Car maintenance and personal hygiene
My car demands too much attention. I have to check the mileage, the tire pressure, the fluid levels, the filters. I have to change the oil every 3000 miles, rotate the tires, tune up the engine, check it for a hernia, and several other maintenance tasks. Plus, I have to wash and wax the damn thing. They call them automobiles, but they don't do anything automatically! A newborn baby isn't as demanding as a Buick.
I should take care of my own body as well as my car. I'm still trying to floss my teeth on a regular basis. Oil changes every three months? I have laundry in my hamper that hasn't been washed in 3 months! My car is going to have to toughen up and use the oil it already has.
My car has a digital compass. What good is knowing which way is north when you're completely fucking lost? It gives you a sense of control over chaos, I guess. My car also has a navigation system that talks. If I ever get so lost that I need to ask my car where we're going, than I'm going to ask which way to the nearest cliff so I can drive off of it. Guess what, North Star. We're heading over a cliff. I'm going to jump out at the last second and then call my insurance company. What are your plans? Or maybe I'll ask North Star where's the closest topless bar. North Star, is Mandy Mountains working the night shift this evening at the Jug Shack?
Whenever someone wants to describe the sex act delicately, they use the term "expressing yourself sexually" or "expressing your sexuality." These terms soften the blow.
Screw that. When I'm eating, I'm not "expressing my hunger." I'm eating! When I'm drinking, I'm not "expressing my thirstiness." I'm drinking diet soda. And when somebody's "expressing their sexuality," it means they're fucking. Balls on these sex-ed teachers. They'll pull a condom over a piece of fruit without flinching, but they shy away from a word.
I enjoy exercise. But I'll never understand the treadmill. Who subjects himself to this torture voluntarily? What must he be thinking? “You know, I want the mind-bending tedium and joint trauma of a long jog, but I'd rather forgo the pleasant weather and beautiful scenery that accompanies an outdoor run. I think I'll jump on the treadmill. Running without any recreational component whatsoever -- that's what I'm after. I can pound my heels, sweat and stare at my bedroom wall for 40 minutes.”
Give paint a chance
We should fight wars with paint ball guns. Follow me on this. Let's say two countries have to go to war. They would both agree to paint ball warfare -- understanding that what one can do with paint balls, one could do with bullets. Therefore, if a country lost at paint ball, it would lose a conventional war with real bullets, too, and they'd have no reason to fight.
We could restock all our conventional weaponry with paint: paint bullets, paint bombs, paint artillery, paint tanks, even paint grenades. Instead of killing each other, we'd just leave a sharp sting, a fluorescent splash of orange and an acute loss of dignity. We could look forward to conflicts, because going to war would be fun.
We could even go to war with countries that aren't a threat, just a pain in the ass. Imagine invading France with 9 divisions of soldiers armed with paint ball guns. Blow the freggin' croissants right out of their snooty hands. I'm going to coat that limp wrist of yours in purple paint, Pierre.
Also, the losing country has to pay the winner's cleaning bills.
What the fizz?
If you're like me, when pouring soda into a glass, you become impatient and pour too much, too fast. I'm nothing if not a man of etiquette. So here's my question: do you look like less of a fool if you dive into the foam head and try to suck it down to prevent overflow, or if you let nature take its course and let Dr. Pepper foam over the cup and all over the table? I guess either way it's a crap sandwich. I'll just have to learn to be more patient.
Available in your frozen food section
I usually shop while hungry and hunger turns me into a simpleton. The frozen food section at the grocery store often makes me its dupe. Inasmuch as the stripper on the pole can be my girlfriend if I just keep slipping dollar bills in her underwear, the $4 Hungry Man Turkey and Giblets will taste as good as it looks on the box. Wishful thinking.
How about those pictures they put on the TV dinner box? Look at those delicious entrees! The sight of that stuff would moisten Julia Child's biscuit. Look at that marinated pork loin! Did Emeril take a job at Swanson's?
Then you cook that little number up in the microwave. Burn your fingers and cuss while peeling the plastic wrap from the tray, and get ready for... disappointment. Somehow, flash-freezing turned your salisbury steak into a warmed-over buffalo chip! How about those painted-on grill marks. Yeah, I'm sure Earl cooked this steak over an open-flame barbecue at the factory. More likely somebody took a rejected slab of grade-D beef and ran a Sharpie Marker over it a few times. Nice try, Swanson's!
The picture on the box depicts a best-possible-scenario frozen dinner. What you usually get is a semblance of what you thought you were buying. I think they call them TV dinners because you're better off paying attention to the TV than to what you're eating.
Bon appetite, dipshit consumer.
And Don't Forget...
Fireflies in the Meadow
by Alpha Johnson
Now you can read Lightning Bug's Butt anywhere. This book has over 120 pages of easy-to-read print, featuring a year's worth of Lighting Bug's Butt posts and some never-before published material.
If you like what you read, you can take this book to bed with you (try doing that with your laptop!). If you hate it, you have a book to fling across the room (again, try that with your laptop). Or you can rip out the satin-smooth pages and use them for bathroom tissue.
Give a copy as a gift to someone special. Stuff one under the leg of a wobbly coffee table. Keep one near the crapper. Wield it to kill household insects. Or kindle your fireplace. Hand one into your professor as your doctoral thesis. Read it with your lover as a therapeutic sex aide. Make it the religious text of the new cult you're founding. Get it for whatever reason you please. Just get your copy today!