The latest trend in highway fatalities is to memorialize victims with makeshift grave sites near where they shoveled the corpse off the road. I hope I’m not being insensitive when I highlight how unfair this is to me. I’ll grant you I’m lucky enough to still be alive. Good point. But if I toss so much as a Big Mac wrapper out my car window, I’m shelling out 500 bucks for littering. Yet Dona Maria Louisa Concholla del Pedro can stack 17 Jesus candles, a chimenea and a freakin’ pinata on the I-8 shoulder with impunity. No fair.
Furthermore, those funeral sites unnerve me. They’re spooky. Sometimes, after I’ve had a few and I’m flying past them at 85 mph, I mistake them for an Indian grave site or a small taco stand. I drive up and order a carne asada plate. Next think I know, I’m staring at a picture of St. Peter in the flickering candlelight. Aye! Mi culpa. Dorma en paz, Carlito.
It doesn’t seem fair to me that people can litter our highways with trinkets. Where the hell is Greenpeace when you need them?
I’m fascinated with those pneumatic tube systems in office buildings. You know what I mean -- those containers you put documents in, clamp shut and dispatch to another cubicle. I wish they’d make a larger version for humans to ride. We could all have a port at our homes. Then we’d tube ourselves to work, the grocery store, the local bar, the STD clinic, places you anticipate going often.
I’d enjoy my commute to work. I’d hop in my tube with my laptop (naturally the tube system would have wi-fi, and a crapper). I’d dial in “WORK.” Then, ffff-thump…whoooosh. Wee! Off I go to work. I'd also like a GPS so I could watch myself noodle through the city. By the way, this infrastructure could revolutionize pizza delivery. Food delivery of any kind, really. A burrito would fit great in a pneumatic tube. So would a bottle of hooch.
Also, no more roadside grave sites as discussed above. Unless your tube pops open en route, you’re completely safe!
And also, instead of car dealerships, we’d have tube dealerships. Could you show me something in a convertible, my good man?
Subaru could change their name to “TUBE-ar-u.” Wouldn’t that be cute?
I wonder how some recreational pursuits are invented. Take, for example, skiing. It seems obvious enough now. But the guy who first tried it told his buddies, “Check this out. I’m going to strap boards on my feet and slide down that fuckin’ mountain. How will I steer, you ask? I’ve got that covered. I’ll be holding couple spiked sticks.”
How about hang gliding? Who gave the hang glider its maiden voyage? That guy must have had a sack like a walrus! Again, hang gliding seems sane enough now. But the design of the glider has gone through decades of refinement. The first guy who tried it grabbed a couple of Hefty Lawn Bags and a yardstick: “Hey fellas. Watch me jump off this fuckin’ mountain.”
I don’t mean to be crude. But I’ve been thinking about sex toys lately. Not the toys themselves, but the designers. Dildos don’t grow on trees. Somebody needs to design them and fabricate them in a factory. Some poor bastard sits in a cubicle with a drafting board, an AutoCAD program and a stack of dirty magazines and racks his brains hoping to dream up the Tickle-Me-Elmo of sex toys.
And this guy has a boss who walks the halls, pops his head in and appraises the designer's progress on whatever project. What’s that encounter like? Bob, I’d like to see more girth in your penis replicas. R&D found 30% more satisfaction in the over-40 housewife demographic with the extra-wide prototype. You should have received a memo on that. Also, nice work on the swinging ball-sack module. The boys in engineering report a threefold increase in ass-slappage.
Teenagers detest math. They feel it’s a waste of time and effort. See if this protest sounds familiar: “I’m going to be a (insert vocation here). I’m never going to need trigonometry.” By that rationale, we shouldn’t teach sex-ed to ugly people. I know, I know. You’re going to comment that ugly people have sex, too. But we shouldn’t be encouraging it in the public school system, for Christ’s sake.
I read that there are 1.2 billion Chinese people -- four times the population of the USA. Also, Chinese people don’t use a phonetic alphabet like us. Instead, they have a picture for everything. All I can say is, there must be some thick fuckin’ phone books in China. Hell, the Wangs alone probably comprise seventeen volumes. Incidentally, the Asian Anti-Defamation League has recently protested the title “Yellow Pages,” for phone books. They’ve formally recommended “White, Round-Eye Pages” as an alternative.
That leads me to a joke: Why did Elton John buy a mansion in China? All the Wangs and Dongs. I hear he found a charming summer home in the Bangkok district.