31 January 2011

The Nature of Humor

Are Jokes for Good or Evil?

Received a number of letters lately asking that we put something funny on here for a change. "For a change." How do you like that? Is dat a shot?

Rather than respond by actually writing something funny, which is not as easy as it looks, and in any case goes against the basic principles for which our forefathers fought and died in movies such as Saving Private Brian, instead we present another boring and pointless essay on the nature of humor.

Is dirt funny? Usually.

Is a tree funny? Seldom.

Is that piece of ham on your neck funny? Indubitably, and being stuck there by mayonnaise makes it doubly so.

Is funny a human right? Yes. No. Wait, maybe. I don't know. What's with all the questions, anyway?

I'll ask the questions here. Last one: What is the meaning of funny?
Funny does not mean anything. Funny is to chortle, or to be amused, or to see the humor in. Funny comes from the discontinuity between continents and incontinence. Banana peals of delight. A pox of laughter on your house. Wait, that's not funny. Wait what's funny again?

(Blather. Blintz. Retweet.)

24 January 2011

The Two Year Anniversary in Office of The Historic First Gangly President

In 2008 in a major historic first, the American people (whatever that means) put aside their age-old subconscious prejudices and elected a gangly man to the office of President of the United States. I am proud to be the first president who can be described as gangly, even lanky, said the tall, lean, chest-forward-shoulders-back president, who is relatively thin and also long-limbed, at his historic first inauguration. He said something like, We've had husky -- and look where that's gotten us. I say it's time to get lanky, and I'm gonna go ahead and get seriously lanky on this [deleted] office of the president (and shit). Of course we're paraphrasing here, he didn't really say that. Wish we could report what he did say, because your jaw would've hit the floor. Suffice to say ain't never been a gangly mother elected president, and if this one don't live up to the hype, the tremendous weight of expectations on them gangly shoulders, it might be a generation before we can elect another. And gee whiz, is that really fair?

Gangly Rights Organizations, if any existed, would have to be ecstatic at this development, as it reflects well on their kind and represents the culmination of their long hard struggle to get whatever it is gangly people can't get, so that they can have access to everything non-gangly people have, which we so often take for granted, those of us who are more, um, regularly proportioned, that is, relatively low on the lanky scale, if you hear what I'm sayin.

Mr. Obama also appears to be the first black president, which was not missed by the major news organizations, they kind of beat it to death. Some people are obsessed with that shit I guess -- whatever. The presidential archives have been thoroughly rechecked to see if there might have been a black president before, maybe one everybody forgot about, but so far no word of any previous black presidents, which would clearly make him the first black president to complete half his term in office, and also the first whose last name starts and ends with a vowel, as well as the first president to really grow up with the Brady Bunch, and (this writer must confess) the first who is just so flat out cool and amazing, it's like o my god the presence thing is just out of this world, he's the first dreamsicle president! And uh, he's the first to have made his own Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, the first to have paid to play Space Invaders, he's got a great motor and he runs the court well, he really has a knack for utilizing space and creating angles to generate open looks, in fact one might go so far as to say that this president executes the pick and pop better than any chief executive since Millard Fillmore.

Excuse me, I've got a call coming in on the other line. This is Dennis Platen, at the Alamodome.

13 January 2011

The Purpose

Some have inquired as to The Purpose of this ... whatever it is. A funny little question of no interest to most, but let's entertain it for a half-hour, for starters.

Please select from the following (men, you):

The purpose of this web-based entity is to earn a lot of money (or "revenue") for a large corporate conglomerate. If it fails to reach revenue targets for more than two consecutive quarters it will be shut down, and hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, good honest hardworking folks much like yourself but without the shin splints, will lose their jobs. Please give generously.

The purpose of this site is (hereby declared that it is) to provide an on-line forum for the exchange of ... whatever ... between ... certain uninterested parties ... de facto.

The purpose of this site is dedicated to the many unanswered questions surrounding nine one one. Especially the disturbing, generally ignored questions like: Who were those guys? and What the hell happened?

Later, the site was Founded as part of the latest federal stimulus plan to put millions of Americans back to work again while making an investment in a secure, energy-independent future for our children, rebuilding critical infrastructure while at the same time raising the level of discourse within the national conversation, stirring up the stew if you like, without butting in or saying something that might offend somebody, and without raising your taxes, to reinject an infusion of reinvigoration into that grandest of projects: the healing of our society, the reconstruction of the commons (as it were), the re-re-vindication of our national greatness, and, if we are half as blessed as we have to hope we must be, the triumph of the loftiest possible rhetoric.

Also, and most importantly, there are still many humans who are single, and it is hoped that this weblog can provide a comfortable and sufficiently seductive virtual space for them to meet, mingle, and start having sex together ... and maybe one day get married.

D. All of the above. The site has no purpose whatsoever. It has no goal, vision, or aim. Insofar as it came into existence it can be said to be functioning as a sounding board, allowing a select few to blow off some steam before they do any(thing) serious(ly) revolting. It could be shut down at any time and all of its readers rounded up for interrogation (or worse). We're not saying it's likely, we just think you should know the risks of reading any further, going in. It's a crazy [deleted] world we live in, man.

Your comments, though unlikely to appear here unedited, are welcome. They are read and given due consideration before I take out the best parts and pretend I wrote it myself. A word to the wise.

01 January 2011

What Time Is It?

At this important time of the year, it is time that we ask ourselves, What time is it? The following are among the sixteen acceptable answers to this deceptively simple question.

It's 6:42 and sunny, the traffic is good and there's some leftover paella in the fridge if you're hungry.

It is time to shrink wrap the size of government, and either privatize or eliminate many government services such as magical treehouses, subsidized banks, and roving navies.

Speaking of which, it is high time for us to end this war. It has cost enough in blood and treasure. The loss of one more life, although difficult to value precisely, is not worth the marginal benefit of killing the poor guy who will have to die if this pointless war is to continue taking human lives, for one more minute of one more day. This war must be ended today. No not just today but now, right now this second, hurry up and end this damn war already so we can watch the game in peace.

It is time now to do the things we cannot do, to achieve the unachievable, to expect the unexpected and to befuddle the unbeknownst, to set out on the path that we one day hope our children will inherit the keys to the gate to, and bravely muddle our way forward down the long and winding road, into the future that is racing toward us with each passing second, bringing new challenges but also opportunities, make no mistake, there will be hardtack, but there will also be fried foods my friends, there will also be fried foods. Now is the time for heroism and saviors, for the laughter of sycophants and the grumbling of the boneless, this is the precise moment when we must employ the loftiest possible rhetoric, soaring ever higher than an eagle's wings, skimming the mountaintops on which the castles of the palaces of freedom and justice are built, on which equality yearns for an open sea, an endless rolling prarie of vegetable gardens and mixed use housing with parks for the children, world-class entertainment and shopping easily accessible by modern public transportation, until the time comes when we as a people, as a nation and a united continent, on behalf of all the peoples of the world and all the carbon-based life forms on our planet and possibly in all the universe, can say enough, enough, this has gone on long enough.

Now that you mention it, it's time for me to sit back, kick my feet up and open up a nice bottle of cheese.

Ah, for those who insist on living in the present perhaps what time is it may seem an important question, but for those of us obsessed with understanding the past so as to project the future, the more interesting questions are what time was it and what time will it be, later?

We have become dangerously dependent on a continuous stream of information. It is time that we as a people start to turn off our tvs, our cell phones and our smart pads, disconnect from our internet, turn off the home phone if you have one and unplug your radios, drive out of town a ways and enter a cave somewhere, or swim to the bottom of a lake, blow out all the candles, and seal our eyes, noses and ears over with wax, so that we can filter out all unnecessary stimuli and really have a chance to get a clear vision of who we are as a people, what we value in life, what kind of world we want to build, where we should build this new world and how can we pass it on to our children without paying the estate tax.

It's time to publish this nonsense right quick right now, before someone else steals the idea and uses it to make millions of dollars that could have been mine, mine, all mine I tell ya.

There are several other (known) acceptable answers to the question 'What time is it, bro?' See if you can give two of them, in the Comment box below.