“What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate…”

In an attempt to prove my intellectual superiority regarding all things pop culture, I engaged JD in a dubious line of questioning.  Knowing the answer before I asked the question, our dialogue is below:

DA - you know how Prof SO’nSO always uses the line - “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.”  Do you know where or what its from?

JD - i don’t know.  is if from a movie or something?

DA - yes.

i’ll save you the back and forth trivia because JD’s not a movie buff at all.  So i’ll just cut to the chase.


DA - It’s from “Cool Hand Luke.”  the movies awesome.

JD - oh, william h. macy, he’s is awesome.

I almost lost my sh!t because he was completely serious. 

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“
The problem with the gene pool is that there’s no lifeguard
David Gerrold
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Pretty sure this guy fatass isn’t visually impaired. Rumor has it that he perambulates around Airports and Quiznos Submarine sandwich places (not sure why) across the country with the diminutive pony in order to garner sympathy from young, unassuming, equestrian-loving women. Apparently, he goes by the name of “Cyrus the Virus” in an ode to his favorite movie Con-Air.  Im not buying, you shouldn’t either: but you should pony-up and get others to read the blog, its easy.

Pretty sure this guy fatass isn’t visually impaired. Rumor has it that he perambulates around Airports and Quiznos Submarine sandwich places (not sure why) across the country with the diminutive pony in order to garner sympathy from young, unassuming, equestrian-loving women. Apparently, he goes by the name of “Cyrus the Virus” in an ode to his favorite movie Con-Air.  Im not buying, you shouldn’t either: but you should pony-up and get others to read the blog, its easy.

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Ohh…ohhh…that’s..ohh…that’s just great!!—Here, I’ve been riding all over town on my Segway to find the last dvd copy of ” Weird Creatures” and somebody wants to play tomfoolery….I shoulda used Netflix…

Ohh…ohhh…that’s..ohh…that’s just great!!—Here, I’ve been riding all over town on my Segway to find the last dvd copy of ” Weird Creatures” and somebody wants to play tomfoolery….I shoulda used Netflix…

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The Doctor…

I went to the doctor the other day and received some bad news – I’m fat.  I was skeptical at first, so I asked for a second opinion.  He brought in a mirror.  Dude did his homework, it was a textbook diagnosis.  Our conversation went as follows:

Doctor:  “Based on your body mass index, you’re overweight and borderline obese.”

Me:  “Hmm, what are my options?”

Doctor:  “Options?  You have a beer gut, not cancer.  You need to exercise, eat healthier, and stop drinking.”

I was still thinking about how awesome the carne asada burrito I ate for lunch was, so all I really heard was “beer gut and stop drinking.”  Convinced I misunderstood, I continued questioning him.

Me:  “So, you want me to stop drinking beer and only drink hard alcohol because it’s better for me, right?”

Doctor:  “What?  No.  Hard alcohol isn’t better for you.  Is that what you think?”

Me: “Well, you just said I had a “beer gut,” not a “whiskey gut”?”

I actually really thought hard alcohol was better for you.  It smells like rubbing alcohol which is used to disinfect cuts and the school nurse would always dip the thermometer in it before she put it under your tongue.

Doctor: “Well, if you’re an occasional drinker, I would recommend you switch to mixed drinks with diet soda.  On average they contain 100 less calories than regular beer.

Me:  Hmm, and how do you define an “occasional drinker?”

Doctor:  Ok, now you’re fat and an alcoholic.

-D.A.

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Clearly, this guy girl shemale didn’t heed to their Mother’s advice of— “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt; quit roughhousing in the grocery store”. So, listen to your Mothers, or you might just end up mutilated in grocery cart in aisle 5… -J.D. Click for high-res photo

Clearly, this guy girl shemale didn’t heed to their Mother’s advice of— “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt; quit roughhousing in the grocery store”. So, listen to your Mothers, or you might just end up mutilated in grocery cart in aisle 5…

-J.D.

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Dear Mystery Woman Thing Behind the Mask: If one must lie, be brief: so, I apologize in advance for the length for I’m incapable of lying. You don’t know me. However, It’s impossible and borderline inappropriate for me to not show appreciation for the grandeur of the mask: the remarkable ability to fuse together intelligence, humor, articulable style, art, and creativity into a breathtakingly beautiful mask is beyond words and certainly above using cliches and obnoxiously infusing hyperboles. I’m not so arrogant to think that you give credence to what a complete “stranger” thinks of your mask.  Your beauty could only escape the bachelor who was incapable of finding a femme fatale, whose skirt is much shorter than her dignity, at a Cyndi Lauper concert circa 1980 at the Meadowlands. Writing people I haven’t met nor can see, insofar as this stream of conscious could be reasonably construed as “writing”,  is a complete affront to everything I’m about: not being a creep.Given that the Candy Company I work for has much more sugar than decency, Im relegated to being herded with the masses (like cattle) and have to fly SouthWest Airlines which makes traveling less than desirable but slightly better than driving 1500 miles in my 1974 Ford Fiesta. So, this takes me to my point: your mask is the closest thing to an out-of-body experience inducing; kaleidoscopic array of sensory element producing; work of beauty. The last time I was so profoundly influenced/intrigued was on a train from Omaha to Gary in which I read Jean-Paul Sarte’s Existentialism and Human Emotions, without even slipping off my Sketcher shoes.Duly note, if you would be so kind, I’m appreciating you now to avoid the rush. Unlike Ashleigh Brilliant, I’m an amateur epigrammatist; however, I think  your beauty is so obvious—almost gaudy—that there is no need for further amplification, at least by me, of your elegance.  As an aside, my preceding statement satisfies 2/3 prongs of an epigram: brief and clever, so the verdict is still out on if it’s memorable? So, tell me, is it? -J.D.

Dear Mystery Woman Thing Behind the Mask:

If one must lie, be brief: so, I apologize in advance for the length for I’m incapable of lying. You don’t know me. However, It’s impossible and borderline inappropriate for me to not show appreciation for the grandeur of the mask: the remarkable ability to fuse together intelligence, humor, articulable style, art, and creativity into a breathtakingly beautiful mask is beyond words and certainly above using cliches and obnoxiously infusing hyperboles.

I’m not so arrogant to think that you give credence to what a complete “stranger” thinks of your mask.  Your beauty could only escape the bachelor who was incapable of finding a femme fatale, whose skirt is much shorter than her dignity, at a Cyndi Lauper concert circa 1980 at the Meadowlands. Writing people I haven’t met nor can see, insofar as this stream of conscious could be reasonably construed as “writing”,  is a complete affront to everything I’m about: not being a creep.

Given that the Candy Company I work for has much more sugar than decency, Im relegated to being herded with the masses (like cattle) and have to fly SouthWest Airlines which makes traveling less than desirable but slightly better than driving 1500 miles in my 1974 Ford Fiesta.

So, this takes me to my point: your mask is the closest thing to an out-of-body experience inducing; kaleidoscopic array of sensory element producing; work of beauty. The last time I was so profoundly influenced/intrigued was on a train from Omaha to Gary in which I read Jean-Paul Sarte’s Existentialism and Human Emotions, without even slipping off my Sketcher shoes.

Duly note, if you would be so kind, I’m appreciating you now to avoid the rush. Unlike Ashleigh Brilliant, I’m an amateur epigrammatist; however, I think  your beauty is so obvious—almost gaudy—that there is no need for further amplification, at least by me, of your elegance.  As an aside, my preceding statement satisfies 2/3 prongs of an epigram: brief and clever, so the verdict is still out on if it’s memorable? So, tell me, is it?

-J.D.

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2 Kinds of People in Life…

I’ve come to realize that there are 2 kinds of people in life -

  • those that like the Beastie Boys,

AND

  • those that don’t like the Beastie Boys.

Actually, I’ve only had one “friend,” in all my life, that DIDN’T like the the Beastie Boys and we’re not even friends anymore.

So I guess, in reality, a better title for this entry is -

“People I’m friends with and People I’m not friends with.”

-D.A.

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If Michael Vick was a serious and competitive owner of BadNews Kennels Dogfighting Company he would have chosen this dog as his marquee fighter—— But, he wasn’t, thus he lost his freedom and $130 million….wa wa wa waaaaaaaaa. -J.D.

If Michael Vick was a serious and competitive owner of BadNews Kennels Dogfighting Company he would have chosen this dog as his marquee fighter—— But, he wasn’t, thus he lost his freedom and $130 million….wa wa wa waaaaaaaaa.

-J.D.

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It would require a herculean effort by Lance Armstrong, assuming he has the balls gumption to attempt it, to beat me in the Tour De France next year if when I’m riding this chopper… -J.D.

It would require a herculean effort by Lance Armstrong, assuming he has the balls gumption to attempt it, to beat me in the Tour De France next year if when I’m riding this chopper…

-J.D.

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