling, you’re driving along and your sleep-deprived brain is convinced that a quick nap is more important than steering the car. Wait just a second, you tell your brain, if we take a nap while operating a motor vehicle we will probably die. Don’t be so dramatic, our brain replies, I’m really, really tired up here.

That’s my brain talking. Supposedly the smartest part of my body. If I can’t trust it, who’s to say that I can rely on any of my organs? Now that I think about it, my liver talked me into betting on the Oklahoma City Thunder – are all of my body parts trying to sabotage me?

It’s truly astonishing that my brain would consider this an appropriate time to sleep. Even as I almost nod off, then jerk back to consciousness and right my Kia, the surge of adrenaline immediately subsides and is replaced by soothing lullabies from my internal clock trying to hypnotize me into certain peril again. Seriously? You’d think the memory of almost dying would last more than fifteen seconds…I’m chugging down the road at 72 miles per hour and you will not stop trying to put me to sleep? Who’s side are you on here?

A chimpanzee brain at the Science Museum London

Funny, he looks so trustworthy.

Eventually, my brain had a rational thought and convinced me to pull over and take a ten minute nap in a McDonald’s parking lot. (Sleeping, by the way, is the healthiest thing you can do at a McDonald’s, ever since they eliminated their transcendental McYoga workshops). Refreshed, I returned to the highway and made it the rest of the way home with no additional sleep issues.

But I still don’t understand it. It’s sort of like when you gulp up a beverage and it goes down your windpipe. It’s inexplicable. Most human beings are very accomplished swallowers. And 99.993% of the time we get it right. That’s why I have no idea why once in a blue moon our bodies will simply forget how everything works and send some Mountain Dew down our breathing tubes leaving us hacking as if this were our very first time attempt to drink a beverage. Come on, body, this is routine stuff.

Similarly, our survival instinct should kick in and recognize that speeding down the road in a car is one of the worst times ever to consider catching some shuteye. We’re driving. It’s really important to keep our eyes open. That way we can see the road and avoid hitting the other cars. But our eyelids are suddenly made out of lead and it feels like a pair of marionettes are tugging them down as they dance a lively jig (please vote now – this has just been nominated for the Unusual Blogging Simile of the Year Award). And no amount of awareness about the importance of staying alert can stop our bodies from trying to doze off.

I guess there are some things we can’t learn, no matter how many times we try. It’s like coming up with a clever way to end a blog post. Although I do it time and time again, it just feels like sometimes I