Gene: So I was gnawing on some barley the other day, and you will never guess who I ran into.
Oliver: Ruby?
Gene: No.
Oliver: Tony?
Gene: No.
Oliver: Gary?
Gene: Hey, I told you that you would never guess. So stop trying.
Oliver: Sammy?
Gene: You will never guess this person. It is impossible for you to guess who it was.
Oliver: It isn't impossible. It may be really difficult, but come on, if that person actually exists then theoretically it is possible for me to guess them.
Gene: No, seriously. It is impossible. Trust me.
Oliver: Does this person actually exist?
Gene: Yes, of course. What kind of a question is that?
Oliver: Well, if they exist - wouldn't you say that I could name every name on the planet and eventually guess it?
Gene: You could "name every name" but you wouldn't guess it. It's impossible.
Oliver: I don't understand why it is so impossible. This makes no sense. Sort of like when you were gnawing barley the other day.
Gene: So guess who I ran into.
Oliver: Ruby?
Gene: Exactly.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Maybe She's Born with It....
I just discovered something yesterday - the meaning behind a casual marketing slogan that I have never truly paid attention to. Countless times this simple sentence has washed over me while watching television: "Maybe she's born with it; maybe it's Maybelline." Do you know what that means? I didn't. Until now. But I will inform you.
The ad begins with an image of a beautiful woman. She's all made up and looking at the camera, communicating something like, "I haven't eaten at Burger King in 13 years...and I had a twizzler for lunch." And of course, her hair is blowing in the wind....which to be honest, I've never really understood. Why are all these models congregating in places where there are gusts of wind. How is all that wind getting indoors? Did someone leave a door open? And furthermore, does wind-blown hair make you want to purchase lipstick? Apparently.
And then the voice-over: "Maybe she's born with it." Now, here is the first question that this is intended to raise: "Maybe this person is naturally beautiful." Maybe she was born looking like this. Maybe. But just maybe. The second sentence, however, clearly answers that question...."Naaaah. Maybe it's Maybelline."
She's not naturally beautiful; it's the make up. Here is some atrocious baglady that we pulled off the streets. But slap a little Maybelline on her and - ta da!! You have a wind-blown, pimple-less star!!
Is she born with it? No way. It's the Maybelline.
The ad begins with an image of a beautiful woman. She's all made up and looking at the camera, communicating something like, "I haven't eaten at Burger King in 13 years...and I had a twizzler for lunch." And of course, her hair is blowing in the wind....which to be honest, I've never really understood. Why are all these models congregating in places where there are gusts of wind. How is all that wind getting indoors? Did someone leave a door open? And furthermore, does wind-blown hair make you want to purchase lipstick? Apparently.
And then the voice-over: "Maybe she's born with it." Now, here is the first question that this is intended to raise: "Maybe this person is naturally beautiful." Maybe she was born looking like this. Maybe. But just maybe. The second sentence, however, clearly answers that question...."Naaaah. Maybe it's Maybelline."
She's not naturally beautiful; it's the make up. Here is some atrocious baglady that we pulled off the streets. But slap a little Maybelline on her and - ta da!! You have a wind-blown, pimple-less star!!
Is she born with it? No way. It's the Maybelline.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
A Long Blog Sabbatical
Well, this is a bit awkward. It's been....quite a few months since I've done this. I feel like I'm trying to relearn how to use a badminton racquet after years of inactivity. It just feels and looks awkward.
But as I attempt to shake off the rust, I felt that today's observation warranted a comment or two. And the observation was this: two gentlemen emerging from the forrest from a hunting trip. I happened to be driving down the road at the exact moment that these two young men walked out from the woods and into the open. And I was able to check out what these two gentlemen were wearing.
From top to bottom they were covered in camouflage. This seems appropriate. The dark greens and browns of their apparel blended them into their environment with ease, making unsuspecting animals unaware of their position. And yet, over the top of this camouflage was a bright, neon orange vest, sort of like the types that crossing guards would wear. And this seemed appropriate too. Hunters don't want other hunters to shoot them; so they make their position obvious.
And herein lies the problem. Hunters - do you want to be seen or not? Neon orange vests over camouflage is sending mixed messages. See, the hunter is really in a predicament, I realized. He has to be inconspicuous so as not to scare off his pray. And yet, he has to be completely visible so as not to become another hunter's prey. He is caught in this perpetual tension of needing to be both visible and invisible at the same time.
And so what is his solution? Wearing neon orange over camouflage. He goes for visibility and invisibility. And cancels out both. (But how would that work? (How can you be both visible and invisible at the same time??))
All I know is - Dick Cheney capped someone who was hunting. That guy probably wasn't rocking out the orange vest.
But as I attempt to shake off the rust, I felt that today's observation warranted a comment or two. And the observation was this: two gentlemen emerging from the forrest from a hunting trip. I happened to be driving down the road at the exact moment that these two young men walked out from the woods and into the open. And I was able to check out what these two gentlemen were wearing.
From top to bottom they were covered in camouflage. This seems appropriate. The dark greens and browns of their apparel blended them into their environment with ease, making unsuspecting animals unaware of their position. And yet, over the top of this camouflage was a bright, neon orange vest, sort of like the types that crossing guards would wear. And this seemed appropriate too. Hunters don't want other hunters to shoot them; so they make their position obvious.
And herein lies the problem. Hunters - do you want to be seen or not? Neon orange vests over camouflage is sending mixed messages. See, the hunter is really in a predicament, I realized. He has to be inconspicuous so as not to scare off his pray. And yet, he has to be completely visible so as not to become another hunter's prey. He is caught in this perpetual tension of needing to be both visible and invisible at the same time.
And so what is his solution? Wearing neon orange over camouflage. He goes for visibility and invisibility. And cancels out both. (But how would that work? (How can you be both visible and invisible at the same time??))
All I know is - Dick Cheney capped someone who was hunting. That guy probably wasn't rocking out the orange vest.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Matthowell.com
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.
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.
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.
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