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I Think

Page 21


So the evil villain Murkon is back in this game called Murkon's Vengeance. It turns out, he wasn't dead after all. Imagine that -- a supervillain that doesn't die when he's killed. What are the odds, eh? Anyway, Murkon comes back to life, and he fights all the good guys that killed him the first time. Sometimes he finds a locked door and has to go find the key for it before progressing. Ok, now, let's say you're a hero adventurer, and you're afraid Murkon is going to do just what he does -- come back to life and slaughter everybody. Well I think you and I need to have a little talk about common sense safety. First, don't post the absolute wimpiest, weakest, lamest person in the whole history of civilization to guard the grave. Seriously, nobody this feeble exists anywhere else in the world. You can't make a character that wussy, but he's going to be the first line of defense against a supervillain that can come back from the dead. Right. Secondly, try hiding the keys to all the locked doors on the other side of them. You want to lock somebody in a dungeon somewhere, dummy, you keep the key on your side. Finally, sweep the area clean of all those strength potions and monster portals and empowerment pools and all that other stuff. It's bad enough to hand the guy keys to escape without also providing him with the ability to become the most powerful creature in the universe.


There's a disturbing trend in America today, yes, I say disturbing trend in America today. It is called, "I have to work to get money to afford food." Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not a commie or a hippie or any of those other -ie things where everybody gets to lie around and get food given to them. We can't all do that -- obviously if food is to be given out, somebody's got to kill the food and prepare it. No, I am merely suggesting that this person not be me. Hey, if it weren't for other people failing to implement all the million dollar ideas I think up, I'd be bathing in royalties already. It's not right that I should remain poor over the failures of others, but if that is to be how it is, the least you bozos could do is wait on me hand and foot all the time.


People wonder why there are so many weird side effects to pregnancy. It's probably because pregnancy itself is weird. Tell me that if you merged your biological matter with another person, it wouldn't do weird things. When a pregnant woman gets really tired in the middle of the day, I think it's because the baby wants to go to sleep, and he's tired of being jostled around while Mom's walking around everywhere, so he sends tired vibes through the umbilical cord. If a pregnant woman gets unnaturally short of breath, hey, she's not the only one needing that air. The baby's probably doing calculus problems on the womb wall and needs the extra oxygen to fuel all that mental activity. If the way pregnant women get short of breath is any indication, babies must do a lot of advanced mathematical research, but since their memories aren't developed yet, they don't remember it, and in the process of giving birth, well, they have to leave their notes behind. But mark my words. The wisdom of the ages is right there on the inside of used wombs. We just never think to look.


One time I listened to non-potable music and got an ear infection.


Sunday, Sunday, Sunday, the biggest, meanest, maddest competition you've seen yet! One will win. The rest will...EAT DIRT. Yes, I'm talking about what should be the geek's version of the Monster Truck arena, namely, the Monster PDA Battle Royale! Tickets are on sale now for 12 straight hours of mad digital mayhem. Wireless network transmissions will be flying everywhere! Processors getting stabbed by styluseses! People touching the LCD screens too firmly! One will win. The rest will...EAT BANDWIDTH. . . . . . . . . . Ok, so I don't really think that's a good idea, but I think we do need some kind of alternative to Monster Truck derbies, you know, for intelligent people. (Ha ha, BURN!) Maybe we could have Monster Science Fair Demolition contests, where high school kids go around setting other people's chemical displays on fire. A Monster Chess Tournament might be fun, too -- this 50 foot mechanized knight could come out and get all Godzilla on the rooks. And surely nothing could prepare you for...the Monster Mensa Math Festival Smackdown! You've never seen such massive homeomorphic isometries, crushing polytopes everywhere with their lethal surjections.


I like how French people all wear smocks and carry palettes around everywhere. I went to France once. I forgot my smock, so everybody stared at me. I went to a deli in Paris, and the guy behind the counter had a palette with condiments on it. I asked for ketchup and mayonnaise, and he said, "Stupid American!" But he obliged, taking a knife and cutting away some of the red stuff and some of the white stuff, mixing it up a little, and painting it on my hot dog. He was a pointillist, so it took a while.


I think it's a chilling reminder of my mortality, that I am never more than a few hours from that grisly implosion of a death known as starvation. No matter how much I eat, before long the cravings resurface, and the withdrawal symptoms ravage my innards. "I am Snook Draddots," I would say, were my name actually Snook Draddots, "and I am a food addict." It's a sad story, but it's true. I was a food baby, in fact. My mother was using when she was pregnant with me. I've been on food ever since. It's wrecked my life. For my first fifteen years, I experienced rapid weight gain, and the digestive symptoms that persist to this day are too unpleasant to discuss. I've been unable to quit. The patch -- where you duct tape some potato salad to your arm every morning -- doesn't help at all. One time I had a 16 hour flight across the Pacific, during which time I ate nothing that could be remotely described as food, but I fell off the wagon shortly after landing. But enough is enough. I've come to an epiphany about just how much I've let food run my life for me, and it's time for that to stop. No more food for me. I'm quitting food cold turkey.


Computers have feelings, too. You get to know computer moods if you spend enough time with them. My laptop is getting on in years. It has a hard time getting started in the morning. Sometimes it's sluggish, as if it just can't think of a reason to keep on going. But I think what computers need is just what we all need: some encouragement, a little kindness, and good friends. So I bought it a friend. I bought another laptop of roughly the same power and capacity (don't want to nurture an inferiority complex), and I hooked them up to an ethernet hub, so they can hang out together. When they're not on the job, they chat with each other to pass the time. One time I overheard some of their conversation -- accidentally, I assure you -- and it was pretty boring. Mostly it was just, "Are you there?" -- "Yup." -- "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." -- "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." -- "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." -- "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." -- "Are you still there?" -- "Yup." But it keeps them happy.


I tried my hand at Southern cuisine last night. For breakfast, I made chicken fried ham with a side of grits, deep fried biscuits and gravy with a side of grits, and deep fried cornbread with a side of grits. For lunch, chicken fried steak with a side of grits, fried green tomatoes with a side of grits, and for dessert, fried apples with a side of grits. For supper, I had chicken fried chicken with a side of grits, deep fried hominy with a side of grits, chicken fried grits with a side of grits, and deep fried shoofly pie with a side of grits. Tonight, I'm going to try southern pizza. I'm not sure whether it's supposed to be chicken fried or deep fried. I think I'll deep fry the toppings individually, then chicken fry the whole thing afterward. Should the whole pizza come with a side of grits, or does each individual slice need to come with its own side of grits?


I think somebody should figure out a way for cookies to have cookies. Then you could just buy a breeding pair and put them in their own cupboard.