Planes, Trains, and the $9.25 Ham Sandwich

There are few things in this world that are as loathsome as navigating airports. Ariports are nexus points of demonic energy where gremlins, hobgoblins, and really slow people congregate. It is at these points where their evil powers are their stongest, and these dark beings use them to delay flights, institute random security policies and empty the paper towel dispensers in the restrooms. When the Apocaylpse comes, it will be via flight 98 from London/Heathrow and will be delayed for 90 minutes while the mechanics try to figure out what some light means.

Here are some examples of demonic work that I have observed:

• You can't bring a bottle of water/juice/coke through security. The diligent TSA demons will notice this and assault you with cold tater tots if you try. What you'll need to do is go through security and then apply for a 2nd mortgage to finance your beverage. At last check, a bottle of water is between $3 & $4. They use the money from these sales to fund the clearcutting of the rainforest and to stifle research into the cure for childhood diabetes.


• Depending on the airport, you may or may not need to show your boarding pass to the person manning the metal detector. Keep in mind, that at the beginning of the Shining-esque maze that you entered to get to the metal detector, you showed both your ID and boarding pass to the TSA hobgoblin. While there is a chance that after inspection of said documents you were comically transported to a paralell universe and replaced with a militant jihaadist, I believe this chance to be fairly low.


• You must remove your laptop from its case and place it in its own bin. Allegedly, this is to prevent the laptop from blocking view of a cleverly hidden gigaton nuclear device in your laptop bag. Since laptops have embedded X-Ray jamming devices, it is imparative that we remove them from the case. Hopefully, nobody will ever think of just hiding the doomsday device in the bottom half of the laptop, underneath the X-Ray shield. That would be bad. Oh crap.......


• To take advantage of the fact that most people assume (and some of the more evil demons insist) that you can't bring food through security, most of the dining establishments in the airport have consulted with their enslaving entities and have decided to fairly price their items. This has resulted in such wonderful treats as the $9.25 ham sandwich. This ham sandwich does not sing, dance or play a mean right wing for your local hockey team. It's just a sandwich. I deconstructed the sandwich to see if there was some hidden prize or secret ingredient that would justify the price. Maybe if it came with a Booster Gold decoder ring or had a thin layer of childhood dreams, it would be worth it. To my suprise, it didn't even include mayo.


• Your flight is always leaving from gate 97E, which is approximately 4 nautical miles past your actual destination. You have to walk 637 miles through a mob of people that all are stunned that they are in an airport and have stopped to look around and figure out where they are. While making the journey to your gate, you may see people waiting at other gates and wonder why you couldn't be on one of those flights. Do not be fooled. Those people are either actors making you think that there are actually flights coming into those gates or they are lesser demons that are travelling to Akron, OH or Selena, KS.


• You can't smoke in airports. This is not due to any health issues, don't let them fool you with that. This is because the major demonic entities at Phillip-Morris like to witness the power they wield by watching people go through security 26 times while waiting for a flight that will never actually arrive. Their minion bretheren at TSA like to mark smokers with several scribbles on their ticket so that when they arrive at the gate to get on their airplane (which will promptly sit on the runway until the 2012 Olympics), the attendants can identify them as enslaved souls and mock them quitely.


• At the airport, there are any number of electronic devices running. TVs with CNN telling you who to vote for, flight displays, electric chairs, etc. However there are only two power receptacles in the entire airport that you can use to charge your iPod. This is done so that the people manning the security camera monitors can place bets on which person will win the ensuing battle royal over the plugs.


• After you arrive at your destination, the captain of your plane will inform you of the baggage claim area that your luggage will NOT be at. This is commonly mistaken for which claim area your baggage WILL be at. They do this to see how long people will stand in front of one conveyor belt before actually walking over and checking the other one where the bag that looks just like theirs has been sitting for 45 minutes.

Useless Advice Mondays: Take a Bus

If you find yourself on LSD, Crack-Cocaine, or under the influence of hypnotic bridge trolls, and discover that you have made travel plans between the months of October and May that include flying into or out of O'Hare, cancel them or face the wrath of Baalgzaar, the evil lord of snow and airport snack bars.

The timestamp on this post may help explain its brevity. Please forgive me as I must prepare for my unceremonious return to the salt mine tomorrow. I will expand on this post then with the forthcoming blog post: "Planes, Trains, and the $9.25 Ham Sandwich."

Please remove your laptop from its case and remember to take off your shoes.

Useless Advice Mondays: Screw the Man

The man is evil. The man wants you to buy furniture on credit (no payments until 2047!), work in a cubicle, and procreate until your loins can't take any more. The man wants you to pledge allegiance to Best Buy and to grovel at the feet of Larry King. The man wears a bowtie.

Screw the man, that's my advice.

Some might question why I'm posting my "Useless Advice Mondays" blog on Tuesday. Why? It's simple: I'm saying screw the man. Today is my first day back to work since I was busy celebrating presidents past and present (and, at least theoretically, future) on Monday. As such, today is my Monday. It doesn't matter what day you come back to work on. If it's your first day back, it will suck and it's Monday.

Some other ways one can screw the man:

1. On the day after Thanksgiving, don't run out to buy crap. It's all a sham. They're discounting crap you didn't want anyway and are telling you what a good deal it is. That's how you end up with a case of light bulbs from your Aunt Bernice and a combo TV/Melon Baller from your Grandma. The man tricked them. Aunt Bernice had a shiny new iPod nano all picked out for you and then she say the Mega-Low Mart ad for the light bulbs (retail price $17.97, special price $.02). She couldn't resist. The man doesn't want you to have the nano. The man hates Apple.
2. When you get a new mattress, DO NOT remove the tag. The man wants you to do that. That's why he put a big "DO NOT REMOVE" tag on something that has no need for a tag. It's a mattress. I'm not going to need to refer to care instructions down the road. If there's a fire in my house, I'm not going to pause to determine if the mattress is flammable or not. But there it is, all big and glaring.....just begging you to tear it off. That's the man trying to exert some passive control on you. Screw the man.


3. Collect junk mail. When you get an adequate amount, shove it all into the first pre-screened credit card offer reply envelope that your receive. Make sure to include a note such as "No thank you. I'm not interested in your offer. Here are some other offers that YOU might be interested in though." Send postage prepaid envelope back. The man hates junk mail.


4. Don't sign up for one of those grocery store club/preferred customer cards. You're not in a club, and they don't prefer you. That's just the man trying to keep tabs on you. Alternatively, for those who really want to screw the man, DO sign up for one and disperse the 4 cards they give you to different people in different parts of the country. Let the man try to correlate your simultaneous purchases of cat food, tampons, BBQ sauce and baby carrots in 4 different states. The man hates statistical analysis anomoles.


5. Refer to the man as "Hank". This is not the man's name and the man hates it when people get him confused with anyone, especially Hank.

Invariably, if you screw the man enough, the man will become angry and start a new telemarketing campaign with you as the sole number on the dialing list. This is to be expected and is typical man behavior. Fortunately, someone before you has been screwed by the man and created the Do Not Call list. Use this to your advantage, it's Man Kryptonite. Until the list takes effect, screw the man by confusing his minions. Since the advent of caller ID, you generally have a good idea when the man is calling. This display looks something like this:

The Man, LLC 1-800-877-2793 (1-800-URSCRWD)

When you see this number, answer the phone with one of the following phrases:

1. "Thank you for calling Giavanno's Pizza, pick up or delivery?" (Don't use Domino's. The man owns Domine's and he knows that he doesn't have a franchise in your house, yet.)


2. "THANK GOD YOU CALLED OFFICER!!!! THE CAT IS STILL STUCK IN THE MAYONAISE JAR AND HAS GONE COMPLETELY BATSHIT!!!!"


3. "Hi, this is an automated message for (use a robotic voice) Tom Jones. Is this Tom Jones?" Then just pause. When the man's lesser demon starts talking, just say "I'm sorry. I did not understand your response." repeat until minion terminates call. (The man hates Tom Jones because he's jealous of him. Nobody ever threw their panties at the man.)


4. "Hola. Gracias por llamar a doctor Javier Lopez, proctologist. ¿Su nombre por favor?"

God Save Us All...and Fez.

Since I'm new to blogging, I'm not sure how often this happens but I was all set to write today; had a topic picked out and everything. Then something happened that may have permantly scarred my soul. . . .

Last night, I was watching the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. Everything was going relatively well, he had some animals on and I always enjoy that. I have a thing for large baggy lizards, and the Crocodile Monitor did not fail to get me all giddy. I was even able, on some strange level, to get past the part of the show where Larry the Cable Guy came out in a speedo......now that's scary. But what followed........what followed was just flat evil.

Jay's closing act was a performance by Mika. For your own reference, and to help illustrate the points I will be making, a recording of that performance can be found here. I'll give you some time to watch that, and to let it really sink in.

UPDATE 2-15-08: Mika the Devourer of Cute Furry Chipmunks and Dreams demanded that YouTube remove the video (YouTube is fronting some lame NBC copyright story) of said performance. However it can still be found (if you dare) on NBC's web site. Choose the episode for the 13th and go to chapter 6.

OK. So. First of all, I want to let the 80's know that they are now off the hook for having contributed any bad music, fashion, synth pop to the world at large. You are forgiven, your evils have been overshadowed by the dominating beast of hell that is Mika. I have identified the origin of this beast and, to help you prepare your defenses against his ungodly terror, I shall share this with you now.

You know how in the movie The Fly (80s version please) Seth Brundle (Goldblum) gets all pissy and tries out his flashy new teleporter thingamajiggy on himself while there is a fly in there with him. Said machine gets all confuzzled (there weren't supposed to be two life forms in there after all) and combines the two together, leaving us (ultimately) with Brundlefly. So that was just a movie, right?

Apparently not. It appears that these teleportation doohickies exist and what happened was the remaining members of ABBA, Fez from That 70's Show, a My Little Pony playset, Barney, any one of the characters from Welcome Back Kotter, Apep (Egyptian Diefication of Darkness and Chaos), and Yanni all wallked into it at the same time, supposedly mistaking it for the heart of a child TV star. The device kicked off and combined these creatures into one being that, at a sub-atomic level, was created to shatter the dreams of angels, salt the land and subject modern society with a musical product that even the 80's would have rejected. This mega-being was dubbed "Mika", which is a clever disguise of the acronym M.I.K.A, which stands for Malevolant Incarnation of the Koming Apocalypse (they spelled "coming" with a "k", those evil bastards). Mika walks among us, protect your children.....and your glitter glue.

I can't begin to describe the number of things that are wrong about this performance or the vile beast of Hades that created it, but I can tell you one thing: I forgive Boy George, Wham, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, A Flock of Seagulls, Ah-Ha, et al for everything they ever did in the 80's. They were only trying to entertain us in a way that was acceptable at the time. The Beast Mika has come only to eat your mortal soul, and to steal your Pop! magazine phtoto collage of Ralph Macchio.

The most frightening aspect of this is that Mika the Destroyer can reach so far into the teenage soul, that some poor babe actually broke out the VIDEO CAMERA and taped the transmission emitting from their television set like they were pirating the latest Harry Potter movie!

Useless Advice Mondays - Tem anti-séptico?

Despite our own confidence or ego, there are times when we must accept that others know better, and we should heed their advice. While watching the stunningly-bad film "Night of the Creeps" Saturday night, I was reminded of this (I was also reminded as to why I shouldn't be allowed to go over channel 75). For those not fimiliar with this film, I would suggest it as a case study in what can go wrong when one tries to tie too many horror genres into one film. This one tries to combine aliens, parasites, zombies and axe murderers into one.....it doesn't really work. The redeeming qualities are that a) it's set in the mid 80's which, by itself, makes it hilarious and b) in one of the scenes, this kid is in a public bathroom that has "Stryper Rules" written on the wall. How hilarious is that?

So in the begining of this movie, this couple is in their car at (what I'll refere to as) "The Point" when the announcer on the radio comes on with a news flash announcing the escape of a homicidal axe murderer from the local mental institution. They largely ignore this right about until the announcer comes back on later (after the kids have left said "Point" and are now in the woods investigating some unidentified object that fell from outer space .... yeah ... see?) when the girl is by herself in the car and basically says "The Axe Murder was last seen in the remote wooded area, where you are currently parked, wielding an axe ....... just above your head." At this point, our fair lady actually begins to pay attention. Needless to say, things do not work out weel for little miss can't be wrong, and the "story" progresses (or regresses, not sure) from there. This reminded me of the following bit of advice:

If you ever find yourself on the coast of Brazil (or on the coast of an island off the coast of Brazil, to be more exact), and you are about to embark on a lovely kayaking trip on the ocean when a weathered old Brazillian fisherman comes running up gesturing wildly and saying something in Portugese about "wind" and "water", all the while looking very concerned, DO NOT ignore this man. He has some good information and should be listened to, even if you've only made out two words form his wild arm movements. Take my advice on this. That cat knows what he's talking about. Lets look at his qualifications:

1. 
   He's a fisherman, therefore it would stand to reason that he knows the sea. Unless he was a really bad fisherman, but then he probably wouldn't still be a fisherman, so that kinda cancels itself out.


2. 
   He's old, therefore he has yet to be killed, maimed (one could argue that just being old does not disqualify one from having been maimed however I can assure you, he was quite spry as he ran over with a sense of urgency to be ignored by my all-knowing ass) or snatched by vicious sea creatures, so he must be doing something right.


3. 
   He's observant and kind-hearted: I mean he noticed that we were preparing to embark on our S.S.Minnow-like journey and tried to prevent us from doing so.

So, in hindsight, I can completely translate what this guy was saying, and shall do so for you here. Heed this advice, should you ever find yourself in this situation (Translated from Brazillian Portugese):

OWF (Old Weathered Fisherman): "Hey! You! Dumbass getting into the kayak!"

OWF comes loping over, waving arms, clearly concerned


OWF: "Yeah you. Check it out home boy: The wind's coming in pretty damn hard and once you get to the end of that penninsula,"

OWF points to penninsula

OWF: "It's going to get pretty nasty and hard to continue. Now I'm telling you this because you look like the kind of dipshit that would get in a kayak and try to get around that thing, but I'm here to tell you chief, you're ass will be toast. Not only your ass, but the LSMHFJ will be ass-out as well."

Author's Note: (how he knew her code name still bewilders me)

OWF: "Here's what I'm suggesting numbnuts: Sit back, have another com Gas and just chill for a little bit. That shit's gonna die down in about an hour and then you'll be alright. But if you go now, your definately screwed. Not only is it likely that you'll be swept out to sea, but you'll probably either drown or be eaten by the Kraken. I'm just sayin'."

ME (clearly confused having only understood "Water" and "Wind" and having a severe case of cockiness): "Umm, no thanks. We'll be fine."

I am forced, at this juncture, to point out the the LSMHFJ did indeed have a better understanding of Wild Old Fisherman Sign Language and uttered the oft-reminded phrase of "Maybe we shouldn't go out, I think he's saying it's a bad idea."

So, needless to say, things did not go well. Right about the time we got to the end on the previously pointed-out penninsula, things turned fugly. This resulted in the eventual abandoning of ship, water rescue of LSMHFJ's kayak, gashing of leg on barnacle encrusted rocks under sea, eventual salvation of land, portage of kayaks trough jungle territory (with no map or real sense of location/direction), and unfortuante requirement to learn the following phrase in Portugese: "Do you have anti-septic?". I can assure you, when on a remote island in a country where English is not the primary language, you really don't want to have to learn that phrase.

Screw It.....Just Throw Money at the Problem

So we're getting close to that time of the year again. The time when we are encouraged (at EVERY opportunity) to show our special someones how much we care by giving them a gift of love........or by just throwing as much money at them as we possibly can. This may come as a suprise, but I really despise the Marketing Event of Valentine's Day. Don't get me wrong, the idea of the actual really-real holiday is nice. But what we have come to participate in is not "observed in honor of St. Valentine and as a time for sending valentines" (Mirriam Webster). What we have now is the time of the year that we use every single cent of advertising revenue to tell men:

"Look, you're a bumbling ass. Give up the idea of being romantic and just go buy the largest rock you can afford/finance/sell you mortal soul for. That card? Forget it. You're going to pick out the cheesiest cornball one anyway and just scratch you're name on the bottom. Add that $4.25 to the rock and be done with it."

For ladies, the message is strikingly similar:

"Look, he's a bumbling ass. Give up the idea of being romantic and just go buy the largest, loudest power tool/electronic gadget/franchise licensed sports thing that you can afford/finance/sell your mortal soul for. That card? Forget it. He's too stupid to get it and won't really read it anyway. Just use the $4.25 to get him a Happy Meal from McDonald's."

There are articles written, news segments about, and the social expectation of the acceptable gifts and what is considered cliché. What this holiday has really become is Christmas Expisode 2: Enter the Guilt Trip. There's the social pressure to conform to the holiday standards and just spend spend spend or been seen as a fool/chump/cheap bastard/bowtie wearer. Even when you truly do not want to participate, you have to deal with the slew of "What did YOU do for Valentine's Day?" Usually this question is asked as an excuse for someone else to tell you what THEY did or got. It's all crap.

Here's the deal: do whatever the hell makes the two of you happy. That's it. Tell the marketing department at Zales to go to hell. If you want to just make it a nice dinner out, rock on. If you want to sit on the couch and crunch on Cheetos together, bring extra napkins. Do what will make you guys happy. Piss on the advertised norms. One year, the LSMHFJ (Legenday Soon-to-be Mrs. Happy Flapjacks) and I got each other houseplants. It was great and we both still have something that we can look at that reminds us of that day (and, although there have been close calls, they are still both alive....mine even reproduced...that dirty little bastard!). Another year, we went all out and got dressed up to go out to a nice dinner at a place that was showing Cassablanca on all of the walls and had a 6 course Morroccan dinner. That was great. The point is we did what we wanted to. We spent time together. Isn't that what really matters?

I also find it funny that the day also shares space/time with the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Nothing says I love you like blood and bullets. You go Big Al.

So, if you are preparing to go out shopping for Valentine's Day, because you really want to give that special someone a gift (not because Hallmark told you that you had to or they would electrocute your puppy), and you're just completely stuck as to what would really say "I love you more than anything in this world", I have two suggestions. One comes from a movie (although it wasn't a Valentine's Day gift in the movie, it still applies) and the other is just my own take on it. One for each gender. This should cover all bases (as long as you don't actually buy these, well....maybe they one for him would be OK):

• For Her: A set of very nice, very sharp kitchen knives. When she looks confused, simply quote the mystery movie by saying "I've never liked a girl enough to give her sharp knives."(Special bonus points to those who can name the movie without cheating).


• For Him: Come on, this is easy......Ninja Throwing Stars!!!!!!

Side note: "Electrocute your puppy" could easily be taken as "Electro-Cute your puppy!!!". As in put some really bright scary outfit on it, smotehing with shoes, sunglasses and rhinestones, and show it off to everyone. I'm not sure which would be more cruel........

Super-Duper Really Big Deal Tuesday Part II: Attack of the Squirrels

Since it is Super Tuesday, and since there is apparently a Federal law that requires all citizens to discuss politics or be subjected to the most heinous form of torture known to man (it's illegal to describe this form of torture or to use its official name, but I can tell you that it involves rubber gloves, a parking cone, chocolate syrup, tic-tacs and a pack of rabid squirrels), I have decided to meet my patriotic duty here.

There has been an abundance of celebrity endorsements this year, which makes it so much more fun. Especially when the cast involves the likes of Chuck Norris and Hulk Hogan. This has made me wonder how the candidates would respond to the following people endorsing them. What if . . . .

1. Marylin Manson endorsed Mike Huckabee?



2. Rosie O'Donnell endorsed Mitt Romney?



3. OJ Simpson endorsed John McCain?



4. Andrew Dice Clay endorsed Hillary Clinton?



5. Archie Bunker endorsed Barack Obama?

Which also made me wonder how things would be different if the candidates had to pick a celebrity to represent them in a cage match....would people be making fun of the Hulk Hogan endorsement then? Hulk, Arnold, Chuck Norris....there is potential here people. This also makes me wonder if the candidates had super powers, what would they be???

• John Edwards = Super Agility - Ability to dodge anything, anywhere while telling you what you were really concerned with and illustrating that with a story about Jenny Sampson from Cedar Rapids.



• Mitt Romney = Bulletproof Hair



• Rudi Giuliani = The ability to steal your mortal soul (This would be a power granted to him by his enslaving elemental demon)



• Hillary Clinton = Hillary would be kinda like Green Lantern. She would be able to make anything happen with her magic ring given to her by space aliens. In this case, Hillary's magic ring is Bill.



• Barack Obama = As an agent for change, Barack's super power would be that he could change the past...except only for really trivial events. Like that time you put that stamp on the envelope just a little skewed and it really annoyed you....he could fix that.



• John McCain = Conspires with Stephen Hawking to make Robotic Exoskeleton (see Onion Story) to eliminate worries of health.

When did we really start to care which candidate a celebrity endorsed? Last night, they were making a big deal about Robert DeNiro endorsing Obama. So? Who really cares? You know what really gets my vote: witty bumper stickers. Here are some that would catch my eye (I am hereby copyrighting these):

• "Don't Give Me No Shit, I Voted For Mitt!"



• "Vote for Obama, or I'll Backhand Yo Mama!"



• "Raise Your Hand if You Support McCain!" (That's funny as hell if you get it)



• "I Voted Huckabee. That movie was an existential masterpiece!"



• "I voted for WHICH Clinton??!?!?!?"

Useless Adivce Mondays - The Bowtie

Never trust someone wearing a bowtie; they've got something to hide. Why, you may ask? Here's the deal: Next time you see someone walking down the street wearing a bowtie, stop and ask yourself the following question "What was the first thing I noticed about this person?". Most likely, the answer will be that they were wearing a bowtie. That's the problem. It's intentional, part of their plan, all a big conspiracy, see?

To better express this concept, let's first go inside the mind of Homo sapiens bowtius.

HSB: "It's a lovely morning for (choose one of the following: deceit, trickery, tom-foolery, global domination, used-vehicle sales). But blast my evil aura! People will clearly be able to tell that I am an Agent of Doom & Destuction, a Destroyer of Dreams, A Proponent of Fine Print. How can I possibly shield their eyes to my overwhelming treachery?

HSB scans evil lair. . . .

HSB: "Egad that's it! I will distract their soul with the hypnotic powers of my bowtie! Perhaps the polka-dotted one with ancient Rune powers of enchantment."

Bowtie is applied, evil ensues.

Here's another example of how powerful the bowtie can be:

So what we have here is old Tucker Carlson. Look at him, all innocent and cheery. He's got some news for you, and it's going to be the gospel truth. But I know better: evil lurks.

Now we have bowtie-less Tucker.....I'm not trusting this guy as far as I can throw him. He looks like a smug bastard. I'm sure he has evil plans running through his mind as the photographer is taking this picture. Plans of stealing lunch money, returning VHS tape that have not been rewound, tipping a measly 6%, stealing the dreams of children and replaceing them with images of dying kittens.....something.

AH-HA! Busted! He's using his evil powers to seduce this innocent girl! And he's married! He has children! Be gone ye spawn of Satan!

And thus, I conclude, given the evidence put forth that you can never trust someone wearing a bowtie. They are surely bent on global domination (or trying to sell you a '72 Pinto).