Saturday, February 23, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Bathroom Couplet

With thy god, with thy country, ev’n with thy life,
But sir, ne’er trust a crusader with thy wife.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Bathroom Monologue:“The question for Democrats in 2008 is whether we want the first woman president or the first black president.” –Some pundit on CNN

First female president. First black president. First Latino president. First Asian-American president. First gay president. First transgender president. First incestual president. First hermaphroditic president. First cloned president (eight more years of Reagan?). First Native American president. First shaman president. First Mormon president. First Hindu president. First Scientologist president. First druidic president. First president who didn’t really exist, but was invented as part of a gag by some publicity agents that didn’t clue in the nation until the inauguration. First immigrant president. First extraterrestrial president. First robot president (Vote Dell – He’s Got Intel Inside). First president voted in purely because of her plans to help the country rather than her looks, sex, race, ethnicity or religion.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: I’d make an awful lawyer

“Look at it this way: the jury won’t decide if you die or not. They’ll only decide if you die now. Mortality is the law. Morality? A game we play until the law shows up. Want a fishstick?”

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Homeopathic Reasoning

I'm a different sort. I remember in high school when an English teacher asked, "What's the difference between a biography and an autobiography?"

The answer was obvious, and I gave it.

"An autobiography can never be complete."

It was not the answer he was looking for. He looked at me like a dog that's been asked to build a rocket ship.

As much as I try to sympathize with other people, I think this instance is a good example of why I’ll never be compatible with them. Another example, from age four, when I discovered that the circular peg was without edges and small enough such that it could fit through the square hole. For the rest of my life I saw no problem in putting it there. It gave the square peg some company in that pocket.

At age six I was auditioned around for kindergartens. I sat in the classroom of one while my mother and the teacher chatted; I built a skyscraper of blocks, taller than myself. The teacher said I might be an architect, just before I roared and knocked it over in grand Godzilla fashion.

Apparently I was one of the only kids that weren’t afraid to be seen with his parents. I’d hold their hands when we went everywhere, even in public and around my peers. On the playground I didn't like the feminist "mother ship," and so my pretend airplane or space fighter always returned to the "father ship." In game books, my little man always made it passed mazes the fastest, because I drew him walking around the outside and waiting by the exit rather than entering and traversing the labyrinth.

My earliest recollection of television is devising that Skeletor could kill He-Man if he'd only save up three or four of his apocalyptic plans and launch them at once, since the heroes barely overcame any individual plot. If only someone would recommend he spend a couple of episodes saving them up instead of blowing them every afternoon. (Though sometimes I have an earlier memory of thinking it was weird that Olympic volleyball and suicide bombings would be reported on the same news show, but it is insubstantial and may be a false memory. At best, it is a parenthetical memory, and I have written it as such.)

Back then I didn't notice this kind of alternative thinking from other kids, at least not applied to my areas of interest. But I think they had it in their own ways at one time or another, and they knew what this sort of thinking was about. There was a time when half of a classroom would immediately agree with my unorthodox babbling, or at least make the "Ohhhh" sound that so soothed the savage ego. Something happened along the way, happened to me and everyone else, which caused that "Ohhhh" to turn into a patronizing laugh, or maybe handful of grins. I don't know what happened. I'm not even sure if it happened to everyone else, but I hope it did. It would hurt beyond reason if it were just me.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Monday, February 18, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Do Environmentalists Care About the Endangered Mermaid?

It's humorous that Atlanteans are so often depicted as advanced and loathing surface-dwellers. I guess it's more humorous that they're often depicted as alive, rather than crushed under rubble or drowning, but that's not the point. The point is that, in truth, the life of the Atlantean is most humble. Sure, back when the city sunk it was mystically and technologically advanced, but that was centuries ago. Most of the population died in the catastrophe, and those who became mermen were not particularly well-received by undersea society. Realize that human interaction with the oceans consisted largely of paddling over them or scooping out tasty critters with nets, and you'll come to understand how any even partially sentient creatures felt towards their new neighbors. The Squidkings were particularly catty at the welcome party. Atlanteans quickly became second-class citizens of the sea floor, doing hard manual labor. And they were humans, a species not exactly as equipped for strenuous sub-sea-level work as, say, sperm whales. Cheap manual labor that's bad at its job is never treated well. So when land-dwellers began diving and discovered Atlantis, they weren't treated with disdain, nor did they have war declared on them. They were greeted as liberators. By polluting, whaling and fishing earth's waters to the brink of total extinction, they'd given serious aid to the insurgency. The mermen now believed they could actually take over the oceans. After all, extinction of dominant life forms worked out pretty well for mammals on land.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Ways to Torture Your Girlfriend, Or, When is Valentine's Day?

-Hide her keys and when she asks, tell her the last time you saw them the dog was carrying them in her mouth.
-Listen to the kind of music you like in unusual places, like your apartment or your car.
-Drive at a speed with which you're comfortable, even if she happens to be in the vehicle.
-Hang out with your friends until you're tired of them, rather than when you *have* to go.
-Only exercise when you want to. Eat what you like. Get into a shape that makes you comfortable, even if it's unattractive.
-Take her to the sports store and try on jerseys for two hours while she holds your beer.
-Take her out on a romantic dinner and ask for separate checks at the end.
-Stop trying after you squirt.
-Enjoy yourself. At anything. It doesn't matter.
Counter est. March 2, 2008