It's All Over! Mercifully, It's Over!

     Well, this is it, friends and neighbors! My last blog of 2012, and what an inconsistent year of them it's been! How about if we review them, and discuss our favorite moments together? For instance, remember that time I wrote about China? And how about that time I told you guys about that time they found chunks of mammoth somewhere or another and said they could maybe clone one? Oh, oh, remember that time I didn't write anything? For months? I got a lot of praise for that one.
     What? No? You don't want to just sit there and read about me rehashing all that junk I already bugged you about? But... but...
     Fine. You know what? Good. Great. Be rude. We'll do something else, something you want do instead. After all, you don't pay for this, and I do all the work of writing it, so why not let you dictate what the year- ender should be about, right? Grand. What have you got?
    Oh. Yeah, well, I guess that is a pretty good idea. Okay, fine, since you asked for it (rudely), I'll let you in on a few things I'm excited about for the new year.
     First, and foremost, I am overjoyed to announce there is now no longer any need for me to hear about the Mayan calendar. Seriously, these guys are dead and gone, okay? They lost already. Stop kicking their collective corpse with jokes about  their lack of accuracy as it pertains to Armageddon. No one else has gotten it right yet either, and I bet most of us won't thank the ones that do.
     Mayan calendar. Done.
     Also, I can't wait to see how this whole 'fiscal cliff' thing turns out. Mostly, I admit, because I'm tired of the phrase, but also because I'm ready for the next great political disaster that will bring us to the brink of economic collapse, but somehow, just at the last minute, and despite the great efforts of the other side, both political parties will manage to single-handedly save the country, and thus the world. It's been too long since everyone who ever wore an American flag pin demanded credit for something most of us are tired of talking about.
     Oh, and before I forget, I'm going to make a preemptive strike on this, and let everyone know how excited I am to tell you all that I do not -NOT- want to hear about your resolutions. Don't tell me about them, don't keep me updated on your progress, and above all, do not expect me to remember or care. I will not care, and I won't remember. I can't even remember why I walked in the kitchen half the time, much less who wants to lose weight or quit smoking or whatever. My brain is too full of more important things, such as the difference between right and left, and all the lyrics to the theme song from the 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' cartoon I grew up with.* So please, resolve to keep your resolutions to yourself. That way, when you give up on them, your shame and failure is known only to you.
     Finally, I'm excited to see what the teen years are going to be like for the 2000s. The first twelve years were pretty hectic, and puberty is likely to make things even more interesting. Thankfully, this ain't my teenager. I'm more like an uncle. I just show up to get him all riled up and full of sugar, and then I'm out of here.
-John

*Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Heroes in a half shell
  Turtle power!

  They're the world's most fearsome fighting teens (we're really hip!)
  Heroes in a half shell and they're green (hey, get a grip!)
  When the evil Shredder attacks
  These turtle boys don't cut 'em  no slack

  Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Teenage mutant ninja turtles

  Splinter taught them to be ninja teens (he's a radical rat!)
  Leonardo leads, Donatello does machines (and that's a fact, Jack!)
  Raphael is cool, but crude (gimme a break!)
  Michelangelo is a party dude (partayyyyyy!)


  Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Teenage mutant ninja turtles
  Heroes in a half shell
  Turtle power!
-Told you, and don't even act like you didn't want that.

Desperation

     It's been a powerful week, hasn't it, friends and neighbors? Between what happened in Connecticut, and what happened in central China, it's difficult to know where to go next, isn't it? It seems these events, and those like them, always leave people feeling scared, and more than a little lost. These things always come out of nowhere, because who could live a sane life always trying to be prepared for something like this? And even if we could, what kind of life would that leave us? Not much, to be sure.
     So we find ourselves always bewildered and horrified, as we should be, and in a state of collective shock, because it's so nonsensical, and utterly void of reason. That void is not one we are prepared to deal with, and we become desperate to fill it. With anything we can find. Some people fill it with faith in their chosen deity, and that helps. Some people need someone to blame, because identifying a cause for something brings it closer to reason. They blame parents, school systems, television, video games, peer bullying, whatever straw they can grasp at, not to excuse these tragedies, but to explain them.
     There are also always people who see these things as some kind of punishment, or a sign of ending times. Many of the rest of us, myself included, find it easy and helpful to get angry at them for reacting this way. It gives us a vent for our own pent up frustrations and fears. A vent many of us need, just to keep our perspective in check. And do we ever need it.
     Really though, it's just another attempt to put reason to the unreasonable, the chaotic and terrible. We are taught to think in terms of cause and effect, and not being able to put things clearly into this formula is strange and uncomfortable. We need a reason, and we take whatever we can get, because what choice do we have? We're desperate.
     Personally, I have no idea what it means, if anything, and I won't pretend to. I have learned that trying to apply my own meaning to events that are immeasurably bigger than I am only serves to confuse me more. All I can do instead is try to find some way to get over my own personal shock under control, and then do anything I can to help others do the same.
     Which in this case, isn't much, and what I little I have to offer is bittersweet, at best:
     The people in our lives that we love, that we cherish, are sadly no more permanent than we are, and the best we can do is hold on to them while we have them. Desperately.
     That's all for this week. Next, I'll see about some jokes.
-John

There Will be Christmas

     Well, friends and neighbors, it is indeed that time of year again. The ubiquitous pumpkin flavoring fades back into the cultural ether, only to be replaced by Peppermint, Eggnog, and Gingerbread. The beautiful bright reds and oranges and complimentary browns of nature shift into the gray skies and dark, muddy browns of bare tree limbs. This change, coupled with the dried, crunchy corpses of fallen leaves and occasional snowfalls, allows nature to take on a grim, darker sort of beauty, a reminder that life has stages, and death is part of that.
     This of course scares the daylights out of people, so they cover everything in bright colors and lights, in some weird and vain attempt to control nature and ward off death.
     And then they start in with the music.
     Oh, thank heaven for the contrived, vapidly happy music piped into every public place this time of year. If not for it, I might not have remembered that Santa made out with my mom, the weather is frightful, my grandmother was murdered by a flying reindeer, another reindeer (possibly that same vile fiend) has a bright red nose (which one would think would make him easier to catch and bring to justice), and my Christmas without you will be a blue one indeed. And shame, SHAME I say, on those who insist that if we cannot manage to end this "horrid, blood curdling, omnipresent auditory onslaught" (not my words, mind, not at all (except they obviously are)), then perhaps we can at least get some new songs. How dare you, I must ask, in order to continue. These plastic, heartlessly cheerful songs are as much a part of our holiday tradition as the yearly retail war we mournfully know as 'Black Friday,' so named because of the uncontrollable Birth Of The Savior fueled rage and violence that overtakes the reasoning faculties of so many retail shoppers. We need these songs, and as anyone who has ever worked in a retail environment will tell you, they are often the only thing that makes the day worthwhile, obviously excepting the joyful mood of the laid back, congenial customer.
     Insert segue here.
     However, the holiday -sorry, Christmas- season will not be completely here until I hear those valiant warriors of irrationality take their stance against the War On Christmas, and mercilessly attack all those who do not openly rejoice in this season of giving and tolerance and love. I am sure that this, the Yuletide Crusade, has begun, and the rumblings are being heard, but they have not reached my waiting ears just yet.
     My breath is baited.
     Speaking of tolerance, I also love the inclusive cheerfulness this time of year spreads to all kinds of people. Especially the Interesting Ones who insist that saying "Happy Holidays" is practically sacrilege, and everyone should feel free to exclusively say "Merry Christmas" instead, just like they do. These are usually the same harbingers of Joy and Noel that force feed their relatives holy abominations like fruit cake, and babble incessantly about the impending unlawful entry of Santa Claus. All done because, as another fictional character once said, "Christmas is a time when people of all religions come together to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ."
     Finally, I would like to remind everyone that the true reason for the season, as they say, is to remember that we, most of us, have people in our lives that we love, and very probably could not do without. Furthermore, the best way to show these people that we care is through the thought and (especially) the act of giving them stuff. With that in mind, I am going to do all of you the favor of providing the opportunity to do just that.
     I have decided, for all of the completely well thought out and thoroughly practical reasons that generally come with spontaneous whimsy, that I want a Roomba. You know, one of those vacuum robots? Yeah, those. Lucky for you all, I cannot afford to spend $300.00 dollars on such a necessary object, which is where your opportunity comes in. All I need is ten bucks from thirty people, and this momentary, passing, and all important dream of mine can come true. That's an easy enough way to satisfy my insecure need for others to prove they love me through the giving of material possessions, right? Ten bucks? Come on, don't pretend like you don't have ten bucks' worth of love for me.
     The best part of it is, I'm proving my love for all of you by giving (see?) you the opportunity to give. Plus, you don't even have to go to the mall. See how much I care?
     Come on, gimme ten bucks. I'd do it for you, if I had a Roomba already. And ten bucks' worth of love for you.
-John

Good on ya! Good all over ya!

   


     Last week (or the week before, I don't remember), I made yet another attempt in my tireless crusade to improve our lives and legacies, by pointing out some of our more unforgivable (by which I mean largely unnoticed and arguably unimportant) atrocities (silly doings) in the hopes that we could correct them and thus make our world a better place in which we can all feel victimized and under appreciated by our friends and family. This week, friends and neighbors, I thought I might take a different track, and point out a few things that we have done or are doing well.
      Now I know you're freaking right out, because I'm not the guy you look to when you want a pat on the back. I'm really more comfortable impatiently explaining why everything is stupid and everyone is awful. I know, I know, I know. Calm down, it's going to be okay. Trust me, it's all still stupid and we're all still awful,  and there's a better than fair chance I'm not going to improve your outlook on life one little bit. I certainly won't be trying to, at any rate.
     Deal? Great, let's get to it.
     First, this year, in the United States, we had a presidential election. This is a good thing, but not as good as the fact that it's over, and now people can stop using up valuable social media space spitting vitriol at each other for having different opinions on stuff that they very likely don't fully understand. What is truly good though, is that a lot of people voted. I like that, because at least it's an attempt to make a difference, even if it might not. So good job, populace of the United States, you actually made an effort, instead of just shouting.
     I do have one piece of advice for Republicans: try and pick someone your base can really get behind, instead of just relying on them to vote against the other guy. Let me put it metaphorically, because I thought of one this morning, and can't get it out of my head.
     You know how every once in a while, a snack cracker or potato chip company, or some purveyor of processed junk food or another will have one of those contests where they let the consumer vote on what the next flavor of cracker, or chip, or what have you will be? Have you ever noticed that among the choices they offer, flavors like water, notebook paper, or unflavored yogurt flavor rarely make the list? Do you know why?
     Because flavorless crackers don't win public hearts.
     Just, you know, think about it.
     Now, let's move on to way more important things, like names I haven't heard this year. Despite the ever growing infection that is reality television, some things and names have seemingly disappeared from our cultural landscape, and I'd like to thank everyone for not paying any more attention to Spencer Pratt, Heidi Montag, or that guy who left Kate and her plus eight. I realize it's a far cry from curing this epidemic, but it's at least a meager start, and meager is better than terrible.
     So, congratulations on achieving meagerness. I guess.
     Also, "Twilight" is ending! The last movie just came out, and soon hopefully we can all put this whole terrible thing behind us before the next terrible thing catches on. I'm tired of hearing people defend it, because it is objectively vapid and obnoxious and arguably offensive. And I'm tired of hearing people attack it, because I know already, okay? It's all been said, it's all correct, and I know. Can we please put a stake in this thing and pronounce it no longer glittering?
     Okay, now since I don't have a major ending here, I figure why not just list a few other things that happened this year that are pretty cool:
     1) We put a robot on Mars!
     2) There was no "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie!
     3) My very good friend, The One and Only Petra Kelly, won "best instrumentalist" at the "Dallas Observer Music Awards!" Congratulations!
     4) Nobody ran me over! Not that I was expecting it, but it's something I think people should keep doing. Or not doing. Whichever.
     Don't run me over.
-John
   
     

It's Time For Change, All Right

     Well, friends and neighbors, this year is drawing to a close. We've only to get through Thanksgiving, and then  of course Christmas and the horror it creates for many of us, and then, more than likely, the new year will begin. I've been thinking a lot (maybe twenty entire minutes) about this coming new year, and here's what I think:
     We should do things better in it.
     You know what I mean? We're doing all these things all wrong, and even some things we used to do right, we started doing wrong instead. Personally, I think this  might be a poor choice. So I'm going to run a few things by you, and then you can agree with me, and next year we can all make the necessary changes. This is why I'm writing this thing in November, so we can all have time to make the new adjustments. Not because I can't think of anything better to write about. Not, I said.
     Let's begin with a couple of things we used to do better than we do now. Like commercials, for instance. Remember when advertisers mostly just tried to sell us things by using sex? Whether it was a car, a beer, a set of power tools, whatever. Things were, you know, suggestive, and it was great. Now, when I do myself the disservice of not muting the commercials, mostly all I see is some schlubby guy with a beard and hipster glasses telling me that some thing is not as good as some other thing. This guy, I'm lead to believe, is hip. And  this thing he likes is hip, too, and being hip is cool.
     This seems like a good time to point out to everyone, man, woman, and child alike, that is hip is not, and has never been, cool. Okay? It's not. It's a totally different thing, involving trends and fads and other passing fancies. Hipness requires attention and work and maintenance, like a skill. Coolness is not about that. Not being either hip or cool myself, I've had time to observe the two, and that's they way it is. So stop trying to sell me hip, and go back to selling me stuff I want. Like sex.
     Also, and this may just be me (which does not make me wrong), but wasn't there a time when kids weren't in charge? It seems like there was. It seems like once, in a time largely forgotten in this world of ever advancing technology and receding basic reading skills, parents were actually in charge of their kids. Now I understand that teenagers are insane, but it seems like more of them are pregnant now than they used to be. Maybe it's because you can get on television for it now. Also, if you're a rich kid, it seems like you can get famous for being an awful person. Hearing generations that came before mine tell it, all a kid would get for behaving like that was a well deserved hiding, not a new car and a starring role in some show on MTV.
     Which brings me to one of the things we've been doing wrong for too long, and I vote we change next year. Let's stop giving positive feedback to people who deserve to be in reform school. Or jail. I know most of us defend ourselves by saying these things are a "guilty pleasure," or flat out admit that "it's totally trashy, but I can't help myself." Well, help yourself anyway. These people don't care if you're looking down on them through your TV, okay? They just want you watching them. It's like how psychiatrists think kids are acting out because they need more attention, even if it's negative attention.
     And as far as looking down on them, well, stop it. It's mean, and the fact that producers are taking advantage of that is the best time to use the word 'sleazy' I've found in recent memory. Besides, talking about how dumb and terrible these people are is really just a way of making ourselves feel better about us, and I think we can set that bar a little higher.
     Okay, enough of that. How about these electric cars? Does anyone else think we're going about this all wrong? Never mind that they're still trying to use that 'hipness' thing to get us to buy them, but why do they have to look like the crappy little toys that come in those gumball machines outside Toys 'R' Us? Hey, car companies, here's what you do: Prove that the electric engines you're making are so awesome, and the fuel efficiency is so great, by making cars awesome again. Remember how huge cars used to be? I grew up in a 1968 Ford Galaxie, and let me tell you, I used to sleep under the rear window on road trips, looking up into the night sky, with my sister sleeping next to me. We had more room than we needed, and it was amazing. Now? Not a chance. You have to buy an SUV for that, and those are mostly awful.
     Why not make an electric car that doesn't make its driver look like a budget conscious giant?
     Look, I know some of this may have come across a little harsh, but you brought it on yourselves.
     Honey Boo-Boo, for Pete's sake.
     Good grief, you guys.
-John

And They Call It Science!

   
     Well, it's been a good long while, and so much has happened to, and in, this interesting little world of ours. The Olympics came and went once again, with its competitions, medals, and sponsors that no sane Olympic athlete would consume. We find ourselves once again in the middle of a Presidential election, which gives our politicians yet another unnecessary excuse to eschew doing their actual jobs and instead pick fights like rival gangs of schoolchildren. I however, am not going to even bother with those, except to say that any politician who tries to garner votes by posting pictures of him or herself feasting upon food from a controversial fast food place, doesn't even deserve to hold the job that he or she isn't doing.
     Seriously, appeal to people's intelligence for your support; don't prey on their fear and hatred. It's demeaning to everyone involved.
     Anyway, instead of going over all that boring stuff that directly impacts your life (the election, not the Olympics. Unless you're a competitor. But you're not.), I'm going to fill you in on some of the crazier things that our old friend Science is doing. I'll be doing this for two reasons:
     1) Science is fun.
     2) We're on Mars, you guys! Can you believe that? We, us (not you and me, but you know, 'us' in general), this here group of people right here (at this point in time, I mean. Not here at my desk.), put a robot on Mars that is driving around and doing science stuff right now. When you got up this morning and got ready for work or whatever, there was a robot from here (Earth. Still not my desk.) cruising the surface of a whole other planet! Dig on that, why don't you?
     So, because it's fun and deserves the attention, we're going to talk about science stuff today! Starting with this, out of Siberia:
     They found actual bits of frozen mammoths! Like, big, hairy, extinct since the ice age Woolly Mahatma Ghandi Mammoths! (No, that's not what they're called. I just like 'Mahatma Ghandi' as an exclamation. And, you know, he did some other good stuff, too. He was especially gifted at food conservation, I believe.) These Woolly Mahatma Ghandi Mammoth bits, which were found frozen deep in Siberia, include mammoth hair, soft tissue, and bone marrow.
     Now, some of you already have the proper question in mind, and the answer is 'maybe.' For the rest of you, I'll say it in what has to be my favorite way so far: We might get to clone us up some Woolly Mahatma Freakin' Gahtdang Ghandi Mammoths, ya'll! Sure, it's going to take a while to find out for certain, at least until the end of year, but think about it! How great would that be? Who wouldn't want to see, or, dream of dreams, own and use for general transportation, a huge hairy prehistoric elephant? You would, I can tell you that right now.
     Plus, if this happens, the people responsible could win something called the "Jurassic Park Prize," which is great, because until just now I didn't even know it existed. Now I do, and so do you, and it's all because of science.
     Now, in the weirdly uplifting (but still weird) area of science, a woman in Chicago recently gave birth to her own granddaughter. Slow down, it's not gross. Morally, anyway. See, what happened was, this woman, whose  grown daughter was unable to have children of her own, offered to have a fertilized egg implanted in her (the woman), so that she could carry and subsequently have the child herself. After what I'm sure was quite a few awkward happenings, it was a success, and their family grew in numbers by one. Proving once again that if you want something done, you should do it yourself. Even if it's becoming a grandmother.
     Finally, since exploration of new worlds is kind of my inspiration today, I thought I'd close with another thing about another planet, namely Jupiter (the best one!). There was an explosion on Jupiter, caused by some sort of impact. Probably a larger sort.
     The flash of light it caused lasted about two seconds, and it remains unclear if Jupiter will have any new scars to impress the girl planets with. It's had its eye on Venus for a while, I know, and this could be just what it needs. Girl planets love tough looking boy planets. Trust me, I know all about interplanetary relations.
     This potentially planet love life changing impact is believed to be a small asteroid or comet, but that means nothing. It could also have been an alien spacecraft, or Galactic Cupid, or a god shooting a spitwad, or something. We don't know for sure! We can only make speculations based on other things we think we do know!
     This, my friends and neighbors, is what makes science great! The pursuit of answers, and new discoveries, and yet more questions! Science speaks to the explorer in all of us, and beckons that explorer to  come check things out. Let the explorer listen.
     You could get a mammoth! Or possibly hit by a rock from outer space. Good luck!
-John

You're Amenable!

     Greetings, Salutations, and a big old howdy to you all, and welcome to the previously promised post, from St. John the Amenable, patron saint of I wish you wouldn't do that. We're going to start with something easy, something that's been pointed out to us all before, be it by some picky friend (hello!) or any competent English teacher. I do not intend to take up too much of your time with it, as I'm sure you're busy, as the peasants were in the days of yore.
     In fact, it's already done, and if you paid attention, you're already aware, so congratulations to you and yours. Yore.
     There it was again.
     Okay, moving on to the latest in what is admittedly a long line of phrases that you're using and I wish you wouldn't. I think it's time we let "on the down low" leave our collective vocabulary, and let it cross the linguistic river Styx, say a few words to mourn it's passing, and move on to something that doesn't sound vaguely like a bedroom activity of some kind.
     And who should say these aforementioned mournful passing words? Well, since no one else is volunteering, and I'm the one writing this thing, I suppose I should. And so I shall.
     We gather here to memorialize the passing of "on the down low," a phrase used by many (but not me), in it's life, to emphasize the necessary confidentiality of juicy gossip, surprise parties, secrets kept from significant others that could do untold damage to relationships, and so on. This proud phrase rose from the murky depths of not being a thing, to eventually appear in movies, television, and even in our daily lives, spreading the word to not spread the word. Our dear friend's entire existence was dedicated to keeping secrets, like so many of our greatest legends, including J. Edgar Hoover, Richard M. Nixon, and James Bond. It's use prevented the possible proliferation of passwords, private pronouncements, and even profusely pecksniffian prognostications (that right there, that's called alliteration. Try it at home. It's a blast. Don't overuse it in your writing though, that's kind of my thing.)
     But let us not mourn it's passing, my friends and neighbors. Let us instead rejoice that it was here for a time, and rejoice again that it is gone, because it was kind of stupid. And I beseech you all, and command a certain few of you, to let it go gracefully, and not to keep your emotions from the world, but instead to acknowledge, share, and yes even celebrate them.
     Do not say you're keeping you're emotions 'up high.' People will not be grateful.
     So, now that we have covered yet another dearly departed (mostly just departed) phrase that people will probably keep bandying about even though it's morbid to throw dead things, I think it's time we moved on to something much more exciting:
     Bringing dead words back to life!
     Twist! Baahahahahaaaa!
     Yes, yes, I know, some of you are welling up in anger and frustration  at the hypocrisy you see here. I just finished making a point about letting things die when they should, and here I am trying to pump life back into these other things, mostly just because I hate that phrase and like these better. "Charlatan!" you cry, and "For shame!", and "Flimflammery of the lowest sort!", and so on.
     Well hey there, Patron Saint of Not a Single Solitary Thing, maybe shut up. It'll be fun.
     First, that word I used earlier, 'pecksniffian.' Look it up, it's real. You should use it, because it's gangbusters, and people will give you some really interesting looks.
     Also, I never hear anyone use the word 'gangbusters' anymore. What is that about? Come on, people, it's not like we haven't worn 'awesome' out, you know? Spread your word wings and fly!
    Wait, don't do that. It sounds pretty stupid.
    I would also like to know why I never hear anything referred to as a harbinger of doom anymore? Check out the news, people, doom is all over this place. Surely, there are harbingers. How come no one points them out? It could help.
    This one I just discovered today: Knocked in to a cocked hat. Can you even stand the glory in that phrase? I don't see how any human could. This is perhaps why it means beaten severely. It hits your ears, and you're immediately beaten with it's glory. Like in yore.
     Finally, I will leave you with a phrase I heard in a movie recently. Next time you and a group of people find yourselves wondering what to do, and you have an idea, say this: "I'll tell you what let's do!"
     Go on, say it aloud to yourself, but fair warning, a southern accent matters here.
     Fun, right? And talk about getting reactions from people. Brother, you ain't seen nothing yet.
     And what's the point of language, if not to get a reaction?
     Your,You're, and yore. They're different, was my point.
-St. John

Giant Burgers, Short Hair, Teachers and Students, What Else?

   

     You know what we haven't done in a while, friends and neighbors? Besides, you know, this at all. We haven't taken a look at the news to see what joy can be found in the world! Yes indeed, it's time once again to peruse our electronic periodicals (or whatever, websites, I guess), and see what little yet supremely important and surprising things we can find together. Except I already did that, so check these out:
     Here's the first one, which I saw just today. Headline:
     "Cameron Diaz cries over drastic haircut."
     Can you believe it? Turns out, some friend of hers cut Ms. Diazs' hair, and it's shorter than she wanted! She cried! Her hair cutting friend cried! Then, apparently some other people cried! It was horrible! Thankfully, this story was reported quickly, and with such compassion, that the actress has received enough support from her fans, and will recover.
     Oh, wait, hang on. This story, written today, is actually about a haircut that happened in December 2011, and no one, anywhere, cares about it today. In fact, it was so unimportant, the half page article ended up quoting her about how great aging is, and how Google has made grandparents obsolete.
     Brilliance.
     The next headline I have for you reads thus:
     "Another 'Heart Attack Grill' customer collapses while eating 'bypass burger'."
     It gets better. Apparently, this customer was eating a "double bypass burger," while drinking a margarita and smoking a cigarette. Then, she collapsed into unconsciousness.
     Speaking for all people, I can say, "No. Doy."
     Speaking for myself, I can add, "I want one of those burgers. With bacon on it."
     What I really like about this headline is that it starts with the word 'another,' which makes it seems like this happens all the time. Which, maybe, it does. This poor woman, who was just out for a leisurely gluttonous lunch to go with her cigarette and alcohol, was the second customer to fall at the feet of this mighty burger establishment in just over two months. the first guy was eating a "Quadruple Bypass Burger" (and I want one of those, too.) Personally, I hold the burger joint responsible. I mean come on, if you present someone with the opportunity to eat something called a "Double Bypass Burger" how can they resist? Especially if it comes with a "Butterfat Milkshake," (which I do not want) and "Flatliner Fries (. . . maybe)?" Come on, what are we supposed to do, realize that this places' 600 pound spokes-model died last year at twenty nine, and Not eat there?
     Oh, wait a minute.
     Anyway, here's our final entry for the day:
    "Should teachers and students be Facebook friends?"
     The long answer is this article, which discusses how some schools have approved social media policies with regard to teachers and students, and then proceeds to talk about one male teacher who makes friends with female students, and then comments about how their pictures are sexy. Then they talk about how one teacher sent out a mass message concerning some internship, and a student applied and got said internship.
Then some guy, a lawyer you don't care about, compared the whole thing to cursing at students, and said that happens. Cursing, I mean. I assume his point is that students aren't as innocent as people think, so being a creepy Facebook stalker teacher isn't a big deal. Some other guy also calls email a dinosaur. These are grown-ups, not the students.
     The short answer is no, stupid. Talk to your students when they're in your classroom, and if they can't be bothered to write that stuff down, or check their dinosaur email, then maybe they're not responsible enough for an internship. Stupid.
    And that's your news! Be sure to come back next week, when St. John the Amenable returns for another round of fun with language!
    "What's that? Next week?"
     Yes, next week.
     "No way, you never do this two weeks in a row, because you're a lazy person."
     I am not. Shut up.
     "Yeah-huh, you are. You're too lazy to even have a decent closer, so you just made up some stupid fake dialogue!"
     Hey, how about you get out of here and let me finish this thing?
     "Yeah, whatever, sure, see you "next week."
     I said GET OUT!!
-John

Be More Good at Talking Words!

     Greetings, friends and neighbors, and welcome to another installment of what I like to call "Can you hear yourself speak?" with your old friend St. John the Amenable, patron saint of telling people to stop it. This is when I take time to point out that language is great, and people should be better at using it.
     Now, bear in mind, this is not one of those things where some idiot tries to argue that everyone in America should speak English. Never mind the fact that the word 'America' means quite a bit more than the United States, hence the necessary designations of North and South. The bottom line to that controversy is that singing the line "the land of the free" loses its' significance when you insist it be sung in only one language.
     No indeed, this is one of those things where some idiot -that would be me (hi!)-  pointlessly but relentlessly insists that the words 'ask' and 'especially' do not contain the letter 'x', nor is 'alot' one word, and on and on.
    For example, it is with a fair amount of disappointment that I feel the need to say that 'rite' and 'right' are not interchangeable, and when you are speaking to a confidant, you are speaking to someone in whom you are confident you can confide. Mind your 'e' or watch your 'a.' That's all I'm saying.
     This completes the spelling and pronunciation portion of our time together.
     Now I'd like to discuss with you a phrase. However, this is not a chat session, so I'm just going to write about how everyone should stop using it, and then you, for your part, will ignore me even though I'm right. It's kind of a rite for us now.
     Anyway, the phrase is "back in the day," and unfortunately, it has spread to all media, all generations, and if it doesn't stop soon, it may do irreversible damage to all you, as a people and as a culture, hold dear. Or, at the very least, it will continue to bug me, which is just as bad. My point here is that anyone who is old enough to reference a past, or smart enough to be able to reference a point of history, that is different enough from the present to make it worth mentioning, is old enough or smart enough to know better than to use that phrase. Conversely, anyone who is too young to remember when things were different, or too stupid to know any history, has no right to use that phrase, even though they may be more likely to do so, due to said youth or stupidity. Follow me? Allow me to simplify:
     You cannot justify using it, because no matter what, you are either too old, too smart, too young, or too stupid. Clear? Great.
     Lastly, I'm going to leave you with a little fun. We're going to discuss mixing metaphors, and why doing so can be great fun, under the right conditions.
     For example, say a man spends eight years happily married to his wife. Then, out of nowhere, she tells him the love has left their relationship, and she leaves. The man is devastated, and still loves her deeply. His misery is compounded by the fact that she has not met someone else, there was no great event that destroyed their relationship, it just, in her words "feels empty." So the man and woman get divorced and he moves out, because she got the house.
     After a few months of savage depression, the man decides that he still loves his wife, and wants her back. He makes several attempts, each one a failure, and finally she tells him that she doesn't want to be with him, or anyone, for that matter, and just wants to be alone. He goes home, battered but determined to try one more grand, immense, earth moving thing to get her back. He decides to show up on their anniversary, dressed to the nines, and take her on the exotic honeymoon they'd been too poor to afford when they were first married. He makes all the arrangements, spending months, and shows up at her house, which used to be their house, on the aforementioned day. He knocks on the door, hat in hand and heart in throat. And she answers, with her arm around another man. Our man leaves without a word, and does not speak to her again.
     One could say that this last straw at which our man was grasping was the one that broke the camel's back.
     Fun, right?
     Have another:
     Let's say you buy a new TV, top of the line and whatnot, and invite a friend over to watch a movie. Your friend agrees, and even brings beer. Now, during the movie, your friend accidentally knocks over his beer bottle, which hits the floor and shatters, sending beer everywhere, some of it even getting on the television screen. How do you react? Why, you leap up, screaming, punch your friend in the face, drag the television to your second story balcony, and pitch it over. Then, as any rational person would do when pushed to his or her absolute limit, you run downstairs, get in your car, and drive over the pieces of your televison three or four times, going all the way around the block each time to build speed. You then stop the car on top of the pile of plastic rubble, and light it on fire. Your car is now burning, soon to be joined by what was once a brand new television, and your friend (if the term still applies) is staring at you with a bloody face and wide eyed terror.
    What you have done here is thrown the baby out with the spilled milk. In this case, the milk is beer, but let's not split hairs (or hares), okay?
     Try this out yourselves; you'll probably only regret it a little.
-St. John

Idols Of America

     Originally, my first post in this, the year two thousand dozen, was going to be another of those 'best of' lists that everyone seems to do whenever our yearly counter goes up again. I thought since everyone else somehow feels the worlds' burning desire to know what movies or albums or new candy bar or whatever entirely subjective thing these people believe themselves to be an authority on, I would, too. After all, who wouldn't like to hear what my top ten favorite what the hell evers were this year?
     What's that you say? You'd rather have seven different needles injected directly into your eyeball and wiggled around for ten solid minutes than read a narcissistic list of what the hell evers that I like?
     Ouch. Harsh. But good for you not holding back on me. I guess.
     And what's more, lucky for you (I guess), because as I hinted before I had you wounding me with my own words of disdain, I've got something else for you.
     As many of us know, two thousand dozen is an election year, and my television is full of politicians making great claims, and espousing ideals and goals that, as a country, we should all aspire to achieve. Among the many I have heard recently, one political figure stated that schools should be palaces and teachers should get six figure salaries. At another time, I heard the President himself use the Bible to point out flaws in the logic of some more extreme members of the christian right. This is the same president who has given no less than ten profound, compassionate, intelligent speeches. I have heard intelligent debate on all subjects, ranging from gun rights to racism to sexism, and all of it from politicians. I even heard someone propose the idea of tuition based incentives to get people to become teachers. What a time to be alive.
     Mostly, I've been watching "The West Wing."
     Ha! Tricked you, didn't I? You so thought that I was writing about real life people, didn't you? I got you so good, the you should see the look on your- eh? Say again?
     I haven't tricked you at all? You knew immediately that I was setting up some stupid joke that wasn't funny, just like every other joke I write, and the only way I could make you laugh is to fall down a really long flight of stairs?
     Well. How very mean you are.
     But let me ask you this:
     Why was it that you immediately knew I was joking? You read that first sentence, and you knew I was speaking in utter falsehood. Words that make us hopeful for our future as Americans? As citizens of the world? Politicians behaving in a way that we should aspire to emulate?
     Please. We don't do that here, and you know that.
     What do we do here instead? Well, you know that, too. We get a guy from Texas, whose family owns a ranch with a largely unpublishable and stupidly racist name, making Youtube videos about how the gays have ruined this country. Though I would like to point out that based on where this value seems to originate, we should be able to punish him rather severely for wearing two different kinds of cloth in that video. Someone look into it.
     We get another guy, a former fast food pizza magnate (a word I seldom hear anymore) who gets really popular saying stupid things and then has to drop out because he couldn't stop doing stupid things, but won't actually go away. Speaking of this kind of crap, remember that congressman who sent some woman a picture of his, let's say, eponymous organ? Speaking of the opposite of this kind of crap, remember Michelle Bachmann? What was all of that about? And let's not forget Donald Trump, who just insisted on sticking his weird face out there all the time. Seriously, his face looks like the end result of a child's science fair project on what happens to oranges when they get frosbite and self absorbed to the point of stupidity.
     I could go on, but why ruin it for you? This is shaping up to be one of the funniest shows on television, and there will be plenty more to come, I'm sure. What I'm barely trying to say here is perhaps we should expect more from our politicians than we do our reality television stars. I swear, I bet the behind the scenes stuff from this race looks worse than an episode of "Toddlers and Tiaras."
     Sure, I admit that we're not the most attentive populace in the history of the world. We do generally spend more time worrying about who's going to win "American Idol" this year (that's still a thing, right? American Idol?), or whether or not it's okay to say "LOL" out loud (No, it's not. Just laugh, bonehead) than we do wondering which solution to the national debt makes more sense. We spend more time counting calories than we do hungry children (and yet still, fattest country ever. You'd think someone would count those kids just balance that out a little.) But we deserve better leadership options than this, right?
     Right?
     Now to me, this is where it gets interesting. Are the leaders of a country the direct result of that country's culture? Something to think about anyway. And as a starting off point, let me ask you this: Who would you expect to be in charge of the country that cancels "Arrested Development" and lets "American Idol"* go on for ten seasons?
    Do you think it would be a smart person?
-John


*Still a thing, I checked. Ten years. Good god.