Rhetorical Questions Posed In Song: The Answers, Vol. I

(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding?
Mostly “Peace”, though I suppose “Understanding” is kinda funny as well.

Why Can’t I Be You?
Because you’re Robert Smith. Seriously.

Have You Ever Seen The Rain?
Yes, like a bazillion times. It’s no big deal, really. Hurricanes, though? Those suck. As do tornadoes. Let’s continue this conversation another time.

Can I Get A…
I’ll need a little bit more information before I can give you a definitive “yes” or “no”, Jiggaman.

Where Do They Make Balloons?
For more than 80 years, Pioneer® Balloon Company has been in the business of making Qualatex® balloons. Qualatex balloons are available in both Microfoil® and latex, in a variety of shapes and sizes. Balloonhq.com has a wealth of additional info regarding balloon manufacturers, if you’d like to learn more.

Could This Be Love?
I’m no doctor, but sure, what the hell. Could be anything, really. Maybe it’s mumps. Did you ever get your mumps shot?

Am I Dreaming?
Okay, good question. If you answer “yes” to any of the following ancillary questions, you are indeed dreaming. It’s a simple test really. Observe:
1) Are you seeing in black-and-white?
2) Are you flying? Have you been flying?
3) Are you currently making out with some girl you lusted after in high school?
4) Is there evidence of any extinct and/or fictive creatures around you (unicorns, dodo birds, supra-intelligent talking gerbils, etc.)
5) Any pirates and/or grade-school teachers? Note: The presence of grade-school teachers dressed as pirates is a sure-fire indicator.

Fear And Loathing In Midwestvania

The holidays are upon us. And by us, I mean me. I love the holidays. My jingle bells, they jingle jangle with mighty holiday chutzpah. They gong and gling with glee.

But then there is the rage.

I am not an angry young man. I may well be an angry "young-ish" man, but I am not an angry young man in the mold of Elvis Costello circa '77. Perhaps circa "Spike"...

But I digress. The fact remains that the holidays seem to bring about concerted bursts of angry behavior from yours truly. Profanities, guttural "urgs" and "yeargs", much noisemaking and chattering. Peppered liberally amongst my holly-jolliness and gift giving and getting, I find myself pissy.

That said, today I am a veritable globe of shiny, potpourri-scented happiness.

Pluck my berries, won't you?

This is about shopping for toilets.

This is about shopping for toilets.

I just bought one, mere minutes ago. It's white. It looks perfectly fine. Functional. And this is what one looks for in a toilet, I would venture to guess.

It's something of a glum exercise, toilet shopping- a perfunctory necessity of our biorhythms. Somewhere between breathing air and buying a blender. No luxury, this. At root, we’re really looking for something we find aesthetically pleasing, so pleasing in fact, we deem it worth of being…pooped upon.

They (toilets) come in myriad colors, tank types and bowl shapes. Well, two bowl shapes that I could discern. Round and elongated.

No square, though. Odd. Now THERE'S a toilet I could get excited about.

All said, perhaps we select toilets as singular representations of our social strata. To the untrained eye, for example, a three-hundred-dollar toilet and a sixty-dollar-toilet look basically the same. The only reason to spend $300 on a toilet then, is because one CAN. If I feel like I’m the type of guy who should possess such an extravagance, then possess it I shall.

We poop upon that which befits us.

I bought a $60 toilet.

Inspired By Real Life.

A friend of mine, we’ll call him “Mick Hommarito” for anonymity’s sake, recently proposed to his girlfriend. The touching story surrounding Mick and his lady’s foray into wedded bliss inspired me to, well, this:

Cheers to Mick and his Bride-To-Be.

Five Bad Ways To Propose Marriage.

ONE- Arrange for a friend to telephone you one evening, then:
(rrring)
"Hello?"
"No, it…it can’t be. Yes. She’s right here. I’ll get her."
(to future spouse)
"Sweetheart, it’s your Mom. She’s dead."
(tape ring to receiver…watch her surprise!)

TWO- Feed the ring to a carp in the river. Then order carp at every restaurant you go to, as often as possible. It may take awhile to get the ring-fish but imagine her surprise! Besides, carp is awesome.

THREE- Eat the ring. Then don’t flush. Zing!

FOUR- Arrange to have her bitten by a rabid dog. Then, when she’s bedridden and weak from the side-effects of the 40-or-so shots she’ll have to get, spring the proposal on her. Boo-ya! It was a setup! If a rabid dog is difficult to procure, remember, lots of badgers, squirrels, raccoons and some hobos are rabid.

FIVE- Tell her you already have a wife or two, and that bigamy is one of the core tenets of your cult’s teachings. Ooooh. Looks like someone's jealous!

I Am A Dog Psychic, (A-Be).

Have you ever looked a dog in its soulful, liquid eyes and wondered, hey, what’s that dog thinking? I haven’t. I am a Dog Psychic.

Much like a dog dressed up like a cat dressed up like a pregnant nun for Halloween, I have found my “gift” to be equal parts blessing and curse. There are times at which I don’t want to know what a dog is thinking and would rather concentrate on, say, eating my sandwich in peace instead of clotting my mind with swirling doggy thoughts. For this reason, I only dine at restaurants with strict anti-dog policies. And always away from windows, which naturally, dog thoughts pass through as if the glass were cheesecloth.

Regardless, like all great “gifts”, mine was meant to share. Please enjoy the below dog thoughts by breed. You may be surprised at what “Man’s Best Friend” is thinking…

AIREDALE TERRIER:
Think mostly about squirrels and their delicious tails.

AKITA:
Think in Japanese.

ALASKAN MALAMUTE:
Self-centered, so usually about themselves.

AMERICAN FOXHOUND:
Mostly think about dog food commercials, which they apparently feel are unrealistic.
And foxes. Always foxes.

AUSTRALIAN CATTLE DOG:
You’d guess Australian cattle. You’d be wrong.

BASSET HOUND:
Pipe smoking. At one point all Basset Hounds must have been pipe-smokers, and now they miss it terribly.

BEAGLE:
The Travesty That Is Snoopy. Beagles tried for many decades to assassinate the Late C. Schulz, always in vain. His work remains an obsession of the breed. Schulz may be dead, but anytime “Peanuts” is read, a beagle somewhere is howling in grief, baying at the moon of his incessant memory.

It's A Great Day To Be Alive And Sleeping: A Didactic Fable Full Of Blatant Moralizing -OR- Stories From The Soapbox, Vol. 1.

The Doctor owned many things, and he valued these things. His automobile, for example, was a late-model European sedan that was coveted both by his colleagues and strangers he drove past them on the street. The Doctor understood that few were able to afford such a car, and that made him feel grateful. His home was modest, but located in a desirable area, one where the standard of living vastly exceeded the norm. Though the Doctor had no family with which he could share his home, he looked forward to returning there every evening after leaving the hospital where he worked. It was a house of many comforts; a relaxing island amidst the chaos that pocked the Doctor’s life.

Creature comforts were hardly in short supply, as The Doctor earned a generous wage and had little need for money. Yet among the sea of familiarity he had forged, The Doctor suffered with that which every man possesses; he could not sleep.

This evening, as you drift off to sleep, think of The Doctor. As the embrace of slumber washes over you and waking consciousness is blotted out, take note of his life.

Poor, sorry bastard.

The Greatest Thing I've Seen Of Late, Vol. 1.

On the side of an aerosol can of polyurethane that I most certainly was not huffing:

"Causes brain damage"

So succinct. So honest. So great.