Tagged: relationships
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.
Why I Hate Blogging
“No, ‘hate’ is not too strong,” he said, raising his voice. “I think it is perfectly descriptive. I. Hate. Blogging.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it gives me hope,” he lamented. “I hate that I sit there, typing away on those loud keys, pouring out myself in words, and afterward I discover a few other humans ‘like’ or ‘follow’ the blog.”
“Not makin’ sense friend.”
“Okay, let me put it this way,” he continued laboriously. “I feel alone in the world sometimes. You know, the whole ‘misunderstood’ crap people talk about? Yeah, that’s how I feel sometimes-”
“We all do, dude.”
“-Right. But there is a difference. I can write. I can communicate myself to others. I can waive a flag letting people know ‘I’m alive. If you are, too, let me know.’ Not everyone can do that. So I started writing. I started putting myself out there–no holding back. I even wrote a post which taught some of my senior-citizen followers a new curse-word, which I have since made private because it was so shameful.”
“The ol’ ‘fucktard’. I remember that one.”
“Yeah. Anyhow, every once in a while people respond favorably. I was shocked that people responded at all. So, you can imagine how it feels when people respond favorably. More than favorably, sometimes people will comment in a way that shows they got it. And in getting it they get me.”
“I see, Pete. I see. You hate blogging because it gives evidence that there are people out there who get you. But, you think this doesn’t really count, because you only know this via the computer. And this digital evidence, as it were, downgrades it to little more than hope.”
“Exactly. See, that’s why I’m telling you this. You get me. I get you. But I don’t feel like there’s many others out there. And so this blog, then, is little more than the force that propels the emotional pendulum which swings from ‘Hey, life’s great. It’s filled with people who live on this planet’ to ‘how is this world even self-sustaining?'”
“Well, as you know, I don’t know what to tell you. Cheer up. I like reading your stuff. It makes me laugh.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks.”
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.
Life Without Money
No, he didn’t mean to conjure up some imagination-land inspired by John Lennon. He simply meant to capture some observations about life. Sometimes he had lots of money, and sometimes he had just enough money. He figured this made him similar to other people.
Of late, he found himself in the “just enough money” category.
Maybe it was just him, but when he had lots of money his problem was perfection. In both situations he spent all that he had, but when the dollar amounts were great, he took time away from some things he now values tremendously to find “the perfect” item. First, the perfect piano (really, it is amazing). Second, the perfect guns. Then there was the baseball phase. He bought the authentic Babe Ruth replica mitt. He found the greatest soft-toss machine, and accompanied it with an on-the-field hitting net the MLB itself uses in spring training. And just before the money ran out he bought the perfect motorcycles. One black-and-chrome American classic, and one dirt-cheap faux sport-bike. Not to mention the top of the line protective gear.
Had he stayed in that position, his next plan to relieve himself of money was race-car driving lessons. Yep, it was going to be great. Oh, and not that he was the boastful type, but this was on top of saving for college, having a nice home etc. But today? Today, he doesn’t plan out his expenditures. He pays for what needs to be payed for. And there’s something more. It’s difficult to describe, but for him there is a very tangible, attractive quality to the dream of returning to wealth. It’s almost as if he finds the dream of wealth more gratifying than the possession of wealth. There are times when he really, really, really hopes to have lots of money again. Sadly, though, he knows that when he does, the dream will end.
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.
The Building Block
Greetings! How’s everyone doing this morning? It is great to see you today. Let me say that I know you’re taking a risk by attending the first-ever sermon of this church. Thank you. Before we get started, I want to take stock and simply remind you that I love you and I’m glad you decided to show up this morning. What’s that? Yes sir, even you.
I love you because you are.
Alright, I feel pretty good today. How’d you like the music? Pretty great, no? I love those songs we sang today. I love that we always sing four songs. Did you notice how the first three songs crescendo’d and then we ended on a slow one? Yep, that’s on purpose. The music director put a lot of effort coming up with that formula. Oh, I suppose that’s not entirely true. He’s just doing what he grew up doing. The point is, it works. Who isn’t in the mood for a message of hope?
Okay then. How much time do I have? By my guess you’re expecting about 30-minutes in your seats, you’ll be happy if I wrap-up in 20, and you’ll give me a 10-minute grace period if I’m on a roll. Sound about right? Okay, now that we’re on the same page, let’s get to it.
Jesus. The reason for the season as they say. History tells us he existed. At least as much as any person of history existed. The truth is, though, there’s not much support for his existence outside of the bible; John the Baptist actually receives more pointed attention. Oddly enough, this strengthens his message in a way. That’s the beauty of it.
Okay, before we can go anywhere, the inescapable question each of us must answer is this, “Can I trust another person?” Like all of you, I was born a trusting human. Then one day I was hurt. One day someone broke my trust. I don’t remember who did it or any specific moment that it happened, but I’d put money on it having been one of my parents. Or maybe both of them; it’s really just a numbers game. People hurt each other. The people we’re around most will likely be the people who hurt us the most. In either case, for many years afterwards, I unconsciously, then consciously, chose to not trust anyone else.
“Can I trust another person?” Like any great question, the best part about this question is that you are the only one who can answer it. No one can answer it for you.
So I’m going to continue talking for a bit up here, and I’m hoping you don’t think it is a waste of time. More than that, I’m hoping that you find that you’re glad you came. I say this to emphasize that in the end you determine you’re level of involvement. These are big questions; questions that are not to be taken lightly. You’re an adult. No one can make up your mind for you.
Do you know that I’m not even going to say anything new today? That’s right. There’s nothing new to say. You’ve heard the message many times before. I just happen to be part of a group of people who think it is worth repeating. And by your being here this morning, I take it you don’t mind hearing the good news again either.
So what do you think? Can you trust another person?
I’m going to take a risk and tell you that I believe that if we’re all human, if we’re all made of the same parts, then the way I feel must be similar to the way you feel. And if you’re like me, that means that you are silently screaming out in answer, “Yes! There’s nothing I want more than to be able to trust other people again!” That’s what goes through my head most of the time. The remaining time is spent longing to be able to trust myself again.
Today, to start this relationship off right I simply want to share with you that I believe there is hope for us. I believe there is hope for us, but like a fire, this hope needs fuel. This hope-fire won’t start unless each of us deliberately carry some wood to it. Any boy scout will tell you that a fire needs three things. Fuel, oxygen and spark. We need to bring the fuel. Now, nobody needs to do any heavy lifting; instead like any fire, this fire must begin with tinder. Tinder is the smallest of fuels: twigs, leaves, lint, paper, mostly twigs. And the metaphorical twig that you need to carry is making the decision to trust a certain someone.
I know. I know, I know, I know. Believe me I know. 2000 years is a lot of time. The people who have professed Jesus to be trustworthy have really mucked things up. I also know that today, there are still beliefs circulating in His name that strain an educated mind. That’s not what I’m talking about right now. Right now I’m talking about sifting through the entirety of history until only Jesus of Nazareth remains. What did he say? What did he teach?
He taught that people, each of us, make mistakes.
There are a whole lot of synonyms for “mistakes”, like “sin”, that carry a lot of baggage. Maybe in the end it will prove valuable to keep the word and the baggage. Today, I’m asking you to let go of the baggage.
We make mistakes. And we’re going to keep making mistakes. But Jesus taught that if we simply acknowledge our imperfect status, we will inherit what he called “the kingdom of heaven.” Stay with me for a minute. Remember, this is a man who really walked the earth. He lived in a context. The people he preached to understood what that phrase meant. Today, it is not so simple. Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? Fun questions, but not appropriate to today. Today, I am concerned with another part of this “kingdom of heaven” that he talked about. He taught that it exists both in the future and right now. Right now, here in the present, the kingdom of heaven is attainable.
So what is the kingdom of heaven? I have no idea. I don’t. Jesus had a hard time defining it. He’d use parables. He’d use metaphors. Here’s my favorite. “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.” I love it because I can’t figure out why the man would hide the treasure after finding it. Every once in a while I get glimpses of why he would do that, but I’m sure that I would have just taken it and ran.
Speaking plainly, I think of achieving the kingdom of heaven as being able to transcend this life. Transcend meaning to go-beyond this life, to rise above the petty problems and realize the situation with a full awareness. But I don’t really know. All I can offer is that there is a certain peace that I have only ever felt when I trust that Jesus was right.
That’s it folks. That’s all for today. In a moment we’ll sing a couple more songs.
If there’s one thing I want to be clear about it is that this church is going to be based on action. We’re going to have these weekly services which will follow the format you’ve seen this morning: music, preaching, music. They’ll always be that format. Different perhaps than other churches is the fact that there will always be a meal afterwards. Jesus seemed to almost always be eating when he was teaching, so we’re going to mimic that. Also, to emphasize that while sharing the good news is our mission, almost equally important to me, because it appears to have been to Him, is fellowship–so I’m capping this particular church at 200 members. That’s plenty of people to fellowship with. If we get bigger than that, the way we’ll know it’s for the right reasons is because one of us else will step up to lead another version/branch. Jesus told his followers to share the message, but if people reject it, move on. If we never have more than the 30 of us here this morning, that’s fine with me and I’m not going to fret about it. This isn’t about numbers, it isn’t about buildings. It is about people.
Lastly, it won’t always be me up here. Anytime you want to share, just let me know and we’ll get you on the calendar.
This is real life folks. The only one we get. I think it’ll be more fulfilling to live it with each other. If you agree, stick around for the meal and maybe come back next week.
Music Director – lead us in something that’ll immerse us in an introspective mood.
Tomorrow’s Post
I’ve seen this technique used by other bloggers. Writing in italics let’s you know that it’s me speaking and not…me. Either way, I like it. It’s just a short post today, as I want to get to work on tomorrow’s post now. Tomorrow is for me. If I succeed, it may be for you too. I’m going to challenge myself to be vulnerable in a way that I have never been. It is my version of ‘be the solution, not the problem.’
As some of you can tell, recently I have been attending church. It’s the first time in nearly a decade. I never stopped reading and thinking about the whole concept while I was away, and now that I’m back, I’ve discovered that there are some tenets that are difficult to accept. In voicing my criticisms, I feel like a whiner, a critic. That’s got to stop. Tomorrow’s post then, will be my ideal sermon. The trouble is that it isn’t coming as easy as I’d like it to. I have realized this is a very, very personal business. How does one reveal to others one’s most intimate beliefs? I don’t know but it sounds like fun, so I’m going to try. Hope you enjoy.
(Normal posts (ha) will resume Thursday if this isn’t your thing).
Overrun The Runway
He hadn’t flown in a couple of years now, but it was time to renew his flight instructor certificate. The process involved reviewing a series of lessons and special interest items before taking quizzes to demonstrate mastery of the material.
As he didn’t really plan on flying again, he was doing this strictly to “be prepared.” He had worked hard to get the certification, and didn’t want to lose it if he didn’t have to. Who knew? Maybe he’d change his mind in the future. Regardless, the point is that he reviewed the data with curiosity, rather than practical application. The thing about aviation, the thing which he loved–and missed–the most, was the dedication of all involved to “doing it right.”
The noteworthy finding this time was the conclusion that overrunning the end of the runway on a botched takeoff is safer than trying to force an aircraft to fly. He loved it. What a metaphor! You see, he knew that a major reason pilots would choose to force an aircraft to fly was to save face. That’s it. Overrunning the runway on takeoff will inevitably lead to embarrassment–though likely not much else. And if there has ever been a group of individuals who would rather die than suffer embarrassment, it is pilots.
As he knew, as the reader knows, forcing the metaphorical aircraft to fly in grounded-life won’t cause death. But it does cause drama. And who among us doesn’t know someone who would rather create drama, than suffer embarrassment? He tallied how many times in recent memory he tried to “force the aircraft to fly.” How many times had he crashed and burned in life because he didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment that would have followed if he would’ve just put on the brakes and let his momentum peter out?
He’s asking us, “How many relationships could be deepened–or healed–if we made the decision to “overrun the runway” every once in a while?”
Blonde Guy Joke
The three men sat, legs dangling over the unfinished building’s ledge. It was lunchtime. Diaz opened his lunch to discover a burrito waiting for consumption. He lamented to his friends O’Shay and Jones, “Man, I hate burritos. Everyday I open up my lunch, and everyday there is a burrito. In fact, I hate burritos so much that if I find a burrito in this thing tomorrow, I’m jumping off.” Surprisingly, this little rant did not rattle O’Shay and Jones.
O’Shay opened his lunch next. Dejected, he cried, “Are you kiddin’ me? Corned beef and cabbage?! Again? I’m with you Diaz. If I find this in my lunch tomorrow, I’m jumping off.”
Smiling happily, Jones unwrapped his lunch. It was a bologna sandwich on white bread. “I can’t believe it. How many years have I been eating bologna on white bread? I’m with you fellas. Tomorrow, if this is in my lunch again, I’m jumping.”
The next day, the lunch buzzer sounded and the three men went to the edge of the building to eat. Always first to go, Diaz opened his lunch. A burrito. “Well guys. My word is my bond. I said I’d jump, so I’m jumping.” O’Shay and Jones didn’t talk much after that, instead they occupied themselves with their meals. Upon opening his lunch, O’Shay looked resignedly into Jones eyes and said, “Well Jones, I hope you have more luck than us. I’m staring at corned beef and cabbage, yet again. It’s time.” And off the ledge he went. On his own now, Jones went about opening his lunch as normal. “I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said. “Bologna on white bread. Diaz…O’Shay…wherever you are, it looks like you don’t have to wait long to see me again.” And off the ledge he went.
Their wives decided to combine the three funerals into one since the guys were nearly inseparable while alive. It was a nice service. Brief, but nice.
Now, the wives heard through the grapevine what other construction workers had overheard their husbands say. Diaz’s wife spoke up first. “If only he would have told me he didn’t want anymore burritos, I would’ve made him something else.” Next was O’Shay’s wife. “I know what you mean. He had never complained about his lunch before. If I would have known he was sick of corned beef and cabbage, I would’ve made him something else.” The two women looked inquisitively into Jones’ wife’s eyes. Did she have the same remorse? The same guilt? Barely able to find the space between sobs to squeeze out the words, she finally said, “He packed his own lunch!”
The Reason Angels Have Hands In Addition To Wings
It happened back in the early 2000s. He couldn’t remember the year exactly, but for some reason he remembered seeing a PT Cruiser drive by when she said it. They were eating at a restaurant, him and his woman. She had just spilled some food on her favorite pair of pants. He was not surprised. Hell–by this time detergent companies had specifically developed pen-size on-the-go cleaner in an effort to save relationships. And on this occasion his girlfriend said, “What’s the point of trying to not spill if I have a Tide-stick in my purse? They work wonders!” Unintended consequences as they are, the invention of Tide-sticks resulted in women, his girlfriend included, becoming more daring while eating.
What happened next was unbelievable. Women everywhere just gave up on trying to not spill while eating. At first this was all silly. He would even find himself laughing at all the funny ways women would splink. Splinking–that’s what they called it. Women would intentionally miss their mouth in the most nonsensical situation possible and capture the result on camera. Like planking and duckface before it, the photrend caught on quickly. In the first month, the major social media players actually shutdown for an entire day because of the unexpected traffic. People weren’t laughing for very long though. What no one seemed to notice was that women weren’t eating as much food anymore. Weren’t-eating-as-much-food, quickly became weren’t-eating-enough-food. Sadly, unable to resist the Western-trend, the third world suffered the initial blow. Never had the planet seen such merciless loss of life. Inevitably, all eyes turned upward.
Make no mistake, God was aware of the situation. He just hadn’t exactly prepared for this. Finally, Michael spoke up.
“I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“All these eons, I’ve trusted in your infinite wisdom. Specifically, I tried to never complain that you gave the humans hands, while we only got wings. But with the situation they’ve got themselves into down there, I can’t stand idly by anymore. It’s time God. Give us–your messengers of mercy–hands. With hands we’ll be able to answer their prayers.”
“I don’t think I follow.”
“Here’s how it’ll work. We’ll be waiting and watching for the female humans to take a bite. Then, as the food falls we’ll fly in and reach out, with our new additional appendages, to save the falling food. In that same instant, we’ll return it to the plate and they’ll never know we intervened. After a couple miraculous interventions, they’re sure to catch on. It’s the only way.”
In the next moment Michael and the other heralds were happily dashing around the planet using their new hands to ensure women reached satiation.
It worked.
He thought enough time had passed, so he finally delivered his joke, “You know hon…I always said it would take an act of God for a woman to eat a meal without spilling.”
“Not funny.”
He was wrong.
Captain’s Log 