Friday, October 9, 2009

We must have more moons!

News update!

NASA impregnates moon! It shoved its space phallus into the awaiting loins of the throbbing moongina. It took us almost 120 days to get in the mood, but when we did, we pushed in hard and made our sexy business known.


Many will claim that we are looking for ice and water underneath the moon's surface. Still others will decry our actions as "bombing" the moon out of contempt or in an effort to find spacegold. And perhaps a few think it's a moon-landing-like hoax.

But make no mistake. We are inseminating the moon. We will raise new moons from infancy to do our bidding. When at last we have several dozen fully grown moons with extensive military training, we shall launch them against our enemies throughout the solar system. Triton must fall! So must Mars for taunting us with its weak atmosphere and lack of pyramids! Even the sun will think twice about ballooning to several times its size in the far future.

I'm trying to uncover whether Barack Obama's new Peace Prize will have a moon-control device. If you have any information as to the physical consistency of the prize and what past Peace Prizes have been able to manipulate, tell me in all CAPS lettering.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

My Dad's Got Shingles!

That's right. My dad's got shingles. Apparently, shingles does not mean that you develop hard, barklike skin and a doubling of strength. Shingles is not an augmentation. It is a sickness. It affects the nervous system and resembles chickenpox.

By the way, chickenpox does not mean that you can see through walls and hear the Velvet Underground in the trees. Those are hallucinations which occur when you refuse medical treatment. I need to stop assuming that illness creates superhuman characteristics. You just get sick is all.

My dad's taking Codeine and antibiotics, stuff like that -- and his wife is going to try some alternative treatments on him. I think alternative medicine is interesting -- provided it works and doesn't hurt anyone. But one thing she's trying makes me a bit uncomfortable. She's going the homeopathy route. Have you heard of this? It's weird, and from what I can gather, it doesn't work. At all. Here's why. Say I've got shingles. I go to a homeopath. She will sell me a vial or pill or something that is a severely diluted form of something else, like an herb. It's so diluted that the molecular structure of the herb is very difficult to detect. And it's potency is gone. Yet it's claimed that it's more potent than it was before. I read that some homeopathic medicines are so diluted that they contain less ingredient in its solution than there is allowable arsenic in our drinking water. This means you're taking water pills. And paying a lot of bank for it.

Luckily, my dad's not going to replace his meds with this pre-germ theory scam. He's a nurse and his wife's a psychologist so they know the value of drugs -- they're just trying something out. I'll choose not to create a tiff over this. But I hope they don't get carried away and start making rash medical decisions. Oh, look at that. I made a shingles pun. Nothing makes me want to shoot myself in the face more than a pun.

-- BANG --

-- thud --

Dead face.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Brownshirt Obama and My Monsterplate

This must be said. If you come out in public to say Obama is a Nazi or fascist, then you will be called a jerk. And you deserve to be called a jerk. And that person who calls you a jerk will have a friend who sidles in from across the room, and she will chime in saying, “you are a dumb jerk.” And that’s perfectly apt, because “a Dumb” by itself can at least be endearing, like someone with Downs Syndrome who is trying to work through a puzzle. And “a Jerk” by itself can potentially be reasoned with on some level if you can get on equal footing with said Jerk or lull him into letting his guard down.

But when you combine the two… then you’ve got a Dumb Jerk on your hands… and that is some serious shit.

A Jerk is more dangerous than a Dumb because a Jerk can do a lot of damage and he knows how to do it well. There’s focus to it. Like a Jerk Laser. But most dangerous of all is when you compound Jerkdom with Dumbassery, because you end up with a lot of collateral damage. Like someone who does a sloppy wheelkick and just manages to take out a few more foes than friendlies (and that cool lamp you bought that looks like a Greek column). Worst of all, there’s a good chance some Smart Jerk will pick up on his antics and champion him. Then he’ll believe he’s a champion. And he’ll go do more wheelkicks.

If that happens, he is officially a doosh.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the 1st Amendment. And I’ll be the first to admit, it’s fun to call people Hitler. I call people Hitler all the time.—because it’s ridiculous—and drawing the little moustache on posters of models and celebrities always makes me laugh. It’s putting something extreme on a non-extreme object. It makes for good humor. Calling someone Hitler in jest is like farting loudly in church and claiming it’s the Holy Spirit. But there’s a reason I wouldn’t release food ghosts into microphones at town hall meetings, and it’s the very same reason I don’t label Obama a Nazi. Because it makes no fucking sense. It’s obnoxious as hell. And it is completely counterproductive in a national conversation about health care reform.

We have an opportunity to participate in a meaningful dialogue. The discussion of health care can include such topics as ethics, pharmaceutical methods, market forces, international relations, technology, all that stuff. But it is amazingly frustrating trying to delve into this complicated issue when some Dumb Jerk mouth breather is shoving a swastika in my face. Having my psychological buttons pushed is really annoying while I’m trying to learn things.

Here is a more specific reason why you are a Dumb Jerk if you say Obama is Hitler:

Making a comparison between Obama and Hitler is a heightened version of a logical fallacy often couched within debates. Two, actually.

1.) It’s an ad hominem which means “an argument against the man,” where you attack the character or beliefs of a person rather than the substance of her argument.

2.) It’s also a “Straw Man” argument. As per Wikipedia: To "attack a straw man" is to create the illusion of having refuted a proposition by substituting a superficially similar proposition (the "straw man"), and refuting it, without ever having actually refuted the original position.

So if I talk about someone’s ideas as “fascist,” or “Hitler-esque,” I bring her position to a level I can easily attack without actually addressing what was originally put forward. This fallacy happens a lot during debates on the news. Especially as it can sound legitimate and there is little time to unravel the truth from the fiction. Proponents of such discourse seem to replicate when they get airtime and hence, credence.

I’ve avoided saying anything either way about Obama, because this isn’t really about him. It’s absolutely essential to challenge our leaders. Put ‘em through the ringer. But damn. Don’t be a Dumb Jerk about it. Nothing is worse than a Dumb Jerk. Unless it’s a Hippie. Then you’ve got a Self-Righteous Universalist Hippie Jerk with Beads. Some Hippie Jerk once scolded me for throwing out a paper plate instead of reusing it. His argument was fundamentally correct. I could have reused the plate. It’s not like a bird took a dump on it or anything. But throwing the jerk juice my way just made me resentful and defensive. I avoided environmentalism for years after that incident. For true. That Hippie did way more harm than good by being a jerk.

Now I carry a reusable plate with me. It has a picture of a cute monster waving hello on it. Nothing jerky about that!

To sum up. Don’t make straw men or ad hominem attacks. If you do, rethink the argument and try something else. Then listen to the opposition. Don’t let anyone pull that Hitler shit on you. Tell him to read a history book and stop using language he doesn’t understand. And get yourself a reusable monster plate. Otherwise, you’re a Dumb Jerk.

(P.S. I know calling people Dumb Jerks is technically an ad hominem. But being silly and ironic gets me the ladies. – wink and fade out.)

Thursday, January 29, 2009

My Birthday Fun

Last Sunday was my birthday. Thanks to the thousands of people who wrote to wish me a happy one. The night preceding, my girlfriend Jessica (with the help of her lovely assistants, Lauren and Courtney) threw me a wonderful PAR-TAY at where else..? A Korean Karaoke Bar. We crammed about 30 people and 100 cupcakes into a thimble full of couches (I'm exaggerating of course, because I'm a big silly. It was a comfortable room for perhaps up to 20 people). As per my request, I was roasted... somewhat... Surprisingly enough, I was complimented more often than I was mocked. But though I may have been insulted far less than I would have preferred, I was pleased with the balloons, the festivities, and the made up lyrics to Korean hits.

'Twas a fun-ass event. I will definitely go back for more Korean Karaoke. But not for $8 glasses of bitter wine.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Yoga Update! Stretch Out With Obama!

Hello, friend. What's that? Well, I've changed them three times today already. You're just going to have to put up with the smell. Goodbye then.

Sorry about that. As I was saying... yoga's going great! I haven't done it every day... but I've done it nearly every day, and the effects are nothing short of moderate! I can now touch my nipples and I throw a pretty mean fireball provided I yell "Fireball Attack!" and press down, forward, and B.

Did you know Barack Obama is the President of These United States? That's right. You tried to stop it but you couldn't.

The night before Inauguration Day, I dreamt I was at some party in a shack. You know, a shack party! I was in Chicago, but the shack was in the woods anyway. Obama stopped by on his way to DC. He made a speech for us, then opened some fan mail. Some kid sent him an old, beat-up Bible with the front cover missing. In the letter, the kid said that this Bible belonged to his family for generations, but he wanted Barack to have it for safe keeping. All of us in the shack wept as we were so touched by this gesture.

That VERY MORNING, Barack phoned and called me a sissy for having had such a dream. How he knew what I dreamt, I could not say. But he asked me not to sissify his big day with my sissy dreams. Joe Biden was snickering in the background.

I'm sorry I'm such a yoga-doing, dreamy sissy who shoots fireballs! But I can't pretend any longer! This is the real me!

Best Wishes Obama, my little gumdrop,
Birdhaus

Working is made of dumb

My hatless friend Courtney (of Modern Homebody fame) thought I should mention this story, because "people love hearing about other peoples' crappy temp jobs. 'Cause, you know, temping is absolutely the wwgdsncfdr832rfd...ssssss...haaaaaaaaah!" Her jaw fell off right in the middle of the bar! She was humiliated and I'll never hear the end of her unasked for opinion.

But jawless Courtney is right. Office temp jobs are unaccustomed to interesting happenstances. A couple months into working at this one place, I decided to wear gigantic nerdy glasses (given to me by Young Scott of Hot Sandwich fame). For hours I wore these huge comical prescription glasses that probably caused my eyes somewhat serious harm. I really, really looked ridiculous. I even dressed up nice to give me that 1950's cartoon scientist look. Yeah. Hilarious, right? I know! For real!

And not one f*cking person said anything... Can I say f*cking? Oh. Not one Fuck*ng person said anything! They knew me! They knew me! But they didn't say nothin' ya'll! There was this girl that worked there with a glass eye. She of all people should have said, "Birdhaus, those glasses are crazy. Tell me why you have donned them." Super-Christian girl who sits next to me should have crossed herself and said "Oh Birdhaus. I wish Jesus could make your eyes well again because no one should have to suffer those specs." Retired hitman Robert should have laughed his ass off. Because he laughs at everything. Being a hitman does things to you.

That's when I realized working in an office is not something people who enjoy things should do.
But I can't be a hitman. I have morals and Robert won't recommend me. I can't be a glass eye. I'm too animate. I should be Jesus. Then the people would take notice. But they might kill me. I don't want to be anything!

Courtney. Get well soon.
Love,
Mandible

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Our secret...

My girlfriend has "The Pinkeye," so I've been telling her that I'm going to work to make money for anti-pinkeye medicine...




But you know where I've REALLY been going?



Correct!

Skurgrottslundersvurkl's Tavern, in Finland. For thirty Finish Marks you can drink mead out of a dog's neck!

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Why is everyone pregnant?

A friend of mine from college got in contact with me recently (I'm starting to get really nervous about being on Facebook). She and I went on a date or two before she hooked up with the guy she's now married to. THAT guy dated a girl before I dated HER for about a year. And THAT GIRL is now married. The latter girl just gave birth to a kid, and the former girl is pregnant now.

Why is everyone pregnant? And when they're done being pregnant, why do they have a kid? Or kids?

Even the men are pregnant. We all used to punch each other in the stomachs specifically to prove there were no babies in there. Just beer and accidentally swallowed cigarettes. Now it's all "lean in close and you can hear it kicking."

The hell with that! The hell with your babies! You are all swollen with pride and preformed humans!

And why must you flaunt your babyness? Why must you take pictures in front of sunsets and go to Lamaze? Why must you scream in pain when you deliver them? Why don't you show some respect and pass them softly and meekly like secret farts? They can waft away and no one will be the wiser... then we can all be young again.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

How to keep kids out of your yard - by Cheryl Fjord

Here's a piece of "How To" information as posted by an invalid jam manufacturer and philosopher named Cheryl Fjord. I invited him to contribute to my blog on occasion. Please welcome him as you would a mentor, insightful guru, and dare I say... friend?

"Nothing is worse than sitting down at my breakfast table to a hot cup of coffee and jammy toast, looking out the window, and discovering that some 6-year-old is stomping about in my yard, digging up worms and begging for cookies. These little simpletons are a menace and a burden. But unless you have one of your own, there is little you can do to control them. Parents and police are no help. I know! After thousands of letters and countless rake-brandishing incidents, I've deduced that while some kids may be curbed, most of them pay no heed to me and my complaints. In fact, I suspect some parents were sending children out to my yard just to enrage me.


So what can be done? For starters, I can alter the environment around my house and create a world that children will want no part of. I myself can become an object of fear and uncertainty. After a solid month of hard work, I can now safely say that kids will go blocks out of their way to avoid me. As an added bonus, my neighbors have moved away and I haven't had a phone call in weeks.

Would you like to regain your privacy and find the peace you seek?

Here are but a few tips to KEEP KIDS OUT OF YOUR YARD:

1.) Leave dead animals laying around. At first, children come by to poke them and collect bugs. Practice patience. A few more days and no one will be able to bear the smell long enough to brave a visit. Other animals may arrive to consume the dead. Kill those animals. A graveyard of wild corpses should deter the little trespassers and create a healthy atmosphere of terror.

2.) Wander outside in the nude. Keep an unpredictable schedule for your outings.

3.) Hire a mad clown to sleep on your porch. Get him drunk. The rest will take care of itself.

4.) "Bee" inventive: Line wasps' nests ‘round your property. Throw rocks on occasion to keep the insects on their guard. Do not combine this with tip #2. You may combine this with tip #3 for added effect.

5.) Do you have trees? Hollow them out into nightmarish faces. When you walk by one, put your neck on a low-hanging branch and pretend it's throttling you. This shows by example what happens to those who cross over to your domain.

6.) Make it your morning ritual to go out into the street, rub the sleep out of your eyes and loudly ask God who you should punish today. Point at anyone nearby with an accusatory finger and rhetorically ask "Will it be yooooou?"

7.) Pretend you have an imaginary friend. Look up when you talk to him to give the impression that he is huge. Keep telling him to calm down.

8.) Place a kiln out front. Hang a sign on the door that says "kidz only" in crayon. It's blatant, but effective.

9.) Grow your fingernails out. Sharpen them. Put on a cape. Cackle. Run in circles.

10.) Operate your own rickety lemonade stand at 10 cents a cup. Look excessively determined. If children actually ask for lemonade, put in some dry ice and refuse to explain why it's smoking.
These tips work! Yes, my mailman refuses to come around and the alderman speaks out against me every chance he gets. But I haven't seen a child in ages. Why should you?

Good luck and stay out of my way!"

Friday, January 2, 2009

Stylin' the early mornin' rise.

What a great start to the New Year! In addition to my resolutions (see below), I've decided to get up by 6am every weekday and do 20 minutes of Yoga with the prominently phallused Rodney Yee, whose voice reminds me of Jim Carrey when he up dressed like that weightlifting woman on "In Living Color." Personal Yoga instruction with a highly acclaimed Yoga teacher... through my very own television and DVD player! No live watchful eyes on this flexible body!



I set my alarm AND my internal clock for 6am. The internal clock got me up first at 5:45. I awoke feeling ever so refreshed on account of having had a dream in which I caroused about Maine with the Dalai Lama. We went to visit a friend of his who was a silent film star in a Charlie Chaplain film (though she looked in her twenties). Her back was broken and he said some prayers for her. Then we walked hand in hand (an accepted practice on the other side of the world, I swear) and got lost driving along the back roads. It was actually one of the most fun times I've ever had in a dream. No crazy flying or super powered adventures or anything like that. Just laughing and hanging out. It was also the most focused and linear dream I've had in a long while. Usually they jump-cut and morph into angry cows or what have you.



Then I did that damned Yoga. Yes I did. And then I went to work in an office where goosing about with monks in the astral realm and stretching for long periods of time is considered "inappropriate," and "grounds for dismissal."



It's also "grounds for breakin' up" when you punch your girlfriend in the gut to wake her up in the morning. So if you did that, there's no turning back now. You've got to finish the job and work the head, neck, and shoulders as my old boxing coach Punchy McPhearson used to say. But I didn't do that because I'm not a psychotic insane person. I'm a loving boy who kissed his lady on the cheek and skipped on his way... and punched a cat for being gluttonous.



Bye, bye Birdhaus