The Impact of A Super Immodest Proposal

After watching a few minutes of this year's Superbowl Halftime Show, I've come to understand why the Victoria's Secret Super Model Half Time Show cancelled.

It was simply not lude or crude or provocative enough.

Reporters at "Chocolate For Your Brain!" Research Division tracked down former models of the once scandalous scantily clad entertainment show.  They agreed to discuss their concerns provided we didn't reveal their identities.

"When the show got canceled, I read all the reasoning and thought, maybe they're right. I should have some standards."  She sobbed over the phone. "Then I saw the show at this year's Superbowl and wondered why anyone ever objected to our strutting down a cat walk.  At least you knew before you turned on the television channel, you were choosing to watch women in lingerie. No one thought that kids should watch our show.  We weren't advertising someone who stared in Zootopia as a headliner."

Another former bikini model explained, "When the "Me too" movement took full force, I decided it was time for "me too," to take back my dignity. I thought perhaps now, it would be different.  We stopped because we didn't want to be exposed or exploited."  She added wryly, "Not sure there's much left to expose or exploit."

But it wasn't just those from the half-time show who felt the impact.
Via email, several former models from the Playboy talked about how they now understood how uncomfortable their shows made others.

"There's always a new level of ick or low." one wrote, "and whenever we lower the bar and increase the ick, the next generation has to scrape lower to make an impact. But, whenever anyone objects, everyone else views the objecter as essentially clutching at her pearls because someone flashed an ankle." 

In related news, Paul Rubens announced he's hired a lawyer to get his record expunged and his kid show reinstated.  "Public indecency?  Please. I wasn't trying to be on camera."  he scoffed.

ABC executives don't think he has a case though. Lawyers for the network explained, citing the highest value with respect to sex held in the nation."Everyone who watched the Superbowl, by not changing the channel, consented. They waived their rights to not see everything when they turned on the television.   Besides, what haven't people seen these days?  I mean, the President said to grab 'em by...so it's empowering for women to do it themselves. I think, it's the beginning of a new age, where people can express themselves howsoever they want.  Remember, the key rule to good society is, don't judge."

Word must have traveled fast, as the following leads showed up on Chocolate For Your Brain's Newtips wire.

Jeffery Epstein came back from the dead and said, "I'm just an outlier today.  Tomorrow, I'll be the trend setter."

Hooters announced it's creating a kid menu and a happy meal, complete with a pole dancing Barbie knock off.

Finally, Anciet Greek Gods Bacchus and Pan announced plans for a reinstitution of their rites of Spring.  "We're calling it the Pagan Bachanalia Comeback Tour! There will be everything! Can't wait. We're even using Shakira's song "Try Everything," you know, from Zootopia? As the motto."

Word has it, they reached out to see if the execs for Superbowl LV were interested.  Off the record, the executives assisstant shook her head, "It's been done.  We're looking for someone who can really push the envelope." 

Reporters for Chocolate for Your Brain stopped investigating and went to buy stock in Eye Bleach. 

 

Musicals and Plays We Hope We Never See

It's been a while since the good folks at Chocolate for Your Brain offered up any satire for your reading pleasure, in part because well, they're lazy, underpaid and understaffed.   However, after withholding the daily chocolate ration from their cells, they got to work on uncovering all the news you'll never hear anywhere else. 

Broadway always skates on the edge of things, but sometimes it falls over in an attempt to be chic and at the same time, get people to pony up a hundred bucks or more for an obstructed view.  We've spent some time sifting through the pile of not quite ready for the Tony's to bring you, shows you'll pray you'll never see. 

The Unoutraged: Story of a person who somehow managed to remain on the internet for two decades without getting into a flame war, be banned by someone, or become known in the combox for starting wars by throwing emotional moltov cocktails. 

The Corporate Sponsored Geico CVS Verizon Musical: Waiting in line for your prescriptions at the pharmacy can take forever. It's even worse if your phone is dead or worse, you're out of data.  Switching to the low data stream makes time come to a stop.   Can the absence of distraction for fifteen minutes help you find love if it can't facilitate you lowering the cost of car insurance?  Includes the smash hits, "It's Not Viagra!" "Flo or the Geeko?" and "Do These Reading Glasses Make me Look Smart?"

Trumpmania: The cast of this hit has to change every day, and all the choreography is improv, except for the chorus of Hail Hail Hail, which is the signature song all voiced and pre-recorded by the lead, so that the entire 365 person choir the audience hears, is actually one voice on autotune. 

Laurel or Yanni, the Devil in the Blue/White/Gold dress: The critics and fans are of two minds on this Spring mystery, and either love or hate it.   Vote for your team. Winner gets to take home Jacob...a.k.a. Sharkboy, the Werewolf from Twilight.   

The Hunt for an Imaginative Mind: Somewhere, someone is inventing something not yet monetized, commercialized and pre-packed for mass consumption.  The government has reports of people actually reading books and listening to information which does not entirely agree with the pretermined, prestated acceptable perspective, and in fact, falls outside the register of the standard deviation for acceptable thought.   G-men are on the move to locate these rebels and put a stop to it. 

Not Trending: Sort of a take on Survivor, milenials are subjected to thirty days sans all electronic and social media, and have to make decisions about outfits, jobs, food, movies and political points of view without the crutch of self validation.  The winner takes home a million dollars, based on the voting of the viewers,  but the contestants won't know who are the favorites or why, until the winner is announced.   Losers spend an additional month coping without electronics. 

Tune in tomorrow when the investigative team interviews the contestants voted off the show and shows them the results of the twitter poll. 

The Real UnFake Super Serious Threat to the US that is US

So this weekend, the President made writing humor easy when he mentioned the uptick in crime to Sweden, and pundits and newspapers and countries pounced on his mischaracterization of the increase as a form of terrorism.

However, researchers here at Chocolate for Your Brain dug beneath the easy headlines to discover a true national security threat: a threat we've refused to acknowledge despite the danger, a threat we have in our homes, a threat we wear, we drive, we eat, and which is as insidious as an earworm from Momma Mia.

That's right.  we're talking about imports from Sweden.

Now the ambassador has offered to brief the President on how things stand in Sweden, but honestly, what else is the ambassador from Sweden going to say?  They won't acknowledge the danger their export culture brings to our shores, so Chocolate For Your Brain will.  (Being patriotic and all that).

For those who don't know how much hails from that land of Bjorn Borg, we present to you, the top ten threats which must be stopped before further infesting American culture. I also never knew about a site called Highsnobiety, which gets points for the name alone. 

10) H&M clothing.  Designed for people who cannot float because they ski cross country to work, and have less than .002% body fat.  Even the mannequins are sucking in to look good.  For the sake of not shaming all of us Americans who now have the luxury of three different types of Big Macs to choose from on the dollar menu, this particular shop and all its ilk must be stopped at the border. 

9) Swedish Meatballs.  I know, it's in Babylon 5 and the nerd in me wants to give it a pass for that reason alone, but really, I'll put it this way.  Even the Country Buffet which has everything (my daughter's favorite restaurant), doesn't have this on the menu.  So if you're hosting any Narns, you'll have to make your own.  However, again, in the interest of keeping Earth Narn free, it would be best to nix any bringing of this dish onto Yankee soil. 

8) Stockholm Syndrome.  Why?  Because there is no vaccine and so before we catch it maybe we can get the current administration to ban it. He might if we told him, there's no vaccine, or maybe if we told him there was one.

7) ABBA Covers.  There is only one ABBA, and all others are just profiteering. 
Cue music! 

6) IKEA.  I know bringing this up is like shooting Swedish fish in a barrel, because everyone's got an Ikea story.  Nothing ever looks like it does in the store, and no one can ever build them properly.  I suspect there is always a missing instruction which would be available if anyone read Swedish or Norwegian or Danish (which are reportedly similar according to PopSweden.com).  For the sake of our already overtasked, overwhelmed brains, we need less hassle, ergo, this has got to go.

5) This guy may already be in trouble (baring continued intervention by the courts), since the Muppet revamp didn't take and there doesn't seem to be a high demand for his type of cuisine, not even by visiting Narns. 

Stereotyping is bad, so he should be Robert Borked Borked Borked Borked.

4) Besides, I suspect he is the original creator of these.  They are my daughter's favorite candy.  Somehow, I find this disturbing. They look like they should not be edible.

In the interest of fairness, the website is entertaining.

3) If anyone based on class and national origin should be banned, it's this guy.  He comes armed.  He comes with full intent to pillage, and he hasn't been funny in years.  Also, as a preventative measure, it's vital he be sent back to his native land, lest the mentally bankrupt genius types in Hollywood decide we need a CGI generated version of Hagar and the Lost Tribe for our summertime entertainment.   So for the safety of our people and the good of humanity in general, let's say "Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, Hey...Hej da."

2) Volvos and SAABS.  Why?  First, they're Swedish and the whole issue is to isolate the threat brought by particular countries correct?  That's the plan, so why not?   Second, Volvos and Saabs do not follow the American Car product model of planned obsolescence. They last.  That's...UnAmerican, not getting a new car every three to six years.  Think of the jobs in finance, in retail, in sales, in repairs, which go unfilled because the Swedes have the audacity to create machines which don't break down.   Besides, I'm running out of ideas that aren't universal enough to exploit for humor's sake.

1) Actors with names involving more than six vowels or who have an umlaut or krouzek. We have enough trouble with just how many consonants these Swedes employ.    Americans struggle with the schwa.  We don't cope well with things that make our English look less processed than our cheese.  This shouldn't be too much of a problem since Hollywood is threatening a strike.   We'd name them but we can't because we don't know how to spell names with an umlaut or a krouzek and we wouldn't want to give them publicity anyway.

*As a final editor's note, sure, you could find alternative sources of information which say none of these things should be banned, but that would require research, critical thinking and above all, judgment.  We're making it easy and digestible for you here.   Why?  Because we love you and we're patriots.

All that other stuff that says nothing is rotten in Sweden, that's all just fake news.  You shouldn't listen to it really.  

Connecting the Dots with Mark Shea

Mark Shea is loads of fun to pal around with on the internet, and on the radio through the internet. When he invites S.C. the editor of Eye of the Tiber, a great Catholic Satire site, it's even more merriment as we pun, discuss satire, discuss writing and laugh an awful lot over at Connecting the Dots! 

Two-fer Thursday

We always do Small Success over at Catholicmom.com!  Today, we're talking about how to take a God break when life is overwhelming.

But, I never did get to link up to Creative Minority Report, Matt was kind enough to host my Satirical self and I did a rip on the very obnoxious sitcom called the Real O'Neals.  So if you want milk chocolate today, go to Catholicmom.com.  If you're in favor of a bit more dark mixed with fruits and nuts, go to Creative Minority Report...and if you're like me and didn't give up Chocolate for Lent, you have both.  

Have a great day! 

Eat Sleep Write

Memo to me....pain+humility=humor.  I'm sharing my pain as penance for my gullibility. Enjoy this slice of my humble pie over at Eat Sleep Write. 

P.S.  No, I'm not linking to the satirist site because you'll already know it's satire and therefore not possibly be fooled.  

Warning! May Break the Internet*

Hello Facebook Friends, Twitter Followers, Blog feeders and Internet lurkers, friends, family, friends of family, friends of friends and total strangers who for some reason, I've friended.   This post is vital to the continuing of the universe.  That's right, failure to like this post may in fact damage the sole purpose of the internet, namely to send repetitive chainmail memes about cheeseburgers, cats and politics using Willy Wonka, because snark=argument won. 

If you fail to like my note or share it or comment, it will prove beyond anything you've done, said, not done or not said,  not that you are not a true lover of America, puppies, hamburgers, baseball, politics, apple pie, silly love songs and Jesus, but rather, that you are either a big meanie or a sensible human being who has better things to do with his/her time.  

Except the internet doesn't do nuance.  So while you may have a whole host of legitimate reasons for ignoring this post, your non-affirming of my blathering prose will vindicate a snapshot opinion that you are either ashamed to not click like, or can be shamed into liking something you don't care one wit about.

However, if you like my post, if you tweet it, make it viral, make it spread to the ends of the Earth like earworm song that every radio plays at least twice an hour, it will prove you love me, you really love me love me, and while absolutely nothing will happen to you good or bad as  result of liking or not liking, reading or ignoring this post, you can consider yourself a special little snowflake in the center of the internet universe by me because you forwarded this singular creative unique post, sharing with others, the joy you found in reading these words here.

 

This concludes your irony supplement for the week.  Have a great day.

 

 

 

*Sometimes, I just have to stop and get the satire out of my system. 

Top Ten Reasons to Vote for Cthulhu!

 In case you missed last night's immature moment on Facebook.

But it's not enough to have a poster.  So I created a top ten list for the guy, big hearted blogger that I am. 


10.  He's not a crook. He's not a politician.He's a monster demon. That's possibly better.

 

9. Born to multi-task, and have the arms to prove it.

 

8. Is there a better symbol for an ever increasing invasive government than a multi tentacled monster with suckers and a tendency to kill first, ask questions later? Not likely.

 

 7. Motto: I am not an Ood --probalby will swing the Whovian vote and that splits both parties.

 

 6. He has a compelling platform, I have an arm for every branch of the government, and for every overreach.

 

5. Admit it, you've probably voted for worse with less reason. 

 

4. Strong defense: Any arms race we enter, I'll win.

 

3. For the moralists out there: There isn't a more evil choice on the ticket.

 

2.  To Bring about a new era of cooperation: I'll end gridlock by reaching across the aisle. If they don't agree with me, I'll eat them.

 

1. Committed to evil in all things. Finally, an honest politician who lives up to or down as the case may be, to his hype.

Just One Week Until National Media Mime Day

That's right, only 7 days left until all the major news networks, print, websites, radio, streaming radio, newspapers, pundits and blogs join in silent solidarity with those tiresome artists who think if they don't think it's there, it isn't, and if they think it is, well then it exists.  Funny how that invisible wall is so strong and then not, depending upon the will of the individual.

Rumors of the run on black and white stripped shirts, black leggings and clown makeup causing a mark up on prices continue to be dismissed, but the dearth of Mime supplies lend credence to the possibility that this year, participants in the Nothing Happened Today of Any Significance Whatsoever Whistle past the National Mall are united in their efforts to avoid discussion of that which must not be covered, that which must not be acknowledged, that which cannot be said.

When asked if they were going to do a report on any random amassing of crowds from all over the country on the National Mall for a 2.5 mile walk despite the traditionally frigid weather...

Guess they're practicing for the big day.  

The Decadent Life of Mine

Recently I came across a post from a New York magazine entitled, the Decadence of Procreation. It argued that because children cost so much, some odd unknown number between 12,290 and 1.8 million, having them is a status symbol and a sign of decadence --of having something inaccessible and rare as versus the masses.   To me, there's a huge difference between the just over 10K and the 1.8 million in a year, but that may be my 1%er brain not getting that there isn't any difference.  I didn't even know that people coveted dressage horses and third beach houses.  Clearly, I've got to work on my covetous heart, it isn't nearly decadant enough.

I'm also scratching my head here because in order to have masses to rise above, don't we need masses, ergo children?  And don't those who don't engage in "procreation" thus have the money we've spent on our little crumb crunchers to then lord over us with homes and live styles that are happy meal and mini-van free?   Does someone actually think people have children to lord over others....we don't even get to lord over our own masses, let alone others.   Children are not trophies or show ponies who do tricks for treats...they barely agree to go to bed under threat of a mother sitting outside in the hallway, working on her laptop acting as a guard dog.   I do growl.  

But apparently, mine is a life of luxury, the likes of which only few can reach. 

"Hello, I'm Robin Leach and I'm here with another addition of the Decadently Procreative. This time, we visit the house of one Sherry Antonetti.  With ten children, this woman has it all.   A shop vac in the kitchen....a couch full of laundry....and a 12 passenger van parked outside.  Yes, it's diet coke and mac and cheese dreams for this lady on the go.  

At 5:45 she starts her day.  Fixing seven lunches and 10 breakfasts, then it's time to load the car and get the elementary set to school by 7:55. Her husband has already shuttled their two high school daughters to their separate stops (the bus and the metro) at 6:45.  Returning home but not before stopping to snag the clothes at the dry cleaner, she meets the bus that will take her four year old for his half day program. 

However there's a slight snag.  He's kicked off his shoes and the backpack is still up in the house.  A brief run up the 10th of a mile drive way and an impressive backing up of the E350 down the s-shaped driveway backwards and she puts her little son on his way to school.  Now it is 8:30. Time to patrol the house, make the beds, collect the laundry, empty the trash cans, plunge any toilets, pick up the trash, remember it's trash day and run out the door to bring the cans down and then back again.  It's 9 o'clock and finally, she can eat some breakfast.  Clearing the table, she spies it already prepared and abandoned by someone... Rejected pop tart anyone?"

So go ahead...envy me.  

 

Winter Holiday Government Recommendations

It began as a simple inquiry from the government to the gentleman who has gone by the name Santa or St. Nicholas or Santa Claus or Kris Kringle or even, Father Christmas for as long as anyone can remember.   "We want more openess and transparency in the process and to understand how this organization works."  the letter sent back in July to the Christmas palace at the North Pole.

Santa refused to comment, such that eventually, he was requested to show up at the E.P.A. to answer questions.  Other representatives from other agencies took the opportunity to also make inquiries about the fat man's annual actions. 

Amongst the most glaring concerns, the practice of giving coal: 

Owing to the desire for "cleaner energy," Santa Claus and his entire organization up in the North Pole has been notified that providing children even with "clean coal" shall be deemed an environmental hazard.  A bureaucrat at the E.P.A. who asked to remain anonymous suggested that this practice of giving lumps of compressed carbon to minors could also be considered a toxic health hazard, "The smoke emitted from the heat when these small pieces of rock would be dangerous to inhale and could cause any number of respiratory conditions, some of which are serious."   When pressed for an alternative for "bad" children, he suggested a solar mirror. 

The Department of Education weighed in on the "judgmental attitude of Santa." "The notion of bad children is a severely outdated moniker that could lead to self esteem issues for the children involved.  Bribing children to behave by providing negative reinforcement is akin to spanking.  It is not appropriate in this evolved age when we know that all behavior is neither good nor bad but merely a cry for attention that has been reinforced by the adults surrounding the child."  He also suggested Santa make use of the federal website guide to parenting. 

Additionally, the head of Christmas Inc, a.k.a. Kris Kringle was also directed to consider a more health conscious image for himself, "He should stop smoking a pipe, shed about 100 pounds and at the very least, lose the dyed fur jacket.  What message does it send...fat jolly, smoking, fur wearing....Think of the good you could do if you jogged to every one's home on December 24th and just left some fruit?" It wasn't all bitter though, the federal government suggested that if Saint Nick would be willing to deal, he might earn a spot on the first lady's "Let's Move" campaign once he'd shed enough weight to make a noticeable difference.   However even that incentive didn't prompt Saint Nicholas to speak.  The meeting between the US Government and Mr. Claus could be described as tense.

Not to be left out, the labor department raised multiple concerns about the labor conditions of the elves. (We've heard stories...we know they have excellent dental but what other benefits are provided?), hours and wages are rumored to be worse than Walmart.  They also requested the last ten years of accounting books. (Have you filed taxes for all revenue you receive from U.S. Sources?  What is the source of your revenue?) and the criteria for being placed on the "nice" as versus "naughty list."  

"The process seemed fairly subjective, leading to questions of fairness.  Why should rich kids get things? Their parents can buy it."  Lastly, the government official indicated that unless some of these questions are answered, the famed character who flies the skies on Christmas Eve may not be given clearance over U.S. skies.   Given that there are only 8 reindeer with flying capabilities known to exist in the world, why have these creatures not been given protective status to avoid such exploitation?"  

Finally, when all the charges were laid out, when Saint Nicholas was pressed to make a statement, he took out his pipe, lit it, blew a wreath at all of the government officials in question and said two words.  "Merry Christmas." 

Children's Shows You Should Pray You Never See

With political correctness the number one rule, cartoons in today's world feel like fast food;  homogeneous, devoid of any actual conflict and lacking in any intellectual value other than what could be discerned in five minutes or less of talking with a two year old. 

There's one main character with two side kicks. One of the trio either has the ability to create anything or acquire anything.  They must all get from point a to point b.  The other sidekick is more of a writer's crutch, giving necessary background information that the creators want delivered to the kids and move the plot (such as it is) along.  The journey goes through three terrains or conflicts of some sort.  There will be a nemesis who must be stopped.  They will arrive at the end spot.  Everyone will cheer and there will be a party but no cake.   Bleah.  We need a broader array of ideas for entertaining the future of our country than a watered down version of Dungeons and Dragons where there is one main player with two Dungeon Master controlled non player characters, one sporting a bag of holding.

Literature to the rescue!

The following are solely my ideas. If you pitch this to a person in Hollywood and they make a show staring Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber because it would be cool, you owe me money.  I'll collect when we both meet in the nether regions of the underworld --you for making it a reality, me for thinking of it in the first place. 

10) The Prince:  Narrated by the one who used to be and is again so named, this afternoon educational program would show kids how to use the techniques outlined by Machiavelli to navigate the rough jungle world of playground friendships and the politics of classroom etiquette.

9) They're All Greek to Me:  Classic Greek Myths told from the monsters' point of view.  Of course the society of hydras, gorgons, medusas and sirens would lament the evil persecution of their people by those annoying demigods who were always going around chopping off heads and stealing our treasure.  Each show would end with the monsters eating at least a few "heroes" as part of getting back at the 1%. 

8) Jane Austen Survivor Style:  Post MTV generation teens put in the countryside estate setting of 19th Century England.  Each week, contestants would be voted off the island for non Austenian type mannerisms and behavior, with the winner becoming the owner of said estate. 

7) Upton Sinclair Street:  The Values of Socialism and Vegetarianism all in one place as narrated by a muppet who lives with a family that suffers exploitation.  No word on whether McDonald's would be willing to run commercials during the breaks.  Hey Kids...Happy Meals.

6) Shakespeare in Ponyville:  My Little Ponies...doing Shakespeare. What????  They'd watch it.

5) Canterberry Tales: Because all cartoons are promos for toys, the surplus Strawberry Shortcake dolls et all would be used to enact the pilgrimage to the see the Holy Blissful Martyr's shrine.  The main character would occasionally break the 4th wall to teach the young viewers Olde English.  "Can you say, "WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote, The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote..."

4) Hemming's Way:  A Geography show.  The main character Earnest is a boy who travels the world.  He explores the snows of Kilimanjaro, runs with the Bulls in Spain, drinks Maraschino Cherry juice in Venice and visits Great Britain to make friends with the nurses at the local hospital.  The narrator is the same character but as an old man, retired and living in Key West, Florida.  He spends his time fishing for prize marlins.

3) Sun Tzu's Ancient Art:  Five kids come together to learn military strategy and various marital arts. They are called upon in each episode to apply the tenet put forth by the master as they battle the forces of evil.  Agents are currently investigating if this could be color coded, red, blue, gold, green and black and each of the five have special ships that they alone control, one a plane, one a motor bike, one a boat, one a car and one a rocket. They would also be mutated to be half human half insect and each would be named after a famous composer of classical music. Bach, Brahms, Beethoven, Mozart and the rebel, Rachmaninoff.   They'd para sail in their spare time, eat pizzas sprinkled with tofu and have wacky not discernible from anywhere accents. 

2)  For the Bible Belt/those who are sad that Veggie tales was taken over by ABC:The Adventures of Noah, Pokemon Master: He caught them all.....twice. Except for those pesky Unicorns.

1) Young Twilight: The stories of Young Edward and Jacob and Bella. 

I'll be waiting for the call from my agent.

p.s. Sorry for the earlier copy with misspellings. I did a spell check but it saved the prior version.

Some of Life's Meaning is Lost

http://moneyland.time.com/2012/01/10/hostess-maker-of-twinkies-to-file-for-bankruptcy/
Hostess is filing for Chapter 11. 

Bang the drum slowly and summon all ye couch potatoes to pay homage to a food group that shall be no more: the preserved completely unhealthy no matter what you do sweet that's cheap, not gourmet, not cool and decidedly lazy eating.

Do you understand that there shall be no more Ho-hos, no more fruit pies or Hostess cupcakes or snowballs or mini-muffins or Twinkies? 

There is something wrong with a world that does not have instant bad fat/calorie gratification wrapped in a wax paper packaging.   Part of the fault lies with hauteur cupcakes shops. How can yellow plastic cake with frozen flat frosting compete with fondant Tiramisu salt caramel even if you could buy ten of the former for a mere one of the later?

So I'm composing an ode to the lost snack that nevermore shall accidentally grace the incidental picnic lunch, the fishing expedition or the road trip through long spans of the country where gas stations are the only source of nutrition.  We shall be reduced to slim jims and porkrinds and Stuckey's pecan rolls if you want a touch of the vanishing generational type snack that kids always claim they hate but eat in a fit of nostalgia when they become adults.  We shall be sophsticated Starbucky McNugget nation with nary a place that serves anything with so many preservatives it could out live us. All foods hence shall be FDA approved.  For shame. 

Shall there be a Taps for Twinkies?  Will children purchase old comic books and wonder at the confections being showered on villains that stop them in their tracks while Batman and Robin shake hands over a fruit pie?  What were these delicious things that could stop larceny from the likes of the Joker?  No one ever believed the Dolly Madison versions of these things advertised by the Peanuts gang were better.  After all, if you can't believe Superman and the Fantastic Four, who can you trust?

So I blame edgy comic books for this failure. 

Will future generations puzzle at the Ghostbusters when they "tell them about the Twinkie?" 

Perhaps the company should have put some of those preservatives in its stock, so that it too, would last generations beyond the expiration date.  Perhaps it is a sign that it is 2012 and the Mayans knew something we didn't.  Perhaps someone left the cake out in the rain. 

Who weeps for the deep fried twinkie?  Who mourns the opportunity to have ding-dongs at a rollerskating birthday party instead of dealing with messy cutting cake.  Alas. Alas.  A piece of childhood is succumbing to the economics of adulthood.  Raise your cut carrots and fantasize about the sugar that has been sucked out of our lives.  Cry if you must.  I take solace of sorts in knowing, some of the pounds I sport still linger from these confections, so adieu Hostess! My scale shall remember you.

But I'm stockpiling my oreos, just in case they're next.

Today I promise to....

Fire up the SUV.  Rent an extra one and leave it running. 

I will roll down the windows and turn up the heat.

I will ruthlessly throw cans and newspaper in the trash and egg shells and bananna peels down the disposal and will feast on red meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

I will put ethanol in my car so that it operates less efficiently and has the double effect of using what could be food for fuel, and still pollutes. 

I will commence drilling for oil  in my back yard and along all coastal regions. 

I will barbecue and use fresh wood.

I will buy every aresol can type product I can and run the water when I brush my teeth. 

I will take up smoking and encourage others to do so as well.

I will drink bottled water and then Belch.
I will own dogs, feed them meat, let them drink bottled water and let them belch.

Today I will leave all the lights on in every room after I switch  them all back to incandescent lamps.  I will make sure the computers, tv's and radios go 24-7 like the news cycle.

Today I will only buy new.  I will not Reduce.  I will not Recycle. 


Why?

The news has predicted 10 to 20 more inches of snow Tuesday night.  After there feet over the weekend, I'm committed to creating just a bit of global warming RIGHT NOW!

I'll go back to saving the Earth when it's warm.  Thank you. That is all.

Earth Day

Okay, I listen to Laura Ingram --gave her up for Lent but it's Easter now...and heard about this guy who runs the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement --not that they're advocating dying now...just dying out...because the Earth would be so very happy if we all just followed the path of the dinosaurs. I thought this was a brilliant mock until I recognized, it was real.

I was beginning to wonder if satire in this day and age is possible, then I decided one could write about a husband and wife that loved each other and raised children to be loving responsible citizens and consider it satire because of one wink at the beginning of the novel, the words (This is ironic) as a footnote to the first word.

People would line up to buy the book so they could look smart while plowing through a story about lives as one would hope it could be, without all the mess and nastiness that the news presents us with on a daily basis. The novel would involve people who struggled and suffered occasionally, and made mistakes and asked forgiveness and sometimes spent too much or ate too much or blew things off but mostly tried and tried hard to live lives of quality and grace. They would even pray.

Buyers of the book could say they read it because of the delicious irony even as part of their souls craved that it be authentic. The adults in the book would find their identity and true callings within the constraints of a real and traditional relationship, rather than acquiring it via a sexual revolution or awakening with another man, woman, alien, sperm whale...but that would be okay because it would be safe to think so. After all, it was ironic.

The author would be on Oprah and CNN, she would be hailed for her sagacity and tight prose. It would be required reading as part of 21st Century literature. Kids in college would wear black and sip coffee that was straight because it was now chic to do so, and cheaper, much more honest, and tap their heavily thumbed and highlighted copy. The cover would be black and the title would be, The Real Life.

Eventually, the writer would become an acclaimed professor, sought after for convocations and speeches at political rallies. She would be wealthy but that would be okay because it was the result of enlightening others.

Then one day, the author would ask people, "What was ironic about that piece?" and no two people would answer the same thing....ah, the true irony of it all...excuse me, I have to get writing.

Satire Can't Beat Real News

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jan/06/crucifixion-church-vicar-sculpture-copnall

This is real...

"A statue of the crucifixion has been taken down from its perch on a church in Sussex because it was scaring local children and deterring worshippers, a vicar admitted today.

The Rev Ewen Souter, the vicar at St John's Church in Horsham, West Sussex, ordered the removal of the 10-foot sculpture of Jesus on the cross just before Christmas, branding it "unsuitable" and "a horrifying depiction of pain and suffering".


The 10ft resin sculpture, by Edward Bainbridge Copnall, a former president of the Royal Society of British Sculptors, will be replaced by a more "uplifting" stainless steel cross – to the dismay of more traditional parishioners.

Souter, formerly a cell biologist, said: "The crucifix expressed suffering, torment, pain and anguish. It was a scary image, particularly for children. Parents didn't want to walk past it with their kids, because they found it so horrifying.

"It wasn't a suitable image for the outside of a church wanting to welcome worshippers. In fact, it was a real put-off.

"We're all about hope, encouragement and the joy of the Christian faith. We want to communicate good news, not bad news, so we need a more uplifting and inspiring symbol than execution on a cross."

The Vicar declined to answer whether or not the rumors were true that he had also substituted Coca-cola for the wine and Chips Ahoy! for the bread. "If we do make any changes, you can be sure they'll be heart healthy and take into consideration the need to fight obesity and diabetes." He did let slip that there were some concerns about promoting alcoholism with the use of wine, and that a search was underway for substitute words in the concecration part of the service, as body and blood were deemed too graphic for the general public.

"We've put in a new rock fountain that is so much more soothing than our old basin baptismal font. We're really trying to modernize. We've got to make the church accessible to more people and you don't do that by pointing out such downers as sin."

When it was pointed out that many parishoners object to the change, the Vicar gave a pained and patient look. "It's for the children."

I for one, am filled with hope.

Hospitably Yours

I have to tell you, right now, watching my kid breathe in and out, watching his numbers dip and rise in some cases more impressively than the stock market, I've temporarily lost my humor writing mojo.

I've tried writing six different pieces, a top ten list, a satire, a riff on hospital food, a letter to the editor, multiple pre-holiday bits. Most of it sounds forced to me, ergo, it would not be the right tone, or worse, it would not be funny.

Instead of telling stories, this past week, I've been hearing them.

On Monday, I took a walk to clear my head. I got into a conversation with a woman pushing a tiny but not chihuahua dog wrapped in a blanket in a real baby stroller.

Normally, my mind would reel with such made for blog material, but instead I engaged the woman in conversation. She was a former dancer, had lived in Afghanistan and her husband was an actor. She admitted sheepishly that she probably spoils her dog, but he's too little to keep up with her when she roller blades and she worries he'll get run over by a bicyclist or a car in DC, so this is how she protects him. She lamented the lack of energy for dance in Washington and thanked me for listening.

Then, there's last Friday, when I took a cab to my husband's office to get paperwork and hand off laundry. The man who drove my cab told me the story of his having grown up in DC, of being the oldest of nine and partially raised by his aunts. He explained that he was a poet and gave me a copy of his collection. It was pretty good stuff. The sparse prose had an airy and emotional tonal quality like a musical pulse.

Last night, when I was rechecking Paul into the hospital, a beautiful tall African American woman with red eyes watched as I gave Paul's history. She asked his name, his full name. "Catholic?" she asked. "Yes." "Me too." She told me how she took her kids to the Basilica because it was the one church they loved. How she'd promise them breakfast if they all went. I told her we bribe our kids with donuts or bagels too for good behavior.

Then she started to get a bit teary eyed and told me how her son broke his arm so badly, they had to sedate him for the x-ray. She told me this was the fourth time he'd been injured playing football, and that she was more worried about his head. She was alone.

I think she noticed that I noticed because she then added, "My husband left me this week." I didn't think I had heard her correctly. She repeated herself. "I'm so sorry." I started. She shook her head. "No. No. It's a good thing. It's a good thing." He had been on disability and didn't work, and it had become more and more difficult coming home to hear she wasn't doing enough. She told me she was glad he was gone. We agreed to pray for each other, and I managed to eek out three decades that night before getting distracted by medical reports and sleep.

The point of all these stories to me anyway, was to remind me to stay generous of heart and spirit and humble. We cannot know the life stories of those we write off at first glance. The doctor who treated Paul at HSC and held him through the night when I slept was the father of many, and a veteran, a survivor of bullets and bombs.

Taking my son from me and instructing me to trust him while I slept, he said, "I know how precious life is."

The nurse who brought Paul his medicines was the youngest of nine from a family in the Phillipenes. He was happy to have been assigned Paul.

All of our lives mirror the Joyful, Luminous, and Sorrowful mysteries if we let them. All of our lives have the capacity to teach others the graces and meanings of those mysteries by example. Only by listening and watching and really being open, do we have the opportunity to enter into the Glorious. Paul has been a vehicle for others to speak, and for his mother, to listen.

It's Friday so you get your Political Hit today...

Someone check the calendar, Hillary thinks it’s Christmas.

Here, we are on the decision weekend for the DNC Rules committee and suddenly, the latest pastor of the Trinity Church in Chicago gives up a sound bite that, if not for the fact that it is truth, would be a parody so sharp as to border on dangerous.

http://www.nypost.com/seven/05302008/news/nationalnews/more_holy_mess_for_obama_113146.htm

Someone should investigate if this Catholic priest, Fr. Pfleger recently received a sizable donation from the HRC campaign. The AP reports that Fr. Pfleger has been a spiritual and fiscal supporter of Obama, even being listed until yesterday when these sound bites found the light of day via YouTube, on Barrack’s website as part of those who give spiritual testimony and support.

Their relationship spans decades. Pfleger has given money to Obama's campaigns and Obama as a legislator both at the state and federal level has directed at least $225,000 towards social programs at St. Sabina’s according to the Chicago Tribune, but of course, there was no quid pro quo.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/chi-0705030035may03,0,7803217.story

But I also have to question the timing of this coming to light. These things do not happen by accident, especially if Clintons are involved. The money aspect with this priest reminds me of the dish washers in San Francisco and those monks that had such largess for the DNC candidates. Perhaps it's all just a misunderstanding. Maybe economic times are not as tight as we’ve been told. After all, these donations could just be those stimulus checks that came in the mail.

Alternatively, maybe Fr. Pfleger was a part of that DaVinci Code conspiracy that Dan Brown and Tom Hanks uncovered, wherein Catholics secretly rule the world…something which, if it were true, I submit, Notre Dame would have had a much better winning record this past decade.

Now I concede that primary season is the time of the improbable that is the world of politics. Everyone gets their lumps. It’s like mental boot camp for the candidates. As an interested spectator, I propose a few strategies for the three wantabes that are seeking the ultimate office in America.

Candidates, please note, none of these strategies were advocated by Karl Rove, nor were they vetted via any public polling.

If Obama really wants to take the DNC without qualms, he should send a few Obama girls over to visit Hillary’s campaign. With the right Obama girls, Bill would swift boat his wife within seconds. Then, you should adopt a symbolic role, declare your administration shall not drive SUV’s and the White House will become Green and have the thermostat stuck at 70 the whole year around as a matter of policy. Declare you will get rid of Air Force One and drive in a hot air balloon or a Zeppelin. Have your motorcade on segways or use the Metro. Bring sweaters back into style. Promise that everyone that votes for you will find their true love, regrow their hair, have healthy gums and season tickets to the local professional soccer team. Promise We will be loved by the Europeans and hand out free Kool-ade.

If Hillary really wants to take the crown, she’s got to show she’s not just an older version of Obama policy. She should go to Iraq unannounced, and then come back and say okay McCain, “Let’s dance.” Then she should demand her place and propose as an alternative, a third party if she doesn’t get it. If she creates a third party, she should meet with McCain, and create the hand shake deal for becoming McCain's Perot to Obama. McCain will get the No. 1 spot and She’ll get a nod to the Supreme Court. The DNC will cave or she’ll win, either way.

Meanwhile, if McCain wants to be the leader of the free world, he needs to decide whose votes he wants and which party he’s the nominee for, RNC or DNC. If he’s going to be leader, he needs to say what he plans to do, what he believes and not back down. If he wants to be president, he needs to convey a vision of what he will do –what policies he will propose and what he will veto. Acting as a leader by gaining consensus through compromise –that’s what happens after one becomes the leader, not how one becomes the head of the pack. If he stops pandering, the RNC will cave.

Finally, McCain needs to inject in his campaign some humor and life about his level of experience and expertise rather than acknowledge any virtue/experience of his opponents.

Old? Seasoned.

Establishment? Really? When I’ve been labeled a Maverick most of my political life?

Out of touch?

I’m not running to be popular. These are the policies I’m for, these, I’m against. I’m running for president. I’m here to govern, not to make you feel cool or cure all ills. The person who says they can do that is lying, not just to you, but to themselves.

As they are, if the US were headed by a committee, these three yahoos would be on it. This is why governors usually do better than senators in national politics. They lead a state, the buck has stopped with them, as opposed to being one of a body of 100. Right now, we have three candidates who want to be the candidate badly, and in some cases, show their desire badly, and no one that shows they want to be more or know how to be more than a candidate.

Here’s hoping one of them grows up by actual Christmas.

Growing up a kid in the 21th Century

Inspired by an email from a friend...

Gizmo's, Electronics, Gadgets......

The unreal world has become more and more what we live in than the actual. We have virtual selves, virtual profiles, virtual friends, virtual lives that are oddly not without actual consequences. Where is the Virtue in that kind of living?

"Son, I know it's vacation and all, but it's been four days and you haven't left the house. I'm taking you outside."

"Where?"

"Here, put these on." Gives kid sunglasses.

"Cool, Virtual world huh? Awesome."

"No, we're just going outside."

"Woah, the graphics are intense. And the sensory imputs, I'm feeling heat on my arms."

Present kid with a stick.

"Is this the controller? Or a wand? Where are the buttons?"

"There are no buttons."


"Nothing is happening? Maybe it needs batteries or the blue tooth wireless network is down."

"There are no batteries."

"By the way, cool graphics, three dimentional, very fine, wonder how many pixels resolution this is."

"There are no pixels....You're outside..."

"No pixels huh? So this is new technology, wireless light resolution based rather than computer generated pictures? Awesome."

"Put your hand in this sandbox."

"It feels so real."

"It IS Real."

"You know Dad, I would have been happy with an Xbox 360 but this Virtual world room rocks! Where are the walls and the remote? I want to dial up a beach scene."

"Glad you like it. Now son, in this game, there are no resets. Everything is realtime. There are no savespots either."

"Wow. That's a tough game. So when you lose, you lose huh?"

"Yes son. So play well."

"Dad?"

"Yes son?"

"I don't think I'm ready yet for this intense a gaming experience. What do I do with the stick?"

Aren't we all on the B-team Most of the Time?

Growing up attending Catholic elementary school and high school (and college and grad school too, but that’s another matter), there was only one extracurricular activity available for social outlets in the seventies. Sports. This worked well if you were tall, athletic, coordinated, had stamina, strength, popularity or hustle. Nowhere in that list are the qualities, sense of humor or good with words. I dreamed of making the “A team.”

Then eighty’s television sort of hijacked that phrase to connote a black and red van with a Mr. T.

But the status of “B team” has remained unchallenged. Living in a county where birthing is considered a competitive sport, there have been systemic attempts to destroy the very essence of a “B-team.” These parents worry their kids self esteem will be irreparably damaged if they suffer the humiliation of knowing someone else is better at something than they. These attempts have failed even more impressively than the b-teams themselves.

Method #1: Not keeping score. Like that worked. Anyone who has ever been at a pee-wee soccer game where the parents don’t keep score was not paying attention. Just go up to a parent of a kid who does well. “My kid scored six goals!” Just go to a parent of a kid who did poorly. “She tried really hard. That team was tough. “ “She let in six goals!” the dad will whisper with hints of despair while mentally planning on going to the nearest sporting goods store to buy a net and a new soccer ball and spend the rest of the day coaching his offspring on how to be a goalie. The parents can deny the reality on paper by not writing down a score, but they and the kid doing the end zone dance after snack and the one moping in her cupcakes know the truth.

Method #2: A Team by any other name. Team I and Team II, that didn’t work for obvious reasons. Apples and Oranges? Red and Blue? Naming the teams as equals never worked. Why? Because the instant a scrimmage starts up, Everyone knows who the athletic kids are. This is an American oddity, that we fear acknowledging excellence for fear of putting down everyone else. We don’t want a kid to be a ball hog. However, the kids on the team know “He can shoot, he can score.” Guess what they do, feed the ball to the hog.

Method #3: Revisionist Theory in Application. Twenty first century values demand that all heroes be fallen ones, and all lesser or supporting casts be simply as of yet undiscovered vastly underrated prospects. I've seen people on the sideline praise the slightest moment of competence by a poor player stumbling down the court as being "Michael Jordanesque" while the true ace player of the team hustles to capture the bad bounce pass from said teammate. The mental yoga that these adults engage in is amazing. It’s like parents doing a high five with a kid for bringing home a “C.”

Then, reality reasserts itself. With two minutes left in a tight game, the kids on the bench were shouting, “NO, pass it to Her! HER!” Ball sharing was for when you were up by ten or more with no time left.

Method #4: Marxism. Some people at my son’s school tried doing an even exchange, in basketball. Each coach got two prime players, two decent players, two coachable players , one headache and one hopeless. Both teams had losing seasons. Losing seasons are okay. The kids will live. The pizza at the end of the season party still tastes as good. In the adults, however, there is a note of desperation in that creeps into even the most zealous advocate of communism in the sporting world as they stare at the prospects of another 0-8 season.

The problem with "A teams" is they require a High Physical standard. It's intangible but identifable. Today in America, we are discouraged from even acknowledging anything but excellence. Some parents unfortunately swallow this Kool-Aid. Children and their accomplishments have become part of the adult resume. "Hello, my name is ....and my kids are currently learning German, Russian, Sanskrit, making mock replicas of the seven wonders of the world out of toothpicks and training for the Olympics. They performed tap dance at the State House last year for the Easter Egg Roll and are ranked amongst Who's Better than Who in American Parents' Magazine. Want to see my web site? It has a day by day documentary plus commentary on their struggles to write the next great American novel."

Parents, being obsessive in their love for their children, often fail to recognize that a C is not an A, no matter how much you love them. Someone who can't shoot, can't dribble and can't pass should not be on the A team any more than someone who spells "towards" twoard should be given full points on a spelling test. We can't helicopter/spell check our children out of all their faults and weaknesses. If we do, we'll fail them morally and academically, as surely as "The Dairy of Anne Frank" can slip by Microsoft Word's spell check in a book report.

Fortunately, reality has a way of correcting these issues, even if it takes a season to do so.

No one wanted another perfect losing season. After that year, the coaches reasserted themselves in the draft picks, calling them A and B teams and everyone was clear on the matter.

Some parents were fuming mad that their kids weren’t on the A teams.

Intervention Time Out

The head coach/director however was having none of it. Rather than talk to irrational people rationally about being reasonable, he tacked up a picture of “Mr. T” with the caption, “I pity the fool who argues with me. You’re on the team, be it A or B! Anyone who argues will take the blame. He or she will be banned from the game. “

Both teams had winning seasons. Eating pizza in celebration, I swore I heard the coach/cyo director say, “I love it when a plan comes together.”


EDITOR'S NOTE and LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Please remember this is a humor blog. Any resemblance to reality is unintentional except to the extent it makes you laugh.