Sock it to me!
If I were walking down a dark, dank alleyway, trying to make a shortcut to the next block and
encountered a strange person with a knife, I would think I was going to die. If I were a soldier,
crawling trough the jungles while bullets whizzed past me like angry bees, I would be pretty sure I was
going to meet my maker. But if I were in a K-Mart, looking to pick up a nice pair of cotton tube socks,
I would consider myself in a safe haven free from the rigors of rigamortis.
I would be wrong.
Stephen Pribut, a podiatrist at George Washington University, who cannot tell a lie, has reported that
we should avoid cotton socks at all costs. "Don't even dream of it." He continues, "You may not use
cotton socks. If you are going to use a $2 pair of socks, forget it." And that, as they say, is that.
Apparently when you wear cotton socks while engaging in heavy activity like basketball or trying to
take over a small country, those socks capture moisture and hold it close to the skin, allowing it to
prune and blister. When worn for a prolonged period of time an infection can occur which ultimately
could kill you.
What is this world coming to? How can one consider themselves safe when a simple thing like a sock
can perform first degree homicide? Your mother always used to warn about wearing clean underwear
but this whole sock thing has shockingly come out of the faceless blue. What can a person do to avoid
this unhappy offing by a piece of pediatric underwear? Never fear. Seems Dow-Corning has a
solution.
Teflon coated socks are considered the apex of sock technology nowadays. Wait a minute, Teflon? We
can cook non-stick eggs on our socks now? Pribut (Jeez, what a name) explained that Teflon socks
actually use the motion of walking to pump the evil moisture away from the foot, keeping it dry. Uh,
yeah. Automatic socks, I got ya. Anyway, this man goes on to say we should spend a minimum of
eight dollars for a decent pair of socks that will not, in the least, try to kill us.
Eight bucks? For a pair of SOCKS? Now, I am unfortunately one of those folks who have to have the
best of any type of thing. Until now I have been happy with a couple of clams for a pair of white
socks. NOW some loose lipped foot dude from a lame ass University says I need to spend four times
that amount or I'm going to DIE? Where is this guy? I'll show him another good use for an eight-dollar
pair of socks!
I'm not usually a violent person and do apologize for the unpleasantness here but I'm going to grab a
pair of wet cotton socks, slap them puppies on and kick this podiatrist right in the Pribut. I'm sure he
meant well by giving his conclusion to the world but this is clearly an open mouth insert foot issue and
he needs to go quietly into that good night. Permanently.
Then again if this warning is indeed true then I suppose it would be appropriate to change a few lines
in a favorite nursery rhyme.
This little piggy went to the market; this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this
little piggy had none. And this little piggy went Weee Weeee Weeee like Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho
when Norman kills Janet Leigh in the shower scene, run if you can little piggy! I'm coming to get you
little piggy! Run! Ha Ha Ha! I'm going to kill you! Die! Die! Die!
Donating to the Cause
Everyone in their life has gone to a convenience store for a bag of chips or a pack of cigarettes and
found that they are short by a penny. This annoying happenstance occurs so often that the solution
most businesses resort to is almost part of American culture. It's called a penny jar. If you take a
penny, leave a penny later on. I have found myself praying upon the kindness of a faceless stranger by
taking a small loan of two or three cents. I also have been known to "donate to the cause" and drop off
a nickel every once in awhile.
The penny jar is a staple in the sociological infrastructure of this great nation called the U. S. of A.
Without it we may as well wear swastikas.
Well, start working on that new summer wardrobe because in Cape Girardeau, Missouri the iron cross
is coming. That's right. The penny jars have gone dry. Like the mighty dinosaur, pennies have become
extinct.
There is a shortage of the little brown discs that has gotten so bad that local banks are paying 10%
premiums to anyone depositing pennies. They don't even have to roll them. Department stores and
other shops are pleading and begging in tear-ridden voices for exact change. And yes, the penny jar at
convenience stores have surreptitiously removed the take a penny part of their advertisement. People
are now only allowed to leave a penny, preferably more than one.
It is a sad day indeed. Think about the hardships these poor, folks are going through. Children,
walking through the schoolyard years ago could look to the ground, find a penny and sing that magical
incantation, "See a penny, pick it up. All day long you'll have good luck!" and happily skip off to the
convenience store to donate to the cause. Nowadays that same penny could conceivably incite a riot
such has the world has never seen. The city government realized this and called for federal aid.
After being on hold for several hours they reached an automated voice system that explained the
pennies would be delivered by June 1, 1999. The President of the Mercantile Bank, through a fit of
tears from either agony of sheer, unabated laughter pointed a crooked, banker's finger at Joe and Jane
Q. Public. He said that people take pennies in their change and then store them like squirrels. No, not
in their cheeks. That would be gross. They keep them in huge water jugs or that strange otherworldly
life form that I understand is called a "piggy bank". In any case, people are simply not sharing their
pennies like good boys and girls. They are not putting their two cents in.
A wise man once said, "united we stand, divided we fall". We must not divide our five hundred-year
history on some unconscious whim to have enough pennies to sew a suit of armor. We need to drop
our delusions that we can collect every penny ever pressed at the Denver Mint. Our absentminded
misbehavior in this financial arena is leading to the systematic defabrication of the country. It is
imperative we help these people. Please send pennies to Cape Girardeau, Missouri as soon as possible.
You're never going to have enough pennies to purchase a car. One that runs anyway. So give it up and
give it up. I will be opening a foundation for the penny needy in Cape Girardeau so that this problem
may be successfully put behind us.
I'm calling it Pennies from Heaven. Please give and give often.
Thank you.
Nooky and Cranny
Hey, you hear President Clinton is learning a new musical instrument? Yeah, he's dropped that old hat
saxophone and taken up that whore Monica. Get it? Whore Monica? Harmonica. Oh nevermind.
I love that joke. All jokes alluding to sex are funny to me. However be careful, Tell that joke to Laura
Onate-Palacios and you're liable to get a punch in the eye. She doesn't like sex jokes. She doesn't like
people talking about sex. She doesn't like people thinking about sex. She feels that sex is an evil, vile
thing that needs to be reduced to a simple procreative undertaking and that's that.
She's the anti-Dr. Ruth.
Anti-Ruth claims she isn't anti sex, she's just anti extra marital sex. I understand her point but she has
taken this little thought of hers straight to the people. She's looking to get something close to five
hundred thousand signatures to have a law drawn up that will make pre and extra marital sex illegal.
Punishable by fine or jail time. She says that divorce rates are so high because of extra marital sex and
that has damaged the sanctity of the American home and that it needs to stop.
She blames Bill Clinton and his Zippergate snafu as being the poster child for the whole "little bit on
the side" movement. Thus her hatred for Clinton sex jokes. She's looking for volunteers to organize
their own movement against adulterers. Ms. Onate-Palacios believes she will get her quota of
signatures and deeply feels she has millions of silent supporters out there. I don't think so. In fact, I
think she's alone in this whole thing. Reason: She lives in CALIFORNIA. They INVENTED
extra-marital sex for God's sake! If she thinks she can plop down half a million John Hancocks who
seriously believe in her cause then I have a few other things I'd like her to take a crack at.
Perpetual motion, nuclear disarmament, the ozone layer, who killed Kennedy, just to name a scant
few.
Now, cheating on your loved one is wrong. It is a bad thing and shouldn't be done to the person you
love. That said. EVERYONE DOES IT! It isn't a conscious decision doing this. It's an instinct thing.
Mammals are all like this. Lions, gorillas, marmosets, squirrels, horses, chinchillas, everyone. Birds are
monogamous; reptiles are strictly a one lizard kind of beast. Humans, harem city. It seems to me that
the uptight, tart should pipe down and head for either Las Vegas or the islands and get laid. Anyone
who even thinks about outlawing extra marital sex is bad enough but when they start talking about
PRE marital then they're immediately on my hit list.
It goes, as no surprise to learn that Ms. Onate-Palacios is divorced. Twice. Both previous husbands
cheated on her, forcing her into California's second biggest pastime after extra marital sex...therapy.
Even her current husband thinks she's crazy for trying something like this. He isn't alone. But, loyal to
the last, he is standing by her. Actually he's standing in the shadows just behind and to the left so his
buddies won't see him and laugh. She is thus far undeterred in her conviction though. "It doesn't seem
to me to conform to California's attitude and sense of tolerance and openness concerning sex." She
said in an interview. True, conformity can be a negative trait but one way to avoid that conformation is
to not subject yourself to that realm of thought. In short, MOVE! Until then.
When in Rome. Do as the Romans do.
Java Scripture
Anyone have young kids who absolutely refuse to do what you tell him or her to do? You tell them to
take a bath; they go running naked in the backyard in a desperate attempt to avoid cleansing. You tell
them to mow the yard, they continue to watch t.v. or tell you they have to do homework. I don't have
kids but I used to be one of those naked, TV watching children. (Some say I still am but let's not go
there.) And one time I had a conversation with a mother who claimed that the child she gave birth to
was not the tempestuous clutter of skin and bones rip sawing through her living room. I laughed with
her, ducking as the child tosses unmentionable things around the room. The mother's name was
Rosemary. I don't think it was a coincidence.
Anyway, I have found where, in fact, this child came from. He was a Baduay.
The Baduay is a reclusive tribe of people who have not changed one single iota since they claimed the
highland jungles of the nation of Java in 1578. They hate everything. Well, to put it to more fine a
point they hate everything and nothing. It's one of those Hindu things. See, The Baduay (pronounced
BAD-U-WAY. Used in a sentence: I like Catherine Zeta-Jones in a Baduay.) have been forced for the
last thirty-two years, ever since President Suharto was elected, to vote. The Baduay, not surprisingly,
hate this. They have to walk fifty ungrateful miles just to reach the polling booths. After that they have
to wait in line, which they hate, to vote for someone they don't like. Recently they made the trek to
speak to the President, asking for permission to not vote anymore. They claim religious reasons. The
request was granted. They liked that. Then they turned around and walked home.
Now the reason unruly children are all actually lost Baduays is the infrastructure and simple way of
life this tribe leads. The Baduay don't like walking. They would use bicycles but they refuse to use the
wheel. They don't use toothpaste, electricity, poisoning fish, grass, money, adultery, soap, four legged
animals, fertilizer, glass, metal forks and knives, spoons too, cutting down trees, changing the course
of water and worst of all, touching the breast of a virgin. All these things are punishable by forced
labor and banishment. Sound like any children you know?
Okay, I understand and bow to religious beliefs of people. While I don't subscribe to many beliefs, I
also will not attack a belief unless it harms people. So I have no problem with The Baduay. I don't
exactly agree with the virgin breast thing but hey, it isn't my place to say. What I can't figure out about
these people is two other beliefs they have which are the reasons for not wanting to vote. The Baduay
hate lying and making a decision. How can you hate anything without making a decision?
You have a group of Baduay, maybe twelve, and they are all looking at a yak that has wandered
inexorably into the village. They hate yaks. It is a four-legged animal and must be removed. But they
can't decide to make it go away because decisions are punishable by banishment. The yak even being
there is punishable. To go further, punishing in the first place is punishable because that is a decision.
They could pay someone to remove the yak but they can't use money. They could kill the yak but they
aren't allowed to kill things. Punishable offense.
This all falls under the classic joke comedians use when talking to audiences. It goes as follows:
"Good evening, sir. What is your name? Steve. Hi, Steve. And what do you do? Nothing? How do you
know when you're done?" Insert audience laughter.
In all fairness, The Baduay have never had a war, skirmish, crisis, or bad thing (not including the yak)
happen in their entire history. But then again when you have a place where no one does anything but
complains endlessly about not doing anything and not doing anything about that then nothing ever will
get done. War requires hate AND action. The Baduay have rules against these things so a hostile peace
is achieved and maintained.
It seems to me we can actually learn a lesson from The Baduay. Don't be like them. If there is a yak in
your front yard, kill that sucker and drag the body into the neighbor's yard when he isn't looking.
When voting time comes around, get out there and vote some people into office. Touch virgin breast
any time you want. In a passive world, the aggressive, decisive, person rules. The world is yours for
the taking as long as you aren't like the Baduay.
Unless of course you like yaks.
Movie Review
Saw Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Twice. I liked it. I have a question though. Don't
worry, anyone who hasn't seen the film yet, I will not give anything away. As I write this it has come
to my attention that MENACE has not broken the weekend record set by Steven Speilberg's The Lost
World in 1997. It did however break everything else. Including my pocket book. My question is WHO
CARES?
I'm a Star Wars fan. I've seen the first three films well over a thousand documented times and know
every word, sound, motion, special effect, and song on the trilogy. I was Luke Skywalker for
Halloween. I use the force. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I just don't agree with the whole record breaking
thing. Everyone has set so much attention on what the film did rather than what the film was about.
For a nation that has the lowest math scores in the galaxy, we sure are obsessed with numbers.
The Phantom Menace was a good film. I plan to see it as many times as I have seen some of the others
in the quadrille (trilogy +one). The graphics are cool. The sword fights are fast and intense. The bad
guy sucks but no one can match Darth Vader anyway. So money is important for only one thing. The
film needs to net enough moola to pay for the production; merchandising, advertising and it needs to
partially or completely finance the next installment. After that the cash matters very little. Like Forrest
Gump's Mama said, "you only need enough money to live well, everything else is just for showing
off." Gotta love Mama.
Star Wars is a phenomenon bordering on Shakespeare. Aside from the bard can you name other
writer/directors who have written a series of stories that are both trans-generational AND has
worldwide appeal? The purity of the storyline versus the cold dollar sign mentality is a tough battle to
wage but we all have to remember that if the story sucked then the movie would not make money.
Proponents of the record-breaking sect feel the money reflects on the success of the film. Opponents
of the money thing, which includes George Lucas I might add, say the money will always be there in
one form or another.
Don't believe me? The movie Godzilla made over one hundred million dollars at the box office and
video. Nuff said. Record breaking is merely the vanity plate of Hollywood. This actor was in a 100
million-dollar flick, called "a buck". That director's last four films have grossed a billion dollars called
"a Speilberg". There is nothing more to it than that. But to anyone who thinks money is what
determines good film making I give you two words. Ivan Reitman. He is the most successful director
in the history of Hollywood. Collectively his films have grossed over eight billion dollars. Does he
have an Oscar? He hasn't even been nominated. His films are good, usually the screwball comedy or
feel good love story. Speilberg, who has departed from that style of filmmaking, has two. Both are for
films that had a story and even better, good story telling rather than wide appeal. And just as a kicker,
those films, Schinlder's List and Saving Private Ryan were big money makers too. It was the art of the
films that allowed it.
I use Speilberg as an example but there are tens of others who do good work also and they don't get
the money. That is because Hollywood has submitted to the roots of avarice also. I understand why.
Movies are expensive. If a film bombs then a lot of people can lose their livelihoods. This is the clear
reason everyone talks about breaking records.
To that I have one thing to say. Mother Goose. She told hundreds of stories and never made a single
dime. Everyone knows them, they pass them on to their children who later pass them on to theirs. All
that with no financing at all. Not one single one hundred million dollar plus film out there can make
that claim.
Bottom Line: Records were made to be broken. Fairy tales live forever.