Pancake City

* Clinton’s campaign is setting the stage for a protracted battle, at least publicly. In the link, her campaign manager claims she will have a delegate advantage by around June 7th, the end of primary season. The campaign is also fighting a battle in the media about the role of superdelegates, both arguing that they should exercise their own judgment (i.e. not mirror the wishes of voters, who have given Obama an edge so far) and that they shouldn’t be called superdelegates but rather “automatic delegates” because…I honestly forget.

I agree in principle with them that superdelgates should exercise their own judgment. That’s the whole raison d’etre for superdelegates. In the “should have though of this beforehand” category though, if the superdelegates actually selected a party candidate with significantly less popular support, the rift would severely damage the party, making one wonder why superdelegates exist in the first place.

* People have an intuitive but misleading idea that you can’t be a good orator and knowledgeable about policy at the same time. It’s the same thought process behind the idea that a gorgeous woman can’t be brilliant, or a professional sports player can’t be intelligent. What’s the basis for this idea? I believe it’s primarily two concepts: limited focus and necessity.  Expert skill takes many years to develop, so we assume that the star running back doesn’t have the time or resources to become well-read, and since he’s already successful in one area, what’s his motivation anyway? If you are gorgeous, the thinking goes, sure you can become thoughtful and well-read, but you don’t need to because you can get by on your looks. So why bother?

A third reason is that there is no overlap between the skills of policy wonk and orator, so it’s more difficult to believe the same person can possess those two skills.  In contrast, it would be easier to picture a construction worker skilled working on cars rather than one talented in writing poetry, although if you think about it, are there really any skills in common between building a house and working on a car, besides being able to lump both of them in the category of “manual labor”?

Related to all of this is the Academy Awards.  Seriously. Comedies almost never win Best Picture at the Academy Awards, if one is even nominated at all. For most people, moments of happiness or light-heartedness are fleeting, and the rest of the time is spent in a neutral or negative emotional state. We then engage in temporal reasoning and conclude that because pleasant moments are rare and fleeting, and make up a small fraction of our experiences, they are outliers and not “real life”. In other words, anything that makes you feel good can’t have lasting meaning, because we can’t help defining “meaningful feelings” as the ones that stay with us the longest.  If one believes that a Best Picture needs to say something meaningful about life, it becomes easy to dismiss any comedy solely for being a comedy.  Here’s some advice for any comedy trying to win a Oscar for Best Picture: don’t be too funny, and make sure to include some depressing moments as well.

The dynamics of inspiring rhetoric are different from those governing movies like “Juno”, but what they face in common is an almost insurmountable suspicion of the value of anything that is fleeting and makes one feel good. It’s a justifiable suspicion in many cases, like eating junk food or a juicy hamburger, but not always, and that’s what most people don’t get. Something can make you feel good and have deep value as well.

“HORRIBLE!”
“Oh. So you have cancer or live in Iraq?”
“Well, no, but….I just want to whine, okay?”

Plants. I water my plants as often as I update my blog. My plants are dead.

Mouse. WHY WON’T YOU DIE. We have a mouse or mice scurrying between the walls of our house. My roommates bought some cruelty-free traps, which are akin to small tubes that the mouse is supposed to walk right into and close the door behind him.

That would work great, if this were some country rube mouse who was born in a stack of hay and lived under the knot of an apple tree. “Golly gee, there’s some cheese in that there fancy hole. I’m gonna go git me some!”

Not going to work for city mouse. Centuries of rough living and brutal Darwinism have weeded out any sense of fear or compassion for our cheese. City mouse is tough, sophisticated, and intelligent. He gnaws through our bread bags and poops on our counter without fear. I came home one day and turned on the kitchen light to see him rappelling down to the stove from the ceiling. He froze when I saw him, and then tossed a smoke bomb to cover his tracks.

This mouse isn’t going to walk into a slender metal box labeled “Conto Mouse Trap” just because it has a mote of cheese at the end. This mouse can read. Yet my roommates think I’m the unrealistic one just because I’m willing to do what is necessary: buy a comfy chair, a sniper rifle, and a pair of night vision goggles.

S.T.A.L.K.E.R. It’s a post-apocalyptic computer game that takes place in Chernobyl. I kept getting killed by packs of rabid dogs. By the time I open my inventory to toss them a treat, they tear me apart. Hey, quit it! I walk your friends in real-life.

In a way, they are like the dogs I walk. Except my dogs try to kill me indirectly by licking the sunscreen off my arms.

Poker. @#$%^&**#A#$@. I’m too angry to play poker regularly. I overestimate my emotional fortitude, get frustrated with the natural downs of the game, and ended up not playing my best or having fun. I wish I could teach a robot what I know. A robot me would kick ass. And I’d be a robot, which is a reward unto itself.

What would you do if you were a robot? First, I’d walk in all in the scary neighborhoods. With my wallet hanging from my neck, like Flavor Flav with a MBA. Then I’d get a few lasers, because every robot needs a few lasers. Next, I’d hit on a some guys. I already have a come-on line. “What is this ‘love’ you talk about?”

Finally, I’d find President Bush, and give him a good, robot kick in the balls. “Crappiness does not compute, Bush.” [whack] Then I would go on the morning talk-show circuit and tell everyone that robots have gained sentient life, and our first duty was to deliver a clear and decisive message unto President Bush’s nut sack. Read that as you may. I’d also hint that we would not hurt the vice-President, as we wouldn’t harm one of our own.

It would be total bull, as I would be the only sentient robot, but we all know how the media is liberal and doesn’t ask tough questions. I’d wave goodbye, announce I’m leaving for my homeland, Japan, and then lie in hiding and hopefully watch a wave of change brought upon us by The Little Robot That Could (Children’s book I would have pre-written before the event. A robot has got to make money too. Especially after being banned from playing poker)

* There are certain oft-quoted phrases that have a lyrical quality to them but are bereft of wisdom once you focus on the literal meaning of the phrase. Like “No rest for the weary.” Well, yeah. That’s why they’re weary. Isn’t that like saying “No work for the unemployed?” or “No sex for the guy in the Vulcan ears?”

* The stature of a basketball player is so great that it eclipses whatever humor people would find in an odd name under normal circumstances. Harry Dick could join the NBA, and nobody would laugh at his name as long as he got 20 and 10 during the regular season.

And Magic Johnson? He’s literally saying his penis is magic. That’s a lifetime of ridicule, even among adults, but have you ever heard someone poke fun of his name? Everyone loves Magic Johnson. The WNBA will finally hit the big time when one of their stars is called Special Vagina. “Special Vagina from downtown…IT’S GOOD!”

* “Closed captioning for Malcolm in the Middle is sponsored by…” Is closed captioning so unworthy a task that programs need to be paid to do it? “Closed captioning for Scrubs is sponsored by…no one. Sorry, deaf people.”

* A job can influence how one looks at the world. For example, I’m a dog walker. A lot of people are calling for Paula Abdul to leave American Idol because she allegedly slept with a former contestant. I don’t care if she slept with him. But I think she should be kicked off the show for this:

“He says Abdul advised him on his clothes, haircut and song selection for “American Idol,” and slept with him in the guest bedroom of her Los Angeles home, where he shared space with her dogs Thumbelina, Tulip and Tinker Bell.

What kind of sick person names their dogs Thumbelina, Tulip and Tinker Bell? I’ve walked over a hundred dogs, and still, those are the Three Musketeers of stupid dog names. What’s worse is that I’ll bet at least two of those dogs are males. I hope Tinker Bell pisses all over her sheets.

* God: the first activist judge.

* People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. If you’re rich enough to own a glass house, don’t sully your hand with a dirty-ass stone. Have the maid do it.

* When a sports announcer says, “How do ya like that?” I usually don’t.

1. I’m going home to spend time with my family for the next week. Probably won’t post much.

2. I was flipping through the channels before going to bed, when I saw ALF. Hosting a talk show. A new talk show.

3. Re: #2–WHAT THE F—?

3b: The sidekick? Ed McMahon.

* This Tuesday, George Carlin is appearing at the Arlington Olsson’s. Tickets are being passed out at 8:00 a.m.

* This Thursday, David Rees, creator of “Great Your War On” will be signing his new book. Politics & Prose, 5015 Connecticut Ave. NW. Free. 202-364-1919.

* Berkeley Breathed’s Opus has been on a roll these past few weeks. Another funny one today.

* Gary Busey meets George Bush (link from Metafilter). Well done.

* Jon Stewart’s appearance on Crossfire. It’s the angriest and most frustrated that I have ever seen him. It’s sad, because he’s still under the impression that CNN is a news channel, and he sees the show as a symbol of everything that is wrong with the news media. From the questions Carlson and Begalia ask him, it’s obvious that they somehow miss the point of The Daily Show. The heart of his show isn’t a satire on politicians. It’s a satire on the media.

* I was having dinner last night with a group of gay friends. Kerry’s mention of Mary Cheney’s sexuality during the debates came up. We joked at how absolutely offended we were that a person would dare mention that an out lesbian was…a lesbian! And on the TeeVee, of all places! This blog quotes a writer for Salon who wrote a commentary on the issue that I would have made if I didn’t write like monkey shit.

* This is for the certain person who pointed out multiple times that I should have the links open in a new window. 1) You are absolutely right. 2) I AM LAZY! All of your descriptions of how to do this involve work on my part. This is a deal breaker.

* Update: Ralph just showed me a simple way to have links open in a new window. It’s not robot-easy, but it may just be easy enough.

Has anyone read “America: The Book” written by Jon Stewart and The Daily Show Writers? Amazom.com has a pretty funny video intro by Stewart on their site.

I’ve read a fair share of “Questions to Ask the Candidates” articles in reference to tomorrow’s Presidential debate. This one is the best by far. The questions are directed to President Bush, so if anyone has a good article with questions Kerry should be asked to recommend, go ahead.

Speaking of which, you may see a few cut-a-ways during the debate of John Kerry scratching his crotch, or George W. Bush waving a pair of flip-flops to the camera and making a jerk-off motion with his hand. Guess who’s going to control the camera shots during the debates? No, really. Guess! You’ll never guess who it is. Not in a million, bazillion years. Okay, here’s a hint:

IT’S FUCKING FOX NEWS.

• If New York were invaded by a giant race of ants, and someone looked at the invasion from the top of a skyscraper, it would look just like a lot of ants attacking a lot of other ants.
  “Who’s winning?”
  “I’m not sure. Which side has the ray guns?

• One of the dogs I am taking care of over the weekend greeted me this afternoon with a pile of watery poop on the carpet. The one good thing about cleaning a dog’s poop (and there is only one good thing) is that it makes other chores a lot easier. Like cleaning the bathroom. “Hey, my roommate didn’t poop on the floor. Awesome!”

• You know you’re really rich when you can poop like a dog: on the carpet and have someone else pick it up.

* Beauty is only skin-deep. That’s true. Once you get past the skin, it’s all mushy and disgusting.

* On the tee vee, there was a story on a restaurant in California that gives free meals to bald people on Wednesdays. One of the women, whose husband is lucky to have her, described his head this way: “He’s not bald. It’s a solar panel for a love machine.”

* I saw a video clip of Britney Spears after her knee injury. Britney Spears is the only person in the world who can wear a full-leg cast and still show some butt cheek.

* I stutter a lot on vowels. I’m the only American who wishes he was born in a better place: Kyrgyzstan. Maybe the two countries can set up an exchange program with me and a stutterer we know loves apple pie, aspires to assist others, and absolutely hates the KKK.

* In my sketch writing class yesterday, we each made a list of three emotions, three professions, and three physical deformities. We put each word on a separate slip of paper, organized them into three piles, and picked one from each pile to generate a character. My list is “confused, carpenter, no hair”. At the end of the class, the instructor asked three of us to hold onto a pile for next week.

I got the physical deformity pile. When I woke up today for a walk, I found out that the slips of paper fell out of my notebook and were scattered on the ground. I wonder what people walking by thought of seeing a pile of paper with words on it like “deformed head,” “No Leg (amputee)” and “dozens of ears.”

Occasionally I list interesting tidbits that I learned during the day. I do it mostly for myself because if I don’t repeat what I learn either through telling it to someone or writing about it, I usually forget it. I suspect my friends wonder why I start random conversations about the Ugandan porn industry, but my friends are patient folk, so they deal with it.

What I Read Today
On the firing of George Tenet: “One George down, one to go.”

Quote of the Day
Do your best not to say, “I told you so.” Instead, say what you really think: “If I’d ran your life, we’d both be happy.”

Company Names of the Day
(for a dog translator): Bowlingual
(yes, it’s a real site) : Egay

What I Learned Today
Dolphins use whistles as names for each other. They get their whistle-name from their mothers when they are born. Males get whistles similar to their mothers; females get whistles different from their mothers. So some times, when a dolphin whistles. he is saying the equivalent of, “Hey Bob. Are you there?” And if Bob is nearby, he’ll whistle Charlie’s name. “Charlie, I’m caught in a tuna net. Help!” And Charlie will respond, “Hell no. They already named their mascot after me. I’m on Starkist’s Ten Most Wanted list. When Starkist renames their “fish” Bob, give me a whistle.” (book)

Theory of the Day
A few years ago, I had a powerful sense of déjà vu when I was talking to a clerk in a camping store. I had a gut feeling that I had met that person before but I didn’t know where. In the car ride home, I realized that I had met someone the week before who looked very similar to him.

What made me think about déjà vu today I do not remember, but I have a theory about why it happens. Déjà vu occurs when someone is in a situation similar to one he has been in before but can not fully remember what the original situation is. As a corollary, people who can store a lot of information but are poor at recalling it experience déjà vu more often than people with better memories.

In other words, when one feels the sensation of déjà vu, there is a good reason for feeling it.

However, the city’s Catholic Archbishop Barry Hickey ordered her to remove it [Virgin Mary statue] from the church after an analysis of the “tears” found they were a mixture of vegetable oil and rose oil.

That ruling did not stop thousands of people flocking to see the statue, which is now on display four days a week at Powell’s home, renamed the Holy Family House of Prayer, where she has built a shrine for the weeping figurine.

Remember when people used to expect more from their miracles, like canola oil, or a bit of salt for realism?

* * *

The company, based in Burlington, Massachusetts, declined to provide further details on how the PackBot was destroyed in Iraq.

“The U.S. military is … concerned that if they release too many details, insurgents will be able to take action (against the robots),” said Osa Fitch, program executive at iRobot’s Government and Industrial Robotics division.

Protect the robots? Has Osa Fitch never seen a science fiction movie? This is how the Terminator series started. Why doesn’t the company skip a few steps and rename it “PackTheHumansBot”?

* * *

The mail facility at Reagan National Airport shut down for 90 minutes last month after a grainy, green powder spilled from a package from Ethiopia, raising fears of a biological hazard. It turned out to be ground-up dried peas.

Dear Shecky,

Just replace the last sentence with “It turned out to be my mother-in-law’s cooking!” Hi-O!

“But the marketing wizards apparently saw him as a man willing to sell his soul. They asked him to incorporate a character of theirs called Robotman. Robotman’s licensing was already under way, they told him, and if there was a place for their character in Watterson’s strip, then there was a place for Watterson at United Features.”

From an article on Bill Watterson, the reclusive creator of “Calvin and Hobbes.”

In the “Two Towers Special Edition DVD,” one of the new scenes occurs right before Gandalf frees Theoden from Saruman’s spell. The wizard points his staff at Theodoen and says, “Time for an extreme makeover, bitch.”

My birthday was yesterday. The actual day was a dud, but the days leading up to it were great. A few friends took me to a Russian restaurant and I had a great time with my family, despite their continued attempts to quash my budding career in photography. Michele’s description on what people think of the photos on the web site: “He tricks them into coming with the comedy and then springs the photos on them.”

I stumbled upon a “Last 100 questions asked” page of a natural language search engine. A smattering:

* who is kane (followed a few questions later by) “who is kane the wrestler”
* What primary colors do you mix to make orange?
* (A funny question about porn there’s no way I’m repeating)
* why does a cow produce white milk
* WHAT WORDS END IN GRY?
* Is Richard Stallman a dirty Gnu hippy ?
* Which president made the swivel chair?
* How can I determine the sex of my baby?
* Who invented the paper clip?
* What are some different sexual positions we can try?

It has been a long time since I have had to write on deadline. If this were a job, I’d be fired by now. “Walther! Where’s the Pinsky report?” “I’m working on it. But in the meantime, check out this web page about handlebar mustaches.”

* Thank god this is for sale.

* I need an average amount of sleep. Average amount for babies.

* I’m not one of those writers who blames his readers when his don’t laugh at my jokes. I put the blame squarely on where it belongs: God. That fucking asshole.

* If you stutter on tv, and say a curse word, at what point do the censors bleep you out? “F-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-dge! Gotcha!”

* A trailer for a war movie started with “Armed only with their courage…” These movie soldiers may be brave, but they’re also incredibly stupid. Take a gun with you the next time you go to war, dumb ass.