Thursday, April 20th, 2006
Today is Earth Day and perhaps the most widely celebrated hippie holiday: 4/20.
<h3>How are hippies celebrating?</h3> <ol> <li>Getting all up in your face about how people need to chill out</li> <li>Honoring diversity, by buying their eighth Umphree's McGee T-Shirt</li> <li>Getting out into nature, by driving their oil-burning van 40 miles to the closest state park</li> <li>Honoring togetherness, by smoking so much pot they can't even talk to each other</li> <li>Protesting mining, by collecting rare rocks and crystals</li> <li>Honoring healthy living, by noodle dancing and hula-hooping</li> <li>By staying away from me</li> </ol>
Thursday, March 16th, 2006
I read this Reuters article on Yahoo! news this morning:
The blond star of the film “The Dukes of Hazzard” still plans to visit Washington on Thursday to lobby members of Congress on behalf of Operation Smile, a non-profit venture offering free plastic surgery for disadvantaged children overseas with facial deformities.
Allow me to rephrase: American sex symbol seeks to put children worldwide “under the knife” in an attempt raise international standard of beauty. “It’s just like my mama used to say, It’s what’s on the outside that counts” Jessica recounts.
I’m picturing tiny malnourished African children with big fake “Jack Nicholson in Batman” smiles permanently sewn onto their faces.
Tuesday, March 7th, 2006
It’s kind of like that only I am little less fat and was a lot less happy about it.
I went in for a sleep study last night at the hospital. I was pretty sure I didn’t have any sleeping problems, but my general doctor wanted to rule it out as a potential factor in my inability to lose weight. OK, I said, what the hell. I chalked it off as a new experience I could use to kill a Monday night. Its not costing me anything anyway (I don’t think).
So I go in last night about 8:30. By about 10:30 they got you all settled in and hooked up. 8 wires coming off your head and chest, four more on your legs, some tube things by your nose to measure breathing, and a finger clamp to measure oxygen. I didn’t sleep a fricking wink.
<ol> <li>I was on a foreign room with a foreign pillow and foreign sheets on a foreign bed.</li> <li>There was a camera focused right on my body.</li> <li>I'm wore a T-Shirt and cotton pants. Normally I sleep in my underwear.</li> <li>If the grim reaper was anywhere, it was around there somewhere</li> <li>I CAN'T SLEEP ON MY BACK</li> <li>There were motherfucking wires all over my shit</li> <li>There was a woman who was monitoring every little eye movement I made, hoping desperately that I would fall asleep</li> <li>She kept INTERCOMING me suggestions to help me fall asleep. WTF</li> </ol>
Wednesday, February 1st, 2006
Driving the East-West interstate across Illinois into Indiana is quite the introduction to the Bible Belt. There is a slew of hilarious Jesus billboards and a lot of pro-gun signs. The signs usually tell some kind of short story and then end with “Guns save life.”
I even like guns, I just hate crazy right-wing patriot assholes.
Tuesday, January 31st, 2006
My literary pet peeve lately has been the use of “some kind of”. Here is an example from the X-Files:
“What is that?”
“It appears to be some kind of storage facility.”
The reason its annoying is because it pompously suggests that the speaker is very knowledgeable when it comes to storage facilities. So knowledgeable in fact, that they know lots of different kinds of them, but in this case, is unable to determine which kind it is.
How about “It looks like a storage facility.” It might not have that X-Files flair, but at least you won’t sound like something you aren’t.
There are a few acceptable uses of “some kind of”. For example, when you clearly are acquainted with the subject, and yet its identity still eludes you, as in this exchange:
“What’s for hot lunch today?”
“I don’t know, some kind of meat.”
Friday, January 20th, 2006
I know it’s the cool thing to do lately to hate hippies. But let it be known, I’ve been hating hippies since long before it was cool, and I even used to be one (or at least I thought I was). Allow me to present some of my research:
You may be able to tell now that it is the HYPOCRISY that defines the true hippie; its preaching tolerance while shutting out others; it’s protesting for better environmental practice on Friday and trashing a campground on Saturday; its pretending life is about art and creativity and then living in a homogeneous culture where everybody has the same opinions and every booth sells the same glass pipes, spiritual geodes, and Steal Your Face T-Shirts. (You want to see art and creativity? Check out incredible stuff constantly at FreshArrival and Inhabitat)
This is all coming across negatively, which is mostly true. I have no tolerance for hippies going into pizza joints and asking for free food for “a bunch of homeless kids” when they really mean a bunch of healthy, white, young-adults on an amazing trans-America vacation-of-a-lifetime. But don’t take everything here at face value. Just because you like jambands doesn’t make you stink, and if you are into making your own clothing doesn’t mean you freebase and hate your parents.
I say this because according to my own list, I’m three-quarter hippie.
I like me some jambands (I still have a Phish patch on my backpack). I love a good bong rip, and I’m a pretty passive guy in general. But you know what I wear? Jeans and sweatshirts, khakis and flannel shirts, nylon shorts and t-shirts. I don’t LOOK like a hippie, so I’m completely unaccepted in their community. What, do I look a like a narc? Maybe I fucking should be, get some of you hippies off the streets.
Wednesday, January 4th, 2006
Everybody’s got ’em.