Pancake City

The post train got derailed for an extra week when I went to California. I can force myself to think of ideas, and it’s what I have to do after I don’t write for a week or two, but the act of writing sans motivation is one of those wonderful, self-empowering activities I hate doing because it makes me stop wallowing in pity and feeling down.

The thing about wallowing in pity that most people don’t understand is that the wallowing takes place in marshmallow fields on warm, sunny days where the hills are stuffed with goose feathers and you can pluck a cloud from the sky anytime you want and use it as a pillow for your naps, which are frequent and lovely.

You know what gets me out of bed some days? Cocoa Krispies. Knowing there is a box of chocolate-coated rice puffs masquerating as cereal waiting for me in a pantry in front of unopened boxes of bran and granola that I buy when I feel guilty is my version of coffee. Cocoa Krispies gives me the energy I need to march out of my front door. I then collapse on my front step in a sugar-induced insulin coma, but until then, there are a good 10 minutes where I am ready to take on all of the vicissitudes and surprises life has to offer.

I’ll be posting more this week. That’s right, in the coming days I will somehow manage to pole vault over the previous bar of zero posts per week. I will aim for the stars. Perhaps in failure, I may only reach the moon, but my spirit, our spirits, will stretch with our aim and expand merely by our willingness to grasp for a life that matches the America in our hearts, if not our own lives.

That’s right, this post is running for President! My fellow Americans, as the first blog post to reach sentience, I assure you, “I’m (been) Back!” is listening to your hopes, your concerns, your needs. I am change you can believe in,  and I am boarding the Straight Talk Express, in the form of a 1 GB flash drive, so I can head directly to the White House and be ready on Day One! Or Day Two if we have to hitch hike–gas is expensive. Definitely somewhere between Days One and Seven.

There will be mistakes. There will be typos. What is sent out on the RSS feed may be different from this post a week later. No sentient blog post is free of error. And yes, my opponents will distort my words, reprinting them in hard-to-read fonts or all caps to make me look like an idiot. But together, I assure you, asdfkjhksdj

Woah. Jason here. I was in the bathroom for a few minutes. I think my roommate came it and wrote a few paragraphs. Whatever. Anyway, I’ll be posting more this week. See ya.

The Straight Talk Change Mobile o8! Vote for me in November!

…where what was ridiculous in the past becomes reality in the present.

“We as a people must stand united, banding together to tear this nation in two,” Bush said. “Much work lies ahead of us: The gap between the rich and the poor may be wide, be there’s much more widening left to do. We must squander our nation’s hard-won budget surplus on tax breaks for the wealthiest 15 percent. And, on the foreign front, we must find an enemy and defeat it.” 

From an Onion article, written in January 2001.

God Hates Obama.

Diebold Accidentally Leaks Results Of 2008 Election Early

“Racist Sexist Doesn’t Know Who To Hate in Election”

(Yeah, would have been funnier a month ago. I’m slow.)

This fan-made campaign video may single-handedly destroy the youth vote for Hillary Clinton. It’s so bad that I think a group of crafty Obama supporters made it specifically for this purpose.

Best blog comment on the Obama\Clinton debate comes from Josh Marshall of TPM:

“8:08 PM … What GOP operative masterminded holding this debate at the Kodak theater with a bunch of movie stars in the audience?”

Seriously. What was the venue decision meeting like?

CNN PRODUCER: “Here’s what I’m going to do for you. You tell me where you want to hold the Republican presidential debate, and we’ll do it.”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Anywhere? Wow. Even the Ronald Reagan library?”
CNN PRODUCER: “You got it. What else do you want?”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Uh…midway through the debate, could you bring out one of Reagan’s diaries, so we can further worship Our Savior and Holy Father?”
CNN PRODUCER: “I’m going to do you one better. Not only will we bring out one of Reagan’s diaries, I’ll program Anderson Cooper to say “I’m a little too nervous to actually even touch it, but that is Ronald Reagan’s original diary.“
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Program?”
CNN PRODUCER: “Yeah. He’s a robot. That’s why his hair is white. Silicone gets like that in a sun.”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Wow. Well, thank you. This is so much more than I expected.”
CNN PRODUCER: “Whoa, hold on there. We’re not done yet. Where do you want to hold the Democratic presidential debate?”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Are you being serious?”
CNN PRODUCER: “Yeah. Shoot.”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Okay. I’ll play along. I want you to have the debate…in Hollywood. In the Kodak theater, where they hold the Academy Awards. Oh, and no regular people in the first 10 rows. Just rich, obnoxious Hollywood celebrities whose very countenance will remind middle America of the phrase ‘Hollywood liberal.’ “
CNN PRODUCER: “As good as done.” [yells] “Cooper-Bot, get in here!”
ANDERSON COOPER-BOT: “YES, MASTER.”
CNN PRODUCER: “Cooper-Bot, you’re going to the Reagan library, Before you go, tell Wolf-Bot he’s going to Hollywood. And make sure he’s loaded his Obnoxious Goading sub-routine. If he doesn’t start a fight between Clinton and Obama, he’s scrapped.”
ANDERSON COOPER-BOT: “RIGHT AWAY, MASTER.”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Wow. Robot technology has progressed so far in 30 years.”
CNN PRODUCER: “You’ve seen a robot before?”
REPUBLICAN OPERATIVE: “Hello? Reagan fan here.”

No, he didn’t say something stupid. I ask because he’s 71, and he says during the campaign season he wakes us at 6:00 A.M., and goes to bed at 1:00 A.M.

I’m 31, and that’s a full five hours less than my ideal sleep time. I’m a firm believer in that when creating schedule, there should be one A.M., and one P.M. Two of each means you either aren’t getting enough sleep or are narcoleptic.

The presidential campaign does nothing but remind me of how unqualified I am to be President. I can’t even fantasize about being President anymore. I envision myself speaking to a crowd and I think: “Ugh, I don’t want to shake all these people’s hands. I’m going to bed.”

I’m suspicious of everyone running for President. The job itself is slightly less worse than the process to get it. It’s stressful, insular, and erodes whatever ethics or principles one may have had entering politics. If you do a really good job, 55% of people will like you. If you do a great job, you get assassinated.

There has to be a better way to obtain power. You know those six mysterious bankers that supposedly control the entire world? One of them has to die sometime. Why not aim for being one of them? There has to be a cadre of backup bankers somewhere, waiting to step in when one of the original six dies. That backup banker could be you.

Better yet, get five of your banking friends and hold a press conference declaring that you all are The Six. What are the mysterious bankers going to do, come out of hiding? They’re Mysterious. They don’t do that. Just issue terse, cryptic statements after events like when oil hit $100 a barrel (”If only the world didn’t disappoint us.”) and enough people will start believing you have power that you will have power.

Chutzpah goes a long way. I am convinced this is how Paris Hilton became a celebrity. She crashed a ritzy party and everyone was too embarrassed to admit they didn’t know who she was. There was one dicey conversation (”I didn’t invite her. Did you invite her.” “No. I thought you did.” “Maybe…Carl invited her?” “I guess.”) and then she was home free.

To tie this back to the original subject, I suspect McCain will win the Republican nomination. My astute political reasoning behind my belief is that the other five Republican candidates are douche bags.

To be more specific: jerk, fear mongerer, devoid of integrity, doesn’t believe in evolution, and not really a douche bag, but seriously, the gold standard? “FEDERAL RESERVE: The economy needs more money. Quick, get a pick ax!”

The other candidates each have at least one huge flaw, so I think McCain will win. I also think he would make the best President out of the Republican candidates, so that’s a good thing, even if it makes the general election more difficult for the Democratic nominee. A lot of good can come from competition, and I would rather have two strong candidates running for President than a strong one and a weak one.

Hey, lazy reporters!

Need evidence to support the conclusion you had before you started writing your political horse race piece? Visit Google Trends. It tracks search engine traffic and news references for popular words and phrases.

Google Trends is flexible enough to accommodate a wide-variety of pre-conceived ideas. Isn’t it a shame how people care more about celebrities than politicians? Just search for “Paris Hilton, Hillary Clinton.” Oops! Hillary got more news references. Better revise the search: “Paris Hilton, Senator Brownback.” There we go!

Hey, how does a goat fare against the three main Democratic presidential candidates? Hoo hoo hoo! Politics is silly.

Google Trends is also useful when planning the news cycle during the slow summer months. Should we go with Summer of the Shark, or Summer of the Monkey? Let’s check with America first.

Abe Link’in: This web site avatar will connect the myriad places on the web with his steadfast leadership and eloquent RSS summaries, before being shot down by a pop-up ad for Viagra.

George Washington Truth Serum: “I cannot tell a lie”…and neither will those stinking terrorists be able to either when they’re injected with 500mg of G. W. Truth Serum. Claim you’re a legal citizen just trying to run a struggling ethnic restaurant? We’ll see what you have to say after having a talk with our founding father. Warning: may cause irreparable nerve and brain damage.

FDR: Franklin Delanor Roosevelt has a “New Deal” for you: insanely low prices on the 2008 Mazda Miatas and hundreds of other of the latest models. You won’t be able to get up either once you sit in the new 2008 Toyota Prius. What? The already use Presidents to to sell cars? Jeez. What fucking assholes.

Steven Colbert is running for President! In one state. I’m moving to South Carolina to vote for him. For one, he’s the only Presidential candidate who understands the danger bears pose to our homes, our families, and our way of life. I’m looking at you, Sugar Bear. Two…there is no two. Bears are the gravest threat to humanity in the world. Reason number one is reason number enough to vote for Steven Colbert.

Colbert’s presidential announcement

Update: Uh oh. He’s already involved in his first scandal.

I wrote a skit and later realized that the premise is inherently flawed. The premise is that Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, and a helium balloon are competing for the 2005 Gasbag of the Year Award.

Funny idea, right? But it didn’t work, and several drafts and comments from friends later I’ve come to realize that the premise has contradictions in itself that make it almost impossible to convert into a great skit.

I’m still working the contradictions out, but one of several that I thought of so far is that I’m trying to parody two things at the same time: the personalities of Rush Limbaugh/Bill O’Reilly, and right-wing talk radio. Writing skits with more than one subject just doesn’t work.

There is also the choice of the game show format, which requires lots of short responses, and trying to parody Limbaugh and O’Reilly, which I believe requries them to speak for several sentences at a time.

It’s an odd notion to me–that a skit can be flawed just because of a poor structure. I’ve always worked under the idea that in sketch writing, what is important is how the concept is done, not the concept itself. That a truly creative person could find a way to make any premise work. Now I think the premise is at least as important as the writing, possibly more so.

Okay, enough self-absorption. Here’s the skit. You may find it amusing, may not.

HOST: “Welcome to the finals of the 2005 American Gasbag Competition. I’m Chuck Sewer. By the end of this night, one of these three talk show hosts will be America’s Gasbag of the Year. Let’s meet the finalists.”

HOST: “A titan of radio and TV, and guardian of the No-Spin Zone: Bill O’Reilly.”

O’REILLY: “I’m going to lecture you like I’ve never lectured before.”

HOST: “Always right, never wrong, he puts the left where they belong. Rush Limbaugh.”

LIMBAUGH yanks out a bottle of pills and tosses back the whole bottle. As the pills fall, he snaps at them like a mad dog tearing at a piece of meat. Most of the pills miss his face and fall on the floor.

HOST: “And give it up to our returning champion, helium balloon!

BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE.”

O’REILLY: “Hey!”

HOST: [laughing] “No win zone, indeed. First up is the lighting round. You will be given a series of topics. Whoever makes the most outrageous statement about it wins. Hands to the buzzer!

BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE.”

HOST: “Just vibrate then. First topic. ACLU.”

O’REILLY: [buzzer] “Hitler would be a card-carrying ACLU member.”
LIMBAUGH: [buzzer] “Hitler? If Hitler had sex with Satan, their baby would be President of the ACLU.”
BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE.”

HOST: “Judges? Helium balloon by a nose!”

RIMBAUGH: “Come on! Who are the judges, the New York Times?”

HOST: “Sorry Rush, but two-headed Hitler-Satan baby that pees evil is the winner. Next topic: The Clintons.”

LIMBAUGH: Last week, Hillary Clinton had sex with the two-headed Hitler-Satan baby, “Hitlan”.
O’REILLY: “Then she brought a catapult to Iraq and flung aborted babies at our troops.
HOST: “Wow. Helie is stunned squeak-less. Well, let’s see who the judges [sees Balloon shaking] Yes?
BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE.”
O’REILLY: [angry] “Mmph!”
HOST: “Ohhhhhh, my! Can you say that about a woman and a water hose? Another one for H.B. Final topic: the torture at Abu Ghraib.”

LIMBAUGH: “It’s amazing to me how outraged the libs are about this “scandal.” I mean, you ever hear of needing to release some steam?
BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEEE.

O’Reilly thinks for a moment.

O’REILLY: “EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE.”

HOST: “This round: O’Reilly!”
BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE.”
LIMBAUGH: “Yeah, he just repeated what he said!”
HOST: “Welcome to the right-wing echo chamber, guys.”
O’REILLY: [mocking contestants with echo] “You suck…you suck…you suck…”
BALLOON: “EEE-EEE-EEE.”
O’REILLY: [covering his chest] “You smear merchant!”
HOST: [laughing] “Oh, Helie. I’m sure O’Reilly has the same number of nipples as everyone else. Let’s check the leader board. H.B. is on top with 20, O’Reilly has 10 and Rush is dead last with 0.”

HOST: “Next is the all-important skills competition. Your task today is to get our mystery guest to shut up as fast as possible. Let’s bring him out. Coming all the way from a back alley behind the CVS down the street. It’s…a homeless person.”

ELDERLY MAN creeps on stage with cane.

ELDERLY PERSON: “You told me you had food.”
HOST: “That’s hilarious! Bill, you’re first. Go!”
ELDERLY PERSON: “Dear sir, do you have any food?”
O’REILLY: “Who is this joker?”
ELDERLY PERSON: “I’m elderly and cold.”
O’REILLY: “Somebody shut his mike off.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “I’m so hungry. I wish I had a doughnut.”
O’REILLY: ” Listen, buddy. You’re in the No Spin zone. The only thing you’re eating is the truth.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “Can I have gravy with the truth?”
O’REILLY: “That’s it. Cut his mike. This interview is over. I’m not going to dress you down anymore, out of respect for your father.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “My father’s 93. He was a pirate. Where is the food? I’m–(mouths rest of sentence)
HOST: “34 seconds! That might be good enough for first place. The mike cut-off comes through again.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “But my name is Henry.”

HOST: “Isn’t he adorable? Rush, you’re next. You’ll need to be 34 seconds for a chance to win. Go!”
LIMBAUGH: “Woah, woah, woah. Hold on here. What on God’s Earth is a “homeless” person?”
HOST: “It’s a person without a home.”
LIMBAUGH: “Well, what’s he doing here? Tell him to go home.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “Can I have an orange?”
HOST: “He can’t. He’s homeless.”
LIMBAUGH: “Huh?”
HOST: “He’s HOME-less.”
LIMBAUGH: [long pause] “I don’t get it.”
HOST: “Mmm…I’m going to have to disqualify you. Sorry, Rush.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “I have scurvy.”

HOST: “Maybe our reigning champion can help you out. Helie, are you ready?”
BALLOON: “EEE-EEE.”
HOST: “Go!”
ELDERLY PERSON: “My stomach is eating itself.”
BALLOON: ” EEE-EEE.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “Really? You will?
BALLOON: ” EEE-EEE.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “Thank you! He’s going to buy me dinner.”
BALLOON: ” EEE-EEE.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “You love me?
BALLOON: ” EEE-EEE.”
ELDERLY PERSON: “[tears up] Oh! You want to give me a hug! Thank you! It’s been so long.
BALLOON: ” EEE-EEE.”

ELDERLY PERSON shuffles over to balloon. When he grasps the balloon for a hug, it attacks the elderly man, beating him senseless.

ELDERLY PERSON: “AHH! AHH!”

HOST: “[horrified] Helie. You…killed him. In cold blood. You just killed him…and beat out O’Reilly time with 33 sec.! Helium Balloon retains his crown! This has been the 2005 American Gas Bag Competition. Good night!

It’s still there! 44 percent of Americans favor curtailing some liberties for Muslim Americans! 27 percent of respondents said that all Muslim Americans should be required to register their location with the federal government! 71 percent of Americans can add 44 and 27!

After reading this study, coming out over three years after 9/11, let me be the first one to say this: whew. One of my problems with America is that we never stick with our ethnic groups. We had a great run with the blacks, but after them, nothing.

Remember that brief period in the 80s when we were throwing cinder blocks through the windshields of Toyotas and bashing the doors of Hyundais with baseball bats? Two months later, the streets of Detroit had a few leftover shards of glass, a Japanese cabinet member had to dry clean his suit, and we’re all playing Nintendo.

McCarthyism was an eight-year joke. And we’ve barely got three decades out of the gays before they got Will and Grace.

“But what about the interment camps in WWII?” What about them? We went through all that trouble rounding up Japanese-American citizens, transporting them to remote areas, putting them into barbed-wire camps. Then the war ends and we let them out!

No commitment whatsoever. That’s why I’m encouraged by this trend of consistent, irrational hatred towards Muslims. It provides a solid base to build on and bodes well for the future. And I hate to be premature, but Muslims have several innate characteristics that may make them the 21st century’s hottest oppressed minority:

1) Dark skin.
2) Religious, but the wrong one.
3) Several decades of prep work as terrorists in movies.
4) Yet to appear in Gap ad.
5) Women sexy enough to protect? Who knows?
6) Popularity in other countries makes it easier to tell them “Go back home!” (as opposed to Native Americans).

And all of this is without a terrorist attack since 9/11. One attack a decade, a few more right-wing broadcasters, and we could be looking back to the good ol’ days where gays got beat up for who they are, not what they say they are. Where the Confederate flag flew proudly in all the Southern states and not just most of them. And where segregation stayed in the place where it belonged: federal and state Constitutions (thanks for keeping it real, Alabama!)

Michele, my sister, the one who visits my web page (in other words, the good sister) sent me this very funny link.

All I have to say about the debate tonight is that George Bush likes the No Child Left Behind Act.

Really, really, really likes the No Child Left Behind Act.

If the No Child Left Behind Act were a woman, George would stroke her hair, soft as rose-petals, and whipser into her ear, “Baby, you’re the only one for me.”

Dick and Rummy would visit less often. They would come over to shoot some hoops, Cheney in a loose-fitting muscle T with the head hole stretched out, Rummy with the ball and a blue scrunchie around his forehead.

Dick would ask, “You meet that guy who moved in yesterday, Minimum Wayge? He’s seems kind of creepy” and George would flutter his eyelids and say, “Yeah, she’s beautiful.”

Rummy would roll his eyes. “What’s wrong with you, G? You used to be part of the crew. Cold chilling and all that. Now all you do with talk about is her. If you like her so much, why don’t you marry her?”

But Rummy’s words were lost from the beginning because they fell upon the ears of a deaf man. A man in love.