Driving through the foothills at nighttime, I saw a cone of pink light cascading from a street light. The light mixed with the fog to make a pink, ethereal soup. It was beautiful. Later, as my car wound through the hills, I spotted a blackened hillside peppered with house lamps. As I gazed left, I saw the city skyline. Everywhere I looked was incandescent beauty. The electrified earth glimmering within the basin of the black desert hypnotized me. It was exhilarating. And then I thought of the irony of the environmental movement that damns what I saw. Without land development, electricity, technology, mining, fossil fuels and the like, the terrain would be black, cold and inhospitable. Why can't environmentalists appreciate beauty in man-made things?
I'll catch my dog lying in darkness. I flip the switch and the lights brighten the room. Suddenly, my once-blind dog now has the miracle of sight. But it doesn't surprise her or delight her. It doesn't even faze her. I've given her an extra sense – the most important one at that – and she just looks at me, wags her tail, and goes back to sleep. Shouldn't she be in awe of her newly found sight? I'm amazed at a dog's lack of capacity for wonder. Hey, Fido! A miracle just took place. Aren't you curious how it happened?
The recession has had a less-than-positive effect on me – particularly as a shopper. When I walk into a store or a restaurant, I've got the attitude that I should be received as royalty, worshiped as a god. I'm that rare breed of cash-paying customer. I walked into a Best Buy after reading they're teetering on bankruptcy. In I walk – a customer with a wallet full of cash. Suddenly I become Julius Caesar. Fetch me plasma TVs and laptop computers, royal subjects. Kneel before me, Geek Squad dude. Everybody rejoice! Your benevolent king has arrived. Cast rose pedals before my feet and make way for my procession down the DVD aisle.
A poem in two lines:
She claims that it's mine, and it scares the heck out of me.
But her threats are benign; I've had a vasectomy.
Buttramification: the study of the consequences of chronic anal sex.
The best thing about being a procrastinating masturbator is, you're always looking forward to what cums later.
Obama lovers: How's the transition from “Yes we can” and “Hope and Change” to “Things are horrible and they'll likely get worse” going for you? Let me tell you what the New York Times isn't reporting: it gets much worse. And it will stay that way long after blaming Bush is a plausible excuse.
The “natural living” advocates have just release their latest brainchild: the reusable toilet wipe. Why stop there? Let's do the environment one better and stop wiping our asses altogether. Wiping is so anthropocentric. Let's let whatever residue be, just like the animals do. Maybe we can learn to lick ourselves clean like a dog – perhaps in some fruity, San Francisco yoga class.
Now that gas is $1.70 per gallon, are they going to rename the Smart Car? How about the “Short-sighted, Novelty-chasing, Dumb-ass Car?” That thing is so small, if you cut a fart, your ears would pop.