An Open Letter to D.C.

On my recent motorcycle trip to Florida, I was caught twice in traffic jams resulting from accidents (once a tractor-trailer went off the road under a bridge shutting down the highway for hours, later several cars all jockeying for the same lane ended up on the side of the road surrounded by cop cars and ambulances). Traffic from accidents is at least understandable if not incredibly frustrating (I managed to stay accident free on two wheels - 4 and 18 wheel drivers should have no reason to ever crash), as you can't plan for the unplannable.

However, both times through Washington D.C. I was also stuck in traffic, and that is inexcusable. How is it possible that our nation's capital has so poorly planned for the inevitable traffic in, around, and through it that at 1:00 in the afternooon on a Saturday in June it takes 2 hours to drive around the city? This is just plainly a poorly planned highway system, there's no two ways around it.

The capital of our country should be better represented by its first impressions, and the first impression of any city is its highway system. Get your shit together, D.C., and at least give the rest of us a better and easier way to avoid your congestion if we're just passing through.

OK, I feel better. Carry on.

I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

There's nothing funny about old people problems - I'm going to be an old person someday (unless I make an early withdrawl from my Smith and Wesson retirement plan) and will have old person problems of my own then. But until then, I have to share this one - Ed McMahon is in a new commercial about old people who can't get in and out of the tub by themselves. It's hilarious. It's the new "I've fallen and can't get up" but less catchy.

"Our kids worry about us getting in and out of the tub ourselves."
- Old-ass Lady

No, they don't, the last thing your kids think about is your naked and wrinkled ass getting in and out of the bathtub. Iin fact, they are probably hoping you'll finally break a hip so they can stick you in that retirement home once and for all and won't have to stop by and play checkers with you once a week.

I couldn't find it on YouTube so you'll have to watch the Discovery channel for a few minutes to see it for yourself.

It's hotter than...

The recent hot spell here in New England inspired me to tweet (oh god that's so gay) some metaphoric similies, if you will. In honor of my trip to Florida tomorrow, Here's the entire collection:

It's hotter than Rosie O'Donnell at a Sarah McLaughlin concert.

It's hotter than the tip of a blunt at a Wu Tang recording session.

It's hotter than doing tequila shots out of Tila Tequila's cooter.

It's hotter than the Bush twins at a frat party.

It's hotter than Paris Hilton's disease-ridden fire crotch.

It's hotter than a Jessica Alba / Jessica Biel sandwich.

Roadkill

I saw a skunk today, its once magnificent striped tail, harbinger of deathly smells, separated from its body and lying several feet away - like some clip-on party favour unceremoniously discarded when the party went south. "It's all fun and games until someone loses a tail". The body of the skunk wasn't quite flattened yet, its skin mostly intact keeping its nasty bits from spilling out over the roadway. The life had clearly gone from the body though - anyone who has ever looked closely upon death can easily tell if something is alive or not, whether or not the insides are out. Those movies where the characters are shocked to find out that someone in fact isn't actually dead? Pure farce. A once-living thing, deprived of its life breath, is most obviously a shell of its former self - not even representative of the sleeping or comatose version of whatever being it once was.

If you're paying attention you can tell when a plant is dying. If you've seen it before, you can see cancer in a dog without being told it's sick. The body knows it's not well and tells you, and there's no mistaking it. Hypochondriacs need only remember that when you're body is telling you something, it's not going to be vague about it.

I saw a 'possum today, completely intact, but with a red and blue and grey stain where the head once was. Its fur wavered in the light breeze, tail snaked out behind it like a piece of rope.

Some things sneak up on you though, some things fly beneath the body's defense system's radar and there's nothing you can do about them. My uncle recently went in to hospital for back pain, and came out having been told that he has only a few weeks to live. The back pain wasn't the problem, but the x-rays they took to look for the source of the pain showed that cancer was raging rampant throughout his body. He hadn't felt a thing. Within a week, his body started to shut down, and he now knows intimately that the doctors were right.

I saw a squirrel today. It had been run over so many times on the highway that the only way I could tell it had once been a squirrel was by the size of its entrail pile, flattened and blended beyond recognition by so many Michelins, Firestones, and Road Kings.

I remember the road kill I saw because it was yesterday. I haven't seen my uncle since last fall, and can't remember what he looks like. I hadn't seen him for probably 20 years before that though, so I'm glad we got to break bread when we did.

An Ode to my Sunburn

Oh sunburn, why are you so uneven?
Why did you burn my knee, my shin, but not the back of my leg?
Why do you stop in a fine, edged line...
...bordering my pale white skin,
making it seem paler...
...whiter,
Oh sunburn, why are you so uneven?
Why did you not fill in my turtle tan even though I wore a sleeveless shirt today?
...and put SPF 30 on my upper arms and shoulders?
Instead you burned my shoulders, and ignored my upper arms.
Now I have Tan - White - RED going up my arm,
like some white trash flag tattoo,
I even laid out on the beach today,
baking equally on my stomach and on my back,
but alas, t'was to no avail.
Oh sunburn, why are you so uneven?
Is it part of some consipracy to force me to pay for a tanning bed at my gym?
Oh sunburn, why are you so uneven?
Oh sunburn, why are you so UNEVEN?

Rick Shapiro is one Crazy MoFo

I just had the rare and uninterrupted experience of watching Rick Shapiro (who is infamous for showing his cock on HBO's Little Louie) perform standup in the basement of Plan B in Simsbury. "What the fuck" only begins to describe the show itself, but I have to give the man props overall because as he made his way around the small crowd of 15 (who were incidentaly bribed to watch the show with shots by my new favorite bartender Nina), mocking each for being "fags", "jews", and "barren mothers", stopped at me and gave me mad props for being the "big guy who I thought would be stupid but actually got that last joke", and went on a tirade about wishing he could hang out with me because none of his friends had his back.

I had a great night tonight. Don't worry Nina, your secret history as a cage dancer at Venus De Milo is safe with me. And thanks Suzanne - it was more fun to mock the comedians than listen to them - until, of course, they were talking about how awesome I am.

FYI - Rick Shapiro used to suck cock for heroin!!!!!

What does the moon say?

Hands bound,
Toungue tied,
There's so much to say,
But none of it is allowed.
What used to be free,
What used to be unfettered,
What used to be natural,
Now is restricted...
...limited...
...governed,
Silenced by fear...
...by rules...
...by definitions,
Of what is right...
...what wrong...
...what flows...
But it's not what she wants...
...not what I want...
...not what we want,
There's so much to say...
...so much to do...
...but the moon remains silent.

Some Notes About Unemployment

First of all, let me make it clear that I am currently unemployed by choice. I was made redundant at my last job, that part of it certainly not my preference, but I haven't started to look for work yet because I'm selling my house and am not sure when I'll be available to start working. I could get work around here any time I want (I get 4-5 calls a day with job offers), but I plan on getting as far away from frigid New England as possible, and when I say "frigid" I refer to both its winters and its women. So to all the ladies (who aren't emotionally unavailable and / or ice cold), don't take my current status as being "unemployable", rather think of me as currently "financially independent". I'll start working again later, don't you worry, and then I'll have plenty of cash to throw around to prove to you that I'm a viable mate (but make no mistake, my cash gets spent on me from now on, and only me).

That out of the way, here are some things I've learned while unemployed:

1. People with jobs are pretentious. They are always too busy to chat, and get annoyed when you call them to shoot the shit while they are at work. Oh, too busy to return an e-mail are you? Whatever.
2. You think your work day is long? Try spending it at home with nothing much to do, waiting for your friends to get home from work so they'll actually talk to you on the phone.
3. People are more attached to their jobs than they will ever care to admit, and when it comes right down to it will sell their soul to the devil that is their employer rather than stand up for what they believe in. I can say this because standing up for what I believe in was what got me unemployed. Hell, I wasn't even JUST standing up for me, I also represented the guys who worked for me, clearly earning me no admiration from those in whose hands my fate was held. Those guys? Still gainfully employed, working feverishly to help my former employer survive his decision to kick me out onto the street by implementing the redundancy plan for him. See item #4.
4. You learn who your friends really are when you lose your job. People will feel bad for you and hang out with you to get you out of the house even if they'd rather not, but they'll only go so far. Nobody has any principle anymore. Or loyalty, for that matter. The same guys who you stood up for day in and day out, who you lobbied to get raises for, to keep on the payroll even when they outlasted their usefulness - those guys will help your former employer twist the knife in your back rather than have to think about finding other work.
5. The friends that will support you are never the ones you thought they would be.
6. If it wasn't for TiVo and the Discovery channel, there would be NOTHING to watch on TV during the day.

That's all for now. Now if you'll excuse me, Discovery channel is running a special on the marmut that I simply can't miss.

Grind my Gears

Here's something that really grinds my gears: when people use the horn in their car to say "Hi", or "Hey Frank, look over here!", or "Look at me, I'm driving a Mini!". When I'm out there on the pavement on two wheels, hearing a horn increases my heart rate, puts me into survival mode, and causes me to start scanning all around me for threats. Cell phones are for saying "Hi" moron, lay off the horn until you really mean it. Like when there's a Mack truck barrelling out of control down the highway. Or Grandpa fell asleep with his foot on the accelerator. Again.

You know what else grinds my gears? The use of the word "Super" to describe something, usually in a military context like "Super Carrier" or "Super Hornet". Every time you build version 2 of something, it's going to be better than the previous version, otherwise you're doing it wrong. That means it's inherently "Super" compared to its predecessor. Giving it that explicit name is retarded, not to mention short-sighted. What's next? "Super-excellent"? Unless you're Japanese, lay off the word "Super" unless you're being ironic.

And something else that grinds my gears? When I can't find the 'droids I'm looking for.

Edit: For those of my dear readers who have never driven a standard, it's BAD when you grind the gears, mmmmmm-kay?

And another thing...

I am not your sense of responsibility. I am not your moral compass. I am not your conscience, your guardian angel, or your bodyguard.

I am not your mother, your father, your big brother, or your uncle Tom.

I am not the all-seeing, all-dancing crap of the world.

I have my own problems, and I don't see you helping me with them. You get what you give, and I give what I get. Of course that has to start somewhere and I'll give you the benefit of the doubt at first - innocent until proven guilty - but you're being graded here, and there's no curve in the classroom of life.

If you aren't cutting it as an adult, that's not my problem. I care, I wish it was different, but you're going to have to sort it out in the end. I'll do what I can, but if that's not good enough then clearly, by definition, I can't do any more.

It's time to grow up, meine liebschoen. It's time to face life with the benefit of the wisdom you were supposed to be accumulating those myriad of years you've been on the planet. If you haven't been paying attention in class, then you'll fail the test. That's the way life works.

There are no Cliff Notes for this one.

This is your life. And it's ending one minute at a time.