-if we were to shorten the american workday to four hours, that would solve the unemployment problem………you wouldn’t get as much done, and you’d know that you would have something to do the next day and nobody would ever get laid off again, ever………there is absolutely no way this would not work……
-we need bidets in this country…..if you’re walking barefoot outside and step in dog excrement you don’t just wipe your foot off with a paper towel and call it good………..
Over the weekend, my friend suggested that I start a profile on the wildly popular dating site CougarLife.com. Here’s what I’ve got so far.
What up aged felines! I’m just what the veterinarian ordered. I’m a kitten that likes to scratch, but I can’t, because I have extremely well-manicured fingernails. Yeah that’s hot. I’m like a hit of that sweet catnip, but without the catnip, because you’re mature, and don’t put up with buffoonery like that anymore. Want more? Here it comes. I would like to take you out to a nice steak dinner, but I won’t, because I’m sure since you’ve been alive for so many years some dirtbag has probably tried to get in your pants that way already. I’m really smart like that. And at your age you should really be watching your red meat intake. And I also probably wouldn’t be able to pay for it. But I think we should go anyways, because I don’t really ever get to eat expensive food, and you’re probably getting social security or pension checks, right? I promise if you pay for dinner I’ll “accidentally” drop my keys in front of you and then bend over for longer than necessary to pick them up. Please? No? How about this. We can go over to my parents’ house, and you can all talk about the 60’s or something. Blumenkraft! That’s German for “Flower Power.” I know some German. Anyways, it’s only an hour and a half drive out there. You can buy the gas since I’ll be driving. When we get back into town, we can fire up a Matlock marathon until around 6, or whenever it is you go to bed. Or maybe you could nap in the car? We’ll have to watch it at your place because I don’t have cable, and I also live on the third floor of an apartment building with no elevators, so going up all those stairs would wreak havoc on your brittle old bones. That’s a good thing about me, I’m always thinking of ways to take care of my women. And I don’t want you be out of range in case we have to use your LifeCall® Alert Service. Because believe me, my little lioness, you’re going to need it! Once Matlock gets going in the courtroom and you’re reenacting the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercial for me I guarantee your heart will be dangerously aflutter! Or does your pacemaker stop that from happening? No no, wait, don’t tell me! We’re going to need something to talk about on our second date! Speaking of second dates, I was thinking we could tour some local retirement homes, if you aren’t already living in one. It’s never too early to plan for these things. See, I’m helpful too. And leave your social security money at home this time, because I’m sure we could get a free meal as part of the tour. A lot of places do that. With the money you save, you can give your great-grandson an extra five bucks for his birthday. After that I’d suggest we go and meet your parents, but there’s no way they’re still alive, is there? Because if you’re as old as you are, they’d have to be well into their 100’s, right? We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to. I like to give my ladies choices. Really old people creep me out anyways. But not you. Well, I’m gonna cut this off before I start babbling. It’s just one of many things that you’re going to find really cute about me.
Here’s the Blong (Blog Song) of the day. This goes out to all the cougars out there. Tommy Dorsey Orchestra – Song of India.
The third installment (here’s Volume 1, and Volume 2) of an ongoing symposium aimed at helping those not familiar with, and/or intimidated by, rap/hip hop music. It’s simple: I present the original lyric, and then offer up a cleaner, easier to understand alternative. Let us begin.
Lyric: I’m star studded/You muh-f*ckas not gon’ be able to cut it/Listen, b*tch, I’m a tough act to follow/Suck my d*ck and here’s a n*ts*ck to swallow -Mad Child of the group Swollen Members, from the song Watch This
Translation: I embody the physical properties of a giant burning ball of gas/You people who engage in sexual intercourse with the woman who gave birth to you are not up to snuff/Hear ye, woman who I respect no more than a female dog, it will be a formidable task to put together a performance superior to the one I have just displayed/Place my phallus in your mouth, and when you are done with that, begin work on my scrotum
Lyric: I never gave props to MC’s who don’t deserve it/Never smoked rocks, never had guts to serve it/Never had a glock, never seemed to be worth it/Never had I thought life was gonna be perfect -Spawn, formerly of Atmosphere, on the song Multiples
Translation: If I find the work of my colleagues in the rap wing of the music industry leaving something to be desired, I will not acknowledge their efforts with praise of any kind/I’ve always been a bit wary, and yes, afraid of hardcore street drugs/Owning a firearm with the potential to harm others has always seemed immature and trivial to me/I have no misconceptions about my place in this world – I know that things can and will go wrong at times, and it is up to me to be responsible enough to deal with these situations as best I can when they arrive
Lyric: Basketball is my favorite sport/I like the way they dribble up and down the court/Just like I’m the king on the microphone, so is Dr. J and Moses Malone/I like slam-dunks, take me to the hoop/My favorite play is the alley-oop -Kurtis Blow, Basketball
Translation: There are manifold ramifications to the choices we as a country must make at this juncture. For instance, while tensions with those pinko commie bastards run high (this song was written in the early eighties), we ourselves must not overcompensate by becoming a bunch of Ayn Rand-ian Objectivist a**holes. Therefore, let’s enjoy the game of basketball.
Lyric: I don’t have no trouble with you f***ing me/But I have a little problem wit you not f***ing me/Baby you know I’m gonna take care of you/Cause you say you got my baby, and I know it ain’t true -Ol’ Dirty Bastard, from Baby I Got Your Money
Translation: I would have no objection if you chose to engage in coitus with me/Although, if you were to decide against it, I would be somewhat vexed/Girl, I have the resources to support you physically and financially*/You claim to be carrying my offspring, but I know for a fact that you are lying
*Editor’s note – “take care of you,” in the arena of rap and hip hop, can also imply the threat of manslaughter, which could be applicable in the case of this lyric, due to the accusation that the woman is lying about being pregnant with Mr. Bastard’s child.
Lyric: I got the golden egg plus the goose/80 proof Absolut mixed with cranberry fruit juice, ginseng boost/I got your neck in a noose -RZA of the Wu-Tang Clan, from the song Reunited
Translation: I have harnessed great wealth, as well as the means to ensure more of it in the future/By partaking in this potent alcohol and berry blend, with the added invigoration of a stimulating plant root/I feel as though I am capable of anything, up to and including physically dominating you
Another excerpt from this self-help book I’ve been working on.
So what exactly is jargon? The most streamlined, efficient answer is that no one really knows. One online dictionary defines it as “language that is characterized by uncommon or pretentious vocabulary and convoluted syntax that is often vague in meaning.” In this instance, jargon was used to define “jargon.” You can also write a song about writing a song, or paint a painting of a painting. In the end, you’re right back where you started, which is what we want – to get the readers thinking, but have their thinking lead them back to what you were just telling them what they should be thinking, which was to be thinking about what they should be thinking about.
If you are to be successful in using jargon, first think of what success means to you. Fundamentals, as well as our core values and principles, are the keys to success. In order to write a self-help book, and a successful book at that, one must strive to be even more fundamentalier and principally valuistic than ever before. For every paradigm synergized within your sphere of personal and professional philosophies, the fundamental cores of your beliefs will have added value among not just your colleagues, but with your peers as well, thus increasing the voluptuous lechery of your book as well as your family life. This will spread a saucy, robust girth over each and every vector of your quadrant initiatives as well as add two cup sizes to your current numerical designation. Once this occurs, your private triumphs will integrate seamlessly into your public Cone of Opportunity, which can be applied to manifold other shapes, i.e. the Rectangle of Corporate Naughtiness, the Rhombus of Busty Sexuality, and the Isosceles Triangle of Unfettered Animalistic Lust. In simpler terms, your logistical and linguistic mission statement will advance no less than three percent closer to the bottom line and solidify your portfolio as a critical component in this raunchy high-stakes game. After trimming all the fat from your infrastructure, groupthink will coagulate, you will last longer in bed, and the sociopolitical ramifications of your choices will become apparent – all while implementing a more agile, customer-focused alliance both in and out of the boardroom. With this increase in size and stamina, you will achieve a holistic, quality-driven, envelope-pushing scalability of world-class leadership that will leave the opposite sex ravenous for neurogenetic and erotic compatibility. This upward spiral parallels the satiation experienced when a project fires on all cylinders and achieves the apex of libidinous ragamuffery. Tatterdemalia will skyrocket, steamy epiphanies will abound, and you will obtain a pestiferous prestidigitation from your thrapple right down to your perineum.