My wife made a good point tonight - "How did a TV show like Mr. Ed ever make it? A talking horse? Please."
Certainly worthy of a blog post to explore that question. Here you have a television show that lasted five years. Let me repeat that: FIVE YEARS. The entire premise revolved around a talking horse. Come on, people. How do you squeeze out 5 years of crappy episodes about a talking horse?
Kathryn just asked me - "Didn't the horse give advice?" I don't remember. But I really wanted it to. Like - so-and-so was in a jam, and Mr. Ed was able to talk them out of it. Kathryn is now fairly convinced that this was the point of the show. People would get in jams, consult the horse, and crisis would be averted. The horse was the wise sage. The guru. Mr. Ed.
How is this possible in a post-Enlightenment, educated, Western civilization? Entertainment derived from watching a horse talk? Come on.
It did say "Wilbur" a lot. And the voice was all wobbly. W-w-w-w-i-i-i-l-l-l-b-b-b-urrrrr!! Somehow the horse, though able to speak English, was not able to overcome its "horsey" nature, and thus its "horsey" accent. Ahhh, the sage does have his limitations.
I did just find out via Wikipedia, that Mr. Ed was euthanized due to increasing poor health.
Mr. Ed became Elmer's.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Maxims, Axioms, and Chicken Salad
I know I have written about onions in the past. On several occasions, actually. But I have no problem writing about them again. Frankly, I cannot get over these things. Every time I find myself chopping them (and subsequently barreled over holding my eyes), I wonder why on earth these things are on earth. Maybe my eyes aren't quite "broken in" yet, but every time I split their bodies in half, peal that stupid brown paper off of them, and begin "finely chopping" them, I soon find myself in pain. And I begin cursing them in my heart. And I start thinking things like, "Onions are stupid. Why do we even eat these things. I hate them." And the curse-fest continues.
But tonight something new happened. Aside from my internal torrential hate affair, I thought about our forefathers and how a primitive generation would first experience the pungent face-punching fumes of opened onions. You have to wonder what this would be like. You're walking along the field/garden/vesta and you come upon an onion. So you pull it from the ground (they do come from the ground, right?) and take it back home to enjoy it. Maybe you think to peal the stupid brown paper. Maybe you don't. Either way, you somehow get into this newly discovered vegetable only to newly discover its ability to bring you to your knees. So you huck it from your presence like a baseball (or hot potato), cursing it as a "vile weed." Who would want to return and try it again - knowing it will burn out your retinas with its poisonous fumes? Why did our forefathers give it another shot? Maybe they thought, "Next time, it won't set my eyeballs on fire."
Or maybe they thought, "I really like that stupid brown paper that covers it."
Or perhaps they thought, "If we keep eating them, our children's children's children will eat them, thinking it is normal to sit over a kitchen counter weeping for 15 minutes."
But most likely they thought, "Why does 'Llama' have two L's in it? A silent "L"? Come on."
But tonight something new happened. Aside from my internal torrential hate affair, I thought about our forefathers and how a primitive generation would first experience the pungent face-punching fumes of opened onions. You have to wonder what this would be like. You're walking along the field/garden/vesta and you come upon an onion. So you pull it from the ground (they do come from the ground, right?) and take it back home to enjoy it. Maybe you think to peal the stupid brown paper. Maybe you don't. Either way, you somehow get into this newly discovered vegetable only to newly discover its ability to bring you to your knees. So you huck it from your presence like a baseball (or hot potato), cursing it as a "vile weed." Who would want to return and try it again - knowing it will burn out your retinas with its poisonous fumes? Why did our forefathers give it another shot? Maybe they thought, "Next time, it won't set my eyeballs on fire."
Or maybe they thought, "I really like that stupid brown paper that covers it."
Or perhaps they thought, "If we keep eating them, our children's children's children will eat them, thinking it is normal to sit over a kitchen counter weeping for 15 minutes."
But most likely they thought, "Why does 'Llama' have two L's in it? A silent "L"? Come on."
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Awkward Parts About Being Human
The following is a list of instances that are most awkward in the human experience:
1. Realizing that there is an insufficient amount of toilet paper on the roll after completing your "business." So, you stretch it out to make every bit count. And it gets down to the wire of you having to pull those last little scraps of paper that are glued down to the little cardboard roll.
2. Having to refer to another human as "you" because you have forgotten their name and they have remembered yours.
3. Junior High.
4. Not being able to get that last ice cube at the bottom of your glass. The drink is finished, the ice is consumed, and that last one seems to be stuck on the bottom rim. What is it hanging onto? No one knows. But it is. So you tap and you shake and you pound. And you look like a fool. All for the reward of one little cube of ice.
5. Purchasing feminine products.
6. Using the restroom at a very large house party. Number two. And that is not the awkward part. It is when you exit the bathroom and run into someone that you know right there out in front of the restroom. And you proceed to have a conversation 3 feet away from the very spot you just completed your "business." You are both thinking about this throughout the duration of your conversation but neither alludes to it. You can't. So you grit your teeth, smile, ask them about what "they've been up to lately" and pray your guts out that someone rescues you.
7. Asking someone about how their grandparents are - only to find out that their grandparents have recently passed away. This happened to me the other day. It was not a fun experience.
8. Getting mad at a car on the road for whatever reason, letting them aware of your frustration with them, and then pulling into the same parking lot with them to discover that you are both going to the same place.
9. Going to a tanning bed place.
10. Walking out of the grocery store to your car. Only there is a woman who has exited the grocery store before you who is walking to her car as well. And it so happens that your car is just beyond where she parked. So you are essentially following her to her car. And she continues to turn her head to look at you - suspiciously - as if she is worried that you are in fact following her. And you are, sort of. You can sense the panic she is feeling and you hate it. But you have to get to your car and don't see the point of taking a long detour around several other parked cars to get to yours. So you keep following her. And she keeps looking back. And she starts picking up her pace. And you cringe - thinking that you probably need to shave or at least wear something that doesn't give off the impression that you could potentially hurt people in grocery store parking lots.
1. Realizing that there is an insufficient amount of toilet paper on the roll after completing your "business." So, you stretch it out to make every bit count. And it gets down to the wire of you having to pull those last little scraps of paper that are glued down to the little cardboard roll.
2. Having to refer to another human as "you" because you have forgotten their name and they have remembered yours.
3. Junior High.
4. Not being able to get that last ice cube at the bottom of your glass. The drink is finished, the ice is consumed, and that last one seems to be stuck on the bottom rim. What is it hanging onto? No one knows. But it is. So you tap and you shake and you pound. And you look like a fool. All for the reward of one little cube of ice.
5. Purchasing feminine products.
6. Using the restroom at a very large house party. Number two. And that is not the awkward part. It is when you exit the bathroom and run into someone that you know right there out in front of the restroom. And you proceed to have a conversation 3 feet away from the very spot you just completed your "business." You are both thinking about this throughout the duration of your conversation but neither alludes to it. You can't. So you grit your teeth, smile, ask them about what "they've been up to lately" and pray your guts out that someone rescues you.
7. Asking someone about how their grandparents are - only to find out that their grandparents have recently passed away. This happened to me the other day. It was not a fun experience.
8. Getting mad at a car on the road for whatever reason, letting them aware of your frustration with them, and then pulling into the same parking lot with them to discover that you are both going to the same place.
9. Going to a tanning bed place.
10. Walking out of the grocery store to your car. Only there is a woman who has exited the grocery store before you who is walking to her car as well. And it so happens that your car is just beyond where she parked. So you are essentially following her to her car. And she continues to turn her head to look at you - suspiciously - as if she is worried that you are in fact following her. And you are, sort of. You can sense the panic she is feeling and you hate it. But you have to get to your car and don't see the point of taking a long detour around several other parked cars to get to yours. So you keep following her. And she keeps looking back. And she starts picking up her pace. And you cringe - thinking that you probably need to shave or at least wear something that doesn't give off the impression that you could potentially hurt people in grocery store parking lots.
This Page Intentionally Left Blank
I was combing through an official document the other day (an activity that I love doing. Seriously, I clear out my schedule so that I can comb through official documents. My wife has to literally pull me away from these "official" activities sometimes.) And upon my combing through said official document, I reached a page that caught my attention. Right there in the middle of a somewhat empty page was one sentence typed:
This page intentionally left blank.
Hmmm. Now, let's think about this. Here is a sentence printed on a page declaring that this page is left blank. (Intentionally, by the way.) But it isn't blank....is it? The very fact that there is a sentence printed in the middle of the page contradicts the sentence's claim, right? It's like writing, "This is not a complete sentence." It's like saying, "Never say never." It is self-referentially contradictory. The page isn't blank at all. Don't tell me that it is.
Why waste a page in the first place if you were going to print on it any way...albeit with a disclaimer that you weren't going to print on it? Just go ahead and print whatever you were going to print on the next page. Why waste the paper (and the ink) informing us that you are wasting paper (and ink)?!? What's the point in skipping a page for no good reason?
[This paragraph intentionally left blank.]
And why the added adverb: "intentionally"? Oh, that is helpful. You did this on purpose. That is clarifying. I would have been confused if you simply wrote "This page left blank." I would have been like - "WHAT?!? How did this happen?!? How did this page get left blank and yet simultaneously be informing me that it isn't blank?!? Is the universe folding in on itself?!??!" But with that one little word "intentionally" now I know - oh, thank goodness. This insanity does have a purpose to it.
All in all, this is stupid. Just use the page that you were going to "intentionally" leave blank. Don't skip over it.
Nothing like bringing in the new year with criticism and cynicism. (Put together: Crytnicism)
This page intentionally left blank.
Hmmm. Now, let's think about this. Here is a sentence printed on a page declaring that this page is left blank. (Intentionally, by the way.) But it isn't blank....is it? The very fact that there is a sentence printed in the middle of the page contradicts the sentence's claim, right? It's like writing, "This is not a complete sentence." It's like saying, "Never say never." It is self-referentially contradictory. The page isn't blank at all. Don't tell me that it is.
Why waste a page in the first place if you were going to print on it any way...albeit with a disclaimer that you weren't going to print on it? Just go ahead and print whatever you were going to print on the next page. Why waste the paper (and the ink) informing us that you are wasting paper (and ink)?!? What's the point in skipping a page for no good reason?
[This paragraph intentionally left blank.]
And why the added adverb: "intentionally"? Oh, that is helpful. You did this on purpose. That is clarifying. I would have been confused if you simply wrote "This page left blank." I would have been like - "WHAT?!? How did this happen?!? How did this page get left blank and yet simultaneously be informing me that it isn't blank?!? Is the universe folding in on itself?!??!" But with that one little word "intentionally" now I know - oh, thank goodness. This insanity does have a purpose to it.
All in all, this is stupid. Just use the page that you were going to "intentionally" leave blank. Don't skip over it.
Nothing like bringing in the new year with criticism and cynicism. (Put together: Crytnicism)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
