For whatever reason, I googled my name this morning. I thought - "Hey, I've got some stuff out there on the internet now. I'm on facebook. I have a few sermons floating about in cyberspace. What would happen if I were to search for myself?" Well, I found out what would happen. Nothing.
I did discover with some astonishment that there are a lot of other Matt Howells out there. Pretty strange. They are a lot more famous on the internet than I am. I even scrolled down to the bottom of the page and none of the Matt Howells had anything to do with me. Just a cluttered list of faceless clones. I hope they are nice. I don't want any Matt Howell out there doing something stupid and ruining the name that I have worked so hard to protect.
Towards the top of the page was a link to go to matthowell.com. I was intrigued. And so I went. Go there with me. Go right now. Click here.
You'll notice that the link takes you to a singular page of a simple photograph. No other distracting tabs or pop-up ads or things to click. Just an idyllic snapshot of white sand, clean turquoise waters, and a pillowy-clouded sky. Just looking at this page relaxes your nerves, you find your heart beat slowing down, your eyes get heavy, and you sink into your chair with the cares melting off of your heart. You feel at peace, finally. Your limbs feel like they are barely dangling off of your mellowed torso. Your brain tingles with mossiness. You are content. You have no worries or thoughts. Only bliss. Pure, peaceful, rested bliss.
And so I thought this was an appropriate website because that is typically what happens to people when they think of me. Matthowell.com captured it pretty well.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Completion. Commencement. Consummation.
One a day for all of May Madness
Done.
So many C's. So many opportunities. So much madness.
As is our Madness o' May custom, we review the month's madness, reflecting upon the insanity, rolling the flavors of mania around in our mouths and drinking deeply of the lunacy. This is what we do at the end of May. We also sigh deep, billowy grunts of relief and question why we put ourselves through such creative torture for one of life's busiest months. We then think about why we even own blogs, how utterly self-indulgent they are, and we ponder shutting it down completely. And in those dark, despairing moments, a soft and mellifluous whisper speaks truth: "You can't stop now. You have years invested into this. Keep going. And make next year's May Madness even madder. Do it."
And I submit...again...to the soft, mellifluous voice.
1. It's All About C!!
2. Corn Syrup is the Key to Utopia
3. Couch Cushion: Just Flip it!
4. Thinking About Fruit Again
5. I Want Your iPhone
6. Gene and Oliver Strike Back
7. Cankers
8. Laughing Courteously at Bad Jokes
9. Captain Hook
10. (I Got Nothing)
11. Self-Check Out Aisles at Grocery Stores Make Me Mad
12. MC Hammer Has Quit (Negating His Legitimacy)
13. Chicken Wing, Chicken Wing, Chicken Wing Stew
14. Craigslist....ugh....WOW
15. Carbon Copy Terminology in a Digital-Cyber Universe
16. Chicken Empanada Counting Problemo
17. My C-Movie Ratings
18. Meat Liker's Pizza
19. Digital Chores (Email Cleaning)
20. Coffee. Camomile. Crustaceans.
21. Tipping Guilt
22. Sight for Sore Eyes....Undetermined Meaning
23. Picking Up Dog Poo
24. Doctors' Office Waiting Room Artwork
25. Wingdings
26. Chester Cheetah vs. Joe Camel
27. Cell Phones
28. That Boy is a Chef!
29. A C-Novella About Birds
30. The Case of Cluttered Conscience
31. This.
Done.
So many C's. So many opportunities. So much madness.
As is our Madness o' May custom, we review the month's madness, reflecting upon the insanity, rolling the flavors of mania around in our mouths and drinking deeply of the lunacy. This is what we do at the end of May. We also sigh deep, billowy grunts of relief and question why we put ourselves through such creative torture for one of life's busiest months. We then think about why we even own blogs, how utterly self-indulgent they are, and we ponder shutting it down completely. And in those dark, despairing moments, a soft and mellifluous whisper speaks truth: "You can't stop now. You have years invested into this. Keep going. And make next year's May Madness even madder. Do it."
And I submit...again...to the soft, mellifluous voice.
1. It's All About C!!
2. Corn Syrup is the Key to Utopia
3. Couch Cushion: Just Flip it!
4. Thinking About Fruit Again
5. I Want Your iPhone
6. Gene and Oliver Strike Back
7. Cankers
8. Laughing Courteously at Bad Jokes
9. Captain Hook
10. (I Got Nothing)
11. Self-Check Out Aisles at Grocery Stores Make Me Mad
12. MC Hammer Has Quit (Negating His Legitimacy)
13. Chicken Wing, Chicken Wing, Chicken Wing Stew
14. Craigslist....ugh....WOW
15. Carbon Copy Terminology in a Digital-Cyber Universe
16. Chicken Empanada Counting Problemo
17. My C-Movie Ratings
18. Meat Liker's Pizza
19. Digital Chores (Email Cleaning)
20. Coffee. Camomile. Crustaceans.
21. Tipping Guilt
22. Sight for Sore Eyes....Undetermined Meaning
23. Picking Up Dog Poo
24. Doctors' Office Waiting Room Artwork
25. Wingdings
26. Chester Cheetah vs. Joe Camel
27. Cell Phones
28. That Boy is a Chef!
29. A C-Novella About Birds
30. The Case of Cluttered Conscience
31. This.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Call me Crazy. Seriously. Do it.
One A Day For All Of May.
"I went to the car dealership the other day for an oil change (I have free coupons there). Big mistake. I never have pleasant experiences there. A simple oil change ends up taking over an hour. And I bring a book with me to read while I wait...only I can't read it because the Today Show is cranked up to unheard of (pun) volume levels. Very distracting. And the coffee is bad. And it smells weird. And people talk too loud on their cell phones."
This is how I wanted to begin this morning's blog post. I was going to pry deep into my irritation of car dealerships. Call me crazy, but I am going to hit the brakes (pun) and not go there. Call it conscience. Call it conviction. I realized today that my blog posts are simply forums for venting irritation and frustration. I hop on here, think about something that has recently bugged me, and I aim my lasers, tasers, and rockets at it (pun), pouring out hot, steamy, poisonous satire. And today, I will refrain (at least in part....I did include that paragraph at the top, didn't I? (pun)). Today I will write about something that I enjoy:
I like ice cream.
Hmmm. Not too much comedic mileage on things that are pleasant.
"I went to the car dealership the other day for an oil change (I have free coupons there). Big mistake. I never have pleasant experiences there. A simple oil change ends up taking over an hour. And I bring a book with me to read while I wait...only I can't read it because the Today Show is cranked up to unheard of (pun) volume levels. Very distracting. And the coffee is bad. And it smells weird. And people talk too loud on their cell phones."
This is how I wanted to begin this morning's blog post. I was going to pry deep into my irritation of car dealerships. Call me crazy, but I am going to hit the brakes (pun) and not go there. Call it conscience. Call it conviction. I realized today that my blog posts are simply forums for venting irritation and frustration. I hop on here, think about something that has recently bugged me, and I aim my lasers, tasers, and rockets at it (pun), pouring out hot, steamy, poisonous satire. And today, I will refrain (at least in part....I did include that paragraph at the top, didn't I? (pun)). Today I will write about something that I enjoy:
I like ice cream.
Hmmm. Not too much comedic mileage on things that are pleasant.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Countless Captive Curlews and Cormorants
one a bird for all of may
Countless captive curlews and cormorants (chicks comparable to canaries) cried for compassion cause they were chained up in copper cages. Their corrupt and criminal captor, Captain Crunch (contra the commercialized cartoon), caterwauled in contemptible contentment. The Captain, a celebrated crow and chick capturer (and curiously, a clarinet competitor), cackled with cheer at his current collective conquest (his capturing the curlews and cormorants) cause his cook called for chicks to be chopped to concoct his chicken coconut chowder.
Christopher Columbus caught the close cries of the captive crows, currently (and conveniently) confessing his care to a certain Catherine. Consequently, Christopher cast Catherine and charged on course for their crying calls, compelled by compassion. (Catherine was cross at Christopher's choice!)
Courageous Christopher convened a crowd of cannon craftsmen and upon his command, they caused a combustion (creating a caliginous cloud), and a cluster of cobalt cannonballs careened, coming toward Captain Crunch's chest cavity. Conversely, Captain Crunch was callow and credulous - he couldn't confer a care for the coming cannonballs, choosing to chop carrots for the captured chicks to consume.
With a cluttering clamor (comparable to castanets), the cannonballs crashed upon Captain Crunch's chest cavity, crushing him to crumbs. While Captain Crunch had collapsed into a crude clutter, Christopher Columbus cursorily came upon the copper cages containing the captive curlews and cormorants (currently cawing and clawing). He cut the cords of the cages and the captive curlews and cormorants came out!
But Christopher was consequentially crestfallen. A concealed and covert, carnivorous crocodile cropped up and chomped the credulous chicks.
Countless captive curlews and cormorants (chicks comparable to canaries) cried for compassion cause they were chained up in copper cages. Their corrupt and criminal captor, Captain Crunch (contra the commercialized cartoon), caterwauled in contemptible contentment. The Captain, a celebrated crow and chick capturer (and curiously, a clarinet competitor), cackled with cheer at his current collective conquest (his capturing the curlews and cormorants) cause his cook called for chicks to be chopped to concoct his chicken coconut chowder.
Christopher Columbus caught the close cries of the captive crows, currently (and conveniently) confessing his care to a certain Catherine. Consequently, Christopher cast Catherine and charged on course for their crying calls, compelled by compassion. (Catherine was cross at Christopher's choice!)
Courageous Christopher convened a crowd of cannon craftsmen and upon his command, they caused a combustion (creating a caliginous cloud), and a cluster of cobalt cannonballs careened, coming toward Captain Crunch's chest cavity. Conversely, Captain Crunch was callow and credulous - he couldn't confer a care for the coming cannonballs, choosing to chop carrots for the captured chicks to consume.
With a cluttering clamor (comparable to castanets), the cannonballs crashed upon Captain Crunch's chest cavity, crushing him to crumbs. While Captain Crunch had collapsed into a crude clutter, Christopher Columbus cursorily came upon the copper cages containing the captive curlews and cormorants (currently cawing and clawing). He cut the cords of the cages and the captive curlews and cormorants came out!
But Christopher was consequentially crestfallen. A concealed and covert, carnivorous crocodile cropped up and chomped the credulous chicks.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Chef Boyardee
...may of all for day a one
Meat in a can. This is no different from Spam. And yet I'm repulsed by Spam. Won't eat it. Won't touch it. And yet, back in the day I would throw down some Chef Boyardee. Rip open that aluminum top, dump that can-shaped-congealed-mess of noodles and meat into a bowl, heat it up in the microwave (only to have the pseudo-tomato-based paste splatter everywhere), and 2 minutes later you have an amazing meal. Meat from a can.
Meat that has been sitting unrefrigerated in the grocery store for 3 months. Meat that has since been sitting in your pantry for 5 weeks. Meat that is now being chewed by your back molars and soon to be entering your colon (only to wreak havoc there). Meat in a can.
I should have known that any "chef" who has the name "boy" in it isn't going to be experienced enough to know not to make that mistake. You've got a "boy chef" throwing meat in a can and selling it to children. Of course they will buy it. They don't know better. Neither did the boy chef. He is just a boy.
Simple mistake, boy chef. But please learn.
Meat in a can. This is no different from Spam. And yet I'm repulsed by Spam. Won't eat it. Won't touch it. And yet, back in the day I would throw down some Chef Boyardee. Rip open that aluminum top, dump that can-shaped-congealed-mess of noodles and meat into a bowl, heat it up in the microwave (only to have the pseudo-tomato-based paste splatter everywhere), and 2 minutes later you have an amazing meal. Meat from a can.
Meat that has been sitting unrefrigerated in the grocery store for 3 months. Meat that has since been sitting in your pantry for 5 weeks. Meat that is now being chewed by your back molars and soon to be entering your colon (only to wreak havoc there). Meat in a can.
I should have known that any "chef" who has the name "boy" in it isn't going to be experienced enough to know not to make that mistake. You've got a "boy chef" throwing meat in a can and selling it to children. Of course they will buy it. They don't know better. Neither did the boy chef. He is just a boy.
Simple mistake, boy chef. But please learn.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Cell Phones
one a day for all of may
I have a call dropped at least once a day when talking on cellular telephonic devices. (I don't like the terminology of "dropped" calls by the way. What? Is my conversation a hot potato? Alas, I digress.) You are talking with someone and...suddenly....they are a bit less responsive. You aren't receiving those intermittent, affirming "uh-huh"s like you were receiving during the first half of your conversation. You know something is odd. So you ask, "You there?" And you are met with silence.
And then you are met with frustration.
And then you call them back. But of course....they are simultaneously attempting to call you back. So when you are calling them, your phone call goes straight to their voicemail since they are currently busy (calling you). How this is possible, I'm not really sure. You hang up. You try again. And of course, your second attempt at calling them back receives the familiar voicemail salutational message. So you hang up for a second time. Frustrated.
And now your strategy changes. You think, "Ok. I'll just wait for them to call me now." So you sit there in silence. Waiting. And after a few moments you begin to wonder, "Maybe they are doing the exact same thing....waiting for me to call them." And you don't know this, but they are in fact doing that very thing. Waiting on you. So you take up the phone again for a 3rd attempt. You even begin to think cliches to yourself like, "Well, 3rd time's a charm!" You even begin to speak it aloud. After all, you have been in silence for well over 2 minutes now and something must break the awkwardness.
But of course, the moment you decided to pick up the phone was the exact moment that it crossed your friend's mind that maybe you are waiting on them. And now you are locked up again in a battle of call backs. Like two ram's horns gripped together. Neither is budging. Neither is getting through.
All because of our stupid cell phones and their inability to manage an interruption-free phone call.
I have a call dropped at least once a day when talking on cellular telephonic devices. (I don't like the terminology of "dropped" calls by the way. What? Is my conversation a hot potato? Alas, I digress.) You are talking with someone and...suddenly....they are a bit less responsive. You aren't receiving those intermittent, affirming "uh-huh"s like you were receiving during the first half of your conversation. You know something is odd. So you ask, "You there?" And you are met with silence.
And then you are met with frustration.
And then you call them back. But of course....they are simultaneously attempting to call you back. So when you are calling them, your phone call goes straight to their voicemail since they are currently busy (calling you). How this is possible, I'm not really sure. You hang up. You try again. And of course, your second attempt at calling them back receives the familiar voicemail salutational message. So you hang up for a second time. Frustrated.
And now your strategy changes. You think, "Ok. I'll just wait for them to call me now." So you sit there in silence. Waiting. And after a few moments you begin to wonder, "Maybe they are doing the exact same thing....waiting for me to call them." And you don't know this, but they are in fact doing that very thing. Waiting on you. So you take up the phone again for a 3rd attempt. You even begin to think cliches to yourself like, "Well, 3rd time's a charm!" You even begin to speak it aloud. After all, you have been in silence for well over 2 minutes now and something must break the awkwardness.
But of course, the moment you decided to pick up the phone was the exact moment that it crossed your friend's mind that maybe you are waiting on them. And now you are locked up again in a battle of call backs. Like two ram's horns gripped together. Neither is budging. Neither is getting through.
All because of our stupid cell phones and their inability to manage an interruption-free phone call.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Cool Cheetahs and Camels
One a May for all of day
Chester Cheetah and Joe Camel - the two smoothest and coolest animated animals with addiction problems.
Chester Cheetah is the official mascot for Cheetos - a crunchy snack of puffed corn, dusted with powdered cheese (the very fact that it contains "powdered cheese" makes one hesitant to continue purchasing these). He wears sunglasses. He has cool looking tennis shoes. He listens to jazz music. He probably drinks vermouth straight up. And he has a troubling addiction. He needs to eat Cheetos. You will find him getting tricked by children in TV commercials as he continues to fail in his quest for Cheetos. But he is still cool and smooth. And the ladies love him. But if they only knew about his harrowing problems.
Joe Camel is the official mascot for Camel Cigarettes - a cigarette made from actual Camel tongues. He wears sunglasses. He wears tight T-shirts to showcase his camely physique. He drives nice cars and plays pool. And he smokes those cool-enhancing cigarettes. He probably listens to jazz music too. And you will find him living out his addictive personality as well - he can be seen in advertisements (or at least, he used to be seen) constantly puffing away on those cool cigarettes, luring adults and children alike to be apart of his cool revolution.
Cheetah. Camel. These are not the animals one would expect to be the icon of coolness. Especially the camel. I can't think of a more awkward animal on the face of the planet. Their bodies are oddly shaped, they chew their food really weirdly, their tongues are enormous, they have built-in water vats on their backs, and the joints on the legs bend the wrong way. Not cool at all. But slap some shades on their faces and throw a lit cigarette in their mouth and now you've got something you can work with.
Chester Cheetah and Joe Camel - the two smoothest and coolest animated animals with addiction problems.
Chester Cheetah is the official mascot for Cheetos - a crunchy snack of puffed corn, dusted with powdered cheese (the very fact that it contains "powdered cheese" makes one hesitant to continue purchasing these). He wears sunglasses. He has cool looking tennis shoes. He listens to jazz music. He probably drinks vermouth straight up. And he has a troubling addiction. He needs to eat Cheetos. You will find him getting tricked by children in TV commercials as he continues to fail in his quest for Cheetos. But he is still cool and smooth. And the ladies love him. But if they only knew about his harrowing problems.
Joe Camel is the official mascot for Camel Cigarettes - a cigarette made from actual Camel tongues. He wears sunglasses. He wears tight T-shirts to showcase his camely physique. He drives nice cars and plays pool. And he smokes those cool-enhancing cigarettes. He probably listens to jazz music too. And you will find him living out his addictive personality as well - he can be seen in advertisements (or at least, he used to be seen) constantly puffing away on those cool cigarettes, luring adults and children alike to be apart of his cool revolution.
Cheetah. Camel. These are not the animals one would expect to be the icon of coolness. Especially the camel. I can't think of a more awkward animal on the face of the planet. Their bodies are oddly shaped, they chew their food really weirdly, their tongues are enormous, they have built-in water vats on their backs, and the joints on the legs bend the wrong way. Not cool at all. But slap some shades on their faces and throw a lit cigarette in their mouth and now you've got something you can work with.
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