Education...

The best part about Sunday dinner is getting feedback about my blog.  Unfortunately there are always people trying to change the subject, which requires me to spin the convo back to the subject of: ME!  It's like marketing hour for me, and it gets exhausting.  People are always misquoting me and what not, so I have to correct them (I'm real anal about quotations).  Then there are always some people that think they're so frickin' amazing, they're basically overcome with jealousy, so they act like they're tooooo cool to participate in the blog talk.

The reason that feedback is so important to me, is because I need to know that my fans are getting every penny's worth.  That's right, I'm in it for you.  It would be nice if people would comment, on the blog, so that I didn't have to go to Sunday dinner with several people I can't stand; yet they can't get enough of me.  What I'm getting at folks, is that if you're just rushing through these posts you're not getting a full education.  You need to participate.  If you don't, it's basically like going to college for nothing but job training.  Where's the education in that?

I'm extremely grateful for the curmudgeon English teacher that I had my freshman year in college.  He spoke of our decaying society with such disdain.  I was thrilled that someone could be so disappointed with modern pop-culture, that he would start using bigger words with more sting and spoke as if his pulpit were 100 ft in the air.  The "mall world" is what he called it.  The man refused to memorize his social security number, because it was not his identity.  I'm generally a fan of verbal abuse, but when it came from this guy I left the class so disoriented that I didn't even know my name.  Talk about getting your money's worth in education.  I wish that I wasn't so lazy, just so that I could have a list if things that get under my skin a mile long, just like that guy.  To be obsessed to the point where you'd probably love to make a student cry, that's dedication.
Image via Wikipedia
He talked about how the mall world schools didn't teach us anything anymore so we had to take precious time to learn parts of speech.  We were lucky that such a knowledgeable individual would even speak to us unworthy creatures.  I would be shaking with embarrassment as he rounded the room dissecting a sentence.  When it was our turn we had to declare which part of speech was being represented by each word.  He spanked us all over the place, and it was one of the greatest learning experience I received.  It had nothing, yet everything, to do with my major.  Priceless humiliation.

I stand next to my teacher, when I believe that public education is crap!  (Don't start building your case about how my spelling or sentence structure is still just barely above a 5th grade level.  And if you do you better make me cry.  You really think I have time to edit while still meeting the demands of so many fans?)  So anyways I want to congratulate my number one fan (I don't mention names often, but she deserves it and besides she realizes the waste of time it would be to try to sue me for defamation.  Although the claim would have to be on other grounds, because defamation insinuates de-faming, but this is more of an entry to fame).  Without further adieu, thank you Aunt Melissa!  Why is she number one?  Let's just say she stays up til 3 am waiting for a post and if I happened to be too lazy that night, she can't sleep.  Besides that she's been a great promoter.  If there is any promotion worth praise, it's the kind that has no price tag.  She even texted me to inform me that my layout was not functional on her browser, even though it looked fine on my Mac.  Just so you know my last post had nothing to do with her (it had everything to do with her).  What really impressed me today, was to learn that she makes her oldest daughter read my posts before she can do anything else, including homework.  So we could also award her mother of the year.  All I know is that she's on her way to earning one of my static pages that I never have time to update.

Why would anyone force this on their children, you ask?  Because they see the true value in education.  Do you think your kids brains are just soaking up all that crap, that their teachers spray all over them?  No.  No. And NO.  You can't hold a candle to this education you're receiving before your eyes.  Maybe I don't have a diploma to offer, but I can give you some recycled toilet paper worth the diploma of any "prestigious" schools.  That's about the current worth of my diploma anyways.

Soak it up...

P.S. Sleep well auntie...

Go ahead waste your time-

• The Future For Education (whatithinktank.wordpress.com)
• Reasons Why a High School Education is Important (brighthub.com)
• Avoid a Phony College Degree and Diploma Mill (brighthub.com)

Cougartown...

Once again, people are seeking my advice about the great mysteries of life.  The subject at hand is dating.  Now, lucky for me, I married the girl of my dreams 7 years ago, and have managed to change the subject every time she starts to question her decision.  So my opinion on this subject comes from a very practical point of view.  When your single and horny, your mind is in survival mode.  This is often referred to as fight or flight.  Unfortunately, unless your prospect shows obvious characteristics of a serial killer, that collects human flesh, you'll generally fight (wrestling type, that usually takes place in a bedroom or rental car).  You see, all these crazy hormones when bottled up for soooo long, start bouncing around and prevent neurons from reaching your frontal brain lobes.  This is the part of the brain that controls impulsivity, attention, organization, etc.  Basically you're retarded...

Image via Wikipedia

So, love hungry cougars listen up!  Since you're currently experiencing a frontal lobe shutdown, I will balance you out with some practical knowledge.  

Lesson #1-  This is a hard fact to face ladies, but if you're searching for a dude over thirty and single, you might as well hunt the psych ward.  All the prime catches, such as myself , have been snatched up (of course I won't compare all others to me, because that would set the bar too high).  I had to take a whole week off of work just to sort through some pretty impressive dowries, after another week of negotiations I was able to get the women I wanted.  This is generally why cougars are forced to go for young meat, because they can afford it and they deserve someone who has yet to be declared crazy.  I suppose if the young are willing to satisfy the wildest dreams of the middle age, they too deserve a little somethin'.  I get it, it's a win-win.

Lesson #2- Social media is big!  If I were in the dating game, I would be a huge fan of this dating medium mainly because I'm lazy.  You can knockout the first 5-10 dates, while sitting on the couch with your laptop.  On the other hand, do you really want to get with someone as lazy as you?  How will the house every get cleaned?  People are reconnecting on facebook with people that they never had the chance to get with in high school.  Those are dangerous bottled up hormones at work, from an era in your life when control over such was next to impossible. This has become a horrible problem for many marriages too, which is why I don't friend former female classmates.  The problem with this hook-up method for those who are free to date, is that it's all completely driven by nostalgia.  We all know that the problem with nostalgia is that we only remember the good things.  Don't kid yourself, especially if you were raised in some po-dunk town in say... Montana.  You were fishing in a tiny sea in high school, it's time to think global.

Lesson#3-  Online dating is not much different from facebook, but it deserves our attention.  Beware!  Anyone can claim anything, or slightly fudge the facts online.  They could post a profile picture from their best looking days.  Think of me, I tell people how cool I am in nearly every post, yet if people really knew me, they would be blown away by the amount of awesomeness all bottled up in just one package.  The other thing about the internet is you might be hooking up with some 10 year old punk kid who's just messing with you.

So I've basically said what's wrong with different forms of modern dating and have offered almost no solutions.  So what do I propose...?

I don't know!  I'm not a dating expert.  My daily goals involve trying not to piss off my wife by 9am.  If I succeed, I shoot for noon.  Then 3, then 6, and so on.  I've rarely made it passed 3 and that's why I love her... cuz she's still here.

Chin up horn balls, don't settle for less just because it's convenient...

Here's a little education for y'all.  I strive to delivery a learning experience.

• What Are the Lobes of the Brain? (brainz.org)
• Will Brain Surgery Cure My Schizophrenia? (everydayhealth.com)
• Frontal Lobes (calla5.wordpress.com)

Stud finder...

Despite the countless cries for fifteen minutes of fame, from my entourage at Sunday dinner, I need to discuss a matter of importance.  This post, as no surprise, came to me while in the shower.  (I figure if I point that out at least once a week, it will encourage all the stay-at-home moms and all the single ladies, to put down their romance novels, that no doubt have pictures of my body on the cover with the face of some goon superimposed over mine, long enough to read my blog.  Minor note- I've been through several legal battles with fitness magazines, but how these ninja-like romance photographers get shots of me in nothing but animal hide is beyond my imagination.  I'm not sure if these ladies are actually reading the content of my blog, or just imagining the creative process.  Either way it sells.  As a nice bi-product, this fills my wife with the only jealousy that I could profit from.  She becomes eager to lash out at any women glancing in my direction, even when I'm driving the freaking mini-van in the dark and there's some girls three cars over at a stop light.)
Image via Wikipedia
Anyways, that was a pretty good tangent, even for me.  About a week ago I noticed that my sister-in-law was trying this whole "gauges" phenomenon in her ears.  You know, they try to make a hoola hoop out of their ear lobes.  This type of fashion statement fascinates me on so many accounts, that I could have an entire blog dedicated to the subject.  First of all, "gauge" wearers and founders of the name, that is the crappiest most unoriginal name.  If that's not a healthy serving of irony on a platter for you, I don't know what is.  I get the whole-I want to be original so people can notice me.  I just want to point out time and time again, that your originality is false.  One idiot was probably stoned out of his mind on a couch, watching National Geographic, and saw an indigenous tribe, that had a giant portion of their ear lobes hanging and swinging in the wind.  Stoner was inspired, stoner went to the local piercing joint, stoner asked for thick earnings measured by a unit known as a gauge, stoner goes to party, stoner becomes famous, hundreds of idiots follow.  Just know this- "gauge" is a unit of measurement.  Its abbreviation looks like this- AWG and it means this- American Wire Gauge.  It is used to measure the diameter of wires, rather than saying point twenty-three inches.  The largest measurement is 00 awg,  equalling .46 in.  Now I know there are some people with holes in their heads larger than a half inch.  My point is come up with a more creative name.

I get that the whole point of these "gauges" is to tell the world how much Mommy and Daddy didn't love you.  If you wrote a memoir, you probably would bring us all to tears.  You'd tell us about how you were the first kid to learn of Santa's falsehood, when he gave you a white iPod the same year that black came out, and you asked for black!  After days of mourning over the matter and refusing to allow certain songs to be downgraded and inhabit, said white iPod, you start an investigation.  You learn that your parents have been stuffing your stockings and you refuse to believe that they're "Santa's helpers".  No one at school believes you about your discovery.  They call you crazy, when they're the ones who believe in fairytales.  You decide that your parents are trying to ruin your life, by making you look crazy and allowing you to be seen in public with a white iPod.  Years of counseling and antidepressants would eventually lead to a full recovery, but your childhood is filled with similar situations.  So naturally you join the tight jean and "gauges" club.  Meanwhile your memoir is #4 on Amazon's list.  It's about time things go your way.

The best thing for me is when I ask one of these emo-gaugers, "doesn't that hurt your ear?"  He responds- "life is pain, bra."  (Had I read his memoir, I would understand the profound grief.  People just don't understand him.)  So, with the perplexed look on my face, he's sure that he's sent me into the greatest epiphany of my life.  When really I'm wondering if this guy is handicapped or something.  So I start talking slower and using more body language.  He feels belittled, starts crying and runs home.

All in all, I love the idea of gauges, but I'm a man of logic.  So, the real trial that I've been facing, is what could be put in these "gauges" that would provide functionality and purpose.  After about 15 minutes I realized that no purpose can be found, so instead I decided to come up with something more creative for my sister in law to put in her ear.  I finally settled on a sawed-off broom stick between two tennis balls (see my illustration below).  I'm certain that this would restore creativity for at least a week.  So Gabs, make sure to mark the day that you chose to start this trend, so no one else can claim it as their own.  I can guarantee that the next big thing is pink tennis balls.