Monday, November 24, 2008

No-brainers, ground beef and clones OR Faking your own death is harder than it looks, take it from me OR Band on the run

I need to fake my own death, and I need to do it quick. I owe some bad people a lot of money and I need to go underground for awhile.

The tricky part is, the “bad people” are the Great State of New Mexico, and I’ve contracted to work for them for a year and a half upon my successful graduation - on the condition that they would pay my tuition.

But as it turns out, working for the state is no fun at all, plus my brother Brennan and my friends Shane and Kristen have a van, and they want to go on a full band tour this summer.

Hmmmm. Work for the state and deal with abused kids and crappy parents all day every day OR play punkrockdancepopcore every night in different locations across the country and live in a van? Seriously, which would you choose? If that’s not a “no-brainer,” I don’t know what is. And if you said “work for the state,” then just leave. Read another blog. Oh yeah, and submit your name to the “Lame Hall of Fame.” They induct people every year and you’re a shoo-in.

Problem is, if I don’t work for the state they say I am in “default,” and I have to pay all the tuition money back, which is a tidy, tidy sum. And if I don’t pay it back promptly, Bill Richardson (the governor of New Mexico and former Democratic Party presidential candidate) will come to my house with a Louisville Slugger and break my kneecaps. And I think it’s bad for my credit rating.

Hence the need to fake my own death.

So we were brainstorming ways to do it. Shane had some good ideas (and he has a corresponding blog about them here), but I wasn’t coming up with much.

My first idea was ground beef. I was thinking of throwing a bunch of ground beef and my sweatshirt in front of a train. That way, when I suddenly default on my contract and turn up missing, the authorities will discover my gory “remains” on the tracks. With my sweatshirt at the scene, the cops will have to conclude I’m dead. I think I would also throw in a fake suicide note to seal the deal.

But what if the cops DNA test the ground beef or something forensic like that? I would be up a ground beef creek without a paddle. Then, instead of the headlines reading “Promising young, extremely good looking social worker ends it all with grisly train track suicide,” they will read “Police find pile of ground beef, sweatshirt on train tracks.”

So logically my next idea was a clone. Everyone knows that in science fiction when people want to fake their own deaths they will make a clone of themselves, kill it and then get away scot-free.

But then again I’m not sure that technology even exists yet, and I imagine a clone-making vat costs more than college tuition. Plus, there would be all these moral dilemmas that weren’t there when it was just ground beef.

And so, with forensic science against me, limited funds, and pretty much only two ideas, I have decided not to fake my own death after all. Unless someone else comes up with some better ways to do it, and they don’t mind if I borrow them.

Until then, “Lame Hall of Fame” here I come.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Big K strikes again... but how? OR Mess with natural selection and reap the whirlwind

Listen: the other day in the news I heard about a 1,000 pound woman who was being charged with murder, which is unsettling on a lot of levels.

First of all, they were going to take her to prison, but then the authorities decided that since she is not able to move by herself, they would just put her on house arrest. Simple enough.

But wait! If she can’t move on her own, how was she able to murder someone? It boggles the mind. At least my mind is boggled, anyway. I can’t speak for everyone. They should make a CSI episode about the thousand pound murderess aka “Big K.”

I figure she must just sit in a bed all day and eat. How else would someone get to be 1,000 pounds? Maybe she watches TV too.

This tells me that there must be someone bringing her food or something because people that fat aren’t found in nature. Evolution or natural selection or whatever would have weeded them out long ago. For example, can you imagine a morbidly obese zebra? No, because he or she would be eaten by a lion the instant they got too fat to run, probably even sooner, like when they started slowing down.

Same thing with this lady: Big K would have been out of luck as soon as she got too fat to get out of bed. But in this case somebody kept feeding, cleaning (eeeeeeeeew!), taking care of and generally enabling this woman until she got to be 1,000 pounds, and I hope that person feels bad.

Now on to the murder: the article didn’t say who Big K killed, but I suspect it was her feeder. Maybe he had finally had enough and started talking to her about a diet. She gets upset and straight up eats Feeder with ketchup and a little salt and pepper. Motive and M.O. Case closed. That would be first degree murder, I guess. Or second degree? I don’t know.

Maybe Feeder had even gone so far as to put Big K on the diet and she was really hungry and just ate him out of desperation. That’s, like, manslaughter, right?

Or maybe Big K was just eating away and wasn’t paying attention. Perhaps Feeder got mixed in with the mass quantities of onion rings and bacon (or whatever else it takes to eat to become 1,000 pounds) and she accidentally ate him. An honest mistake. Shoot, that could happen to anybody!

Or maybe Feeder was over-feeding Big K on purpose so that he could take control of her assets (a person who can afford to eat all day has to have some sort of steady income) and she got hip to it and decided to kill him.

Or maybe Feeder was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and Big K accidentally rolled over on top of him and smothered him. Tragic? Yes. Murder? No.

Either way, that’s what you get when you mess with natural selection.

Monday, November 10, 2008

I'm ignorant! Listen to me!

It’s ok to be ignorant, just keep it to yourself. The problem is, most people like to broadcast their ignorance for the world to hear.

Like the other night they were making fun of Bill Clinton on TV and I said, “Bill Clinton made some weird choices in his personal life, but all in all I think he was a good president.”

One of my friends got totally worked up and passionately said, “No, he wasn’t! He didn’t do anything good!”

So I said, “I guess you entitled to that opinion, but why do you think that?”

He proceeded to say “Uh… um… well… he, uh…”

He hemmed and hawed like that for about five minutes, but the thing about ignorant people is that THEY WILL NEVER ADMIT THAT THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HECK THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT and THEY NEVER WILL ADMIT THEY ARE WRONG.

So I didn’t say anything, I just hoped he was sufficiently embarrassed. I wanted to say:

“Have you ever heard of the Adoption and Safe Families Act? The Family and Medical Leave Act? The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act a.k.a. WELFARE REFORM? And most importantly, do you remember that our country at one time did not have a huge deficit and actually instead had a balanced budget and even a SURPLUS?”

Probably not.

By no means am I defending his personal conduct, and I’m not even hardcore pro-Clinton. I’m just anti-ignorant loudmouth. If you presented me with some facts and a well-reasoned viewpoint, I would listen and I might even change my opinion. But please do not talk trash if you have no idea what the heck you are talking about.

Also, this same guy is always griping about “people that live on welfare” who “take all my tax money.”

I’m like, “Dude, relax. First of all, you don’t have a job, so you don’t actually pay taxes, remember? But I guess it does cut into your money in a roundabout way because I’m sure your dad pays taxes, so it technically cuts into the free money he sends you every month.

“Second, in regard to people ‘living’ on welfare: remember the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act that deadbeat President Clinton signed into law? Well, that limits the amount of time a person can receive aid to no more than two consecutive years and no more than five years over a lifetime and requires recipients to work. It has moved tons of people off the welfare rolls. Put that in your ultra-conservative pipe and smoke it.”

This same friend is also convinced that Obama is a Muslim terrorist. I’m sure he has some facts to back that one up too. And even if he is a closet Muslim, who cares? "Muslim" does not equal "terrorist."

But I digress.

The moral of the story is: take five minutes and research something, don’t just go regurgitating some rhetoric that you heard from your dad and pretend like you know what’s going on. Just don’t do it.

PS – I’m stoked about Obama being elected and I’m excited for some change in America. Hooray!

Monday, November 3, 2008

Colbie Caillat infuriates, inspires

Colbie Caillat is terrible songwriter. Seriously, how many more slow, ├╝ber sappy love songs does the world need? If you ask me, the guy she's singing about will finally love her if she would just shut the heck up.

But I guess the reason Colbie is successful is because something about her music speaks to females age 11 to twenty-something, especially if they are learning to play acoustic guitar. I don’t know what it is.

Ms. Caillat did stimulate my imagination while I was listening to her song “Little Things” (against my will, mind you, they just play her music absolutely everywhere). As I listened, it hit me: I don’t really know what she is talking about but I need to be more positive and more grateful for the “little things” in my life that make my days a little brighter.

So with Thanksgiving fast approaching, here are some things I am thankful for:

First, I am thankful for Fringe and Eleventh Hour and my friends Shane and Kristen and Lori for recommending them. Neither show will ever replace The X-Files in my heart, but together they almost fill the void that it left.

Second, I am thankful for Enter Shikari, this UK trance-core band that has cool dance music that combines hideous walrus yowling with catchy melodies. It’s an interesting contrast but it works for me. Plus, they dance like nobody’s business. I can’t stop listening to them.

Third, I am thankful for the new King’s of Leon song “Sex on Fire.” I can't understand most of the lyrics, I don’t know what it means exactly and it sounds kind of sketchy, but it’s just so catchy. I listened to it about one hundred times in a row and I think I could listen to it one hundred times more. I also think it would be funny to dedicate that song to somebody, like, “'Sex on Fire,' that's our song, baby.” Plus, the singer looks like Charlie Pace/Merry the hobbit and the drummer rocks the sweet mustache.

Fourth, I am grateful for the people in my classes who feel sorry for me because I am the only boy and help me out when I am struggling.

Fifth, I am thankful for this video on how to avoid kissing. I almost died laughing when I saw Bre smash Daniel with a flowerpot. It made my whole day. (Daniel didn't really get hurt, it's a dangerous but well-executed stunt. I checked before I laughed too hard.)

Sixth, I’m thankful for my mom, who loves me enough to yell at me. I was having the Pity-Palooza of all pity parties and I called my mom and told her I wanted to drop out of school, to which she simply responded, “Quit being a whiner and a quitter!” It was intense, but it set me straight.

So things aren’t so bad. I’ve got people entertaining me and looking out for me.

Now if they could only get Colbie Caillat to stop singing…