age

Have you guys ever thought about old people? They come from a different time and can teach us all sorts of things. Then, they start taking money out of our paychecks. . . .

Age does a lot of different things to people, but the main agreed-upon way in which it is shown is crankiness and fear of technology. But there is no question that "back then" was, indeed, a "simpler time." For one thing, many people had no legitimate reason to hate other people, but they still did. And they could do it simply because they wanted to. Now that's simple!

I think the one major thing, however, of the olden days that should be brought back is the allowing of punishment. In the past, when a child was misbehaving, some adult would step up and let the child know that what it was doing was neither warranted nor welcome. The adult would do this, regardless of whether or not the child was their own (I mean, was related to them; if they literally owned the child, by means of some sort of a monetary, goods or work exchange, it's kind of a different story). And the question, naturally is, "Why?"

FOR THE BETTERMENT OF SOCIETY!

That's right, because old people looked at how society could be made better in a way very different from how people today look at it. Children have always been looked at as the future (even though, with the elderly, it was often viewed this way in a resistant manner); now, many of the adults of today (for simplicities sake, we shall refer to them henceforth as "spineless yuppies") view this "children=future" equation with fear. They believe that their children will come back to get them if they are not weak and push-overs to their children. Spineless yuppies want nothing more than for their children to be flaccid, whiny underachievers who have never worked for things in their life. And the scary part about this is that they are largely succeeding. What they have failed to see, however, is that their children will come back to get them anyway, because they have not learned the basic purposes of life, and basically have not developed desirable qualities as humans.

Old people, on the other hand, tried often to raise their children to respect others and to contribute to society (and by this I mean actually help society through voting and being responsible, not by trying sell paintings on the street in San Francisco). Each child is different, but a good impact via hand generally does the trick in helping a child learn. This system has worked for so long, but for some reason it began changing within the last fifty years (I am ball-parking it. I don't know exactly when it changed, nor do I know why it changed. No research was done for this, beyond what I have observed.), and not for the better, jack!

If you aren't fired up about hitting children at this point in the blog, there's nothing that can be done for you. Obviously there are some exceptions to the rule; occasionally children grow up perfectly normal and well-adjusted and responsible and respectful DESPITE being shown no punishment as a child. But the fact of the matter is, the rest of the children who weren't taught by a wooden spoon against the upper thigh basically amount to a big ol' failure-pile.

Back to old people: here is a list of things that I think make today a better time to live in for old people (note: at this point, I have only one item in mind, so the list may turn out much worse than I originally intended. Or much better!)

A) These days, old people can tell neighborhood children not to play on their property and justify it because "my insurance doesn't cover one of your idiot kids getting hurt in my cinderblock garden." In the past, old people couldn't soften the blow; they just had to say, "don't play on my property because I'm old and my senility may cause me to discharge my firearms at your idiot offspring."

2) Laws today help keep old people driving automobiles despite the fact that they no longer have the reflexes or cognition to do so. Also, if an old person commits some awful traffic crime, they can get off without any real trouble. In the past, when an old person ran over a pedestrian and dragged him or her all the way into their driveway by means of a foot wedged in the bumper, they could face criminal charges and would certainly not drive again. Not anymore.

iii) On average (according to no real reports but rather my own imagination), the elderly have about twice as much time to complain and be crotchety as they used to, due largely to longer life expectancy. Think about it, if you could be basically guaranteed an extra seven years during which all you had to do was sit on your porch and talk about the failings of those around you . . . well, that would just be fantastic.

Four) Today, the government pays old people; do you know what the major qualifying stipulation of receiving social security is? NOT HAVING YET DIED! "Congratulations on another year, how would you like ten percent of a working person's pay check?" "Don't mind if I do!"

But seriously, everybody, let's relish the elderly. They have much to teach us (just like the [legal] aliens) and too often we put them in the back of our minds and take them for granted. And embrace getting old, as not everyone is given that privilege.

Wow, you guys. Kind of a somber note there at the end, right? This has been Ben, just reminding you all: beat your children!

"Dah dah daaah-dah dah dah daaah-da da da da da dadadada da. . . ."

-Carmen: Récit & Habanera: Quand Je Vous Aimerai?...L'amour Est un Oiseau Rebelle, a song often heard in movies and will stick in one's head; it's quite catchy. And it's opera. Oooh, sophisticated!

Spring Cleaning

Are you guys ready for March Madness? It's on. Seriously, right now, if you were to turn on your tv (as I'm writing this), you would be watching the opening of Florida vs BYU in Oklahoma. I love the tournament, because it gives all the deadbeat fathers with gambling problems a chance to recover from putting their faith in Peyton in February.

Here's something I have noticed (entirely unrelated to March Madness), and I would like you to play this scenario in your head:

a family has just ordered (do you use "ordered" or "hired" in this case?) a maid. (The family is clearly wealthy, and, let's be honest, probably caucasian. I don't like to pander to stereotypes, but the majority of wealthy people in the world are white [according to a census I just imagined], and white people loathe chores and housework in general.)

Is that image in your head, like a slowly running british movie with too much acting and too little storyline? If the answer is yes, skip the next sentence and continue reading. If your answer is no (people who answered yes, please stop reading this sentence!), reread the previous paragraph, but skip the parts that were parenthetical. Those are for our advanced readers, anyways. So, now that the original Yes people and the original No people have joined us, please imagine this next part: the woman of the wealthy family (because she was not always rich and feels slight guilt about making someone else do the tasks which are hers, as a woman [again, I don't like to pander to stereotypes, but vacuuming? Come on!]) cleans the house before the maid gets there. Now, if that story had been told in a more streamlined, understandable way, we would probably scoff and give a guffaw, that someone would clean a house which they have paid someone else to clean. Now, I don't think that maids are in the business of judging a family based on the cleanliness of a house (unless it's truly awful). However, I've noticed that people about to visit the dentist, whom they have paid to clean their teeth, tend to go through a sincere teeth cleaning process at home, and do you know why we do that? Because we all fear that the dentist will look at us and say, very condescendingly, "Have you been flossing?" We all know the answer to that is no, but we think that by flossing our teeth the morning of the dental appointment, we will be able to fool this guy. A word of advice: just because dentists aren't real doctors doesn't mean that they can't tell you've only flossed once since the last time you saw them. So here is my final point about dentists and maids: if maids went to maid school for as long as dentists go to dental school, then they could say, condescendingly, "Have you been dusting the credenza?"

At this point, I think that it is worth pointing out that the above topic made a whole lot of sense in my head. Now, as a rule, I haven't reread what I have written (I am afraid that I will second guess myself, delete it all and end up writing about celebrity gossip), so I don't know if it has any sort of flow. If you enjoyed it, leave a comment and tell somebody else how fantastic it was. If you hated it or didn't understand it, leave a comment and tell others it will get better and that it has huge potential.

Have you guys noticed (I think the answer will be no) that in Enterprise Rental commercials ("We'll pick you up"), the suited Enterprise employee always shows up alone? Since he brought the car, how does he get back to work? Or does he just hang out with you the whole time? Shouldn't Enterprise use the buddy system? It works for swimming and field trips. That's as close to a sure thing as you can get.

Speaking of swimming, at work I saw a product whose description I was shocked to read. It was a kickboard, a styrofoam board used for people who don't know how to swim and old people. However, the kickboard was marketed as a "Competition Kickboard." Are there competitions which involve kickboards? That's pretty weak, like a running race that has moving sidewalks you can use or a bicycle race where the bikes have cruise control.

At the conclusion of this blog, I would like to apologize to dentists everywhere for suggesting that they are not as good as other people who attended medical school. Dentists, you're just as relevant and authentic as other doctors. Good job.

". . . I'm dressed so fresh, so clean. . . ."

-Andre Benjamin, perpetuator of one of Hollywood's finest afros and an individual who likes shaking (epileptic?) women.

Wastin' away again in

I have discovered something about flying (on a jet, not physically mustering the ability to fly without a machine). I fly Southwest, for the simple reason that they are an inexpensive airline. But I believe that what I noticed is true for nearly all airlines: in order for me to board the plane quicker, I need to either lose my leg or purchase an infant. Now, this is something that many have you have probably also thought while watching the handicapable or child-burdened enter the jetway before you. I found myself wondering, however, how closely they check to see if the papoose you are holding is real. Could I get seating priority by carrying a doll?

I sat next to an obese person coming on one of my flights (thankfully one of a shorter nature). I had never before had to sit with my elbow on my crotch, my entire left side of my body collapsed like my muscles had intense dystrophy problems. That was extremely uncomfortable, and, when added with audible, struggled throat-breathing of the gentleman next to me, made for a largely unenjoyable flight. And I still feel that if he had only put the separating arm rest down between us, I would have been able to reach New Orleans without his warm, humid flesh reaching to me through his intolerably tight t-shirt.

But everyone complains about flying. We want more room, better snacks (Please bring back honey roasted peanuts with some sort of consistency! I can't handle salted any more!), a full can of drink, more attractive flight attendants (I miss the good ol' days when they were called Stewardesses and had to pass a visual test to serve drinks to cranky businessmen.) and the right to use our electronics in a continuous manner, from the time we enter the airport until we are in our city of destination (Really? My iPod is going to make the plane crash? I've never heard of that being the cause and I KNOW that some people aren't following the rule.). However, I think there is very little incentive for the airlines to provide us with everything we want, because there is very little customer loyalty. Let's be honest: if it were twenty dollars cheaper (and, obviously, some assurance of safety) to fly by giant slingshot to my destination, I would never step on a jet again. No real people ever turn down a cheap fare because "they don't offer moist towelettes and a compliment as I enter the aircraft." And people that do say that should be taken outdoors and beaten with Hot Wheels track sets (the old yellow, blue and red ones, that required creativity, not the new city block style play sets).

While in Florida, I had the delightful opportunity to eat at a restaurant known as "Margaritaville." As the name suggests, it is owned by Jimmy Buffett, singer and writer of the song after which the restaurant is named. It was a pretty cool atmosphere and the food was tasty (Although, after being charged $14.64 for a burger, I felt like I had been just slightly robbed. And they included the tip in the check! I didn't even get a chance to stiff them! I believe in paying food service people their full due [meaning: don't tick off the people who handle your food], but tipping wasn't always compulsory. What happened to earning your money?). In the restaurant, they had several large projection screens playing music videos, mostly of normal artists you would expect in a laid back restaurant, people like Ben Harper, Jason Mraz, John Mayer, et cetera; however, the rest of the songs were performed by, you guessed it, Jimmy Buffett. Unlike normal music videos, which show the band singing/playing a song, and perhaps showing a story to go along with it, Jimmy's videos followed this basic line:

1) Eight to ten seconds of Jimmy Buffett (with the nice red hue that only comes from spending too much time in the sun and being white) with a guitar player starting the song on a stage at a bar on a beach (wow, that's a lot of prepositions!)

2) Three and a half minutes of middle aged men and women getting absolutely PLASTERED. I don't mean they were playing with stucco, I mean they were consuming just about every known alcohol in every conceivable manner. This was usually interspersed with clips of these same stumbling 40- and 50-year olds dancing wildly (wildly meaning both provocatively and slightly unsteadily) to Jimmy Buffett music.

3) The final seconds show Jimmy and the band wrapping up the set.

All of this information has lead me to this conclusion: Jimmy Buffett music is like catnip for old people.

So that was my "vacation." On the final leg of my flight home I got to listen to three men discuss NASCAR at length. Never had I hoped for a plane crash so much in my life.

"I got my Hush Puppies on. . . ."

-Jimmy Buffett, sun-burnt and hard-partying 63-year old who was born on Christmas whose music has become widely lauded catnip for old people.

Word of the day: products

Products: Think about it. What?

See that last line? From whence did that come? That is just what popped into my mind. You can see at this point I am experiencing the free empowerment (read, lack of interesting, relevant things to say) that blogging bestows upon its filthy man- and woman-children.

But seriously, do you guys think about products? For example, upon examination of a chapstick label, I noticed the directions were: "Apply freely to affected parts." Which, I think we can all agree, is pretty jim-dandy of them. However, the very next sentence says, "Warning: Use only as directed." Now, I consider myself a fairly imaginative fellow (Look! That penguin is about to attack! Never mind, it is just a stuffed sheep with a poor constitution.), however I cannot think of even one way in which the chapstick can be used in a way in which it has not been directed! It would be one thing if the directions suggested that the lip balm should be used sparingly; then I can see someone trying their luck and putting on three, maybe four layers of soothing balm on the affected area (you're a loose cannon and we don't have any place for you on this force). However, the directions say to "Apply freely to affected parts." Can someone help me out on this? I mean, is anyone actually tempted to use this cylinder of lip (and possibly other location) comfort in a way in which it is not directed? Maybe the makers just really don't want you oiling your gun with it.

Still on products, can you imagine the amount of work it takes to enjoy the things that you take for granted? (Many authors would have said "you and I," rather than just "you," but in this case, you're the only one of the two of us who takes these things for granted. If I took them for granted also, it is likely that I would not have dedicated what is now three sentences, and will probably be more, to the subject. So there. Think twice before you judge me, Judgey McJudgerson). For example, the idea of shoes blows my mind. I don't have anywhere near the capacity to design and construct my own shoes! I'm not very good at sewing (rephrase: I don't think I would be very good at sewing. I shouldn't write myself off as a poor sewer, but considering my hesitancy to try. . . . I am not sure I would even want to find out I was good at sewing, because of all the new responsibilities, not to mention the knowledge that I have such a skill! That's like accidentally finding out that human ears taste fantastic. It's like, "Great, now I gotta think about this every time I meet somebody new."). And really, to manufacture my own shoes would be just way too hard. I mean, I don't even know any orphans!

I could make a table if I had to. And, I have made one. A pretty good one, thanks for asking. It's a bit of a Frankentable, being that the other constructors and I stole its body parts from roughly five other once glorious tables.

When is the last time you made something for yourself? And I don't mean food or some papier mache piece of trash. I mean, I turned a book into a clock. What's up? (that last line was meant to be a somewhat threatening boast. It isn't an actual question regarding the occurrences in your life. But if you inclined to answer that question, please do so . . . but on your own time.)

Well, this is probably the last blog I write for at least a week (many of you are thinking, "Ben, it has been more than a week than your last blog. Believe it or not, you conceited sack o' dirt, we can survive without your arbitrary thoughts for a couple of days." If that is the case, and you are one of those who feel this way, I clearly was not writing that line of warning for you. I, rather, was writing it for the smaller group of people who were thinking, "A whole week?!? Oh, let me take hold of something sturdy for I feel faint! Will the sun still shine??" [delusion: possibly the REAL word of the day?]), on account of the fact that I will be doing some traveling. I am going to Florida to visit my brother. Please note that I did not give the exact location in Florida. Although it is unlikely that at this current stage in my career (and my CLEAR lack of popularity in the "Blogosphere" [yeah, that's a real word bloggers. Keep trying to make up a language, because it is working]) that I have gained any stalkers, I still want to leave a little bit of sport to the act of finding me and trying to keep a little part of me in their closet (please, not the liver).

I'll tell you this last bit for free: I just read the history of the MoonPie. What a fascinating snack that is. When I say I read the history, what I mean is I looked at the first two pages, then said, "There's more?!?" and acted like I had read the rest. Seriously, too much information about a graham cracker and marshmallow snack. Try to get through it yourself. You may be asking for a MoonPie to squelch your growing blood-sugar deficiency problem, such a long read it is. And no, MoonPie did not pay me for that glowing review.

"Oh, you tracked mud in the house again, Georgie!"

-(believed by some to have been said by) Martha Washington, grandmotherly wife of first president of the United States of America; she has a big boat named after her.