Verbal stumble of the day.

I was listening to an NPR piece on poisoning, specifically Dr. Edward
Pritchard, the "philandering poisoner." a murderer who was also a
ladies' man.

The expert said this:
". . . if I can be crude, he couldn't keep his trousers on. He got many young girls in the cunt. . ., er, in the country to follow him . . ."


A bathtub filled with brightly colored machine parts.

Anyone who really knows me knows I love surrealism, either because I told them or they figured it out. I'm not talking Salvador Dali posters either, nor even specifically the visual arts. What really gets my gander is surrealism in literature and humor. Their is a very real difference between pointless nonsense a good bout with a mind twisting surrealist joke. I try to model my own flavor of humor halfway between bitter cynicism and unintelligible surrealism.

Anyway, I'll save the "I love Surrealism" rant for another day.

This is what I wanted to show you:


This love of surrealism puts me in the realm of the Danes and French, who love surrealist humor.
Americans and Canadians mostly love jokes at the expense of others (White people be all like "Ooo OOOo" and black people be all "AAaa AAaa"). Most other English-speaking nations (UK, Austrailia, etc.) like puns and wordplay, save for the wonderfully surrealist "Monty Python".



I have just learned that The Lapeer County EMS threatened to pull their support and involvement with the Muscular Dystrophy Association’s program, previously called “Jail and Bail,” because, out of 150 participants, they were not one of the handful mentioned in an LA View article.

To be frank and admittedly crude, this pisses me off.

This is too many shades of loathsome for me to adequately describe.

The MDA event, wherein people are “arrested” and must post bail (funds raised for the MDA) to be let out, is a charitable event. It is not about personal or professional recognition, it is not a pissing contest to see who has the most wealth to throw at a cause for a photo op—it is for those less fortunate than oneself.

What The Lapeer County EMS is doing is false philanthropy, and I don’t even understand it. They are an ambulance service and do not need free advertising. If I am lying bleeding in a ditch, I can’t call around to get the best deal on my life.

Who are they trying to impress by this random act of immaturity?

Our article, written by Rosemary Arnholt, listed a handful and mentioned they were just a sampling of the 150. While it is nice to recognize those that do good works, if a person or organization does so for the sole purpose of recognition, it is no longer generosity. It is glory hounding, showboating, arrogant self-promotion.

And, for this perceived slight, the EMS was going to punish a non-profit organization that is doing it’s best to help those afflicted with a terrible disease. A company which services the public, which provides emergency medical assistance, is making a section of the population with a degenerative health condition suffer. Hypocrisy. Idiocy.

I have felt badly for the company in the past, believing weakness in accounting and a lack of funds to be damaging a worthwhile local business.

But they are worthless; a company to whom the public good should be precedent, and which represents itself with arrogance, bullying and immaturity does not deserve to exist.

One note, the man responsible for all of this nonsense is the director Galland Burnham. Perhaps the other employees are good people, but their spokesperson and representative has acted like an unmitigated ass.

My editor has since convinced them to honor their previous promise to the MDA.


License to speak revoked.

Faux pas of the day:

I was telling my wife about the canonical list of "I like my women like I like my . . ." comparisons I came up with in college, specifically my favorite: "I like my women like I like my food: Fast, cheap and greasy."

She of course told me this was terrible, but in the same breath mentioned how the potato chips she was eating were really greasy.

What I meant to say, teasingly, but in good spirits, was "Now I just need to cheapen you up." Unfortunately my brain and mouth weren't on the same page, and instead I said "Now you just need to be fast."

To make matters worse, I tried to back pedal by saying "I know you're not cheap because I have to pay." I meant "Buy you jewelry, food, etcetera that you deserve because you are wonderful and I love you." But it sounded like I was calling my wife a whore.

Minus 1,000,000 points.



I am a bastard. A cold, judgmental, hateful little shit who
has probably looked upon all of you with loathing and disgust at least once. I
have no patience for weakness of mind or spirit, though physically I am far
from imposing.

I don’t talk as much as I think I do. Autumn tells me that
sometimes my introversion is taken as rudeness. Nothing could be farther from
the truth; often my silence is the only polite thing I can say. I get sick of
all the chattering clicking idiots who seek to justify, to prove their
existence with noise. The more jangling keys the more power the exude, the change
chiming in their pockets to prove their wealth, the electronic beeps and
squawks escaping from their pockets to attest to how trendy they are. And
through it all their awkward empty words, repeating the same stories again and
again, ignoring the music around them, a one-way valve of shit.

I am quiet and I am thinking. My thoughts are my own. If I
wanted you to hear them I would open my mouth and voice them. I do this to try
and avoid saying stupid, meaningless crap. I do this so that when I do speak
people will listen.

It is nearly impossible to earn my respect and keep it, but
if you ever wanted it, the secret is to listen. Not just hear, notice the
pollution of those around you, but to listen. Listening is not passive, it’s
not merely opening your self up to let the world wash in. It is actively honing
in, capturing and dragging inward, methodical dissection and processing. It is
understanding, asking questions if you don’t, but first shutting up and
thinking about it, trying your level best to resolve it on your own.

Few people listen, even to themselves. They are not ears, a
mind and a mouth, they are just echoes, pointless reflections of all that has
passed before them. All men and women are worn smooth or cracked by time, but
they also have the ability to make themselves. To create something new. But
they don’t.

Here’s a tip: if you have to say you’re a good listener, you
probably aren’t. For one thing, you’ve opened your mouth and shut your ears to
any opinions to the contrary. It is also as unnecessary as promoting your own popularity
or intelligence. These are not traits that are made by claims; if possessed
they are easily self-evident in their exercise.

If you want me to hate you, express two mutually exclusive
desires at once. Voice your biggest problem and a complete unwillingness to do
anything to solve it.

“Man, I need money, but I don’t want to get a job. I’m so
overweight, but I hate to exercise and I love to eat. I’m lonely, but I can’t
stand dating. I don’t know, but I don’t need to learn.”

If you want me to rely on you and trust you: Shut
your mouth once in a while. Solve your own problems, but if you can't,
don't be too proud to accept any help I can give. Don't get addicted to
the worthless practice of complaint or worry. Be a better person than