31 January 2008


Diligent people rule the planet.
Lazy people are the slaves.
Educated people are always busy learning and chatting.
The less intelligent are the servants.

The brain, you know, is a muscle. And as all muscles, need exercise lest it atrophy causing stupidity. This is one reason why most people at 25-years of age get stupid. . .and think the same basic thoughts over and over. . .they cease reading, writing, and thinking. . .and watch tv.

Stupidity is, in a strange sense, a gift from God. When people reject God, they reject logic and creativity, causing the brain to become warped. So, the rejectors inevitably undergo stupidification, which, like Alzheimers, helps them forget reality and leave a numb and dumb life.

Perfect love casts out all fear. So doesn't too much alcohol, though not in the same way.

The older I get, the more I view other people as pets. Hopefully, this isn't just me. But some people, God help them, don't make much sense when they talk. It is like listening to a golden retriever barking at a squirrel.

I'm also starting to believe that 99% of the people don't know 99% of what they're talking about, 99% of the time.

And so one stares at the little human people, like a herd of cattle or sheep, and listens to them bay at the moon, passing cars, and stuff food down their mouths. . .continually. . .lest they get discomfortable (is this a word?) . . .and eat grass, and sometimes smoke it, and watch other cows on reality tv. . .to see what real live other people do. Why??? If religion is supposed to be the opiate of the masses, tv must be fast food for the masses.

Some animals should never be let in the house

Unless it is Jessica the Hippo

The UK Daily Telegraph has the story here.

25 January 2008

The Ugliest Shirt in the World. . .

. . .and I own it.

Everytime I wear this shirt, which is rarely, somebody always mocks me. . .my family heritage. . .my distant ancestors. . .and so I have decided to sell it to the highest bidder at the amazingly low price of $500. . .not that it's even remotely worth it, but hey, why not try.

I finished 2nd in this race if I recall.

19 January 2008


My parents beat me growing up because they thought I was a pretentious boaster. They never actually called me a 'pretentious boaster,' rather a snollygoster. I had no idea what this word meant so I asked my Sunday school teacher, Old Mrs. Snodgrass. She seemed to be under the impression that I was a drinker because I would sit in the back with the bad kids and repeat the words . . .snollygoster, snollygoster, snollygoster . . .over and over again until she mumbled something about catching roaches of the liver. She also called me the fatigue-inest boy she'd h'ever met in her life.

Old Mrs. Snodgrass's first name was Chloe. I didn't know this, and thought it strange to be called Slow. I'm not saying she was slow, but if the Devil got sick, she's the one you would send for the doctor.

Slow Snodgrass waxed eloquent about Noah, Moses, and the Garden of Eden. She had her own notions about scripture and many of her interpretations, while not perfectly accurate, were quite sincere. Chloe hated reptiles and snakes in particular. According to her, the Devil was a "large serpent seeking whom it may bite." She also said, "snakes are natured that way, and that's why a snake is a damned snake."

Sometime later, I found a black snake in our strawberry patch and told my parents, "There's a damned snake in the berries." But being a pretentious boaster they beat me within an inch of my life and threatened to wash out my mouth with soap, which I thought unusual since I always brushed my teeth twice a day and never had cavities.

I think my parents taught me to speak wrong. Hiding from yet another potential beating, I hid in the dirty clothes hamper and distinctly recall mom saying, "You come on up out from down in under there, or I'll tan your hide shore enough and just see if I don't!"

That's when I took up reading.

17 January 2008

The Honking Mazda

I do not know when the honking started.

I know it was after my landlord left and probably after Dr. Bill left. Dr. Bill, btw, is not a physician, nor does he have a Ph.D in any field. Dr. Bill fixes appliances and drives a white cargo van. Today, the Dr. and the landlord came by to repair the dryer which runs continuously until the clothes undergo spontaneous combustion.

But that's another story.

It must have been close to 6 PM when I stepped outside and noticed my truck flashing the neighborhood. When something you own flashes the neighbors it is not a good day unless you win the lottery.

I did not win today's lottery.

The Little Silver Mazda that Could was flashing it's lights and honking for all it's worth. Keep in mind that Virginia Beach, USA is not a sparsely populated area. . .think lots of condos, apartments, and Marriots packed with tourists and artsy people. People who come for peace and quiet to contemplate the mysteries of nature.

There is nothing mysterious about a honking Mazda.

I noticed that all the neighbors lights were out and shades drawn. So, I can only hope none of them were home. Yet something tells me otherwise.

13 January 2008

Dating and cars

Looking for new car. Not that I particularly need one, but when one drives nearly 80 miles a day to work and back in a pick-up truck somehow a Prius seems like a good idea.

What am I looking for? Anything but a minivan. I hate minivans. Driving a minivan is like dating a big-boned Baptist girl with lots of inner beauty, who doesn't wear make-up, and suffers from gout. I went out with a girl like this once because I thought God was punishing me. I'm not saying 'Grace' was ugly, but if it wasn't for the tide, nobody would take her out.

We went to a place called 'Cheap Bobs.' Part gas station, part convenience store, part restaurant, and part moose lodge (more on the mooses later) . . .or is it meeses? The convenience part resembled a 1980's era Soviet grocery store; a box of Corn Flakes, some matches, those little spoons with flags on them, a stack of dusty Spam. . .and all watched over by a dog of dubious lineage named 'Scrap Iron' in the corner.

We ordered the seven course meal little knowing it consisted of a six-pack and a hot dog. One with no ketchup, mustard, or chili sauce. As I relished this non-nonrelished hunk of dead animal flesh, Cheap Bob walked in and grinned. Bob is so cheap he breathes through his nose to keep his dentures from wearing out and so fat that if he had to haul. . .um. . .grass, he'd need to take two trips.

Grace drank the beer, all six of them, while I mumbled a quick prayer over the dog.

"Bless this meat, darn the skin, while I cover my nose, and cram it in."

I have never considered myself an overly-religious man, but sometimes it is better to be safe than sorry.

We made small talk for a time, but our cultural differences made deep intimate conversation an impossibility. Soon, we found ourselves in a war of words, only I didn't get to use any of mine. Fortunately, the effects of the overeager drinker took hold and Grace excused herself to the facilities.

And that's when I made my great escape.

11 January 2008

Ed's dead


I want to climb this mountain sometime, preferable before I'm married in case I lose some toes, part of a finger, or the tip of my nose to frostbite.

10 January 2008


There are 3 things that amaze me, 4 I cannot understand.

People who use food stamps to buy Twinkies and beer at 7-11, Life during the Ice Age without good coffee, the reasons for voting for Hillary Clinton, and why people play the lottery.

'Playing the Lottery' is basically a tax on people who are bad at maths. Much as lung cancer is a tax on smokers. I've never smoked a day in my life. Almost got sent to a juvenile detention center for (accidentally) starting a forest fire, but never have I smoked.

I asked God for more time in my Life. What I really meant was asking for less distractions since the only way to have more time is to accelerate my biological body to the speed of light. Cause' everybody knows time slows down as one approaches c. . .right? I need more time to do what I was designed to do on this planet which is dinosaur cloning, novel-writing, and discovering why women are get so emotional around spiders and weddings. People need less distractions in Life. I imagine if Leonardo da Vinci wasn't forced by the Pope to do what he did under penalty of something like death, St. Peter's Basilica would be an unobtrusive brick building looking like it was designed by Volvo and the Sistine Chapel would resemble the Sunday comics.

So just remember,

I'm pulling for ya, we're all in this together, and if women don't find ya handsome, they should at least find you handy.

Till tomorrow,

and keep your stick on the ice.

08 January 2008

Day 8, 1:46 PM

Dear Emperor,

The Sapiens seem to have a type of religion devoted to sports. Every Sunday, they travel to these large open-aired structures and chant, and wave, and yell, and scream at the (priests?) running about the center of these buildings. Many, I have noticed, decorate themselves in body paint and wave signs.

There also seems to be a duel class society, much as the Fair-i-sees and the Sad-you-sees of the Shepherd people from the oral histories. They seem to have an uncanny obsession with food as well. Perhaps this can be attributed to some disease, as most do not seem malnourished, rather overfed.

In the middle of the service, the choir comes out and plays two songs. The female Sapiens actually watch the singers. The male Sapiens do not. I did not have time to follow them, but I saw where they enter these smallish rooms with grumpy faces and leave looking relaxed, if not a bit sheepish. Then they buy more food. The one male Sapien I asked about the little rooms told me they go there to worship a little porcelain god. This makes sense, as they apparently have a pantheon of deities.

More later.

A Stranger in a Strange Land

02 January 2008

Day 2, America

1:44 AM, America, Day 2

Greetings O' Thou Great and Portly One,

I saw no fireworks tonight, rather something else you might be interested in. The sapiens have built a large blue building, which, apparently, is open 24 hours a day. It is some type of market where one can purchase Chinese products and mathoms. I don't why they had sapiens on the other side of the blue planet to build things for them, nor do I understand why there were so many wandering the isles at such a late hour. But they all seemed intently interested to be there at such a late hour as evidenced by their much frantic talking into their portable metal boxes.

(I should note that the little boxes had voices speaking to them, much as parrots.)

I overheard one conversation of a (much portly) woman. I could discern nothing of importance being discussed.

Another thing of note at the indoor marketplace. A very large mean-looking gentlemen with handcuffs and some type of utility belt kept staring at everyone. He did not seem interested in purchasing anything. He did seem somewhat interested in a female sapien with an ill-fitting white dress that did not seem designed for cold weather. As a matter of fact, the female had quite a bit of skin showing. She also had painted her face in an odd manner.

The mean-looking gentlemen also had an uncanny interest in an older man with a white three piece suit and fancy gold cane. He wasn't buying anything either, but he looked important.

One may also purchase mathoms of interest outside the store. Only the sellers can give you no receipt. One greasy-looking character offered me some grass. I told him him I was renting, nor did I have a lawnmower. After a confused look, he said,

"No, Myman. I'm talking marijuana."

This sounded like bad grammar. . .or Spanish, so I told him,

"Por lo siento Senior, para no hablo espanol." Just as I was taught. Then the fellow ran away.

More reports later.


A Stranger in a Strange Land.

01 January 2008

Stranger in a Strange Land-Day 1

01 Jan 2008, 2:57 PM, America

Dear Emperor,

Today is my official 1st day here on the blue planet. Last night was extraodinary. As I drove home last night, I heard many small explosions and noticed an unusual number of people wandering around in various states of inebriation. The reports you sent me indicated Monday nights were fairly quiet, so I'm not exactly sure if the humans were celebrating something important or simply confused. Also, this morning a large number of people were seen running up and down the sidewalks in a great deal of pain. Again, I have no idea why.


A Stranger in a Strange Land