Posts from — July 2007

It is late one evening in Heaven when God notices the light on in Jesus’ room and figures it is a good time to have a talk.

“Son, when are you going to help with the animal management? The solar variances lately have boosted the growth…”
“Get to the point Dad.”
“It’s time Jesus, to stop trying to make the perfect human.”
“I know it can be done, and I think I’ve finally found a way.”
“How many times must we go down this road?”
“This time it will work, I’m telling you.”
“Like the twenty-five other times?”
“Fine. This is it, my final attempt at making humans. If this fails, I’ll go back to animals.”
“Good. You know they are a much safer bet. They don’t think. So what’s this new one called?”
“Plan Z.”
“That’s not a very exciting name. What about Fred?”
“Umm Dad?”
“Okay, okay, it’s your creation. So why do these humans all look alike?”
“So they don’t fight over their physical appearance.”
“And they are all the same gender?”
“You like that one eh? That should stifle the gay marriage debate.”
“What other fixes do you have in store my Son?”
“The humans don’t have limbs so they can’t fight.”
“Couldn’t they still head butt each other?”
“Hmmm. I better soften their skulls so if they do try it, they will die in the process.”
“Now you are thinking. What about the abortion problem?”
“That was a stickler, but I think I’ve figured out the solution. Any child conceived will just magically materialize immediately after having sex.”
“Right on the bed?”
“Well, no in the next room of course. Cmon, give me a little credit here.”
“Now what about religion?”

Jesus thinks for a long time, pacing the floor in front of God and Fred, hands rubbing a worried brow. After much consternation, Jesus asks God: “So which animal did you say needed the most help?”

The fourth week of July usually conjures up images of summer camp, swimming, vacations, back-to school shopping, amusement parks, back to school shopping…

Dubya-tee-eff. Back to school shopping?

According to Yahoo, summer break is over and it is time to think fall. Forget about today, it is already yesterday. I don’t know why summer had to go, I don’t know, it wouldn’t say. Ringo penned it not me, but it is fitting.

So put away those shorts and beach towels kids, time to head to WalMart and buy some notebooks. Tomorrow is already here, and there is a sale; summer on discount baby. Can you say blue light special?

The rules of nature and the seasons like the one about summer containing August no longer apply. We aren’t warming up the planet. Instead we are giving it ADD. Mother Earth is being rushed by our need to blast at light speed to the next holiday, and she probably is watching too much television as well. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give the planet XBox 360 for a birthday gift.

Did I just see a leaf fall? I guess I better break out my sweaters.

Just look at those evil children, knowing the savvy marketers will be separating their parents from their hard-earned cash earlier then ever before. That means cool new backpacks as you can plainly see in the picture.

The seasons and holidays all seem to get in the way of each other nowadays, each one competing with the calendar for attention. No sooner do we get to the arrival of one then it is shooed away in mid-stride in anticipation of the next celebration or event or whatever.

Out of the way Thanksgiving, the biggest shopping day of the year follows you up. Hurry up Forth of July, there’s a sale next week at Target on school clothes. Let’s move it or lose it Valentine’s Day, Jesus is on his way back soon and he needs to use the restroom. Badly.

Now if you will excuse me I have a Christmas list to make; nothing major, just some thinking for down-the-road. Summer is over after all, it’s time to think snow!

When it came to fraternity pledges, days like this one back in college were inevitable. One fine afternoon, two of our prospective members were arguing with a few of the brothers about the viability of drinking a gallon of milk in an hour.

Naturally this turned into an evening of drinking. We had beer, and the two plebes had a gallon of milk each.

The human body is able to digest foods and liquids at a certain rate, depending on the amount of nutrients, fats, proteins, etc. they contain. Water, for example contains few nutrients and is constantly being absorbed by the body so it passes quickly.

The body cannot process a gallon of milk in an hour. It is physically impossible and anyone that does will puke up the extra. Okay, let me clarify something here. If someone sipped on milk over the course of an hour, it is possible. That would not be the fun way however, especially when it came to our pledges.

So the argument and challenge was that the human body can ingest a gallon of milk in twenty minutes and hold it for the remaining forty.

To make the cleanup easier we parked the pledges in our living room apartment by the windows.

There was also some kind of bet involved and to be honest I forget what it was. That part was academic.

The final piece of the challenge relied on their duties as pledges: they are a team. If one threw up they both lost, so they must encourage each other to NOT vomit. We always liked teaching our new guys life lessons, and positive encouragement is important especially when it involves ingesting large amounts of milk followed by puking your brains out.

So they began, the two pledges chugging merrily away at their milk, happy thoughts of winning in their head. We sat around drinking beers and giggling like little school girls knowing their eventual fate. Once a minute they would down a glass of milk as we savored the goodness of cans of Golden Anniversary beer.

Destiny arrived about thirty minutes later as our two plebes launched two gallons of milk out our second-story window, a veritable rain of cow juice partly digested by the human stomach dropped to the pavement below.

I hope nobody was walking by at that moment.

Everyone that writes comedy or humor has something cooking in their brain for television or the big screen. Howard Stern had his pay per view specials. The old New Year’s Eve ones were classics. Bobcat Goldthwait had his sitcom about a puppet only one person can hear. I really think that one was some kind of metaphor for masturbation but I have a twisted and devious mind.

My concept is a reality show in the hidden-camera genre, niche, whatever. Most of these are always either played on a celebrity or a few ‘average Joes’. Many of them also involve some kind of funny gag that everyone but the target is in on. I want to try a different approach.

The Cringe is a hidden camera show where instead of a joke or a gag, the attempt is made to make the situation uncomfortable and awkward. Not only that but the ‘joke’ if you will, is played on a group of people.

Watching a person react to a practical joke is interesting, but group dynamics are much more fun to observe, especially when you throw cringe moments into the mix.

My first segment would be at an airport. Passengers of a flight are repeatedly being told that the flight is delayed. Each delay is just five or ten minutes, but happens so often it gets the passengers angry and irate. This builds until they start demanding free things like tickets, or hotel rooms, or food and drink.

In most airports these days there are television monitors and there is a good chance it will be on some news channel. A fake report is run, breaking news that a plane has crashed in the ocean ten miles from the airport. It is the flight that is late.

This of course ends with the revealing of the joke, balloons and confetti dropping from the ceiling and a marching band entering the scene from stage left. This is how each segment ends, by the way.

My other situation would be “100-Year-Old Birthday”. The scene is a restaurant, and there is a table of ten people, one of whom is celebrating his 100th birthday. The servers all gather up a bunch of customers and everyone goes over to sing happy birthday as a cake is brought out. Just as the old man blows out the candles, he dies and his head drops into the cake. Of course he doesn’t really die, but you get the idea.

I am even toying with the notion that he jumps up thirty seconds later and yells: “Surprise!”

The only thing left is a host of the show. I wonder if I could use a hologram of Che Guevara. I think the humanitarian aspect he brings to the table could temper, no pun intended the edge of The Cringe.

Hollywood needs me.

Unlike joining the Catholic or Jewish religions, becoming involved in the Jehovah’s Witness faith demands much more from its members. Anyone looking to join this cult, whoops I meant established religion must be mentally and physically prepared for what lies ahead.

The first thing is that you need to be from a small family or one that isn’t close. You see, the cult, damnit, religion stresses radical inclusiveness. When you begin to shut the non-Witnesses out of your life this will be an easy step to make. I encourage orphans to apply immediately.

The next step is to be annoying. The cult, grrr, sorry I can’t help it, religion requires this. If you like to wake people up early in the morning to answer questions burning on everyone’s mind at that hour like why birthdays are so bad and how come Christmas is evil then this religion is for you.

Another key trait is to be obsessive-compulsive. If you are the type that will eat, breath, and sleep a concept, drug, addiction, whatever, you are on your way to success as a Jehovah’s Witness. Imagine spending every day trolling the neighborhoods for new minions to add to the Watchtower Collective. You could even role-play it that way! On second thought, scratch that. You do want to be let into people’s homes after all. The last thing you need is another blip on the crazy radar.

That is all there is to it. It does not take much to be a Witness because they pretty much accept anyone. There is no competition or any kind of difficult test, so rest assured once you drink the kool-aid you are in. Too many organizations these days have all these rules and standards. It is refreshing there is a place in these picky times we live in for criminals, wife beaters, kid touchers, and other ‘alternate’ lifestyles that usually involve jail time and counseling in an overly-strict society.

Well, except gay people. This is religion we are talking about, not progress.

Once you have been given your head-dunking membership rite in some polluted pond, you have become a full-fledged member of the Jehovah’s Witnesses for life or until you are shunned, but why dwell on the negative during this time of celebration, right?

So what kinds of benefits will you receive?

The first is very important. You are now allowed into heaven. You have a golden ticket, where the snozzberries taste like snozzberries. No other religion has this exclusivity either. Oh sure they tell you that you will get in but The Witnesses promise it. I saw the ticket. It was quite nice with a cool symbol of God and Jesus. The seats were really good too.

Another benefit will be home schooling. Now that you are a Witness, you want to have as little contact as possible with the outside world as it is evil and will corrupt your soul. Plus, you will want to control what your children learn. Thinking and questioning are bad. Putting a stop to critical thinking is equally vital because it goes against what you believe. You do not want to be shunned, so home schooling is your best option.

A great bonus is that it is no longer necessary to have children play sports because there are no home school sports leagues, thus less pressure on you to allow your children any unnecessary contact with the evil society around you. Sports are bad because it teaches people how to work as a group, that most times you win or lose because of your actions and that life and getting ahead is based on competition. All that gets in the way of recruitment, the lifeblood of your cult.

So enjoy your fascinating and hypnotizing journey on your way to becoming a Jehovah’s Witnesses. It is a magical time and hopefully you are more prepared for a special time in your life when you get duped into joining a cult, I mean established religion.

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You have all seen the gloom and doom in the mainstream media about global warming, or as they like to say nowadays: climate change.

How will magazines look to ride the rainbow of Gorebal Warming Theory and the green movement all the way to the pot of gold?

Cosmopolitan: “How to tell if Global Warming is impacting your Relationship”

Sports Illustrated: “Swimsuit Shoot Moving to Alaska in 2050”

Family Circle: “Ten Great Recipes for a Summer Barbeque in a Warmer World”

Travel: “Ten Hot Artic Vacations for 2020”

PC Magazine: “New Software Uploads Carbon Emissions”

Better Homes and Gardens: “Sequestering Carbon at Home”

Good Housekeeping: “Great Recipes for Year-Round Outdoor Grilling”

Men’s Health: “Staying Buff for Longer Summers”

Hustler: “How to Pick Up Chicks that Are Into Global Warming”

Teen: “Like is Dashboard Confessional Gonna Play in the Global Warming Concert?”

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[Read Part One of 'The Three-Story Beer Funnel from Hell']

There it was, our addition to college folklore. What looked like a plastic tube dangling from the great beyond with an on/off switch over a 50 gallon trash became our signature. The only thing left was to determine the specific dangerous quantity of Golden Anniversary beer the funnel would accommodate. (I always recommend cheap beer for funnels of this size. The store was out of Natural Light that day I think.)

“So how many beers you think this will hold?” I asked.
“I don’t know, 3 or 4.”

The correct answer was six-and-a-half beers. Not just a six pack mind you, but half a beer more. As if six hours of alcohol processing wasn’t enough, we threw in an extra thirty minutes. The best part was the instant gratification of consuming half a night’s intake of beer in less then one minute.

I have to say we were cutting edge, we saw that trend coming over a decade ago. We were all mostly marketing and advertising majors after all.

For the record I never did the funnel and I never was a person who consumed alcohol in quick and copious amounts. Besides, we are talking about a six pack of beer going into your body at once. I loved partying in college, but I learned early on pacing yourself is much better. You won’t die or end up doing crap you either forgot or regretted. The best part is you are always less messed up then your friends so you get to watch them do silly and stupid things. It’s like a live version of a drunken reality show.

One thing we didn’t take into account during the creation of our monstrosity was the law of gravity. Seventy-eight ounces of beer falls at 32 feet per second. Granted, not all the beer is three stories above the ground floor, but there is also pressure to consider as well as the small tubing diameter which helps speed up the process.

I know you didn’t come here for a lecture on science principles.

Let me put it to you this way: once the switch was thrown, there was no stopping the six and a half pack from blasting down the tube into your mouth. Doing this funnel was an alcohol commitment and at the same time, the college equivalent of skydiving with a sometimes-faulty parachute. Actually, I think jumping out of a perfectly good airplane is probably less risky.

Of course the funnel became this circus sideshow any time we had a social gathering. People lined up to do the damn thing to puke their guts out and say at least they tried. Some actually succeeded and lived to tell about it.

Thankfully no one died.

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When I was in college I was in a fraternity.

In our fraternity house we had a beautiful three story grand wooden spiral staircase. Well, it was sort of spiral, unlike something you would find in a lighthouse. Somewhere along the line one of us had a crazy notion to create the ultimate volume-drinking apparatus that would traverse the distance between the third floor and the first.

It would be a three-story beer funnel. Guinness World Book of Records did not return our calls.

So the construction plans were drawn up.

“Ok, we need 30 feet of clear plastic tubing…a funnel…some way to secure it all to the staircase…a garbage can in case people puke…and an on/off switch.” Fellow brother J declared.

“An on/off switch? What’s the point?” I interjected as I stared up the expanse of the three flights and wondered how long it would be before someone died.

“Dude it’s too big to set-up like a traditional funnel asshole” replied my fellow frater.

“Touche dickface”

Fraternities are like that. Hell, guys are like that. We call each other scumbag and dickhead as terms of endearment.

It is also interesting to note the part about the garbage can. “In case” people puke? It is a good thing we went for something that could hold a lot of bile, I mean liquid.

So off we went to Home Depot to find the parts for our dream. The checkout girl was a little baffled by the myriad of items we had. I helped the cause by claiming one of us was going to defy how the digestive system works and drink a funnel of milk while holding it in for at least an hour.

I think that to this day, she still is baffled both by my declaration and the forty feet of plastic tubing. Funny thing is I have a milk drinking story too. That is for another day and we had a funnel to build.

We headed back to the compound to assemble the monstrosity.

There it was, our addition to college folklore. What looked like a plastic tube dangling from the great beyond with an on/off switch over a 50 gallon trash became our signature. The only thing left was to determine the specific quantity of Golden Anniversary beer the funnel would accommodate.

Fade Out

Read the conclusion to The Three Story Beer Funnel