Exercise and How It Is Killing Me

People, I'm not saying this to brag, but I just did 113 pushups.

Not all at once. I did 20, and then 25, and then 20 more, and 20 more, and then twenty-eight bicep-murdering pushups. And then I collapsed on the carpet.

I've been doing this 100 pushup program - you know the one, where you work your way up gradually over a series of punishing weeks and you end up being able to do 100 pushups in a row and impressing all the ladies? Okay, that bit about the ladies wasn't anywhere in the description. But why else would a self-respecting man inflict himself to this kind of torture?

My arms are shaking. My hands are a little jittery from the exertion. I'm sure that, to my wife, it sounds like I'm being stabbed repeatedly.

You know that Shel Silverstein song where he says all these ridiculous things that happened to him, and then at the end, he says "And guess what happened next? I died!"

It feels like that.

Jesus and the Silver Surfer

My son and I are hanging out in the office, watching Fantastic Four trailers on YouTube. (What?)

He sees the Silver Surfer appear onscreen. He asks if anyone knows who he is, and I say he doesn't.

"Except him?" Oliver asks.

I look at him, confused.

"Does he know himself?"

"Yes, I guess he does know himself." My son, the philosopher.

~~~

A few minutes later, he asks me if the Silver Surfer can die. I answer that I don't think he can.

"I hope he can't. I hope he's like Jesus."

Yes, that's the conversation we had on Easter: whether the Silver Surfer can rise from the dead like Jesus.

Good Knight!

Mrs. B and Oliver had the most hilarious interplay last night.  They were playing with legos or puppets or something, and Oliver decided to say that his little guy was a knight.  A good knight, not a bad knight.

O:  "I'm a good knight!"

Mrs. B: (slyly) "Good night!"

She burst out laughing.  He just got annoyed.  So he tried to explain again that he was a good knight.

Mrs. B: "Good night!"

O:  "No, I'm a knight!"

Mrs. B: "Good night!"

O:  "No!"  

And then he tried to clarify.  "There are two kinds of nights.  I'm the kind of knight that rides a horse.  I'm not the kind of night that you say when you say good night."

Mrs. B:  "Good night!"

O:  "Stop it."

That kept going for at least ten minutes, and Mrs. B and I kept cracking up every time she delivered the line.

The Things He Says: Getting Runny-Aroundy with It

The boy has been coming up with some hilarious turns of phrase lately.  None of this will be interesting to anyone who has a kid, and then it will only be entertaining once you realize the kid is only four.  Or hell, maybe it's not entertaining to anyone but me.  Tough cookies.  

Here's a few examples of his verbage:

~~~~~

I was at home with Oliver one day, and I was playing Living Colour. (What?) 

Oliver loved it.  He started dancing and running around the living room like a maniac. I commented: "I forgot what great dancing music this is. Do you think it's good dancey music, Oliver?" 

Oliver: "Uh huh. And runny-aroundy music, too."

And then he commenced to run around the place some more.

~~~~~

He was describing a story that someone was reading at his school.  I asked innocently, "Oh, was one of your teachers reading the story?"

"No, someone interesting."

~~~~~

This morning, he was trying carefully to craft a prepositional phrase.  You could practically hear him diagramming the sentence in his head.  

"By watching you guys..."

Long pause.  Then he tried again.

"By watching you guys do it, I think I know how to button my buttons." 

It seems like such a small phrase, but it was just so great to see him carefully put the sentence together in his head, and then try and recite what was in his head.  He really wanted to say it exactly right.  

Two A-Holes Go to Vote

Note: if you're not familiar with the SNL sketch featuring Kristin Wiig and Jason Sudeikis, you can see videos here and here to see what we're working with. Thanks to Kdub, Mrs. Monsky, and JoshD for inspiration and brilliant lines.

---

Scene: A school gymnasium, festooned with red, white, and blue streamers. Four voting booths, curtains open, are arranged in a row. A lone man in his fifties is working behind a long folding table. In front of him: a stack of legal-size printed paper (voter rolls), pencils, markers, and a roll of "I Voted" stickers.

Two a-holes walk into gymnasium. He has hands stuffed in pockets and looks vaguely impatient. She is looking at a Blackberry and idly playing with a strand of her hair. Both are snapping gum loudly. A line of people stands behind them, irritated.

Poll worker: Hi, are you here to vote?

They both look around the room for a minute, getting their bearings.

Poll worker: Um, hello? Are you here to vote?
She: I want a hot dog.
He: You got hot dogs here? We want two.
PW: We don't sell hot dogs here.
He: Lotsa mustard.
She: And chips.
He: Yeah, you got them baked chips?
PW: We don't sell ... are you here to vote, or not?
He:Wanna vote, babe?
She: What?
He: Wanna vote?
She: Wanna what?
He: Vote.
She: The what?
He: Vote.
She (after a pause): Yeah.
He: Yep. We're gonna vote. Let's do this.
PW: Okay, great. Just let me check your registration. You are registered to vote, correct?
He: Nah. First Amendment. It's a free country.
PW: Well, you're correct, of course. But you do have to register to vote. The First Amendment doesn't have anything to do with voter registration.
He: Second amendment.
PW: That's the right to bear arms.
He: Fourth amendment.
PW: That protects against illegal search and seizure - again, not relevant.
He (grinning): I'll plead the fifth. (to her) I pleaded the fifth, babe.
PW (exasperated): Sir, none of the amendments to the Constitution have to do with your registering to vote. Do you know if you're registered?

He grabs the stack of voter rolls off the table.

PW: Hey!!
He: That's me right there. And, uh ...

(rifles through pages)

She: That's her.

She smiles for a fraction of a second, then the blank look on her face returns.

PW (flustered, struggles to regain composure): Okay. Well, all right, go ahead and sign there ... and there for you, ma'am...

They both sign.

And now you're ready to vote. So you can just, um, pick a booth...

He: Hah?
Poll worker: You'll have to step into the booth to vote.
He: (brandishes cell phone) Can't you just text your vote?
She: I want to vote for Sanjaya.
He: Yeah, we pick Sanjaya.
PW: (sputtering) This is not American Idol. You'll be voting for elected officials ... your members of Congress ... city council ... the President.
She: I want to vote for Obama.
He: Yeah, she loves that Obama cat. Babe, do Obama.

(She stares at him blankly.)

He: Babe, do your Obama.

She: (blank stare for a long time. When she speaks, her voice is no different than her normal speaking voice.)

Yes, we can.

He: See? Obama. Two votes.
PW: Well, I'm glad that you know your preferred candidate. But you don't have to tell me your vote. It's a secret vote.
She: (stage whispers) I'm voting for Obama.
He: (bad stage whisper) Yeah, mum's the word.
PW: Whoever it is that you would like to vote for, you need to place your own vote. Which you can do by stepping into a voting booth.
He: Babe, you gotta go into the thing.
PW: The booth.
He: Booth. Babe, go in the booth.

She doesn't move.

He: Booth? Babe? Booth, babe? Booth? Booth, babe- babe, booth?

She casts a long look at the electronic voting machine.

She: I want to pull the lever.
He: Yeah, where's the levers?
PW: We've replaced all of our booths with electronic voting machines.
She:Where do I put the quarters in?
He: Yeah, where's the coin slot?
PW: No ... wait ... no, there's no money needed.
She: What do I win?
He: Yeah, what's the jackpot?
PW: There's no prizes for voting. It's just ... it's your duty as an American citizen.
He: They gave away all the prizes, babe. Maybe they'll getcha a teddy bear or something.
She: I want a duck.
He: She wants a duck. You gotta duck?
PW: We don't have prizes.
He: You gotta penguin?
PW: There are no prizes.
He: How 'bout a kitty cat? You gotta a kitty cat?
PW: No.
He: Kitty cat? Kitty kitty kitty?
PW: For the last time, we have no prizes for voting. You can have a sticker that says you voted.

Both stare at the poll worker drolly.

She: I want rainbows.
He: Yeah, you gotta rainbow sticker?

PW overturns table, pushes past line, storms out of gymnasium.

They look confused for a moment. Then, they step into separate voting booth and draw the curtains.

She (inside booth): Where's the internet? I need to check my email.

He (inside booth): Babe, I think I got a winner.

Coins began spilling onto floor inside his booth.

Adrian Belew-Oh Daddy

My friend Nancy is hurting today. It's the first birthday she's celebrated since her dad passed away.

I promised I'd post some stuff to make her smile, so here's my first try. It's also the goofiest song I know about being a dad. Hope it helps, Nancy.

Thank You, Hillary Clinton

Hillary knocked it out of the park tonight. She had a thankless task - bringing her supporters over to Obama's side without demeaning them or her own candidacy. She managed to pull it off beautifully, with some vicious shots at McCain in the process.

This was the best speech by Senator Clinton I've ever seen.

There will be lots of analysis of this tomorrow - matter of fact, some of it is already up on the web. The New York Times interviews one Hillary delegate who was asked whether she would support Obama.

Her response: “Absolutely–she just told us to, didn’t she?”

There were several liveblogs of her speech, but the funniest one was at Defective Yeti. Go read it. Tell him I sent ya.

Feel the Excitement

R.I.P. George Carlin

"That's my job - thinking up goofy shit. Coming back here every once in a while, letting you know what it is ... or reminding you of shit you already knew, but forgot to laugh at the first time."

Everyone thinks of the seven dirty words when they think of the late, great George Carlin. That's fine - it was a big deal. One of his albums was defended all the way to the Supreme Court. That's pretty fucking cool. As Carlin himself said, "my name is a footnote in American history, which I'm perversely kind of proud of."

Some people will remember the whimsical George Carlin. The charmingly funny stuff, or the goofy funny stuff.

Baseball and Football.

A Place for My Stuff.

Or they'll remember him for his brilliant skewering of the English language, like this routine on euphemisms.

But let's not forget that George Carlin was a bombthrower at his heart. "I think it's the duty of the comedian to find out where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately." His job was to challenge his audience and jar them out of their complacency. As soon as they got comfortable with who he was or what he was going to say, he knew it was time to shake up his routine.

Check out this routine from 1992.

His own audience starts booing him about two minutes into this. But by the end of the bit, they're all on their feet. It's an astonishing and ferocious performance. This is my favorite routine by Carlin, just because it makes me so damn uncomfortable.

Carlin dared the audience to look at the things all around them and realize how fucking ridiculous it all was. Sometimes they hated him for it, but he was just doing his job. There were nights when he was probably the only person in the room who knew it was his job. But he knew it, every day and every night.

For this reason alone, George Carlin is the greatest comedian I ever heard, and the world is a poorer place without him in it.
I don't know if George is up in heaven or not - maybe you have to believe in it before it believes in you - but I wish I could have seen that first conversation between him and god. He must have had the old guy spewing root beer out of his nose.

Good night, George Carlin. Thanks for everything.

Supreme Court Reverses Gore Endorsement, Awarding it to McCain

Mere moments after formally announcing his backing for Democratic Presidential nominee Barack Obama in an email to supporters, former Vice President Al Gore’s endorsement was blocked and reversed by a 5-4 Supreme Court decision, handing the Nobel Prize winner’s full throated support to Republican nominee John McCain.

Writing for the majority, Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia said that regardless of who Gore intended to support, a strict constructionist reading of his statement made it clear that, from a legal standpoint, his endorsement must be awarded to the GOP candidate.

Read the scoop at Really Serious News.

Matt Baldwin is a very funny guy. Right!

Matt Baldwin, belatedly, on the Eliot Spitzer saga:

Well, my opinion on scandals of this nature has remained fairly consistent throughout my adult, political life: I DO NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT OLD WHITE GUYS HAVING SEX SO STOP TRICKING ME INTO DOING SO! I don't want to think about Spitzer having sex, or Larry Craig having sex, or Gray Davis having sex, or Jerry Falwell having sex, or Bill Clinton having something that was not strictly sex pursuant to the legal definition provided in statute §§21050, etc. I don't care who or what they are having sex with because thinking about this aspect of the sex would involve thinking about the sex, which, as I have stated previously, I do not wish to do. Please, can we just assign a taxpayer-funded hooker to every member of congress to ensure that these liaisons become so routine that they are no longer newsworthy?

If you don't read Defective Yeti, you should feel terrible about all the funniness you've been missing up to this point in your life. Go there now so you can catch up.

Which LOLcat Are I?

I are a lion cat, apparently.

Your Score: Lion Warning Cat

78% Affectionate, 69% Excitable, 40% Hungry

You are the good Samaritan of the lolcat world. Protecting others from danger by shouting observations and guidance in cases of imminent threat, you believe in the well-being of everyone.



To see all possible results, checka dis.

Link: The Which Lolcat Are You? Test written by GumOtaku on Some Silly Website, home of the Some Silly Internet Quiz or Whatever kthx bye.

From Crosscut: Who, What, and I Don't Recall

I thought this was pretty clever. Derivative, obviously, but still clever.

President Bush uses nicknames for his White House staff. Karl Rove is nicknamed I Don't Recall," while White House Chief of Staff Joshua Bolten goes by the nickname What. In turn, the president is known to his staff as Confused.

Once you understand this, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales' testimony before the Senate last week, quoted below, becomes clear.

Sen. Leahy: Who told you to fire eight attorneys general?

Gonzales: I Don't Recall.

Leahy: You don't recall the name of the preson who told you to fire the U.S. attorneys?

Gonzales: I do recall the name.

Leahy: Then tell us who told you to fire the attorneys general?

Gonzales: I Don't Recall.

Leahy: You don't recall?

Gonzales: Not You Don't Recall. I don't recall.

Leahy: That's what I asked, "You don't recall?"

Gonzales: And I answered, "Not You Don't Recall. It was I Don't Recall."

See the whole piece here, at Crosscut, Seattle's new online magazine or news blog or something or other.

You call that humiliation?

Film director and Python Terry Jones seems disappointed with the Iranians' efforts to humiliate British soldiers. From his recent editorial in the Guardian:

We would never dream of treating captives like this - allowing them to smoke cigarettes, for example, even though it has been proven that smoking kills. And as for compelling poor servicewoman Faye Turney to wear a black headscarf, and then allowing the picture to be posted around the world - have the Iranians no concept of civilised behaviour? For God's sake, what's wrong with putting a bag over her head? That's what we do with the Muslims we capture: we put bags over their heads, so it's hard to breathe. Then it's perfectly acceptable to take photographs of them and circulate them to the press because the captives can't be recognised and humiliated in the way these unfortunate British service people are.

The full editorial is here. Definitely worth your time to read.