I'LL BUY A VOWEL FOR MY PRINCIPLE, PAT

It's been twenty minutes and I still haven't come up with a good intro/segue for this bit so I say we just skip over the lead-in, thank God for Christina Hendricks, and jump right into the deep end.

Science has long been the last bastion of principle in a world eager to compromise.  Look no further than Pluto.  While some may have felt bad enough for the dwarf planet to over look its shortcomings (I know), scientists held firm and told Pluto it wasn't tall enough to ride this particular orbit and kicked it right out of our solar system.  It is this uncompromising attitude which makes the blatant capitualtion that is ROYGBIV (ROY-G-BIV) all the more of an abomination.  As all of you well know, our light spectrum has long been codified by the above acronym, Red, Orange Yellow, Blue, Indigo, Violet, yet I ask you, why is indigo on the list? 

Why!?

Red. Orange. Yellow. Blue. Violet.  These are all color we can relate to, colors necessary for your Crayola bare minimums collection. Indigo? Indigo is the angry retort your girlfriend gives you get when you ask her why she bought another blue dress.  Indigo is the answer to a trivia question. Indigo is not an essential anything.  The only reason indigo is in the spectrum is that it starts with a vowel. Admit it folks, the greatest service indigo has offered is helping science teachers across America avoid trying to say ROY-G-BV (Roy-gee-bvuh).  We didn't let sympathy get in the way with Pluto and we shouldn't here either.  It's time we put indigo to sleep.

On an unrelated note, I was watching a program on my DVR last night when I saw a commercial for that evening's newscast.  The teaser featured a video of firefighters trying to put out a car blaze and an unfortunate blowback that nearly melted one firefighter's face.  The voice over which accompanied the video, however, plumbed new depths of 'duh' previously undiscovered by journalists.

"Watch tonight at 11 and see how firefighting can be a dangerous job."

FIRE fighting.  She didn't realize that we already knew that FIGHTING fire is dangerous? Hell, fighting a chimp cost a woman her face and she didn't even start it!  To this woman it's breaking news that picking a fight with fire might be hazardous to one's health.

I weep.

FROM A TO B, VIA C-Z

As most of you have noticed by now, I'm not the most direct thinker on Earth. I tend to be easily distracted; oft waylaid on my way to a point by an epiphanic jolt - a revelation of an obscure yet, at least in my mind, relevant connection, which soon leaves me navigating the tangents and tributaries of topics far removed from my original subject, turning myself into a veritable babbling brook. One might, if he were kind and perhaps fond of listening to babbling brooks on his/her sleep-sounds machine, say my brain prefers to take the scenic routes - so might Two for that matter, but no one seems to care what he and his fellow integers might do or think in this mono-numerical world in which we live and hypothesize.

While I might normally, at this point find, myself compelled to champion the cause of the "Greater Than 1's", opining on the motivations that belie our forgiving some prejudices but not others, today I'm going to stay on topic (if it's not already too late) and talk about things I don't understand.

Things it just occurred to me I don't understand:

- The Word 'Druthers' - I don't know if I've written about this before, but I find it odd that I use a word whose meaning is a complete mystery to me without ever wondering what I was saying.  You don't know what it means either do you?  No, don't google it. I've already done that for you and well, I'm even more confused.  'Druthers', you see, is a bastardization and contraction of the phrase "I would rather".  Now most such shortenings catch on because well, they're shorter and thus easier to say, in the instant matter (lawyer in the hizzouse!) such is not the case.

Compare if you will:

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  "I'd rather they put all greater than 1's in jail, but then I'd have to close my 99 cent store."
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  "If I had my druthers we'd put all those crooked numbers in jail, but you know how they multiply when you start putting them together."

- Why would a terrorist have a "social networking" page?  It seems kind of like a long term thing for someone in the field, you know? I could see maybe having an adult friend finder account (though odds are he's looking for a virgin... well virgins), but I don't reconnecting with lost friends is a rationale goal. I'm not one to stereotype, but I don't think a 10 year Madrassa reunion is in the cards for our friend.

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  Tangent: What are the odds someone will make a joke about social networking thing on a  late night talk show without using the expression "I enjoy long walks on the beach"
  
  
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    When did long walks on the beach become a stand in for personal ad?  How many people out there have the opportunity to even take long walks on the beach and, of those, how many bother doing it? Even then it's not simple,  sure you might enjoy it under the right circumstances, but it's not like it something you'd always want to do. First, and don't underestimate this, you have to enjoy walking, then you have to take into account environmental conditions:
    
    
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      sand temperature
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      crowds
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      the dangers of walking barefoot in the sand at night
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      the odds of getting mugged
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      whether you're OK with being seen shoeless on a date (not every piggy is fit to go to the market you know).

 - Why do I feel bad for not having three things on this list?

I'M GOING TO GO WITH 'THIS WORLD' MAXIMUS

Oh please, don't even try and pretend like you're too mad at me to read this post.  We both know you're too happy I came back. That being said, my return has less to do with you (while I do appreciate your saving yourselves for me, we both know you weren't going to get your blog itch scratched anywhere else the way I do it) than it does a an unspeakable crime that happened over the weekend. 

Almost all of you I'm sure have heard about the Times Square almost bomb, well, for some reason, most of you don't know of a more shocking trespass on our national happiness.  I am here to rectify that.  While parked in a mall parking lot yesterday, my car was viciously and cold-heartedly assaulted.  My fender was dented and possibly scratched (it may just have been his paint on top of mine, it's hard to tell), a fog lamp was cracked and my innocence stolen.  I left two empty slots on either side and parked in an lightly filled area and yet here I stand, victimized. There were no witnesses to the crime, no cameras - so conveniently present for more minor issues like the Times Square thing - to document the offense. There's no Homeland Security investigation or police task force. There was nothing but a beat up Buick with silver paint on its fender and casual disregard in its eyes. The police came and told me there was nothing they could do.  The officer told me that despite what I'd seen on CSI Miami no one was sending a paint sample to the lab for comparison (to be honest based on the mismatching uniform worn by the Elizabeth police officer, I'm not so sure there even is a lab). I was alone and the problem mine own.

More than at any time in recent memory my destiny is not of my own choosing. I did not provoke nor did I invite an attack. I did not seek nor did I desire a war. Yet the true measure of a man's strength is how he rises to such moments and masters them. So, AMA-8655, I may not have wanted this, I may wish our paths had never crossed, but I will not shirk from the moment. This is a time for men of action, men of conviction.  I will do what is hard; I will achieve what is necessary.  I will hunt you down like the dog you are and leaving you wishing you'd fallen testicle first into an industrial-strength vise. This is a time for American heroes, a time for American vengeance.  This is the time for me to reap what you've sown and I'm coming for you!

Also, if anyone knows how I might glean name, address and security code just based on a guy's  license plate number, that'd be swell.

YOU'RE NOT STILL WALKING ARE YOU?

Sorry for the long absence Readers. Between joining a gym, actually going to said gym and being the proud owner of a fancy new smart phone, I find my free time has become more spare than the shmorgasbord at a vegan wedding. Still, I could never completely abandon you and so I bring you, just in time for spring, an argument for the ages.

While not a member of the institution myself, most of my friends and co-workers seem to either be married or in long-term committed relationships. This vantage point allows me to study, Jane Goodall style, the mystifying prevelance of the phenomena known as "Let's go for a walk". I can't say with any certainty when "let's go for a walk" began.  Perhaps it started in Australia where "Take a walk" means leave me alone.  As in:

Female:  Honey, we should go out tonight, it's so nice outside!
Foster's drinker: Oh, take a walk why dontcha?

While I applaud the sentiment of this noble descendant of thieves, debtors and people too scary to pass the Statue of Liberty's smell test, it was perhaps not the best choice of words. Australia has 529,000 square miles of desert, 18% of the continent is desert, only ten percent of the country is habitable, just look at this picture, how much green do you see? If you're in Australia and someone suggests going for a walk, they know you can't be serious. Unfortunately, as with all things imported from Australia, something has been lost along the way. 

Ponder for a minute the history of man, his greatest achievements, his successes; the invention of the wheel, the boat, celestial navigation, the steam engine, the internal combustion engine, the automobile, manned flight, the highway, the transporter (more of a concept device at present, but I believe).  All of these accomplishments serve one purpose, avoiding walking. Man has been trying to avoid going for a walk since he left the cave. Why would we willingly go for a walk? A walk that your partner will willingly admit has no purpose aside from walking itself.  I don't mean to belabor the point, but the following are a list of options science has given us to avoid walking:

Unicycle
Bicycle
Tricycle
Motorcycle
Scooter
Moped
Car
ATV
Subways
Buses
Plane
Helicopter
Hang glider
Hot air balloon
Blimps
Dirigibles
Segway
The Uno
The Winglet
The Rascal
Wheelchairs
Skateboards
Roller skates
Roller Blade
Heely's
Ice skates
Skis
Snowboards
Hovercrafts
Canoe
Kayak
Sailboat
Yacht
Retarded Giant
Carriage
Gullible Parents
and many many more...

There's also sitting, but I won't get into that. Look I understand you think you like going for a walk, but hundreds of years of science say that it's outdated, outmoded and archaic.  Let me put it in terms you can understand. Walking is the Zune. Sure you can do it, but none of the cool kids are.

A PROPORTIONAL RESPONSE

I'm going to open with a bit of site news.  For those of you who are unaware this little site, much like the awesomeness that was Better Off Ted, is a bit of a secret to most of the world. Or at least it was.  I know this will come as a bit of a disappointment to the few of you who came here on your own for nothing more than the sarcastic nectar flowing from my fingers (Disclaimer: This site is run by a professional, if you're leaking sarcasm nectar or maintain sarcasm for more than four hours you should consult your physician as it could result in long-term damage to personal relationships and wallets.), but blog traffic has increased several hundred fold in recent weeks. While I wish I could credit this to a sudden rise in the IQ of people with internet access, or at least good taste, I'm afraid the truth is it's all thanks to Lindsey Vonn.  You see, in my story about Ms. Vonn, I happened to link to several pictures of her in various states of swim preparedness.  These links apparently pop up in Google searches I don't know how many of you are reading this now, but whichever of you are, please, trust me on this; I'm better than porn, well, unless it's good porn.

In other news the network administrator at my office has seen fit to block Gmail's chat feature.  Now, those of you who have committed my blog entries to memory (it's all about the mnemonic devices people) are well aware that my favorite Newtonian Rule (what like you don't have one?) is the Third Law of Motion; To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. At this point I'm sure you're wondering why I chose the law of reciprocal actions when everyone knows all the money and women are in the second law. I'll tell you why, because the third law explains the fundamental concepts in interpersonal relationships, You paid me a compliment, I remember you fondly.  You buy me a birthday present, I buy you one, You launch a nuclear warhead at my country, I launch one at yours. It's what keeps us safe and sane.  Accordingly, the actions of my network administrator require a proportional response on my part.  I imagine they expected that the result of their action would be more work on my part, but they failed to understand Newton, you see, the rule is equal and opposite.  Opposite.  Well, vengeance shall be mine.  Let physics reign!

Interesting trivia fact for the day: Pumpernickel means 'Devil's flatulence' in German. Which is odd, because you wouldn't think the devil would have trouble with digestion.

WOULD THAT THEY WERE

Have you ever found yourself halfway through a thought - a well reasoned, eloquently phrased gem of a bon mot - only to find yourself suddenly stunted in your narrative progress by the vagaries and caprice of grammatical chance?  If you are at all like me, you are very lucky.  You are also likely to have similarly suffered.  I speak today of words that are not words.

I pride myself on being a man of logic (unless of course logic isn't on my side, in which case I consider myself a man of passion, unless that isn't on my side either, in which case I consider myself a man of action, to wit: agree with me or I'll act upon your face) and if a logical progression leads me down a road, I expect language to follow along with me.  Sometimes, however, English decides that it isn't flexible, like a GPS that won't give you an alternate route (You know what, maybe I don't want to take the Belt Parkway, did you think of that smarty pants? Huh? Maybe I had a bad experience with it and would feel safer taking the BQE.  I'll bet youe little micro-chip didn't think of that did it TomTom. And really, why should I take advice from the only thing with a dumber name than BillyBob anyway. At least BillyBob's two different words, you just sound like your toaster parents were stutterers, or really indecisive.  We'll call him, Tom... Tom, yes definitely Tom, Tom it is.).  Anyway, my point is,  perhaps you find yourself telling a good story, and like any good storyteller, you want to make use of a rhetorical device or two, for example floating opposites. So you start your snide comment about your date the other night and you know you're going to nail the [gender neutral] for being a talkative bore so you start with "Well, [gender neutral] was overly chatty, but..." and just as your about to lower the boom, you realize that while English gave you "overly" it didn't see fit to bless you with it's antonym "underly". And so, instead of you being the sarcastic genius skewering your date, you're the kebab.

So yeah, that sucks.

I'LL TAKE FAT AND HAIRY, ALEX

I came across an interesting article yesterday. Now, before I discuss said article, I'd like to take a moment to thank, or, as the people who still use the word 'bling' like to say, 'shout out' to Google Buzz for connecting me to Tony and to Tony, himself, for feeling compelled to share with the world that he is, scientifically proven, highly desirable to women.

As those of you who clicked the link already know (see what happens when you prepare?), the article details the results of a poll conducted on 2,500 women in England.  The pollsters (so named because 'strangers who call you at home and ask you intrusive personal questions' has too many words for a job title) asked women what their secret turn-ons were and what they really wanted in a partner. Among the alleged discoveries:

The poll of 2,500 women also revealed that 91% would actually prefer a guy who had a few flaws over someone who is perfect. And more than half would rather a guy who was soft and cuddly instead of toned and muscly.

Apparently, the people at the newspaper reporting the story were shocked by the results. Going so far as to say:

'But these results prove that women secretly want something different. It seems women really do like a guy who is able to show a softer side, or who is carrying a little bit of extra weight.


'I'm sure it's a relief to men all over the country to find out that women aren't actually looking for that perfect guy.'

I don't know about you, but none of this comes as a surprise to me. I'll tell you why.  They asked the wrong question.  If these same women were given a multiple choice test featuring coventionally good looking men and Jack Black and were then asked to choose which one was most attractive, dollars to munchkins (I like them better than donuts), the answers would conform to People Magazine's expectations.  However, once the question is personalized, what would you prefer in your man we leave the realm of the objective and enter the subjective zone.  Now, much like Twilight Zone the Subjective Zone is a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind...a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination.  In the subjective zone the question isn't, is this man attractive, it's; How do you imagine you're life would be with this man. Would you be happy?  Would he get on your nerves?  Are you OK with men using hair gel?

Once those factors are taken into account we view the results differently. Women don't want a perfect man?  OF COURSE NOT!  Who'd want to spend their lives with someone who gave them body image issues?  The question isn't, what do women find attractive it's, what would they be comfortable comparing themselves to for all eternity.  Now if I asked you, do you think women want to date someone prettier than they are, would you be surprised by the answer? Didn't think so.  If you want to know what women find attractive, or anyone for that matter, don't make their answer dependent on insecurities.  That being said, thank God for insecurities.