Category: Humor
5 Reasons Why Sylvester Stallone Might Overtake Tom Cruise As Top Actor and 1 Thing TC Can Do To Ensure That Never Happens
1. Rocky Balboa (Rocky 6)
2. Rambo (Rambo 4)
3. The Expendables
4. The Expendables 2
5. The Expendables 3 (This time he’s pulled together Antonio Banderas, Wesley Snipes, Mel Gibson and Harrison Ford. And those are in addition to Arnold, Statham, Li, and Ivan Drago. Oh, and Kelsey Grammar, too.)
For any of you who haven’t seen “The Expendables” movies, you’re missing out. Missing out like I thought I was missing out in the late 80s and 90s. I hated that I couldn’t go see rated R movies. It seemed like every good movie was rated R and starred Stallone or Schwarzenegger. When I finally checked those movies out, man was I disappointed. Then Sly shocks the world with “Rocky Balboa” and “Rambo”, only to top them a few years later with “The Expendables”. The movies are over the top in every way imaginable. It’s a formula that can’t lose. Lose the ego, bring the heart, and have a little fun while you’re at it.
Tom–don’t worry. You’re still tops in my book. The easiest way to ensure you never lose the spot is follow Stallone’s lead and give us what we want. You know what I’m talking about TC. That’s right. It’s time for the sequel. (Cue the Anthem.)
Random Thoughts
A man doing manual labor with a hand towel draped over his shoulder is the hardest worker in the company, and I cannot be convinced otherwise.
The thought of running a microwave for more than seven minutes at a time terrifies me more than anything. I have no idea why.
If the people I see that are wealthy are what you have to be like to become wealthy, I don’t want any part of it.
People seem to be unclear on the point of bumper stickers. Bumper stickers should tell us something we don’t already know about you. Two groups seem especially unclear on this. First, hybrid owners: you don’t need to put a sticker on your car that says anything about being pro-green–we get it. Second, African-Americans: pro-Obama stickers? Is it to shame the remaining 7% of you who didn’t vote for him?
Studies and experience seem to reveal that the more educated people become, the less children they have. Of all human behaviors worth researching with the intent of reversing its course, this one needs the most attention soonest.
Challenge!!
On this the 27th day of December, in the year 2013, I hereby challenge anyone worthy enough to accept. The object: spend money faster than me. That’s right. All you have to do is demonstrate to me that you can keep money in your possession for less time than me, and you win.
Think this sounds easy? Think again. I’ve been known to release dollars back into the wild faster than teens develop excuses.
Oh, and let’s not forget spending money before I even have it. Consider the upcoming tax refund? Yep, already spent.
So what do you say? Think you have what it takes?
I know some of you have the competitive spirit. If you’re worried about losing, don’t be. This is the only competition where the loser also wins. I know, I know. You’re nervous. Why? I’ve seen how you spend. You may be able to beat me. There’s only one way to find out.
Older Metallica Fans Depressed By Recent Findings
Rock Gods Metallica just became the first band to perform live on all seven continents last week. Adding icing to the cake, they accomplished this enormous feat within the last calendar year. However, the news isn’t all unicorns and rainbows. Without stating its intentions, a private polling organization released survey results which strain credulity, and frankly, are depressing.
736 randomly selected participants, ages 13-25, were given the following information and question: “Metallica just performed on on Antarctica. This means they have performed on all seven continents in 2013. What is a continent?”
- 13% answered “I don’t know”
- 36% answered “Something in space; like an asteroid, I think. Metallica sure is crazy”
- 19% answered “It’s another word for country”
- 32% answered “One of the main landmasses on the globe, usually reckoned as seven in number (Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, North America, Australia and Antarctica).
More surprising than the fact that more participants thought a continent was an off-earth body is that these young people never learned that the longest answer is usually the right one.
Nevertheless, “you can’t keep a good dog down” as they say, and the older Metallica fans are lifting themselves out of these findings’ mild depression by reminding themselves that over the last 22 years Metallica’s Black Album is the “highest-selling record in the U.S., period.”
Lights Out
Here’s the preamble: I once read a story about a Coast Guard rescue swimmer who was being lowered onto a ship to rescue the crew. The rescue swimmer was being lowered from a helicopter and the sea was angry. Next thing the guy knows, it is pitch black and very hot. He recalls that he thought maybe he had died and gone to hell. He was joking of course. Turns out they lowered him directly into a smokestack on accident. Very funny. Now that you know this story is forever in my head, we can continue.
So there I was–pulling cars out of the wash tunnel and driving them into the dry/vac stations as if I was Jeff Gordon pulling into the pits. It shouldn’t surprise anyone to learn that I drive with precision. Back wheel at the vacuum every time.
Then I run back to the tunnel, not quite a full sprint–though faster than I ever thought I’d have to move on the clock–and wait for the next car to make it past the blowers so I can climb in. Over and over again. Then it happened. (Oh, here you should know that I get my kicks out of trying to time pulling open the driver’s door precisely with the door clearing the last blower). I think the particular vehicle in this case was a Land Rover. I pull the handle and jump in. Darkness. Lights out. I can still hear, but I can’t see shit. What the hell?
Of course, my first thought is a reassuring one. I immediately think of the rescue swimmer being lowered into the hot darkness. That calms me as, like it turned out for him, I seriously doubt that the lack of light means I died. Near simultaneous to realizing what happened, a second–more pressing–thought develops: “Is anybody watching me?”
You see, I wear a stocking cap. (First, its winter. Second, I lost my hair in the war and don’t want skin cancer). It isn’t the beanie kind that when pulled on requires no fold, but the kind that when pulled all the way on almost covers your whole face. To remedy this problem, you fold a couple inches of it up. As it turns out, there is no longer any doubt that the blower is strong enough to blow the folded part of a stocking cap down. Please, really, just picture the scene. Don’t stop with picturing a grown-ass man sitting in the driver’s seat of a vehicle with a stocking cap covering his entire face. Actually attempt to see through the fabric and picture my face. The confused look. Then, pure unadulterated joy. I’m still grinning ear-to-ear now. I can’t even remember anything else that happened after that.
Shocking GOP Confession: New AR Underwear Political Tactic Gone Wrong
On Wednesday, in what can only be described as a stunning and devastating admission, GOP leaders took full responsibility for the recent controversy last weekend’s release of “Anti-Rape” underwear caused. The party, clearly in no position to risk alienating women voters, is yet again doing an about-face after choosing the wrong side of an issue. This time, however, the demand for an explanation has elicited an even more shocking revelation than simply owning up to having created the controversial AR underwear itself.
Speaking under anonymity, one leader shared, “Times are tough. The rules seem to be disappearing. We just care so much about America that we were willing to try anything. We made a mistake.”
Karen, a local feminist leader, went so far as to claim, “The creation of AR underwear is the single largest setback in the struggle for gender equality. Ever. Rape is not a woman’s fault. Period. Historians will record this as the straw that broke the GOP’s back.”
The details are still sketchy, but we now know that the GOP is, in fact, the creator and sole financial backer of the AR underwear. Constructed out of blade-resistant materials, the AR underwear is nearly impossible to remove without knowing the combination to a special locking mechanism in the waistband. Had the public blindly accepted them at face value the story might have ended there. Unfortunately for Republicans everywhere, the public didn’t accept the underwear. Public pressure mounting, one of the creators finally came forward with an explanation yesterday.
A high-ranking party member confessed, “You want to know the truth? The truth is we need liberals to stop breeding. That’s it. It’s a numbers game. To achieve this, we created a ridiculous pair of underwear that can’t be removed. Everyone involved loved it–until we realized we still needed to give liberal women a reason to wear them.” Clearly agitated, the informant then bemoaned, “Liberals are so damned captivated by the infantile desire for a life without consequences that we thought this “Anti-Rape” marketing campaign might be a winner. Boy were we wrong.”
The informant further lamented, “Everyone knows we’re desperate. We were thinking of our children. We had to try something to put them back in the majority. Regrettably, it looks as though this will be the final nail in our great party’s coffin.”
In what seems little more than a swan song, the informant assured this writer that all remaining GOP congressional and senate salaries will be donated to organizations dedicated to reducing sexual assault in America.
Come See My New Blog!
I can’t lie. I’m pretty excited about this. I’ve recently decided to create several new blogs.
While WordPress is great, I’m going to employ other hosts. Slightly different from this one, my new blogs don’t have a dedicated URL, but I think it might actually be better this way. To find them, you’re going to need to visit either OKCupid, eHarmony, or Match.com. Now, other people blog there too, so you’ll have to search for me. Since I know you like my writing already, at least a little, I’ll give you my screen name to make it easier: meanknowitall2637864473. (It’s the same for all three sites).
You’ll find that the posts will be a bit different than you’ve grown accustomed to. To be blunt, they’ll be more personal. I guess I feel this “Captain’s Log” concept is a little too lofty at times, and that that loftiness limits me from being, well, me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going anywhere, I just also want to create posts where I can really paint an accurate portrait of myself for the world to see.
Oh, and pictures. I can’t figure out how to post pictures on here, so that’s another reason for the additional blogs. On these sites you’ll be able to see pictures of me. Trust me, they will be recent and not taken from too great a distance. Along with pictures, another new feature will be a safe way to contact me. I feel like sometimes some of you would like to send a personal note, and as of now, the only way to contact me is via the not-exactly-private comments section. So there’s that to look forward to.
I guess, I’m being a little vague about the content of these new blogs. The new content is going to be written for a singular purpose. I am going to write posts that I believe will attract women to me. The posts will attract women to me so fully that they will never want to leave me–even after they discover I have major imperfections that I view as strengths.
If this is something that interests you, but you’re not a member of these sites, don’t worry. While yours is the more difficult path, all you have to do is demonstrate your devotion to me through good ol’ fashioned creativity. What do you think? Do you have what it takes?
Regardless, I’m overly flattered that you read this, though, I have to admit it is pretty good. Maybe see you soon.
Netflix Laughs Out Loudest
Groggy only began to describe his morning. This was confusing because this was the morning after he was given the gift of time. One whole hour to use as he saw fit. Like any good American, he used the time to watch movies he’d already seen. Not movie, movie-zz. He had just read Joseph Conrad’s seminal Heart of Darkness for the first time on Friday, so afterward he was motivated to re-visit Francis Ford Coppola’s seminal Apocalypse Now: Redux. Unfortunately, he didn’t possess the staying power to make it through the additional 49 minutes this version contained Friday night, so last night was the night to finish that off. Next, he felt like regretting that his relationship with his brother wasn’t that great, so he turned on Warrior. It worked. And it gave him hope that maybe someday he and his brother could have some metaphorical fight which causes them to live happily ever after until the credits scroll. Wanting to immerse himself deeper in hope, he decided–for a reason he’s never going to explore–to run with a desire for more Tom Hardy and naturally began watching TDKR. (Mother: that’s the latest Batman movie–you know, the one that came out on my birthday last year). Taking great pride in his level of discipline, even before the caped crusader made his first appearance, he realized it was late, and went to sleep.
Opening the laptop this morning then, he stared at Netflix’s homepage. Then it happened. Nirvana. The sound of his jaw hitting the floor was the only thing that brought him back. Excited beyond belief, he saw staring back at him in Netflix’s personalized “Top Ten for Pete” category Miley Cyrus and Demi Moore’s LOL. How does Netflix do it? He didn’t even know LOL was out, and yet Netflix knew to place it where he couldn’t miss it. Immediately, though, not wanting to give Netflix too much credit–they were still just a group of flawed individuals doing their best–he began unraveling the mystery. After all, he did watch Mission Impossible’s 1-4 in a ten hour window that one night. Oh, and There Will Be Blood has streamed down to his screen more than a few times. Now that he really thought about it, anyone who has watched The Avengers is sure to have a Demi Moore poster or two on their bedroom ceiling. Now he was starting to actually reconsider whether he should so readily praise Netflix. And come to think of it, he did recently read that the people behind Mel Gibson’s latest film, Get the Gringo, were coming out with a similarly flavored mother-daughter how-did-you-become-such-a-screw-up-when-I-put-all-my-energy-into-raising-you-to-not-be-just-like-me-even-though-I-am-still-a-screw-up-to-this-day chick-flick starring two females who people actively hide their children from. It seemed there was no mystery to Netflix’s methods after all.
Resigned, he closed the laptop and took his cereal bowl to the counter. “I’ll get around to it,” he thought to himself, preempting the angel that was about to tell him to just put it directly in the dishwasher.
Falling into the couch, he shed a tear. Like every other company, it seemed that Netflix was succeeding by simple logic.
****
Incidentally, if you’re not aware, here is a link to a third party site that connects directly to Netflix and actually makes sense. www.instantwatcher.com
Juxtaposing Pejorative Conventions
Sitting in class, he found himself amazed how the successful application of the words juxtapose, pejorative and convention made it abundantly clear these people were serious scholars. Try as he might, over the course of a lifetime he never would discover non-academics offering such tidbits of wisdom as, “Ghetto simply meant neighborhood. It only became pejorative in the 20th century.” Or, “I was just thinking about the ridiculous modern conventions which require us to see differences where there aren’t any.” Or, “More than simply two women having coffee together, the author juxtaposes timeless love with unsustainable passions of the flesh.”
These scholars, in their own right, were a group deserving marvel. They believed they would boldly lead humanity to the Utopian future that always sits ripe for the picking, if people would only reach for it.
Returning from a brief break, he happened upon a group of these beings that had surrounded his chair with the never-ending favorite discussion topic of Americans–diet. Quelling his nausea, he sat down and calmed himself with the reminder that the subject usually provided uncommonly hilarious statements, most often centering around rationalizing some form of a stunning lack of discipline. These intellectuals didn’t disappoint. Below is a record of the dialogue.
“Yeah, I tried doin’ the whole cook-everything-for-the-week-on-Sunday-to-try-to-eat-healthy-during-the-week thing. It just didn’t work. I ended up wasting a lot of the food.”
“Me too. I always start the week off strong, but by Wednesday I get bored with the food.”
“I agree. What I didn’t like was having to thaw things.”
Thawing.
More proof that the saying was true–“If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”
Thank The Doctor
For Paul.
Like any pilot, he feared hospitals. Any fool knew the buildings themselves were stable and not prone to injure their inhabitants, so he knew his fear must have been generated by something inside the buildings. It was. For this pilot, the doctor was the root of the fear. The doctor was the one person who could take away, without him having any say, what he worked so hard to achieve–the wonder of flight.
He couldn’t help but notice that his fear was never lonely. The other pilots feared the doctor too. More than that, he noticed that even some civilians feared entering those sterile buildings and visiting this flesh expert. “But what would give the civilians pause?” he wondered, now distracted by the thought. Quick as lightening, the horrible truth revealed itself: doctors were omnipotent.
He wondered if they knew. Perhaps they did, then again perhaps they didn’t. Prior experience told him that this wasn’t exactly the kind of information that should be shared lightly. Who could he tell? If doctors didn’t know their power, upon being told, they might begin to abuse it. But if they did know? Wow. What a benevolent group of individuals they were!
More than soldiers, more than policemen, more than politicians, more than clergy, it is doctors that hold this life ransom.
“Take this,” they say, knowing full well its a crap-shoot.
“Do that,” they command, never feeling resistance.
“You’ll live,” they pronounce so matter-of-factly that the recipient of even the worst boo-boo’s spirit is lifted.
“You’re going to die,” they deliver, never betraying whether this is good news or bad.
Truly more powerful than the caped crusader himself, these lab-coated demigods hold all of life’s keys. With a sure-grip they hold humanity’s heart in their stable hands. And yet they choose not to squeeze too tightly.
He realized, then, that it’s okay to be afraid. But he knew he should also be grateful. He should be grateful that these quiet professionals choose to meekly implement their duties with reserve. He wouldn’t allow himself to consider the other option; it was too terrible.
So go on being afraid, it’s justified. Just the same, never forget to thank the doctor.
Captain’s Log 