November 30, 2005
"Sir, Is the Missile Launcher Really Necessary?"
I understand why terrorists take people hostage. After all, what’s scarier than imagining yourself being held hostage by a bunch of thugs who think God enjoys it when they chop people’s heads off? I understand why kidnappers keep their identities secret. (Hopefully no explanation is needed on this one, though there is no doubt in my mind that the Shaman would need an explanation – a lengthy one - if he knew of this blog’s existence.) I understand why kidnappers have a fetish for AK-47s. After all, more hostages might attempt to escape if they didn’t have AK-47s continually trained on their bodies. Even though I personally enjoy speaking in public, I even understand why one of the terrorists always seems to rely on a piece of paper (while still holding his gun of course!) to deliver his message from Allah. After all, stage fright is stage fright – it doesn’t matter if you’re preaching to Allah, speaking to your junior high classmates, or starring in a pornographic film about a dozen midgets who get lost on their way to Chicago – some people need a crutch. What I cannot for the life of me understand is why one of the kidnappers in the latest image from Iraq is holding a surface-to-air shoulder missile launcher. If only Ted Koppel were still on the air. I bet he'd get to the bottom of it.
Ted Koppel: I’m Ted Koppel and this is Nightline. Tonight, an exclusive interview with three men so devoted to their cause that they are willing to do anything for it, even if that means killing or being killed. Tonight, the hostage takers - what makes them tick.
Our friends at al-Jazeera have provided a satellite hookup to bring these three men into your living rooms. It may be uncomfortable to see and hear them speak. After all, what they do so blatantly sends chills down our spines. However, it seems to me that it is a good idea to engage those with whom we don't agree in dialogue. For obvious reasons, none of the men you are about to see will provide us with their actual names. Accordingly, we'll simply refer to them by their designated pseudonyms. I will note right away that one of the terrorists wanted to be referred to as Mark Twain. Although Twain probably would get a kick out of such a request, the request will not be granted. This is a serious news program after all.
We’ll start with Terrorist #1. I don’t mean to trivialize you sir, but from my vantage point, it appears as though the gun you’re wielding is aimed directly at one of your fellow kidnappers. Why are you pointing the weapon at him?
Terrorist #1: (Translated of course) Allah knows no surrender. Allah knows no end. With Allah, we will be successful.
Ted Koppel: With all due respect sir, you didn’t answer my question. Let me ask it a different way. What kind of idiot points an AK-47 at his friend?
Terrorist #1: The Great Satan will forever leave Persia. Allah commands it.
Ted Koppel: That may all be fine and true, but it has nothing to do with what I asked you. I can see you’re about as sharp as Michael Dukakis was when he appeared on this program during the 1988 presidential campaign. So, in the interests of information-seeking, let me ask your comrade a question. Sir, you have what appears to be a portable missile launcher resting on your shoulder. May I ask why in the hell you’d carry that into a closed space? What exactly is the point?
Terrorist #3: Many days when Allah comes to me in dreams, I think that he will tell me –
Ted Koppel: I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but that's a bunch of bullshit. With all due respect, sir, you aren’t answering my question either. Now, I don’t want to hear about what Allah told you in a dream or what Mohammad said to you while you were chopping heads of lettuce and cabbage and humans unless it directly relates to my question. Are we clear? (Pause) What kind of imbecile would bring a missile launcher into a confined space, especially when your comrades clearly have enough weapons to keep any of the hostages from even considering an escape? There has to be some sort of reason.
Terrorist #3: Allah is great. Nobody knows the power of Allah. When Allah-
Ted Koppel: Look, Allah may be more powerful than Clubber Lang in the first half of Rocky III. Regardless, it doesn't matter. We know you guys are into Allah. That's what we Westerners get! The question is why on earth would you carry a missile launcher into a closed space, a space which will become obliterated should you fire the missile?
Terrorist #2: Jihad! Jihad! (Camera quickly pans) Jihad! Jihad! Jihad!
Ted Koppel: Okay, clearly you three aren't going to expand the circle of knowledge that we already have. Before we part ways, may I submit an alternative theory to each of you, one that isn’t floated around much in the media today. It’s clear that you want to appear in control of the situation and that you are in fact in control of the situation. Does any of your hostility stem from the fact that all of you have incredibly tiny penises?
Terrorist #2: Allah is great. Allah will drive the snake out of the-
Ted Koppel: Well, we're going to have to end it right there. Clearly we’re not talking about the same type of snakes, though my hunch is each of you are more like garden snakes than anacondas. Regardless, I do thank each of you for coming on tonight's broadcast. I'll be back with a final thought in a moment.
Why CBS doesn't ink a deal with Koppel to have him contribute reports to 60 Minutes is beyond me.
Posted by fool at 12:12 AM | Comments (2)November 29, 2005
Waging War Against a Cold
Having a cold sucks more than Michael Jackson would if he ran an all-boy daycare center. (That'd be "a lot" for those keeping score at home.) Alas, it could be worse; I could have bird flu or leprosy, both of which would be tremendous downers (especially leprosy). Fortunately, bird flu is something China has under control. Less than two weeks ago, China's Wen Jiabao, the country's Premier, said, "[Defeating SARS] inspires us to definitely be able to defeat the bird flu epidemic that is now emerging." Thank God the Chinese government has bird flu under control. (It did such a great job controlling SARS.) That's one less worry! Now, if only I can manage to do what one of my high school classmates couldn't do: avoid becoming a leper.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (4)November 28, 2005
What NOT To Do If You're a Flight Attendant
The only thing that keeps me loyal to America West Airlines is the company’s generous frequent flyer program. (I guess the low fares and nonstop flights from DC’s National Airport to Phoenix don’t hurt either.) Fortunately (and unfortunately), I’ve flown enough over the last few years to qualify for complimentary first class upgrades when space is available; thus, it shouldn’t come as a shock to learn that whenever I fly, it’s usually aboard America West. My recent Vegas trip was no exception.
Needless to say, I was thrilled when I found out AWA had upgraded me to first class for the ride back to DC, especially since the flight was a red-eye! If I’m tired, I usually don’t have trouble sleeping on planes (the key word is “usually,” which is why it's bolded (you idiot - this paranthetical probably doesn't apply to you)), but there’s no doubt that sleeping in first class is a hell of a lot easier and much more enjoyable than sleeping in coach. Of course, it’s a lot easier to sleep when you don’t have a complete moron for a flight attendant.
On the night in question, I was exhausted so I fell asleep pretty quickly. About halfway through the flight, I started dreaming that someone was tapping me. Suddenly, I opened my eyes and realized that someone was in fact tapping me. That someone was the flight attendant.
Flight Attendant: Excuse me, sir. I’m sorry to awaken you, but do you have this gentleman’s blanket?
Thinking Fool: (Completely dazed) What?
Flight Attendant: We can’t find this man’s blanket and we were wondering if you accidentally grabbed it?
Thinking Fool: (Quite disturbed) No. I don’t have his blanket. And if you wake me up again, not only am I going to strangle this moron sitting next to me for getting this whole ordeal started, I’m going to strangle you too. This is a flight specifically designed for people to sleep. Knowing that, you actually deliberately woke me up so you could ask about a stupid blanket? I sure as hell hope you haven't procreated because you are an idiot.
Sometimes, it's nice that people can't read our thoughts.
Posted by fool at 12:03 AMNovember 24, 2005
Thanksgiving – It Turns Out I'm Thankful for Quite a Bit
If you’re reading this blog for the first time, I am thankful for you. (Come back.)
If you read this blog on a continual basis, I am particularly thankful for you. (Keep coming back and tell your friends (seriously).)
If you love baby Pandas and all things Pumpkin, I am thankful for you.
If you contributed the egg or semen that led to my birth, I am thankful for you.
If you ever attended school with me and we keep in touch, I am thankful for you.
If you were at any time married to the Shaman, I am thankful for you.
If you have ever prank called a sports talk show with me, I am thankful for you.
If you ever had me in class as a student and we keep in touch, I am thankful for you.
If you ever worked with me and we keep in touch, I am thankful for you (unless I refuse to respond to your emails, in which case, please don’t make me get a restraining order).
If you make excellent movies, I am thankful for you (clearly I’m NOT thankful for Oliver Stone).
If you have ever made me laugh AND never tried to stab me with a fork, I am thankful for you.
If you have ever spent time trying to get Roman Polanski extradited to America, I am thankful for you.
If you have thinkingfool.com bookmarked, I am thankful for you.
If I have ever been the best man at your wedding, I am thankful for you.
If I was not invited to your wedding because you knew it would be a royal hassle for me to attend, I am thankful for you (unless you secretly didn’t want me to attend; then you can go straight to hell.)
If you ever attended school with me and we don’t keep in touch, you might as well go to hell too.
If you have ever left me a threatening voice mail AND recently moved to San Francisco, I am thankful for you.
If you ever appeared in a Victoria’s Secret Catalog, especially during the years I was in high school, I am thankful for you. (Queue Pete Seeger’s “Where have all the Flowers Gone” and substitute, “Where have all the catalogs gone.” Perhaps the worst thing about living in a non-female environment is the lack of interesting mail, i.e. the Victoria’s Secret Catalog, Cosmopolitan, People, etc.)
If your name is Harriet Miers and you know President Bush personally, I am thankful for you.
If your name is Amber Frey and you are a slut, I am thankful for you.
If you’ve ever written me a letter or sent me a postcard, I am thankful for you. (Keep it up!)
If you link to my blog from your site, I am thankful for you.
If you accompanied me to Magic Mountain this year, I am thankful for you.
If you are a hobo with internet access, why are you a hobo?
If you responded to my question of how to lower my cholesterol by saying, “Stop eating the shit you eat,” I am thankful for you.
If you work for the Washington National Opera, I am not thankful for you, especially if you’re one of the bastards who called me recently and tried to get me to buy tickets.
If you hosted Nightline for the first twenty-six years of the show’s existence, I am thankful for you. (Please don't go to HBO. Go to a normal television station where you'll be working somewhat regularly.)
If you had lunch with me this week, I am thankful for you.
If you graded any portion of my bar exam, I am thankful for you.
If you are a taco from Jack-in-the-Box, I am thankful for you.
If you are a cheeseburger from In-N-Out, I am thankful for you.
If you have ever said, “What a jerk,” AND refuse to capitalize the first letter of one of my friend’s names, I am thankful for you.
If you know how to use the words “I” and “me” appropriately, I am thankful for you. ("I" might be the most misused word ever.)
If you’ve ever picked me up from an airport, I am thankful for you (unless I have given you money for the ride).
If you inspired me to go to law school and recently suffered a stroke, I am thankful for you.
If you have ever served as a soldier in the United States Military, I am thankful for you.
If you’re trying to make the world a better place, I am thankful for you.
If you have ever hired me to do something I love to do, I am thankful for you.
If you have ever given me a raise, I am thankful for you. (“Raise” does not apply to those who have check-raised me while playing poker.)
If you work in the leasing office at my apartment complex, I am not thankful for you.
If you smile at random strangers, I am thankful for you.
If you say, “Good ideeeeeeeeeeeeeeeea? Good idea to x, y, and z,” when you lecture students, I am thankful for you.
If you've ever given me a birthday or Christmas present, I am thankful for you. (See how easy it is to make the list if you really want to make the list.)
If you provide space on your server for me to blog, I am thankful for you. (If you're reading this, you ought to be thankful for that person as well.)
If you have had any role in bringing “Ambien” to the market, I am particularly thankful for you.
Finally, if none of the above-mentioned categories applies to you (you clearly can't read if you think that), and you would really like me to be thankful for you, better luck next time.
Posted by fool at 04:00 AM | Comments (5)November 23, 2005
The Thinking Fool and his Dad Go to Vegas: Chapter IV, Bypassing Julius
When you go to a restaurant with my dad, you never really know what to expect. There was the time many years ago (I was still in the single digit years) when a waitress brought bread to the table, only to realize that she had forgotten to bring plates. What tipped her off to the fact that no plates were on the table? My father took some butter and spread it on the table as though the table were a giant butter plate. Needless to say, after the waitress witnessed this event, plates were on our table within seconds. Then there was the time that my family went to a fairly nice restaurant and was quite disappointed in the meal. When the waiter came to clear the table, he asked my dad if he could put his nearly-untouched chicken in a doggie bag. My dad's response? “No, thanks. The dogs wouldn’t eat this.”
After gambling for a few hours on Saturday morning/early afternoon, my dad and I decided to grab a bite at the Grand Lux Cafe. The Grand Lux Cafe should call itself, “The Cheesecake Factory: The Sequel.” After all, it's basically the same restaurant and the Cheesecake Factory owns it! Like most sequels, Grand Lux is not nearly as good as the original. Fortunately, unlike most sequels (see, e.g. Spiderman 2), the Grand Lux Cafe isn’t horrible. (Did you see Spiderman 2? One word comes to mind when I think about that film. “Horrid.”)
Julius the Waiter: Can I get you guys something to drink?
Thinking Fool: I would like a Virgin Pina Colada, please.
Julius the Waiter: Okay.
Thinking Fool: And can you make sure they don’t put any alcohol in it. I’ve been dry for twenty-two days and it’s been really hard, but I’m doing everything I can to stay clean.
Julius the Waiter: No problem, buddy.
I rarely pull out the “I’m a recovering alcoholic” trick. For one thing, it’s simply not true. A four-year old couldn’t get drunk off the aggregate amount of alcohol I’ve consumed in my life. However, sometimes you just get a sense about particular waiters or waitresses and want to give them extra incentive not to make your drink alcoholic. That’s when the “I’m a recovering alcoholic” line comes in handy. If you saw Julius, you would understand why I used the line. I can’t really explain it, but good old Julius definitely had that “I was incompetent the day I left my mother’s womb and I will be incompetent the day they put me in the ground” aura about him.
Several minutes later, my Virgin Pina Colada arrived at the table. To say it tasted “bad” would be akin to saying, “Ted Bundy didn’t treat women well.” In other words, the drink was atrocious. I’m well aware that many alcoholic drinks taste like crap without the alcohol. However, Pina Coladas do not fall into this group. To the contrary, Virgin Pina Coladas are usually quite tasty. Unfortunately, the one I sipped on that afternoon tasted like its key ingredient came right out of a horse’s body.
When Julius returned to our table, Papa Fool informed him that my Virgin Pina Colada tasted like crap, and I added, “I think they put rum in here, and Julius, I just can’t have any rum.” Julius swore that he watched the bartender mix the drink, but offered to bring me something else instead. I went with the strawberry smoothie.
After nearly five minutes passed, my strawberry smoothie had still not found its way to the table.
Papa Fool: I wonder what the hell’s taking so long with your smoothie.
Thinking Fool: Oh, it’s been made.
Papa Fool: What? How do you know that?
Thinking Fool: Because I’ve been staring at it for the last two minutes. It’s sitting on top of the counter at the bar.
Papa Fool turned around and scanned the bar area for my smoothie. It didn’t take long for his eyes to see my drink.
Papa Fool: If he doesn’t bring it within two minutes, I’m going to go get it.
Thinking Fool: That’s not necessary. He’ll bring it eventually.
Papa Fool: Start the timer.
After three minutes elapsed, Papa Fool told me that he was going to go get the drink. I kept trying to stall him, but once his mind was made up, his mind was made up! Just to give you a mental image, in order to get to the bar, my dad had to walk about fifteen feet from our table, make a 90 degree right turn, and continue another fifteen to twenty feet. In other words, he didn't have to walk a mile, but he also couldn't stand stationary.
When he reached the bar, my dad grabbed the drink, only to be questioned by the bartender.
Papa Fool: Don’t worry, it’s supposed to be at my table. It’s a strawberry smoothie, right?
Bartender: Oh, your waiter must be Julius.
Starting to get the sense that Julius has never been the restaurant’s employee of the month?
Apparently Julius watched my dad grab the drink and tried to intervene immediately.
Julius the Waiter: I’ll get that for you, sir!
Papa Fool: Oh, it’s okay. I’ve got it now. We just wanted to make sure we got to drink it.
I was unable to make eye contact with Julius for the duration of the visit. For some reason, I have a feeling that this wasn’t the first time a person wanted to bypass Julius in order to get his or her order faster. I just have a hunch that this was the first time someone actually did bypass Julius to get an order faster.
Missed Chapters I, II, and III of the Vegas experience? Read about them by clicking here, here, and here!
Posted by fool at 01:00 AMNovember 22, 2005
Random Thoughts: Volume 421
Is it just me or do company presidents send too many group emails? If you’re sick of receiving company-wide emails about things that aren’t even remotely interesting to you, it’s time to take a stand. The next time the boss sends one of these annoying messages, hit the “reply” button (“reply all” if you’re particularly daring) and write the following: “These messages are redundant and unnecessary. Please take me off your list immediately, (douche bag).” (The “douche bag” part is totally up to you, but usually the phrase goes over well with people in positions of power.) After you click send, wait a few hours, and then send me an email letting me know how things went. ThinkingFool at gmail dot com.
This whole “Turn the clocks back so the vampires can come out an hour earlier” thing continues to upset me more each year. I don’t know about you, but to me glancing outside at 5:00 p.m. only to see total darkness is about as enjoyable as watching an “I Love Lucy” rerun. Is there one person who actually enjoys having it get dark at such an early hour? If so, this person should never procreate.
Tonight, another era ends. ABC’s Ted Koppel will host his final Nightline this evening. Koppel is one of the best journalists in the entire industry. He will be missed by many, including this fool.
Posted by fool at 01:00 AMNovember 21, 2005
Why I went to Law School - A Story (that Involves an Eventual Lesbian) Gets Told
Many people can recall a specific event in their lives that caused them to go to law school. For Nancy Grace, it was when her fiancé was murdered. For one of my classmates, it was when she read To Kill a Mockingbird. For me, it was something else.
In grade school, one of my teachers had a doctorate in something; I believe it was mathematics. This particular teacher was an excellent classroom instructor, but also the type of person who knew only one way of doing things – her way. My eighth grade class was scheduled to take a class field trip to Los Angeles, but for some odd reason, our parents and administrators decided to cancel the trip when the 1992 Los Angeles riots broke out. I guess the prospect of having their children burned and/or beaten to death was not pleasing. Somehow we managed to go to Florida instead for roughly the same price.
While in Florida, one of my friends and I grabbed a few tourist pamphlets and brought them to one of the hotel’s highest floors. We dropped the pamphlets one by one and watched their movements as they floated to the earth. (Our science teacher would have been proud. Well, not really. He was pretty much an unimaginative jerk, but some science teacher would have been proud.)
About thirty minutes later, the teacher with the doctorate came looking for my friend and me. We were watching an NBA game in the hotel lobby. (At that point in time, the NBA didn’t suck.) After a few introductory questions to set the tone (it was nothing sexual like most of you are probably thinking – I went to school way before that era (sigh)), the teacher got down to business.
Teacher: Fool, did you and [friend] drop a bunch of pamphlets off the roof of the hotel?
Fool: Well, we dropped a few pamphlets.
Teacher: Then you need to come with me and pick them up.
We didn’t protest. After all, we had dropped some pamphlets off one of the hotel’s top floors and been called out for it. What’s right is right. And it’s not like we had dropped that many, so we weren’t exactly worried about being detained for a long period of time cleaning up after ourselves.
When my friend and I walked outside and glanced at the ground, we were simply horrified. At most, we dropped six or seven pamphlets. However, scattered in front of us were nearly a hundred pamphlets. I quickly protested that we had not dropped all of the pamphlets, but the teacher was not interested in hearing the truth. Later, she and her husband would divorce and she would become romantically involved with a woman. Yes, she was a lesbian. This really has no relevance to the story, but I thought it was worth mentioning.
After picking up all of the pamphlets, we were forced to sit with the teacher and the other chaperones for about an hour as punishment for our “crime.” It just so happened that I had purchased a harmonica earlier on the trip (don’t ask) and it just happened to be in my pocket at the time of my detention. Needless to say, God must have been watching out for me at that particular moment in time because I played that harmonica (quite poorly) for the next hour in an attempt to drive my teacher crazy. She never gave me any indication as to whether my plan worked, but I have a feeling it did. After all, she eventually would divorce her husband and become romantically involved with another woman. (By the way, that other woman was a P.E. and English teacher at my grade school. One day, she and I found ourselves walking near each other on a sidewalk; so we started talking about Phoenix’s brilliant plan to beautify a freeway by placing pots on the freeway walls. The project’s price tag was $500,000, certainly not a huge amount of money by governmental standards, but still a waste of public resources. I remember saying, “I can’t believe they’re going to spend $500,000 on pots.” The P.E./English teacher quickly replied, “Actually, they’re going to spend half a million.” She was an idiot. Nice, but an idiot.)
I liked the teacher with the doctorate a lot before the trip. As mentioned, she was a fabulous math teacher (we actually learned all of Algebra I and II and most of Geometry before high school). However, it always irked me that she blamed me and punished me for something that wasn’t entirely my fault. (Later, I would learn that four other students had dropped the supermajority of the pamphlets and they never were punished, nor discovered! Don’t worry, you know how there’s that show on NBC called, “My Name is Earl,” in which the main character seeks out all the people he’s wronged in order to make amends. Well, one day I will seek out all of the people who have wronged me and they’ll make amends.)
While I was playing the harmonica, I remember thinking, “This really sucks to be punished for something that I didn’t do. I can't believe this is happening.” From that moment forward, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t until I was in college that I decided to go to law school. I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be a lesbian.
Later this week (perhaps tomorrow), O.J.'s back in the news and unfortunately, it's not because he is dead.
Posted by fool at 01:21 AM | Comments (2)November 19, 2005
The Odds Board
Odds that Saddam Hussein Will NOT Be Executed: 15,000,000 to 1
Odds that Britney Spears will be married to Kevin Federline on January 1, 2007: 1,400 to 1
Odds that Elizabeth Vargas and Bob Woodruff will be named co-hosts of ABC's World News Tonight: 3 to 2 Closed
Odds that the Thinking Fool will ever update this board again: 10-1
Posted by fool at 11:58 PM | Comments (2)November 18, 2005
Why Be a Terrorist When You Can Be a Pirate?
I hate terrorists. Strangely, however, I don’t hate pirates. That’s why when pirates tried to commandeer a cruise liner earlier this month, my first thought wasn’t, “That’s absolutely horrible! These bastards just won’t quit! Off with their heads (for a change)!” Instead, I almost became giddy as I thought, “Did I really hear that correctly? Did pirates try to seize a ship? PIRATES? You mean to tell me there are really pirates out there? Well, that’s just kind of cool if you ask me!”
Before your eyes pop out of your head and you give me one of Mr. Belding’s, “Hey, Hey, Hey! What is going on here?” comments, know that I don’t really want pirates to start seizing the world’s cruise liners. (If you thought that, you're an idiot.) However, you must admit that when we hear the word “terrorist,” bad thoughts enter our minds. “Pirate,” on the other hand, conjures up images of Treasure Island (the book or the hotel – take your pick), Moby Dick, and the Grapes of Wrath. (Okay, so maybe I didn’t read ALL of the books that were assigned in high school. However, I know Moby Dick was about a whale and where there are whales, there are pirates, and Grapes of Wrath, well, perhaps that would have been worth reading had it actually included a pirate or two.)
What’s my point? I’m not really sure if I have one. Oh wait, I remember now.
If most people feel the same way that I do about pirates (and I’m assuming most people do in fact feel the same way as I do – after all, there's really no rational reason that a person wouldn't be on the same page as I am on this particular issue), then Osama and Co. would be quite wise to jettison their turbans in favor of eye patches (any color would do) and start dropping a few more “Yarrrrrrrrrrrrs” and a few less “Allahs” into conversations. Public support across the world would undoubtedly increase if al Qaeda adopted this strategy. Obviously, if its members could find a way to secure peg legs at a cheap price, well, you get the idea. The possibilities are endless.
If anyone is looking for a publicist, I’m available.
Posted by fool at 12:04 AM | Comments (3)November 17, 2005
The Thinking Fool and His Dad Go to Vegas: Chapter III, This Time We Found an Honest Cab Driver
Shortly after jumping in a cab and telling the driver that we’d like to go to the Orleans (a good place to play Omaha), the driver decided to engage us in conversation.
Cabbie: So where you guys from?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Well, I’m from Phoenix, and he came here from Washington, D.C.
Cabbie: Oh, nice.
Thinking Fool: (After allowing a few seconds of silence to elapse, in the most effeminate voice I could muster) Yeah, we’ve been chatting online for almost six months and decided it was finally time for us to meet in person! (I should have thrown "super" into my comment!)
The cabbie’s reaction in no way mirrored the “Midwesterner’s.” (Surprise surprise!) When we told him the story about our scumbag cab driver from the airport, the driver was quite pleased that we didn’t end up paying for that ride and actually encouraged us to report Mr. Scumbag to the Taxi Authority. (Apparently, nice cab drivers don't like the bastard cab drivers. Imagine that!) Hmm, the Fool still has the scumbag's information and filing a complaint would take no more than a few seconds. Developing...
November 16, 2005
The Thinking Fool and His Dad Go to Vegas: Chapter II, Discomfort Can Be a Wonderful Thing
Picture it, a little drug store inside the Paris hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada. The Fool is relieved that he has finally located a store that sells gum (a much harder task than you’d think). The Fool’s father joins him in the store and says, “If they have one of those little blackjack cards that tells you when to double down, I’d like one.” The Fool quickly locates one of those cards in addition to a pack of sugarless gum and takes his place in line. Two people stand between the Fool and the cashier – they are a middle aged couple. The man’s hair - a silver crew cut - gives off the impression that he spent time in the military. The Fool has no doubt that the man and his wife are from a conservative state in the Midwest.
Thinking Fool: (In the most feminine voice he can muster) Hey, do we need any K-Y Jelly?
The conservative man's head slowly turns. When his eyes see the Fool and the Fool’s father – two males separated in age by thirty-four years – the man’s face contorts into an expression of pure disgust. That's enough to send Papa Fool over the edge. He doubles over in hysterical laughter. The Thinking Fool tries to keep a straight face - he desperately wants to make a follow-up comment, but due to laughter’s contagious qualities, he finds it impossible to maintain his composure. The gag is up. It is only then that the Midwesterner realizes that the Fool and his dad are just that – father and son.
Midwesterner: Hey, fellas, it's okay. What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas.
For some reason, the Midwesterner's words make Papa Fool laugh even harder.
When they finally leave the store, the Thinking Fool turns to his father.
Thinking Fool: Was he really disgusted?
Thinking Fool's Dad: More than you can possibly imagine.
Coupled with the free cab ride, the weekend is going quite well.
Posted by fool at 12:25 AM | Comments (6)November 15, 2005
Roswell, the Bermuda Triangle and Laguna Beach's Jason: Some Things Just Can't Be Explained
Have you seen the television show, Laguna Beach? Of course you have. (Even if you don’t want to admit watching a show that tracks the lives of a particular group of high school students who live in Laguna Beach, California, just between you and me, I know you watch the program, and trust me, it's okay.) Last night (as you know), season 2 came to an end. Although I didn’t watch every season 2 episode – much like you, I tune in when it’s convenient or when TIVO keeps the program around long enough for me to catch up on weekends – I watched enough episodes to be completely baffled by one thing: Jason.
MTV describes Jason as “Laguna’s hunky bad-boy who surfs, plays baseball, and breaks girl’s hearts.” The “surfs, plays baseball, and breaks girl’s hearts” part is correct (except for the punctuation – “girl’s hearts” should be “girls’ hearts,” but now I’m just getting a bit technical and am certain one of you fine people will call me out on some punctuation error in this entry. Nevertheless, you’d expect more from MTV, yes? Okay, maybe not.).
I’ve never been the type of guy to make the ridiculous assertion that heterosexual men are unable to determine whether another guy is physically attractive. This frequently uttered comment has always baffled me. Frankly, unless you’re blind or just a bit off in the head, it doesn’t matter if you’re male, female, straight, gay, a switch hitter, etc., when you see Brad Pitt and Luis Guzman standing side by side, objectively speaking, you just know that Brad Pitt is the more physically attractive man... by about fifty touchdowns. If you’re a heterosexual man, don’t worry – being able to tell that Brad Pitt is better looking than Luis Guzman doesn’t mean you have the urge to invite Brad over for a Lewinsky session; it just means that unlike Stevie Wonder and most of the 2005 Major League Baseball playoff umpires, you can see.
With that stated, let me tell you where Jason ranks on the hunk meter: about one notch above Sloth from Goonies; that's where! Don’t know who Sloth is? Well, click here to have a look. See what I mean? Not exactly the type of guy who would cause a father to have daughter-panties separation anxiety.
Somehow Jason, a guy who literally brings nothing to the table, managed to break heart after heart after heart on Laguna Beach this season. And the hearts he broke – well, they didn’t exactly belong to girls who had a few teeth missing or who were lacking in the looks department – he definitely attracted his fair share of very nice looking girls. So basically you had a guy who not only failed to offer a whole lot in the looks department, especially when compared with many Laguna Beach residents, but who also was about as mentally stimulating as President George W. Bush would be teaching a class about great American authors (think about that one for a second!), and yet he somehow managed to attract many young women. In the words of GE Friend, "Ummmmmmm!"
With the exception of game shows, I’m generally not one to scream at the television, yet, at times, I definitely found myself quite agitated while watching Laguna Beach, often yelling, “For crying out loud, how in the hell does anyone like this guy?” (And trust me, this isn’t some catty instance that is the equivalent of a girl saying something like, “Jennifer Love Hewitt isn’t pretty at all.” I’m speaking completely objectively. I’ve actually conducted an extensive survey of three people – two males (myself included of course) and one female, and none of us could figure out the whole Jason mystique.) In fact, there was so much awkward silence and dead air on dates that involved Jason that the program literally was uncomfortable to watch at times. Not as uncomfortable as sitting on a toilet only to learn that some Home Depot employee has smothered glue all over the seat, ensuring that you’ll be sitting there for awhile, nor as uncomfortable as Conrad Hilton must be at the weekly poker game when his buddies say, “Hey, your daughter really ought to make a sequel – Paris' first movie was superb,” but uncomfortable nonetheless. Nevertheless, somehow Jason managed to be a commodity continually sought after by the young Laguna Beach vixens.
Needless to say, in a few years, the “Jason is hot” bubble better burst. Otherwise, the atheists probably will have their best argument yet as to why God does not exist. In the interim, Jason has earned a place on my list of people who should not be allowed to procreate.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (3)November 14, 2005
The Thinking Fool and His Dad Go to Vegas: Chapter I, Better Luck Next Time, Cabbie
As soon as my plane touched down, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed my dad’s number.
Thinking Fool: I’m here.
Thinking Fool's Dad: I’m waiting at your gate.
Despite flying from opposite sides of the country, my father and I actually managed to arrive at the Las Vegas airport within fifteen minutes of each other. The Vegas adventure was certainly off to a good start.
When we walked outside the airport terminal, we looked at the taxi line and were somewhat astonished by its enormous length. (Feel free to insert anatomy joke here, and by “anatomy,” obviously I mean “penis.”) A half hour later, our time to hop in a cab had finally arrived.
Cabbie: Where are you fellas headed?
Thinking Fool's Dad: The Flamingo.
When you take a cab from the Vegas airport to any hotel on the strip, you know within seconds whether the cabbie is an honest, hard-working individual or a despicable piece of scum looking to rip you off. How? Well, if you travel through a tunnel and end up on a freeway, the driver falls into the scumbag category. The freeway route always increases the fare by five to eight dollars and is one that drivers are not allowed to take unless they specifically get authorization from the customers beforehand.
Perhaps we looked like your average unsuspecting tourists. Perhaps our driver always “tunneled” his passengers and kept his fingers crossed that they wouldn’t know any better. Regardless, one thing is for certain. Our driver certainly didn’t receive authorization to take us through the tunnel.
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Does he know we’re not going downtown?
Thinking Fool: (Making sure the comment could be heard by the driver) No, he’s just taking us the special way.
As soon as the meter hit the thirteen dollar mark, the approximate amount of money a ride from the airport to the Flamingo should cost, I decided to take down the driver’s information.
Thinking Fool: (To my dad) Do you have a pen?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Yeah, why?
Thinking Fool: Because I’m going to report him.
I spent the next few minutes trying to write down as much information as I could, but given the poor lighting – the freeway doesn’t offer a whole lot in that area – I knew I’d have to wait until we actually arrived at our hotel to get all of the scumbag’s info. As we pulled into our hotel’s entrance, a few more comments seemed particularly appropriate.
Thinking Fool: Boy, I’ve been to Vegas a lot of times and I can’t remember it ever costing this much to get to the Flamingo. I guess that’s what happens when the driver takes you through the tunnel.
The driver’s response? Not a word. (It’s quite fun to see how a person reacts to getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, especially when that person lives in a city where the mayor recently encouraged chopping off vandals' fingers!)
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Why’d you take such a long route to get us here?
Cabbie: I wanted to beat the traffic.
Thinking Fool’s Dad: (Said in a “You’ve got to be kidding me” tone) You wanted to beat the traffic? You know, we’ve been here a lot of times. What did you think, we’ve never been here before?
When we finally stopped, the fare on the meter was $19.90. Now that there was enough light to see, I resumed taking down all of the driver’s info. This time, the driver noticed what I was doing and, well, I think it'd be an understatement to say that he didn't seem particularly pleased.
Driver: (Yelling sarcastically) THAT’S GREAT! GO AHEAD AND WRITE IT ALL DOWN! MAKE SURE YOU GET MY NAME AND EVERYTHING ELSE ON THERE!
Upon exiting the cab, I grabbed our bags while my dad handled the fare. My dad handed the driver twenty dollars and just stared at the cabbie.
Cabbie: (Looking at my dad, quite confused) What?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: I want my dime.
Cabbie: Excuse me?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: You heard me. I want my dime back.
Cabbie: (Throwing the twenty dollars at my dad) YOU KNOW WHAT? KEEP YOUR FUCKING MONEY IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE A CHEAP PRICK.
I must admit that taking advantage of someone who tried to take advantage of my dad and me was quite fun, especially since another cabbie told us that if a driver doesn’t collect a fare, the driver has to compensate the cab company accordingly. Sometimes (fortunately), dishonesty really doesn’t pay! I know I had never had a cabbie pay for one of my meals before. Guess there’s a first time for everything. In keeping with that sentiment, on Wednesday, I think I’m going to try crack or heroin for the first time. I'll let you know how that goes. Oh, by the way, I never actually reported the driver. I figured since we got a free cab ride out of the deal, we hadn't been harmed. Nevertheless, the driver probably won't be sending my family a Christmas card this year.
More tales from the adventure in Vegas, comments about the television show, "Laguna Beach," and other random thoughts, including my upcoming experience smoking crack, coming throughout the week.
Posted by fool at 12:56 AM | Comments (3)November 10, 2005
Hopping Across a Bunch of Red States to Win TONS of Money
The Fool will return on Monday with some thoughts about pirates and the television program, Laguna Beach, and maybe, just maybe, a new tale about a Vegas waiter.
Posted by fool at 12:15 AMNovember 09, 2005
Conversations at Work: Volume I
I had the following "conversation" with a coworker yesterday.
Thinking Fool: Why don’t you button the buttons on your collar?
Coworker: Why would I do that?
Thinking Fool: Well, because there are buttons on your shirt specifically designed for you to button your collar.
Coworker: Well, there’s a rope over there in the corner. Why don’t you pick it up and go hang yourself?
Things are going quite well, I'd say.
Posted by fool at 12:22 AM | Comments (4)November 08, 2005
The Roger Ebert of Online Music Reviewers
Do you ever read the product reviews that are written by other customers on Amazon.com? If you do, then you’re probably aware that there is a place to let other customers know if you've found a particular review helpful. I spent part of the weekend searching for songs that are played at various sporting events. During my search, I stumbled across an album entitled “NBA Jam Session.” I wasn’t impressed with any of the songs I sampled, which puts me in direct opposition with “A music fan.” On July 5, 2000, a person going by the name, “A music fan,” reviewed the album by writing the following:
“yo i'm like a huge fan of rap and this cd got it. biggy is on this and i enjoy that. what a killa rap cd. lakers won, i wanted the pacers to win. so go out to yo local cd shop and pick this bad boy up to hear some steepin rap tracks.”
Much to my shock, only one person (out of seven) found “a music fan’s” review helpful. Needless to say, you can add the person who found “A music fan’s” review helpful, not to mention “A music fan” himself, to my growing list of people who should NEVER ever be allowed to procreate. (And yes, I really am starting a list. Your suggestions are welcome.)
Posted by fool at 12:01 AM | Comments (1)November 07, 2005
Judge Alito, Are You Going to Overturn Roe v. Wade, which was actually modified in 1992 by Planned Parenthood v. Casey? And While I've got you for a few minutes, What Do You Think about the O.J. Simpson Criminal Trial Judge?
If all goes according to plan, Samuel Alito will be an Associate Justice on the Supreme Court within the next few months. You can bet your bottom dollar that senators from both political parties are spending enormous amounts of time getting their panties in a bunch trying to figure out whether Judge Alito will try to overturn Roe v. Wade if he becomes Justice Alito. Maybe it’s just because I’m a male, but I don’t think there are nearly as many Americans that care about the abortion issue as the higher powers would like us to believe. Seriously, Zogby ought to do a poll surveying whether the average American gives a flying flip about whether Roe v. Wade gets overturned. Much like that time when I accepted my brother’s dare to drink a glass of Hot Pace Picante Sauce in exchange for five dollars, I could definitely be wrong about this (I ended up drinking the stuff, but never got paid - yes, I'm still bitter). Nevertheless, my hunch is that abortion is not at the top of most people’s lists of things they care about unless of course those people are Catholic, fundamentalist Christians, abortion providers, abortion users, sexually active adults, sexually active teenagers, Labrador retrievers, or members of PETA. Okay, so maybe more people care about this than I think. Regardless, I'd still like some data to gauge the population's interest in this particular issue. With that stated, knowing that abortion is such a controversial topic when it comes to Supreme Court nominees, if you’ve just been nominated to serve on the nation’s highest Court, you probably would prefer it if your mom would refrain from saying things like, “Of course he’s against abortion!” on the same day that your nomination is announced. (If nothing else, you’ve got to respect the elderly (and children too) for calling it as they see it (and as it often is). Less sugarcoating might do society quite a bit of good these days.)
As for Judge Alito, would you be surprised to learn that the leading bumper sticker factory in the United States has started cranking out thousands and thousands of “SAY NO TO ALITO, WE WANT JUDGE ITO" bumper stickers? Well, such information should surprise you because it’s simply not true. (Where are bumper stickers made these days anyway? Is that something we do in America or have we shipped that particular task off to a foreign land?) A prominent first-year professor at a university in the Midwest recently suggested the bumper sticker idea, and I’ve got to admit that I kind of like it. Think about it. If for some reason, Judge Alito doesn’t get confirmed and the president all of a sudden decides that he’d like to be the first man to put an Asian on the Supreme Court, Bush very well might tap Judge Lance Ito for the position. By “very well might tap Judge Lance Ito for the position,” I mean there’s no chance in hell that Bush would nominate Ito unless the President has fallen off the wagon and started drinking like a homeless person (or Ben Affleck – take your pick) again. (Yes, I realize not all homeless people are drunks or drug abusers, but let’s keep it real. I encounter a lot of homeless people during the week and most of them are crazier than a Taco on a burger joint menu or drunker than Harry Caray during the eighth inning of a Cubs game. (RIP, Harry.) A few years ago, a homeless man was asking every person who walked by him for money so he could get something to eat. I breezed by him, rounded a corner, and noticed a hot dog vendor. I was feeling rather charitable that day, so I decided to purchase the man a hot dog, chips, and a drink. The vendor placed the food and beverage in a brown (i.e. “NON-SEE-THROUGH”) bag. When I walked over to the homeless man and gave him the bag, Mr. Hungry said, “What is this?” I replied, “Food.” He said, “I can’t have that. I’m diabetic.” He made this comment without so much as looking inside the bag to see what I had brought him. Naturally, my heart ached each subsequent time I saw the man begging for food.) Anyway, if Bush is drinking (which might be a possibility) and nominated Ito, can you imagine what that confirmation hearing would look like?
Senator Specter: The chair recognizes Senator Kennedy. Senator Kennedy, you have the floor for thirty minutes.
Senator Kennedy: Thank you, Senator Specter (pronounced “Spectuh”). Judge Ito, I don’t want to waste any time. I want to talk about the O.J. Simpson criminal case that you presided over (pronounced “ova”) in the 1990s. Sir, don’t you think that you had a large part (pronounced “pauht”) in allowing a guilty man to go free after he was directly responsible for the death of a woman?
Judge Ito: Senator Kennedy, are you really going to lecture me about men who get to walk free after women they’re with die?
Senator Kennedy: This candidate is fine with me, Mr. Chairman.
Tomorrow, the Roger Ebert of online music reviewers. Wednesday, I have no idea. Thursday, well, what makes you think I've got Thursday figured out if I don't know what's coming on Wednesday? Sometimes you people amaze me.
Posted by fool at 12:09 AM | Comments (4)November 05, 2005
These People Should NOT Be Allowed to Procreate
The following people have demonstrated on at least one occasion why they should not be allowed to procreate.
1. Thinking Fool (sadly), Exhibits A, B, C, D, E
2. Women who marry men when those men are in prison for life
3. The Shaman (a.k.a. “My degenerate soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law”)
4. People who wear “Aloha Bail Bonds Agency” shirts
5. Idiots (Specifically, idiots who believed that they could keep a movie forever under Blockbuster’s new “No Late Fees” policy)
6. People who board planes wearing shirts with the following words plastered across them: “I like to Swing”
7. People who have sprinted onto a baseball field and attacked Major League Umpires
8. Any person who has allowed his or her child to spend time with Michael Jackson
9. People who ram their children into fare gates upon entering or exiting the Metro
10. “A music fan”
11. Jason from Laguna Beach
12. People who Like Turning the Clocks Back an Hour
13. One particular America West Flight Attendant
14. People Who Have Purchased Stars (yes the things in the sky at night) for Others
15. People Who Have Appeared on Room Raiders
16. People who Choose to Sit in the Middle Seat on an Airplane when Window and Aisle Seats are Available
18. Anybody who has appeared on Maury Povich's daytime talk show
19. Maury Povich
21. eBay Andrew
22. Any Women who want to procreate with eBay Andrew
23. All members of Western Kentucky University’s Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity.
24. All Women who consider marrying Kevin Ray Underwood.
25. Any person who has traveled across an ocean to meet a chat lover before talking to the person on the phone at least once.
26. Wayne Derkotch.
27. The Cigarette Peddler.
27. Heath and Deborah Campbell.
Posted by fool at 11:45 PM | Comments (1)November 03, 2005
I See Your Button and Raise You Mine!
Recently while riding the Metro, I noticed a middle-aged woman wearing a green button with the following words on it: “I Love My Husband.” I wanted to ask the woman why she was wearing the button. Obviously, there were numerous possibilities, but my hunch was that the lady planned to murder her husband and was using the "I'll wear the 'I Love My Husband' button on the metro so everyone can see it" trick to throw cops off her scent. (One day, I hope to be a detective.) Due to a paralyzing fear (that she might kill me as a warm-up before she killed her husband) and shyness, I didn't talk to the woman. Instead, I did what many of you would have done. I reached into my briefcase, pulled out my “Your Husband Loves Me (for long time)” button, and affixed it to my lapel. Much to my surprise, the lady wasn’t amused. In other news, can you believe the price of stamps is increasing by two cents?
Posted by fool at 01:20 AM | Comments (1)November 02, 2005
Happy Half-Birthday to ThinkingFool.com - Time to Celebrate, Spread the Word, and Review What's Been Written Thus Far!
Bring out the corkscrews and pull the champagne bottles out of the oven; it’s time to celebrate! Today, thinkingfool.com is exactly six months old! Some of you have been around since day one. Most of you have not. Some of you awakened today in gigantic puddles of urine. Fortunately, most of you did not. Regardless of whether you are young or old, gay or straight, Christian or Buddhist, or perhaps even an NYU Jew, one thing is certain – your patronage at this site is greatly appreciated (unless you are a child molester. If that’s the case, go to your nearest pawn shop, purchase a revolver, load the revolver with six bullets, and play Russian roulette until you “win,” (which ought to happen on the first pull if you’ve followed the instructions).). Over the last six months, this site has increased in value from zero dollars to more than $4,000. With a few more readers, some naked pictures of famous celebrities, and more breaking news stories, thinkingfool.com’s worth is liable to skyrocket past the $5,000 mark. YOU can help!
To celebrate six months of blogging, I have a favor to ask of you. If you enjoy reading this site, why not tell a friend or two? If you don't have any friends, tell a homeless person. If you don't see any homeless people on a regular basis, move to a city. If you don't like cities, what's the matter with you? I can’t offer much in return, but if you promise to tell a friend about this blog, I can guarantee that the next time you watch a Ron Popeil infomercial, Ron will say something like, “And it won’t even cost you $130 like you all may be thinking.” I don't know about you, but I've NEVER once been thinking, "I bet this will cost me 'X' dollars" when Popeil has said, "And it won't even cost you 'X' dollars like you all may be thinking."
As loyal readers know, this blog has undergone quite a metamorphosis since its inception. Gone are the days when the site’s sole purpose was to allow crack dealers and pimps across the nation to have a convenient forum to exchange ideas about how to flourish in today’s economy. Gone are the days when I railed against anything involving Roman Polanski (oh wait, those days are still here). Today, for better or worse (and I realize oftentimes it is for worse), thinkingfool.com is updated nearly every weekday. Fortunately with more frequent updates have come more frequent readers. In fact, yesterday, more people visited thinkingfool.com than ever before. And yes, this excites me - no, not in the sexual sense.
Thank you for your support. I hope it continues. Oh, and for crying out loud, if you haven't bookmarked this page, do it NOW!
For all the new visitors, you probably are thinking, "How can I read all of the good entries that I missed without having to suffer through the crappy ones?" Well, consider it your lucky day. As rated by me, GE Friend, the Deer Assassin, and my imaginary friend Hugo, the following are the top thirteen entries the Fool has written thus far. (We couldn't agree on #14, so we had to shorten the list to thirteen entries. Hey, rules are rules and Hugo can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.)
#13 Hammers, Neighbors, and Smoke Alarms
#12 Why Successories will NEVER Hire Me
#11 Osama and the Supreme Court – Why Not?
#10 Why You Should Be Nice To Me on an Airplane
#9 My Run-In With the Chinese Diplomat
#8 Coming Out of the Closet – A Classmate’s Story
#7 How Being an Atheist Can Get One in Trouble
#6 It Seemed like a Good Idea at the Time
#5 Ten Practical Rules for Raising Kids
#4 In the Land Down Under, You May Want to Refrain from Ordering Pancakes
#3 An Open Letter from Amber Frey’s Daughter to Santa Claus (Without a doubt the most controversial entry thus far)
#2 Harriet Miers Pens a Letter to the President
#1 Ideas for Negotiating Your Next Lease – Threaten them with Porn! (Still holds a soft place in my heart!)
November 01, 2005
When Nice People Marry Total Jerks
Women, consider yourself warned. This probably isn't a post you'll enjoy reading. My apologies.
Yesterday, I decided to work out fairly late. Towards the end of my workout, a fellow resident of my apartment complex came strolling into the workout room with his wife. Now this guy and I have had numerous conversations. Over the summer, we both worked out in the middle of the night a lot and spent quite a bit of time talking about our lives, our careers (which would technically be part of "our lives"), and various other things that interested us at the time. Included on the list of topics was this man’s wife. The guy's wife happens to be a doctor who graduated from Johns Hopkins Medical School or Harvard Medical School or some REALLY awesome medical school. These days, I think she’s an OBGYN or pediatrician or brain surgeon or, it really doesn’t matter. What’s important is that she’s doing her residency at some phenomenal hospital in the Washington area and is clearly incredibly intelligent. The husband’s no imbecile in his own right – he graduated in the top third of his class from Harvard Law School. Yes, they have the makings of a power couple.
After the lawyer and his wife appeared in the workout room together, the lawyer and I exchanged greetings. Then, as could be expected, the lawyer said, “Fool, I’d like you to meet my wife.” I looked at the wife and said, “So you’re the non-intelligent doctor in the family.” Yes, I said, "non-intelligent," and yes, I was being sarcastic! Anyone who knows me knows that I speak in sarcasm. Although this style of speech causes problems at times, usually when you're dealing with non-imbeciles, people know that I'm being sarcastic and all is well in the universe.
So much for all being well last night.
As soon as I made the comment, you could just sense the change. The workout room’s mood transformed from one of sheer happiness to one of incredible tension. I continued to exercise for about a minute, but I found myself thinking, "What the hell just happened? These are smart people. They can’t possibly think I was serious when I called the wife a ‘non-intelligent’ doctor, can they?” Well, the more I thought about it, the more I thought these two didn’t get sarcasm. Naturally, I tried to remedy the situation.
Thinking Fool: “You guys, I was totally joking when I said that comment. You know that, right? (Looking directly at the wife) From everything your husband has told me about you, I’m well aware that you’re nothing short of brilliant.”
Husband: (With a baffled look on his face) “I wasn’t sure I heard you correctly when you said that comment. I actually was starting to think that I’d have to go over there and kick your ass.”
Thinking Fool: (Thinking, "Yeah, go ahead and try. You may be bigger than I am, but I have free weights in my hand and numerous others within my reach." Advantage: Fool) “No, I was totally joking. I’m really sorry if I offended either of you.”
You know how after there's a stupid misunderstanding that is immediately cleared up, most normal, good-natured human beings say something like, “No worries, mate!” or “Hakuna Matata!” or “Don’t worry about it.” Well, that is what I was expecting. But, that’s not what happened. Instead, the wife snapped at me like a pit bull whose owner had just taken away his favorite bone.
The Wife (hereinafter "Hideous Human Being"): “DON’T TALK TO ME WHILE I’M WATCHING MY SHOW!!!"
I'm not kidding. She said - well, more like mildly screamed - that.
I want you to keep something in mind. I was in the workout room before these two goons showed their faces. While I was alone, I had one television tuned to CNN so I could watch/listen to the news. (I know some of you were expecting something else to follow the "When I was alone" portion of that sentence.) As soon as the non-sarcasm-understanding couple came in and turned on the other television set, I immediately turned off “my” television, so they could watch whatever they wanted to watch without having to hear CNN competing with their program. From my vantage point, that was a pretty considerate thing to do, yes?
After the doctor snapped at me, I stood there completely baffled. The husband had always been incredibly nice and engaging, so it shocked me that his wife seemed colder than the North Pole during the middle of the Ice Age. How do people like this end up with each other?
I didn't really want to be in the same room with the hideous human being and fortunately, I was nearly done with my workout, so I left the gym within a few minutes and said goodnight to the hideous human being's husband, but didn't say a word to her. (I’m sure she was quite pleased that I didn’t attempt to speak to her.) If I had it to do all over again, I don't think I would have refrained from saying what I wanted to say.
Thinking Fool: “[Lawyer], you know I’ve always gotten along well with you, so don’t take this the wrong way. However, if your wife isn’t getting ready to bleed for the next week, then you might have married one of the biggest C-star–star–star-S I’ve ever met. Have a good night.”
Sometimes it's good that time machines don't exist.
Posted by fool at 12:16 AM | Comments (5)
){kind=link}
