This Totally Counts

Happy Electronic Greetings Day, everybody!

Thanks, Jeremy!  Interesting that you choose to wish us this by way of an electronic greeting.  Very meta of you.

I thought so.  

So since I really have no original comedy for you today...

You usually have original stuff, but comedy is another thing entirely.

I decided to make you aware of the newest video series you should watch.  From the makers of Nerdist's All-Star Celebrity Bowling comes Neil Patrick Harris in Neil's Puppet Dreams.  This, combined with How I Met Your Mother and Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog almost make me want to go back and watch the old Doogie Howser series.  Sure, it seemed like a remarkably stupid concept for a show when it first came out, but ostensibly, so is a musical love story about a mad scientist, and a puppet show about a guy's disturbing dreams.  Those turned out pretty okay.      

Anyway...I'm on vacation tomorrow, since I still have a pile of vacation days to use before the end of the year.  Yay for poor planning!  See you monday. 

There's A Bathroom On The Right

If Willy and the Poor Boys are playing down on the corner, why am I supposed to stay here and listen to CCR? 

Uhm....do Willy and the Poor Boys actually exist, or are they just from the song lyrics?


I quite honestly have no idea, and I can't be bothered to look it up.

Anyway, like many songs sung my CCR, or more generally John Fogerty, I have no idea what the lyrics actually are.   I've even gone so far as to look up the lyrics to "Down On The Corner" several times and every time I hear the song, I'm still hopelessly lost.  I was once again reminded that the song is talking about the musical group "Willy and the Poor Boys" who are playing music down on the corner...and apparently out in the street. 

While this is a remarkably unsafe place for an impromptu concert, I feel the need to go listen to them.  I mean...come on...their music is apparently so good that other musical groups write songs about them.  This doesn't happen very often, particularly in the genre of hip-hop where the artists spend the vast majority of their time talking about how they, themselves, are the best rapper despite the lack of empirical evidence.  So I'm left with CCR singing incoherently about somebody else having a concert not far away.  This is akin to NBC airing a commercial for a show running on CBS at the same time...it makes no sense from NBC's or CCR's point of view.  It seems to actually encourage people to leave to find alternate sources of entertainment, either down on the corner, or down on the other channel.  I don't get it.  Or maybe we're all still hearing the words wrong...with Fogerty, you can never tell. 

Usually, I'm A Genius

I carefully dry out the inside of my coffee cup before I put water in it to make coffee

I'm sure that's important for some reason.  

I'd like to think so, but I'm pretty sure it's not the case.    Anyway...I have my little routine.  I disassemble the business bits of the coffee maker, which includes the coffee basket and filter screen, and take that, along with my cup, to the sink to clean it out.  My coffee maker doesn't use one of those paper filters, it just has a little bucket with small holes in the bottom.  That thing is filled with coffee grounds (At work, I tend to use pre-ground coffee just to save time.  Everyone knows that Freshly Ground Coffee Tastes Better), and needs to be dumped out and cleaned after every cup.  So, once I've tossed the old grounds, I wash out the basket, screen, and cup so that I don't get diseases or anything.  After that, I dry everything with the supplied paper towels.  This is important for the coffee maker bits and the outside of the coffee cup, since those areas will be the ones dripping water the entire way back to my office, and nobody wants that.  Because That's How You Get Ants.  

Anyway...for no apparent reason, I take this same time to carefully dry out the inside of the coffee cup...you know...the part where the coffee goes.  Ostensibly, I'm doing this so that any future coffee is not watered down by the extra water, but here's the problem: my coffee maker is one of those single-cup brewing thingies that only holds one cup of water at a time.  The first thing that I do after I dry out the cup is fill it with water to take back to the coffee maker.  I don't know why I do this, but I can't seem to stop. 

Go Ahead...Ask About The Great Pumpkin. I Dare You.

In a bit of Revisionist History, the Pilgrims were never invited to Thanksgiving, but simply crashed the Native Americans’ harvest party

Awe geeze....this is how you're spending our Friday?

Through fun and whimsical education?  Yes it is.

Nobody's learning anything, other than how to get sued.  

Many of you know the story of Thanksgiving as it's taught in schools.  Of course, you've also been told the story of Christopher Columbus as it's taught in schools, and that's total nonsense, too.  (Aristotle had discovered that the world was round 2000 years before Columbus sailed.  That's exacerbated by the fact that 1492 was the year the Globe was invented, so that whole "proving the world was round thing is complete and total bunk.)  So, we all "know" the story of how the Patuxet tribe of Native Americans helped the pilgrims through their first winter in the new world, showed them how to plant corn and shovel snow off the driveway and celebrated the first Thanksgiving.  

Well, the real story of that particular Harvest Festival goes back a few more years to 1601, when the Patuxet tribe celebrated the first "Cornapalooza."  This festival, incidentally, is where all of the "___apalooza" festivals get their name to this day.  It was a big party where people would eat stupid amounts of food and carve their faces into pumpkins.  A quintessential American holiday if there ever was one. 

Shortly after the first Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, the first colonial college was set up so the more grown-up boys (Sorry, girls) could learn crafts like leather-working, metal-working, and cow-working.  With every college comes the inevitable fraternity presence, and the first Frat in the new world, "Alpha Alpha Alpha," was chartered within 2 months.  One day, several of the fraternity brothers were out in the woods and saw a Native American named "Tisquantum" walking around with a carved pumpkin face over his head.  They called out to him "Hey Squanto!" (which is where the Americanized version of his name comes from), and proceeded to beat him up and take his pumpkin for the purpose of putting it over their own heads, filling it with mead and drinking their way out.  

A great many gourdfulls of mead later, the frat brothers found their way to the Patuxet Cornapalooza tables.  They barged their way in, sat down, and devoured enough food to make themselves a little sick, watched the football game, then passed out in the turkey coop with feathers drawn on their faces in Sharpie.  When they awake the following morning, they immediately told the rest of the Pilgrim settlement of the giant party they were missing over at the Patuxet's house.  Both peoples celebrated Cornapalooza together, and the Native Americans gave Thanks when the Pilgrims finally left. Every year after that, the Native Americans celebrated the day that the Pilgrims finally left them alone and stopped eating all their food.  The day was made a national holiday somewhere in the 1870s. 

Now that's taken care of, Jeremy Is In The Office will be out of the office all next week while Jeremy does some ridiculous great circle tour of the Northeast US.  We hope everyone has a safe and happy Thanksgiving and we'll return on monday, November 26th with all new crap.  We know you're looking forward to it. 

Quarters Are Loud In The Dryer

If you lose focus in this game for one minute, somebody gets shredded business card in the laundry

I think George Clooney put it a little more elegantly.

Perhaps, but I'm also not robbing a casino...I'm just washing my clothes.  Anyway, we've all done it.  Put something through the washing machine that we shouldn't have, and it proves disastrous when it comes out.  If we're lucky, it was just a piece of paper that becomes a large mess of pulp, but if we're a little more on the unlucky side, it's chap stick or a crayon or something that comes out a sticky mess that has contaminated the entire load.

Of course, this sort of thing is entirely preventable.  There's no reason for having a handful of your own business cards in your shirt pocket once you leave work.  

There's barely a reason for you to have business cards in the first place.

A brief check of the pockets is sufficient to locate and remove any laundry contraband, and 83% of the time, I remember to do this, and trouble is averted.  Of course, that leaves a more than insignificant number of times when I'll leave something in the pockets and end up fishing change out of the bottom of my washer, or picking washed-up paper shreds out of my shirt.  I'll go ahead and let you guess which happened the last time I did laundry.  

The Aroma Of A Bias, With The Taste Of A Radial

So the company known for boiling rubber is going to tell me the best places to eat?

I don't see what Bridgestone has to do with any of this.

  

I was just recently made aware of what is apparently the gold standard in restaurant and touring guides.  I thought it was Zagat...but I was wrong.  Zagat is now owned by The Google apparently, not that that fact is relevant at all to these proceedings...just thought you might like to know.  No, the place to turn for advice on travel and fine dining is the Red Guide, published annually by the Michelin company, famous maker of tires.  

Apparently, more important than a high Zagat rating is the prestigious "Michelin Star," bestowed upon worthy restaurants on a 1 to 3 star scale.  There are currently 81 3-star restaurants in the world, and only 10 in the entire United States.  I'm reasonably certain of two things.  First, I can't afford to eat in any of these restaurants, none of which I've ever heard of.  Second, while Japan and France best the United States in number of 3-star restaurants, I'm certain we're kicking the crap out of them in number of McDonald's Restaurants.  Take that, rest of the world! 

You're Going To Hate Me For This

Can somebody please charge Patrice Wilson with crimes against humanity?


I'll draw up the paperwork.  Uhm...who exactly is this guy?  


Patrice Wilson is the remaining one-half of the production company "ARK Music Factory."  If that name doesn't ring any bells for you, learn it now, and train body to send chills up your spine when you hear it.  Basically, develop a kind of Spider Sense about hearing that name.  When it pops up, run for the hills with your hands over your ears.  

See, "ARK Music Factory" is the production company responsible for unleashing Rebecca Black's song "Friday" upon the world.  I'm not going to link to that song.  I'm just not.  If you haven't heard it by now, climb back in your cave and forget you ever read this.  Well, as if "Friday" wasn't enough for you...what with the Auto-Tuned singing to the worst lyrics ever written dubbed across a mildly creepy music video featuring 13 year-olds driving and partying...well, have I got news for you.  

Patrice Wilson has gone and done it again.  He has now grasped on to the budding career of Nicole Westbrook, whose parents are apparently as well off as Black's, and willing to pay Wilson thousands of dollars to produce a music video featuring their daughter.  The good news is that she's a markedly better singer than Black.  The bad news is that this time, the song is worse, and the video (also featuring Wilson himself...this time in a turkey costume) is FAR creepier.  

That's right, folks...the latest travesty of music has been crapped onto the internet courtesy of Mr. Wilson.  It is called "It's Thanksgiving" and I've only managed to listen to it once.  That was plenty.  But since I had to hear it, So Do You.  In the interest of full disclosure, this Youtube video (as of this writing) currently has over 65,000 dislikes, versus 8500 likes.  Not favorable. 

Incidentally...in researching today's Blag entry, I was made aware that since the public decimation of "Friday," Rebecca Black has started her own record label and plans on releasing a full CD.  This got me thinking...what exactly is involved in creating a record label?  Based on the fact that both Rebecca Black and Paris Hilton have created one, and there are over 16,000 record labels in the US and UK alone, I don't think it's much.  Based on this, I've decided to start my own record label called Miracle Records.  (If it's a great Record, it's a Miracle!)  Any and all musicians are welcome to apply, and I'll post your video to Youtube or something. 

Dudes Already Know About Chickens

Here’s a Fun Fact!  Coastal Carolina University’s mascot is a very specific fictional chicken

Was it Colonel Sanders's chicken by any chance?  

Sadly, no...though I'm sure that chicken is more of a national hero.  The official mascot of Coastal Carolina University is the "Chanticleers," named after the anthropomorphic rooster from Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales."  I was forced to read this book in an English class at some point back and it's made so much of an impact on my life, I can't even remember what this particular tale was about.  

As a general rule, every book I was ever forced to read for an English class sucked.  My teachers and professors seemed to have an uncanny ability to thrust literature upon their classes that was in no way beneficial to me.  I did not develop a love of literature, or a desire to read other "classics" through these examples...I merely learned whimsical tidbits.  For example, I have learned that Nathaniel Hawthorne was paid by the word to write his books, which explains their remarkably overwritten length.  I've learned that The Canterbury Tales were never finished, and the main plot set up the cast for some ridiculous number of stories, a small fraction of which were ever written.  I recognized the hero's name from Crime and Punishment when it came up recently.  And I've learned that I never need to waste any part of my life on anything that has to do with Jane Austen ever again, with or without Kiera Knightley. 

I also recognized the name Chanticleer from The Canterbury Tales as being some talking chicken.  I really don't know what he did, but apparently it was good enough to name a football team after.  Go fightin' fictional chickens! 

Ball's In Your Court, Freud

Anyone else have that dream where a blue-painted Justin Bieber drops an elbow on you from the top rope?  

Oddly specific.  I've had similar dreams, but I don't think he was painted blue.  Close, though.

So yeah...I don't have much of an explanation for this.  Not that it really needs or deserves one.  I will mention that at the time, I was more upset about the fact that the blue paint rubbed off and got all over my couch than the fact that I was just hit with a flying elbow drop.  I can't really explain myself sometimes.   

Heh Heh...Duty...

It would be a total waste to not vote today after being forced to listen to all those commercials

The second greatest of all days has arrived!  Election Day!  Not because we get to witness the majesty that is the democratic process, but because we can finally and mercifully stop hearing all of the crap about the campaign everywhere we turn.  

Right you are.  I do wonder what the internets are going to do now, though...the news channel web pages and Facebook won't have any political garbage to post for at least 6 months before the next campaign begins.  

Anyway...today, I bring you a message about doing your civic duty.   That duty, of course, is voting.  My message is a little different than most, though...as I'm urging you not to vote unless you know what you're voting for.  If you plan on voting against one guy strictly because he was born in Kenya...don't vote.  If you plan on voting against the other guy strictly because you think his religion is a cult...don't vote.  If your plan is to vote for everybody on one side of the ballot because "I'm a democrat" or "I'm a republican," for the love of all things good and plenty, don't vote.  If you actually have an even rudimentary understanding of the handful of issues where the two candidates actually differ substantially, by all means vote.  I'm not here to tell you which guy is right and which is wrong.  That's up to you.  What I am here to tell you is that if you're going to vote and impact my life with your choices...be informed about it.  Also, no...CNN and Fox News are not informing you of anything.  (I almost fell out of my chair laughing when I saw an article on Fox News that had in big red letters before the headline "BIAS ALERT" informing me that CNN was biased.)  

My other message today is this.  Hyperbole is the worst thing ever to happen in the history of politics.  (See what I did there?)  We've been led to believe that we're at some sort of historical crossroads, that we're about to fall off a cliff, and that this is the most important election in the history of the country.  It's not.  Make no mistake about that...it's not.  No matter who wins today's election, the world will go on turning.  Understand that whoever wins the election genuinely loves this country and wants to see it, and everyone in it, succeed.  Sure, you may not agree with their vision of how that's going to happen, but nobody is running for office in order to make you fail.  Just because one of the candidates doesn't specifically have YOU in mind when coming up with a policy for 300 million people doesn't mean that he's against you or that he's going to destroy the country.  You have a disagreement.  In a country of 300 million people, you're going to have to agree to disagree quite often, and the other side is not necessarily the root of all evil because of it.  

One last thing...if you've already voted today, and you voted against the guy I voted for...thanks a lot, jerk.  You just cancelled out my vote and we both could have just stayed in bed.  Let me know, next time!  

He Doesn't Eat Bugs

Cookie Monster’s real name is Sid

Uhm...okay.  

Yeah...today gets an early and brief update because I'm going home after lunch to throw out everything in my fridge.  See, I haven't cleaned the thing out since the whole hurricane thing, and the CDC says that I probably should.  Also, I have to yell at some people, so I figured it would be best to do that at home instead of in my office.  So today, you get a fun little fact about Cookie Monster.  Enjoy that.   

Bat Signal Is Also Acceptable

If somebody sent me a message via carrier pigeon, I would totally respond because...come on!  Carrier Pigeon!  

So you got my message then?  Good.  I was worried about how Polly made out with it.  

Not long ago, I got a message from an acquaintance on the popular social networking site, "Facebook."  Perhaps you've heard of it.  Anyway, I didn't respond because I just didn't respond...didn't think it was a big deal.  I was accosted later in person for not having replied to the message.  This annoyed me, and also made me think.  It made me realize that I basically never respond to anything on Facebook, rarely post anything on Facebook, and don't spend my entire day liking everybody else's stuff on Facebook.  Basically, Facebook has been made to suck.  At first, it was a collection of people who had .edu email addresses, so it was a great way for college students to find each other, share experiences, and reconnect with old friends.  That was a very nice month and a half.  Then, the entirety of the Internets descended upon Facebook and turned it into the vast wasteland of flotsam that it is today.  No, I don't care what you're making for dinner, or how funny you think it is that you're "waiting for hubby to get home."  I don't want to play with your farm, or do whatever it is you're doing on your safari of bubbles.  I don't care about your mafia war, your mouse trap, the 1300 pictures of your child that you haven't had time to post in the last three weeks (By the way...I'm not making that one up, or exaggerating it in any way.  Seriously...1300), or that picture with a caption on it you find so incredibly funny because it's true.  That's why I don't respond to Facebook...not because I'm not interested in whatever it was that you sent me...but because I've come to regard Facebook as a repository of the most inane trivialities of life, so that it's a completely one-way experience.  I read stuff, but I don't want my stuff to be a part of that mess.  I'll post my stupid crap here instead!  Lucky you.  

Anyway...Facebook rant aside, I did think about methods people use to get in touch with me, and the relative levels of success they have.  The best way is via cell phone or texting, if you're fortunate enough to have my number.  Failing that, there's one of my email accounts that I check frequently, but only make very brief responses, since I'm likely typing it on my phone.  The instant messenger at work is very reliable, but only during business hours.   Same for my work email address, but if you send personal stuff there, it's likely to get buried under a pile of work messages in a matter of hours.  What it all boiled down to are the three worst ways of getting in touch with me...which are, in reverse order...Smoke Signals, Facebook, and Carrier Pigeon.  It sounded like a fairly catchy joke at first, but then I realized just how reliable a Carrier Pigeon would be.  I mean...the odds of sending a pigeon out into the world and having it find me are pretty remote, but if it actually did, and didn't die of Bird Flu along the way (That would be my test for ensuring I didn't get infected, BTW), holy crap!  I would respond to that so fast, if would amaze you.  Seriously...how awesome would it be to actually get a carrier pigeon nowadays?  Super awesome...that's how awesome!  Somebody get on that.  My birthday is coming up...you should totally send my birthday card via Carrier Pigeon.  You'd be my new best friend.  If you need to know exactly when my birthday is, you can look it up on my Facebook.