Ah, Fall is in the air...that magical time of year heralded by the crisp morning dew, the changing colors of the deciduous leaves, and the anti-Halloween nuts sticking in my craw.
Yes, them. Who could forget the people who would have you believe that if you dress up your kids in those evil Spider-Man costumes and go door-to-door begging for candy, you are participating in the same pagan rituals that could one day make you into a goat-sacrificing devil-worshiper who slips razorblades into candied apples? Yes, folks, it's time to jump on that bandwagon once again and go on another witch hunt.
Having grown up in a strict Evangelical household, I am well-versed in "hallelujah nights" and other such "Halloween alternatives." I even have friends who, while we were in high school, dressed up as Apostles and walked the neighborhood handing out religious tracts on All Hallow's Eve.
I don't necessarily regret any of that, but one of my main criticisms of most modern Christians is they spend far too much time pointing out how wrong everyone else is, instead of trying to convince them that their interpretation of a certain Jewish carpenter is better than whatever they're into. I am frequently amused at how such otherwise well-meaning Christians single out things like this or Harry Potter or the magic of Disney, or try to rally the troops to put Satanic toothpaste makers out of business, but conveniently forget that our most holiest of days -- Christmas and Easter -- also have their roots in "pagan" rituals. (At least, according to a simple Google search.) Never mind that most Christians are completely ignorant of the actual history of Halloween or its associated urban legends; indulge me for a moment while I pick apart some of the more common arguments against Halloween:
1. Trick-or-treating is bad because some poor people (centuries ago) used Oct. 31 to beg for food. Really? Even though it was "officially" started in our country in 1943, in order to stem the tide of miscreants running amok, and it worked?
2. Dressing up in costumes (witches, ghosts, etc.) is bad because some Druids did it to fool evil spirits. Hm...I thought fooling evil spirits was a good thing.
3. Jack-o-lanterns are bad because Druids used them. Didn't they use them to light the way for the good spirits, or to ward off the bad ones?
4. Some people do bad things on Halloween, so good people shouldn't celebrate it. Don't people do bad things on the other 364 days of the year?
Just like vegans who wear leather shoes with non-recycled rubber soles, Christians who criticize Halloween revelers are misguided at best, and are at the very least ignorant of the Bible.
Here's the point: the Apostle Paul wrote that what is sin to one person is not necessarily sin to another, so Christians ought not to criticize one another for celebrating one thing or another (look it up yourself, I'm too lazy - hint: New Testament). Most anti-Halloween crackpots will point out that ancient Celts used all sorts of things in their rituals, like bobbing for apples, bonfires, or other things most sane people consider harmless. (I'm not making this up - see links on the first article linked above.) But they single out trick-or-treating as the one evil thing that's sending our kids straight to hell in a literal hand basket. What the Celts did centuries ago, or the Satanists do now, with those symbols of their religions should be of no concern to anyone who chooses to celebrate Halloween -- in the same way that ancient Roman sun-worshiping practices have no bearing on how we celebrate Christmas. Those symbols mean different things to different people -- and to most, nothing at all.
Here's another point: modern Protestants seem to think that almost all things Catholic are bad, and apparently blame the Catholics for starting Halloween in the first place. Yet, those same Catholics who created All Saints Day also made Christmas and Easter from various other pagan holidays (again, look it up yourself). So, by extension of logic, those who exchange gifts and watch A Miracle in 34th Street on Dec. 25 are also participating in the same heathen rituals as did the Roman sun-worshipers prior to the fourth century A.D. (or is it C.E.? I'm always confused.) And those who let their kids hunt for colored eggs on Easter are equally leading them blindly into paganism. I have never been Catholic, but I'm not inclined to think that they are any more wrong than any other religion. The Council of Nicaea apparently thought that warding off evil spirits before the day of remembering the good ones was a good thing, so Halloween really can't be all that bad.
The well-meaning woman who wrote the article linked above (okay, here it is again) says that when you go grocery shopping, you are still a grocery-shopping participant even though you don't buy everything in the store...so, if you dress up like My Little Pony and beg for candy at strangers' doors, you are inviting evil in your life just like the ancient Celts. Which is a lot like saying that doing your laundry in your garage makes you a car. Or a washing machine, which is what I would probably dress as this year if I weren't so lazy.
So, what are you going as? Just make sure you don't bob for apples near any bonfires - you'll go straight to hell for that.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
My new favorite credit card company, or how I learned to stop worrying and love the F-bomb
Don't ask me why, but I have three credit accounts with Wells Fargo. This week, they charged me late fees and caused overlimit charges on all three, even though I paid the bills online, and informed me the charges will be sent through a third time on the wrong payment account -- after more than an hour of interrogating their "Customer Service" manager identified only as Tommy 3370, the only answer I could get out of him was that once a payment is scheduled online, it cannot be stopped even if the bills gets paid from another account.
I had discovered that the payments from one checking account were withdrawn at the same time as the late fees were charged to the other one, and it took me talking to FIVE people (including one hang up) to even get an answer as to why. I had originally made the payments from the wrong checking account, prompting the first round of fees. I made the changes on Wells Fargo's site, then rescheduled the payments -- but according to Tommy 3370, even if I had closed the original checking account (which I will), Wells Fargo could do nothing to stop the original payments from going through three times or until they are paid, whichever comes first.
So, I vainly tried to convince Tommy 3370 that his company is effectively screwing me for trying to do the right thing after my initial error. He predicatably insisted his supervisor was not available, and would not tell me when he would be. Go figure.
As it turned out, I discovered that Wells Fargo's customer service guys don't necessarily mind if you call their competence or intelligence into question. Usinng words like "moron" or "idiot" is just fine -- but apparently dropping an occasional f-bomb isn't. Who knew? When I first started letting out the occasional vulgarity, the morons would politely ask me to stop using profanity -- which of course made me more upset, leading to more cursing. Hey buddy, how about giving enough of a damn to solve my problem and not worrying about being offended there, Tommy 3370?? I don't really care if you like the f-bomb or not, because I've just spent an hour insulting you without it anyway -- apparently you're too stupid to realize that in the first place, pal.
When I was a fresh Soldier, my very first Platoon Sergeant (Jimmy "Groovy Man" Saunders) used to say, "swearing is a crutch for the conversationally impaired." He was right, but I've often wondered why some people are offended by certain words. Who really cares, and who really decides what is vulgar, profane, or obscene? There is a difference - but religiously speaking, there is arguably nothing in the Bible (depending on your interpretation) that specifically prohibits saying words that conservatives have long since deemed offensive (this link still makes me giggle like a schoolboy). The FCC is so concerned with protecting children from hearing those words on TV or radio that they hear from their friends anyway, but it's okay to use other words that mean the exact same things. Think times are bad now? When I was six, I got pulled out of Sunday School by my ear and got my mouth washed out with soap because the teacher thought the preacher's kid (me) should most decidedly not be whispering the f-bomb and giggling about it with his cousin. (Sorry Mom, but it's a good thing you're not in my Tactical Operations Center this week.) I never heard it on Gunsmoke or I Love Lucy, but I knew it anyway. (What's the first dirty thing ever said on TV? "Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver last night.")
Western society has been entirely too worried about keeping kids from being desensitized to all the "dangers" of the modern world that it is little wonder we're all so messed up when we leave the nest and have to figure out how to deal with the harsh realities of life on our own. So where do we draw the lines? More importantly, do even we really need to draw those lines?
As George Carlin used to say, "no thanks, I've already had a bar of soap."
I had discovered that the payments from one checking account were withdrawn at the same time as the late fees were charged to the other one, and it took me talking to FIVE people (including one hang up) to even get an answer as to why. I had originally made the payments from the wrong checking account, prompting the first round of fees. I made the changes on Wells Fargo's site, then rescheduled the payments -- but according to Tommy 3370, even if I had closed the original checking account (which I will), Wells Fargo could do nothing to stop the original payments from going through three times or until they are paid, whichever comes first.
So, I vainly tried to convince Tommy 3370 that his company is effectively screwing me for trying to do the right thing after my initial error. He predicatably insisted his supervisor was not available, and would not tell me when he would be. Go figure.
As it turned out, I discovered that Wells Fargo's customer service guys don't necessarily mind if you call their competence or intelligence into question. Usinng words like "moron" or "idiot" is just fine -- but apparently dropping an occasional f-bomb isn't. Who knew? When I first started letting out the occasional vulgarity, the morons would politely ask me to stop using profanity -- which of course made me more upset, leading to more cursing. Hey buddy, how about giving enough of a damn to solve my problem and not worrying about being offended there, Tommy 3370?? I don't really care if you like the f-bomb or not, because I've just spent an hour insulting you without it anyway -- apparently you're too stupid to realize that in the first place, pal.
When I was a fresh Soldier, my very first Platoon Sergeant (Jimmy "Groovy Man" Saunders) used to say, "swearing is a crutch for the conversationally impaired." He was right, but I've often wondered why some people are offended by certain words. Who really cares, and who really decides what is vulgar, profane, or obscene? There is a difference - but religiously speaking, there is arguably nothing in the Bible (depending on your interpretation) that specifically prohibits saying words that conservatives have long since deemed offensive (this link still makes me giggle like a schoolboy). The FCC is so concerned with protecting children from hearing those words on TV or radio that they hear from their friends anyway, but it's okay to use other words that mean the exact same things. Think times are bad now? When I was six, I got pulled out of Sunday School by my ear and got my mouth washed out with soap because the teacher thought the preacher's kid (me) should most decidedly not be whispering the f-bomb and giggling about it with his cousin. (Sorry Mom, but it's a good thing you're not in my Tactical Operations Center this week.) I never heard it on Gunsmoke or I Love Lucy, but I knew it anyway. (What's the first dirty thing ever said on TV? "Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver last night.")
Western society has been entirely too worried about keeping kids from being desensitized to all the "dangers" of the modern world that it is little wonder we're all so messed up when we leave the nest and have to figure out how to deal with the harsh realities of life on our own. So where do we draw the lines? More importantly, do even we really need to draw those lines?
As George Carlin used to say, "no thanks, I've already had a bar of soap."
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
A Tale of Two Boot Camps
About June 30, 1989, I was one of several hundred newly-shaved Army recruits suffering through Day 0 of Basic Training in the sticky, summer heat of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.* Sometime shortly after lunch, we rode in sardine-packed silence in the “cattle truck,” (which was rated to hold 50 of us with gear but held 80) from the Reception Center to our new home for the next 8 weeks. With Drill Sergeants barking orders and telling us we have “5 seconds and the first three are gone” to do the duffle-bag drag from bus to formation to barracks, those that failed to comply with said orders earned the privilege to perform some random exercise like pushups, flutter kicks, jumping jacks, or whatever in the boiling Midwestern sun.
Although I was quite used to Florida humidity, my last uniform consisted of a whistle and swim trunks, not boots and long pants. As recruits buckled and fell to the ground like flour sacks from the heat, medics would rush water to them while the Drills continued to bark. After the shake-down inspection to ensure everyone had every necessary t-shirt, sock, bootlace, helmet cover, and canteen, we were herded to our barracks rooms for more barking, where I distinctly remember doing pushups in a puddle of my own sweat and determining that inside was not much cooler than out. The shock of it all was, to say the least, overwhelming.
Fast-forward to last week. Our younger son is now carrying the torch as a trainee in Air Force Basic Training at Lackland AFB, Texas. His first call to us was all of three minutes, to give us his address – and he was uncharacteristically emotional, cracking up as soon as he heard our voices. The past weekend was a longer call and a much more cheerful voice on the line as he explained that although the weather is very hot, they do not march or even stand at attention if outside conditions are “red flag” or “black flag,” the two most severe Wet Bulb Globe Temperature categories that reflect heat and humidity. I was not surprised, but I’m sure on my Day 0 none of my Drills paid much attention to the heat, let alone flag colors.
But I also will never forget the way my shaved head felt on the green-wool blanket on that first lonesome night, as I tried vainly to sleep at the position of attention to avoid my Drill’s wrath. Or, even more vividly, marching and signing in cadence -- which has to be one of the funnest parts of Boot Camp -- to "B-6-10, B-6-10! Late at night when I'm sleeping there's a Drill Sergeant creeping all around..."
Our son appears to have overcome the initial shock of “what the hell did I get myself into” that I knew all too well – and is beginning the adventure of his life as he trains to be a Pararescueman. Raise a glass for him tonight.
*a.ka. "Fort Lost-in-the-Woods, Misery"
Although I was quite used to Florida humidity, my last uniform consisted of a whistle and swim trunks, not boots and long pants. As recruits buckled and fell to the ground like flour sacks from the heat, medics would rush water to them while the Drills continued to bark. After the shake-down inspection to ensure everyone had every necessary t-shirt, sock, bootlace, helmet cover, and canteen, we were herded to our barracks rooms for more barking, where I distinctly remember doing pushups in a puddle of my own sweat and determining that inside was not much cooler than out. The shock of it all was, to say the least, overwhelming.
Fast-forward to last week. Our younger son is now carrying the torch as a trainee in Air Force Basic Training at Lackland AFB, Texas. His first call to us was all of three minutes, to give us his address – and he was uncharacteristically emotional, cracking up as soon as he heard our voices. The past weekend was a longer call and a much more cheerful voice on the line as he explained that although the weather is very hot, they do not march or even stand at attention if outside conditions are “red flag” or “black flag,” the two most severe Wet Bulb Globe Temperature categories that reflect heat and humidity. I was not surprised, but I’m sure on my Day 0 none of my Drills paid much attention to the heat, let alone flag colors.
But I also will never forget the way my shaved head felt on the green-wool blanket on that first lonesome night, as I tried vainly to sleep at the position of attention to avoid my Drill’s wrath. Or, even more vividly, marching and signing in cadence -- which has to be one of the funnest parts of Boot Camp -- to "B-6-10, B-6-10! Late at night when I'm sleeping there's a Drill Sergeant creeping all around..."
Our son appears to have overcome the initial shock of “what the hell did I get myself into” that I knew all too well – and is beginning the adventure of his life as he trains to be a Pararescueman. Raise a glass for him tonight.
*a.ka. "Fort Lost-in-the-Woods, Misery"
Monday, June 28, 2010
Slicker than snot on a doorknob
As a born skeptic, one of my favorite topics is to pick on self-aggrandizing televangelists who prefer to spread their theology of blame-the-victims instead of, or as a price for, helping those who are sometimes unfortunately subject to the wiles and whims of Mother Nature. Lately, those voices have been eerily (thankfully) silent on the subject of the big, giant, man-made oil slick that looms sinisterly in the Gulf -- save a few who have heralded it as a sign of the Apocalypse (you can't make that kind of stuff up).
Then comes a group of well-meaning Christians who, several weeks ago, felt it necessary to form a human "prayer chain" across the beaches of Mississippi -- apparently in the sincere hope that the Almighty would see there are enough of them fervently praying and would stop the oil from sullying their otherwise pristine state. Alas, it appears their prayers weren't fervent enough as today comes the disheartening news that the oil slick did indeed start washing ashore on several Mississippi beaches.
Now, the God of the Old Testament was one miracle-flinging dude, especially when the Israelites in particular prayed hard enough. This usually had something to do with slaying Philistines, although -- amidst the tattoo bans, bears attacking kids for taunting priests, and other assorted R-rated tales of ribaldry -- there are plenty of stories of earthquakes, astronomical phenomena and weather-related miracles being attributed to the Big Man. Apparently some modern-day believers think that is the way He still does business, despite a distinct lack of New Testament evidence. I don't necessarily take any view on that particular theological topic, although I'm really more of a Deist.
But CBN (my favorite televangelist's enterprise) felt it necessary to report on the prayer chain -- while they are as yet silent on the ultimate (if not predictable) result: it was an epic failure. Why? Did not enough people pray, or did they not pray long enough? Maybe they could have better spent their time in action, pitching in to help relief efforts or mobilizing boats to skim the oil before it came to them. Maybe they should have prayed for a plan a la Y2K.
I know the evangelical's answers, as I grew up believing them most of my life: it's all part of God's plan; we can't fathom what his purposes are; blah, blah, blah -- from the same people who swore they knew the answers before the oil hit the beaches. Who proclaimed that God would save them because they gave their money to the church. Who certainly preached that just like Joshua marched his troops around the walls of Jericho day in and day out without any apparent purpose, the treacherous walls of oil would fall before his people and they would not be harmed. Nothing to see here, move along.
I gave up pretending to know those answers long ago -- but I do know they wasted their time.
Then comes a group of well-meaning Christians who, several weeks ago, felt it necessary to form a human "prayer chain" across the beaches of Mississippi -- apparently in the sincere hope that the Almighty would see there are enough of them fervently praying and would stop the oil from sullying their otherwise pristine state. Alas, it appears their prayers weren't fervent enough as today comes the disheartening news that the oil slick did indeed start washing ashore on several Mississippi beaches.
Now, the God of the Old Testament was one miracle-flinging dude, especially when the Israelites in particular prayed hard enough. This usually had something to do with slaying Philistines, although -- amidst the tattoo bans, bears attacking kids for taunting priests, and other assorted R-rated tales of ribaldry -- there are plenty of stories of earthquakes, astronomical phenomena and weather-related miracles being attributed to the Big Man. Apparently some modern-day believers think that is the way He still does business, despite a distinct lack of New Testament evidence. I don't necessarily take any view on that particular theological topic, although I'm really more of a Deist.
But CBN (my favorite televangelist's enterprise) felt it necessary to report on the prayer chain -- while they are as yet silent on the ultimate (if not predictable) result: it was an epic failure. Why? Did not enough people pray, or did they not pray long enough? Maybe they could have better spent their time in action, pitching in to help relief efforts or mobilizing boats to skim the oil before it came to them. Maybe they should have prayed for a plan a la Y2K.
I know the evangelical's answers, as I grew up believing them most of my life: it's all part of God's plan; we can't fathom what his purposes are; blah, blah, blah -- from the same people who swore they knew the answers before the oil hit the beaches. Who proclaimed that God would save them because they gave their money to the church. Who certainly preached that just like Joshua marched his troops around the walls of Jericho day in and day out without any apparent purpose, the treacherous walls of oil would fall before his people and they would not be harmed. Nothing to see here, move along.
I gave up pretending to know those answers long ago -- but I do know they wasted their time.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Most Interesting Man in the World
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo women with my sensuous and godlike harmonica playing.
I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Meals in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.Using only a hoe and a large glass of water I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, and I was scouted by both the Braves and Cowboys. I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding.
On Wednesdays I repair electrical appliances free of charge. I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal force demonstration. My batting average is over .400. My quarterback passing rating is 158. My deft floral arrangements have earned my fame in international botany circles. Children trust me, especially twins. I one read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed covert operations for the CIA.
I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me. A full tank of gasoline costs me one dollar.I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid on time. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four-course meals using only a Mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
My charm is so contagious vaccines have been created for it. Years ago, I built a city out of Lego blocks. Today, over six hundred thousand people live and work there. I am the only man to ever ace a Rorschach test. Every time I go for a swim dolphins appear. Alien abductors have asked me to probe them. If I were to give you directions you'd never get lost and you'd arrive at least five minutes early. My legend precedes me the way lightning precedes thunder.
Even my parrot's advice is insightful. If there were an interesting gland, mine would be larger than most men's entire lower intestines. My shirts never wrinkle. I am ambidextrous. I once knew a call was a wrong number, even though the person on the other end wouldn't admit it. You can see my charisma from outer space.
My beard alone has experienced more than a lesser man's entire body. My blood smells like cologne. On every continent in the world, there is a sandwich named after me. In every known galaxy, there is a planet named for me. I don't believe in using oven mitts, nor potholders. My cereal never gets soggy. It sits there, staying crispy, just for me. My pillow talk is years ahead of its time. I taught a horse to read my e-mail for me. Respected archaeologists fight over my discarded apple cores.
I once had an awkward moment, just to see how it feels. My organ card even lists my beard. I've been known to cure narcolepsy by just walking into a room. I'm so magnetic I can't carry credit cards. My reputation is expanding faster than the universe. I live vicariously through myself. I say nothing tastes like chicken...not even chicken. I once lowered the sea level by throwing sponges into the ocean.
I can burp-speak in multiple languages. In college I convinced twin girls that I too had a twin, and I switched between my twin personas when the mood fit. During college I never wore shoes in class. I have worked as a construction worker, commercial fisherman, newspaper writer and attorney all in the same day. I once let three men punch me in the face to see if I could feel pain. I've won three consecutive disco dance contests.
The police often question me, just because they find me interesting. I once punched a magician. That's right. You heard me. When I order a salad, I get the dressing right there on top of the salad, where it belongs...where there is no turning back. If a monument was built in my honor, Mt. Rushmore would close due to poor attendance. I don't just stick with flour or corn tortillas, but mix freely between the two.People hang on my every word, even the prepositions. I could disarm you with my looks, or my hands, either way. I can speak French in Russian. It is said the sun comes up later on the 6th of May, in case my Cinco parties run long. The Mayans prophesied my birth. Even lucha libres remove their masks in my presence. I once taught a German shepherd to bark in Spanish.
I once buried a time capsule full of things that haven't happened yet. I have been pronounced dead 7 times...make that 8. My bear hugs are actually hugs I give to bears. I can't be bought, but my beard clippings have been know to show up at auction. I have never lost a sock. If I disagree with you, it is because you are wrong. I was once 100% certain about being uncertain.
Most songs about love are written for me, about me, or by me. I'd never initiate a conversation about the weather, even in a typhoon. I'm against cruelty to animals, but I'm not afraid to issue a stern warning. Whatever side of the tracks I'm currently on is the right side. If I crossed them, I would still be the right side. I won the same lifetime achievement award twice. When I go to a restaurant waiters tip me.
My toe-nail clipping are considered legal tender in some third world countries. I was going to become a god, but felt it was a lateral move. When I was born, the doctors thought that I was such a beautiful baby that they smoked Cuban cigars with me in the delivery room to congratulate me on a job well done.
I voted for Obama, just to see the chaos. When I wake up the roses smell me. I was once found guilty of being innocent. I sleep with a night light, not because I'm afraid of the dark but because the dark is afraid of me. I hold a Doctorate in Originality which I teach at Stanford where no one ever passes. When I go skydiving Peregrine Falcons always trail behind me. When I look in the mirror there's never a reflection, not because of vampirism, but because I'm only one of a kind. I can defeat anyone in a game of chess without making any moves. A leader of a country once took a bullet for me on a failed assassination attempt.
I have written proof that the Bermuda triangle is actually a parallelogram. I once put myself up as collateral. I am so respected, even my enemies list me as their emergency contact number. I once licked a poisonous frog just to see what would happen. I once snapped my wife's bra strap just to see what it felt like to get slapped in the face. I have stopped chickens from crossing the road and I know which came first. I save seals from drowning. Raccoons admire my dexterity.I know who killed JFK. I won the arms race. I can see the Northern Lights from South America. I counsel the Dalai Lama on matters of spirituality. The Pope once requested an audience with me.
I invented string theory from discarded dental floss. If I woke up on the wrong side of the bed I would still have a good day. I hold the world record for holding the most world records. I know exactly how many blondes it takes to change a light bulb. If your GPS is slow, it's because it's waiting for my response. I watched as Neil Armstrong landed on the moon... from the moon. I can play Mozart and Beethoven on the piano at the same time. I am smarter than a fifth grader.
I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Meals in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.Using only a hoe and a large glass of water I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, and I was scouted by both the Braves and Cowboys. I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding.
On Wednesdays I repair electrical appliances free of charge. I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal force demonstration. My batting average is over .400. My quarterback passing rating is 158. My deft floral arrangements have earned my fame in international botany circles. Children trust me, especially twins. I one read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed covert operations for the CIA.
I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me. A full tank of gasoline costs me one dollar.I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid on time. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four-course meals using only a Mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
My charm is so contagious vaccines have been created for it. Years ago, I built a city out of Lego blocks. Today, over six hundred thousand people live and work there. I am the only man to ever ace a Rorschach test. Every time I go for a swim dolphins appear. Alien abductors have asked me to probe them. If I were to give you directions you'd never get lost and you'd arrive at least five minutes early. My legend precedes me the way lightning precedes thunder.
Even my parrot's advice is insightful. If there were an interesting gland, mine would be larger than most men's entire lower intestines. My shirts never wrinkle. I am ambidextrous. I once knew a call was a wrong number, even though the person on the other end wouldn't admit it. You can see my charisma from outer space.
My beard alone has experienced more than a lesser man's entire body. My blood smells like cologne. On every continent in the world, there is a sandwich named after me. In every known galaxy, there is a planet named for me. I don't believe in using oven mitts, nor potholders. My cereal never gets soggy. It sits there, staying crispy, just for me. My pillow talk is years ahead of its time. I taught a horse to read my e-mail for me. Respected archaeologists fight over my discarded apple cores.
I once had an awkward moment, just to see how it feels. My organ card even lists my beard. I've been known to cure narcolepsy by just walking into a room. I'm so magnetic I can't carry credit cards. My reputation is expanding faster than the universe. I live vicariously through myself. I say nothing tastes like chicken...not even chicken. I once lowered the sea level by throwing sponges into the ocean.
I can burp-speak in multiple languages. In college I convinced twin girls that I too had a twin, and I switched between my twin personas when the mood fit. During college I never wore shoes in class. I have worked as a construction worker, commercial fisherman, newspaper writer and attorney all in the same day. I once let three men punch me in the face to see if I could feel pain. I've won three consecutive disco dance contests.
The police often question me, just because they find me interesting. I once punched a magician. That's right. You heard me. When I order a salad, I get the dressing right there on top of the salad, where it belongs...where there is no turning back. If a monument was built in my honor, Mt. Rushmore would close due to poor attendance. I don't just stick with flour or corn tortillas, but mix freely between the two.People hang on my every word, even the prepositions. I could disarm you with my looks, or my hands, either way. I can speak French in Russian. It is said the sun comes up later on the 6th of May, in case my Cinco parties run long. The Mayans prophesied my birth. Even lucha libres remove their masks in my presence. I once taught a German shepherd to bark in Spanish.
I once buried a time capsule full of things that haven't happened yet. I have been pronounced dead 7 times...make that 8. My bear hugs are actually hugs I give to bears. I can't be bought, but my beard clippings have been know to show up at auction. I have never lost a sock. If I disagree with you, it is because you are wrong. I was once 100% certain about being uncertain.
Most songs about love are written for me, about me, or by me. I'd never initiate a conversation about the weather, even in a typhoon. I'm against cruelty to animals, but I'm not afraid to issue a stern warning. Whatever side of the tracks I'm currently on is the right side. If I crossed them, I would still be the right side. I won the same lifetime achievement award twice. When I go to a restaurant waiters tip me.
My toe-nail clipping are considered legal tender in some third world countries. I was going to become a god, but felt it was a lateral move. When I was born, the doctors thought that I was such a beautiful baby that they smoked Cuban cigars with me in the delivery room to congratulate me on a job well done.
I voted for Obama, just to see the chaos. When I wake up the roses smell me. I was once found guilty of being innocent. I sleep with a night light, not because I'm afraid of the dark but because the dark is afraid of me. I hold a Doctorate in Originality which I teach at Stanford where no one ever passes. When I go skydiving Peregrine Falcons always trail behind me. When I look in the mirror there's never a reflection, not because of vampirism, but because I'm only one of a kind. I can defeat anyone in a game of chess without making any moves. A leader of a country once took a bullet for me on a failed assassination attempt.
I have written proof that the Bermuda triangle is actually a parallelogram. I once put myself up as collateral. I am so respected, even my enemies list me as their emergency contact number. I once licked a poisonous frog just to see what would happen. I once snapped my wife's bra strap just to see what it felt like to get slapped in the face. I have stopped chickens from crossing the road and I know which came first. I save seals from drowning. Raccoons admire my dexterity.I know who killed JFK. I won the arms race. I can see the Northern Lights from South America. I counsel the Dalai Lama on matters of spirituality. The Pope once requested an audience with me.
I invented string theory from discarded dental floss. If I woke up on the wrong side of the bed I would still have a good day. I hold the world record for holding the most world records. I know exactly how many blondes it takes to change a light bulb. If your GPS is slow, it's because it's waiting for my response. I watched as Neil Armstrong landed on the moon... from the moon. I can play Mozart and Beethoven on the piano at the same time. I am smarter than a fifth grader.
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