No, I've Never Seen "Platoon". Can we get on with our lives now?

Yes, I know it's the quintessential Vietnam movie. I know it's significantly less nutty than Oliver Stone's other films. And that it was based on his personal experiences as an infantryman during that war. I even know that it's your father's favorite movie because it brought home so many painful memories in a way that validated his long-held feelings and freed him of his guilt and fear. But I'm still not going to spend two hours watching it with you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not a week from Go Fuck Yourself. So just move on and live live in this new reality.

You're not the first person who has tried to harass me into seeing this movie. My high school art teacher told me that I could never understand the 60s until I saw Platoon. He may be right. But luckily, it's 2009.

Even my mom liked this movie. And she hates on-screen violence. But the realistic portrayals and earthy language of the soldiers made her understand how the war changed her brother, my favorite uncle. Now ask yourself, if hearing that review from my own motherd, didn't send me to Blockbuster, why on earth do you think your constant nattering about how cute Johnny Depp was would?

Every relationship has its up and down days. Love is about compromising. Like when I went to your cousin's bat mitzvah instead of the Wilco show. Or maybe it was Weezer. Whatever. You know, the one my cousin had tickets for last year. Now it's your turn. You get to let go of watching this depressing, agonizing, ripe with bourgeoisie guilt "classic" with your boyfriend.

I know. It's a tragedy. So was the Lisbon Earthquake. But in that case,people eventually shut up about it.

Sonia Sotomayor, Supreme Court Justice, Is a Woman

Today a new Supreme Court Justice was sworn in. And the new Justice is - get this - a woman. That's right: a woman, feminae, mujer.

I was just as surprised as you no doubt are. I, for one, cannot believe the media kept us in the dark for so long. But as of today, the MetroWest Daily News - beacon of Framingham, Mass. and my go-to source for outstanding journalism - reported, "Sotomayor is a woman..." I don't know whether to give MetroWest a hand for its in-depth reporting or shake a finger at Sotomayor for concealing her gender for so long. I suppose I can alternate.

I'm hoping the American public will take this as a cue to keep politicians under closer scrutiny. You never know what they're hiding. Next thing you know, some scandal will reveal that Sotomayor's gay or, worse, Hispanic. That'll be the day!

Prayer is Not the Most Effective Way to Win a Football Game

The other day my pals and I were tossing around the old pig skin and, just before we broke huddle for the second half of our scrimmage, Friend#1 points his index finger toward the sky, nods knowingly, and crosses himself. I dismissed it at the time, but when we were exchanging post-game handshakes with the other side, a bitterness grew inside me. If Friend#1 had just taken that moment of silence to review the play we were running instead of making gestures, he would've been there for the pass and scored the touchdown to seal our victory.

Now, I should be fully honest from the start and disclose that I am an atheist. Despite this bias, I think I can state, unequivocally, that you win more games with skill than prayer. Yes, I'm a firm believer in scoring, for at least two reasons.

First, wasting time praying doesn't guarantee a win: If both sides pray to win, God can't simultaneously grant each side's prayers for victory. And if the number of people praying is weighted by the strength of their faith, then teams should have everyone praying really hard in order to persuade God over the opposing team. Racking up points just seems to be a better way of winning games than prayer. Next time you're playin' some hoops with the gang, feel free to throw in a hail mary or two, but remember that, when it comes down to it, a three-pointer is worth more.

I should not have tried to get to the airport by street canoe

Notice how in the picture, the man moves the canoe by using the paddle to push off the water and propel the boat forward. The difference is, with a street canoe, you don't have any fucking water. You just keep hitting the concrete with your paddle, and its damn near impossible to move.

I know what you're thinking: 'ziek, i know its a little less convenient for you, but think of the environment. Granted, but without someone pushing you, its nearly impossible to move in a street canoe. A compromise might be taking a train or something.

Needless to say, I missed my plane. It took me 2 hours to get to O'hare from the Northern Suburbs: an hour and a half in the street canoe smacking the concrete in front of my house and then half an hour in the cab to the airport.

Contrary to what you've heard, it would NOT be cool if pretzels grew on trees.

If I only had a nickel for everytime one of my friends has said, (often wistfully), "Wouldn't it be cool if pretzels grew on trees?" Your instinct is to say. "Balls yeah!" But no, it would not be cool. It wouldn't be much a problem-especially if they are soft pretzels. But it just wouldn't be that cool. It would be mundane. I mean have you ever really thought "Oh my god. How cool is it that oranges grow on trees?" Or "Wow it's awesome that babies are delivered by Storks." I mean it would just be such a part of the natural world that you would totally take it for granted. Like the lame-ass that you are.

Beethoven. Classic.

Just sitting there looking weird. Same old Ludwig Von.

DON'T invite this guy to your party

His name is Richard Steve Goldberg, and, fyi, he's totes a child molester. Google that shit if you don't believe me.

Quiz: Are You a True Chicagoan?

You may claim to be Chicagoans, but are you really a Chicagoan at heart? Take our quiz and find out!

1. Are you from an area with a zip code between 60606 and 60648? (Y/N)

2. Fill in the blank: The ____ Cubs. The ____ Bears. The _____ Blackhawks. The ______ White Sox. Is the answer the city that you live in? (Y/N)

3. Is your house or apartment somewhere in between Evanston, Lake Michigan, Oak Park, and 135th Street? (Y/N)

4. Ever heard of the Windy City; is that your home? (Y/N)

Results: If you answered yes to any of these questions, congratulations, you are a true Chicagoan!

I am not afraid of adults with braces

I don’t consider myself to be a scaredy cat per se, but there are plenty of things that frighten me. Heights. Salmonella. Bulimics. Driving in icy conditions. Taking a big swig of milk only to find out it’s gone bad. My kids being born retarded. Impotence. The End of Days. Paralysis. And of course, True Love.

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “hey gil, steveness is kind of a pussy. He is afraid of everything.” Not so fast, wise guy. I am not afraid of plenty of things. Couches. Barnes and Noble. My mom. Men who wear hats. Cell phones. Stamps. Diet Coke. (Steve, are you just looking around the room and seeing things and saying you’re not afraid of them? I’m not afraid of Diet Coke! Or lamp!)

One subset of people I am most definitely not afraid of is adults with braces. I really think I could beat up most adult guys who wear braces and I’d have to think most adult women with braces would love to be talked to by any non-braced individual, so they don’t intimidate me either.

Before I get 1,000 emails from the adult braces apologists out there, I’d like to stress the point that I am not anti-adult braces. For those of you adults out there who choose to metalify your mouths, I respect your determination to improve yourself in the face of public ridicule. Just know that when you do take that step, I won’t be afraid of you any more. Chances are, if I see you walking down the street toward me, I’ll just tip my hat, say my hello, and think to myself, “I could probably kick that guy’s ass” or if you’re a woman, I might get past my feelings of inadequacy and let myself think I could get to third base by the 4th date. Not that I’d want to of course. Owwwwwwwww!

As it turns out, a chupacabra is not living in my garage.

For several days, I've been spooked. Whenever I go into my garage, I swear I hear things. Sounds from under my car; a rustling in that pile of junk I've been meaning to sort through; sometimes I even think I can hear heavy breathing. I was certain a chupacabra was living in my garage. But why?

I don't own any pets, nor do I live near a goat farm. I don't even have anytime remotely edible in my garage. So, what would a chupacabra want with me? Then I started to REALLY worry. I mean, when a blood sucking creature has some sort of bone to pick with you, that can be intimidating. Maybe I insulted this particular chupacabra's mother without knowing it? Maybe he's been sent to collect on some old gambling debts of mine? I just don't know. And that's the scary part.

Then today, I was relieved to learn, a chupacabra is not living in my garage. Don't ask me how I know...I just know.

Ladies Beware: A "Trouser Snake" is Not a Real Snake

The title says it all.
I just wanted to warn my fellow females out there that when a man who is really cute and you are interested in invites you back to his place, and you've had a glass of wine, and he offers to show you his trouser snake, and, oh, hey you didn't know he had a pet, so being an animal person, you accept and you expect him to bring out an aquarium or a fish tank or something that would hold a pet snake...well. All you're going to get is weiner.

Kissing a pig might put you at risk for contracting swine flu

This is serious business people. People are throwing around the P-word, vacations are being cancelled, people are dying. Let me be the first to tell you an important way to protect yourself from getting swine flu - don't kiss pigs.

For that matter, you probably shouldn't even hang out with pigs for a while. At least until after this whole thing blows over. That means, for the time being, you better postpone your kiss-a-pig contest, close the piglet section of the petting zoo, and cancel Wednesday night poker.

I'm not pretending that this alone will protect you from getting the swine flu. It won't. But it sure is a good place to start.

In a battle between cars and trucks, I'll go with trucks everytime

The main thing is, that trucks are just much much bigger than cars. In a road battle, that really gives them an edge. A truck can mos def crush a car. A car cannot so easily crush a truck because trucks are much bigger than cars are. Just think about a monster truck rally. Those monster trucks can always crush those much smaller cars. What if there was a roll reversal? I don't think cars, even pretty big cars, could just bowl over monster trucks. I'm not saying that in all instances a moving car would lose to a dormant truck, but that's clearly not the scenario I'm picturing right now.

Look, I'm not knocking cars altogether. Cars are generally faster and more agile than trucks. The problem is, that all this really does is allow cars to prolong the inevitable for a little longer. Cars can dodge the trucks for a while, but in the end, the cars just can't crush the trucks. But the trucks can crush the cars, so they'll win everytime.

You are not Russell Crowe

Wipe that smirk off your face, guy. I hate to burst your bubble, but you are not Russell Crowe. I know what you’re thinking. “I never claimed to be Russell Crowe. I know I’m not Russell Crowe. I didn’t think I was smirking.” Yea buddy, tell it to someone who gives an f. The fact remains-YOU ARE NOT RUSSELL CROWE.*

If you can’t take my word for it, let me count the ways in which you are not our finest living actor. You weren’t born in Australia. Boom roasted. (You’re not Michael Scott either btdubs.) You did not play Maximus in The Gladiator. And correct me if I’m wrong, but it wasn’t you who portrayed math genius John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, was it? Sorry sport, that was a rhetorical question. And it wasn’t you who played opposite Leo in A Body of Lies, and it wasn’t you who played opposite Christian Bale in the great but under-appreciated western, “3:10 to Yuma.” Not your day is it, fake Crowe.

So you weren’t born in Australia and you weren’t in Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind, Body of Lies, or 3:10 to Yuma, and if imdb.com is to be believed, Russell Crowe was, so…you see where I’m going with this. And from our last conversation, I gathered that you hadn't even heard of the movie L.A. Confidential. Very odd for one of its co-stars, don't you think? Snap.

*Real Russell Crowe, I know you read my posts religiously. Thank you for your kind note regarding my baby shower post. This is one you should not take literally. You are Russell Crowe. Cheers, mate. Are you not entertained?!?!

You don't have to pay for this free t-shirt

I know people always say, “prepare for the worst, hope for the best,” but I’m still interested in this Bulls-Celtics series

I am REALLY enjoying the Bulls-Celtics first round playoff series. I hope I'm not telling tales out of school by saying that. Like a mama bear, the last thing I’d want to do is put words in your mouth, but these two teams are really going at it, with the series tied at one game apiece as the teams travel to Chicago Thursday for Game 3.

Remembering the Alamo is one thing, but this is ridiculous. Derrick Rose was spectacular in Game 1, leading the Bulls to an unlikely road victory over the defending champs with 36 points and 11 assists. One is indeed the loneliest number.

A rolling stone gathers no moss, however, and the Celtics came back to win game 2 behind inspired play from Ray Allen. And they put down Asians by constantly pointing out their flaws in the bedroom. As the wise man surely told the centipede, “Hey man, Holy guacamole and Tippecanoe and Tyler too, you can't forget about Ben Gordon. He was also amazing, scoring 42 points to almost lead the Bulls to what would have been a commanding 2-0 series lead.” But hey, there’s a reason God put all of our oil under all that sand in the Middle East. We’re headed into game 3 with the series truly up for grabs! (Speaking of “up for grabs,” has anyone seen that movie, “Harry and the Hendersons” ?)

As excited as I was to watch the first two games, I am equally as excited to see how the rest of the series plays out. I mean cmon, if you can’t spot the sucker at the table in the first 10 minutes, you are the sucker. Will Paul Pierce, who is literally and figuratively his father’s son, step up and atone for that missed free throw at the end of Game 1?. Will Ben Gordon and Derrick Rose be able to summon the energy to put together more incredible performances? I don’t know, but we hear Magnum is going to blow us all away. Will Ray Allen keep playing like Jesus Shuttlesworth and dominate or will he shrink away like he did for Game 1 and the first half of Game 2? Hell what does it matter? We’ll all be dead. Will Ty Thomas and Joakim Noah block every thing in sight in the next few games, leaving the Celtics helpless and settling for jumpers? You can tell an awful lot about a man by the way he shakes your hand. As you can see, I am on the tip of my seat, waiting for a haircut with the popcorn poppin’! Actually, the entire Wood family is hyped up and ready for sushi. Let’ go Bulls!

Turns out, it wasn't that creative to call my intramural basketball team the "Indiana Pacers."

The logo says it all.

When my intramural bball team was trying to think of team name, a lot of ideas got passed around: the "Chicago Bulls," the "Miami Heat," the "California Golden Bears," the "Ohio State Buckeyes," etc. And I was like, look, guys, it's great that we have a lot of ideas, but these just aren't all that original.

"Yeah," they responded collectively, "if you're so creative, why don't you come up with some original fucking team name, prick?!"

"Actually, I have something in mind that you just might like." I could barely hide my smugness.

And then I laid it on them: The Indiana Pacers. No one seemed to have any problem with that, so we officially became the first team ever to be called the Indiana Pacers in the University of Illinois College of Law Intramural Challenge.

But when I got to my computer later, I googled the team name just to make sure it was as original as I thought, and guess what I effing found: http://www.nba.com/pacers/. And guess where they're from? That's right: the Hoosier State, i.e., Indiana.

There already is a team called the Indiana Pacers! There already is a team called the Indiana Pacers! Fuck!

I am really eating my words.

Look at this while we think of something funny

Chazz Michael Michaels IS figure skating.

The Economy is Not Very Strong Right Now

Recent reports indicate that the economy is not very strong right now. Unemployment rates are low, businesses are closing their doors, government deficits are increasing, and other finacial indicators are indicating financially that the economy is not very strong right now based on their indications and finance stuff.

Newspapers nationally and internationally including the New York Times, Sydney Herald, Guardian, Washington Post, LA Times, Boston Herald, and Chicago Tribune have all written articles about the economy. The recurring theme in these articles is that the economy is not very strong right now. I think that if you ask economists what they think, at least 62% of them will say probably say that the economy is not that strong maybe.

People are thinking about ways to make the economy strong again, and they are talking about it. Many newspapers including the Wall Street Journal, Ruetgers, USA Today, Chicago Suntimes, Minneapolis Star, and AP have reported this.

You heard it here first.

Chicken Fingers

I’ve always loved chicken tenders, so I was excited when my friend took me to try what she said were the best chicken tenders in town. Imagine my confusion when I didn’t see them listed on the menu. I asked the friendly waitress, and she pointed to the menu. “Oh, there it is: chicken fingers. They’re a very popular dish.”

Chicken fingers? I fought back the nausea. First of all, I never knew chickens even had fingers. I thought they had claws…or wings? How many fingers do they have? I guess there is no “second of all” but, Jesus! Who eats little animals’ fingers? Too many people if it really is a “very popular dish.” That is disgusting.

No doubt trying to cover her tracks, the waitress stutters to me about its hearty breading and free-range chicken meat. I wasn’t buying it. All I could think of was a little chick’s pinky toe being chopped off for my dinner. Eating a chicken’s fingers if f*cked up. It’s just rubbing it in the poor animal’s face that we are more powerful than them. Breasts?* Wings? Another story. Leave the little fingers alone, you sadists.

* LLOL

This New Yankee Stadium Does Not Yet Match the History and Tradition of the Old Yankee Stadium.

Last night on ESPN, I watched all the breathless coverage of the new ball orchard in the Bronx and I came away impressed. I mean, if you're going to spend $1.4 Billion dollars on a stadium, you better get results. And it seems that the Yankees did. It's gorgeous. But let's face it-the place just doesn't yet have the kind of historical memories of the original.

The original Yankee Stadium hosted baseball games for 85 years. More than 30 World Series were played there. Three popes said mass on the hollowed centerfield turf. This new place has been host to some fascinating and memorable events too. But I don't think 2 exhibition games with the Cubs and 1 1/2 regular season games quite match up.

Sure I was thrilled by C.C. Sabathia's 5 2/3 innings of one-run ball yesterday. But did you know that the only post-season no-hitter in baseball was a perfect game pitched by Don Larson in the Old Stadium? I mean...a perfect game! Who can forget the iconic film of a jubulant Yogi Berra leaping into Larson's arms after the last out was recorded? To be fair, Mr. Berra did an admirable job of throwing out the first pitch before yesterday's day game with the Tribe. But I'd say a World Series perfect game has that beat by more than a hair's breadth.

Yesterday was also very poignant. The elderly George M. Steinbrenner made a rare public appearance for the first game. That was touching. But it couldn't help but make me think of that July 4, 1938 speech where The Iron Horse, Lou Gehrig taught the world a lesson in humility and appreciation by looking beyond his fatal illness to say "Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth." (I know what you're thinking "But Steinbrenner was a character on Seinfeld! Well, I did some research and it turns out that Lou Gehrig had a whole movie made about him, and he was played by Oscar winning actor Gary Cooper.)

I don't want to bring out the big guns but it must also be said that Yankee Stadium was host to several concerts including more than one by Mr. Billy Joel.

Don't get me wrong. I was thrilled when Jorge Posada hit that solo shot in the fifth inning of yesterday's loss to Cleveland. But I don't think it was as thrilling as the fact that Babe Ruth hit hit his record setting 60th in the old Stadium. (Which by the way, he build in his spare time.) And not to run up the score but 34 years later in the very same spot, Roger Maris hit his 61st!

When the last game was played at Yankee Stadium in September of last year, sportswriter Wilfred Sheed said of Yankee Stadium "I once sneaked out to center field myself as a youth to see how things looked from Mickey Mantle's point of view and felt the same tingle some people get from Civil War battlefields." Now maybe some day the same will be said of the new stadium. But if it closed tomorrow, I think people would say. "Wow. That was a big waste of money."



Next Week's Topic: What's the Bigger Icon: The Colliseum in Rome or The Nassau County Veteran's Memorial Colliseum in Uniondale, New York?

Burger King Texican Whopper Brings Taste, Race to Nation’s Attention

Last time I checked, I lived in the United States of America, where we value freedom (which isn’t free, by the way) and kick ass at basically everything we do. So I don’t get why Burger King – an American institution – is being attacked by Mexico’s ambassador, or “el embajador”, for an ad for its new Texican whopper which depicts a small wrestler draped in the Mexican flag hanging out with an American cowboy. Apparently Mexico has some strict rules about how their flag can be used and, according to the Associated Press, this ad has Mexicans’ pantalones all in a twist.

Personally, I think the message got lost in translation. This advertisement is not a message of hate, but one of love. The cowboy, his horse, and the Mexican wrestler are depicted as roommates, and apparently Mexicans are uncomfortable with interracial (and interspecies) friendships. I never realized Mexico was so racist. And I guess that’s okay for them, but here in America, we value diversity (at least in hiring decisions and the creation of school districts).

Nor is BK guilty of endorsing the Mexican stereotype of a small but spicy wrestler. I don’t know one Mexican athlete (and, no, soccer doesn’t count). Everyone knows Mexicans wear sombreros, eat tacos, and drink tequila while lounging by a cactus. So I fail to see how BK could have possibly insulted Mexicans by depicting them in a relatively positive light.

Consider the tagline: “The Texican Whopper, the taste of Texas with a little spicy Mexican.” Not only does that burger sound delicious, but it really makes me want to reach out a friendly hand to our southern neighbors and thank them for their tasty influence. Gracias, Burger King, for opening my eyes.

They titled that movie "The Wrestler" for a reason

Sometimes I watch a movie and find myself wondering where the producers came up with the idea for the title. Pulp Fiction? American Beauty? Reservoir Dogs? Snatch? Now these are all good movies with cool titles, and I'm sure the titles mean something to someone, but I don't pretend to know what those meanings are. And Snatch...well let's just say that title is pretty misleading.

On the other hand, the movie, "The Wrestler," starring Mickey Rourke, left me with no such wonder. While I don't pretend to have in depth knowledge of the inner workings of the film, I'm 99% sure that they called it "The Wrestler" because the title character is a professional wrestler.

(Be on the lookout for my followup post, "They call it horse-back riding for a reason.")

When you lose something, you ALWAYS find it in the last place you look

My pal AH came up with this life-changing breakthrough the other day. At first I didn't believe her, but then I thought about it and it was so simple - the last place you look is always where you'll find something that you've lost. Always.

Sometimes, that last place is also the first place you look. If that's the case, you're a very lucky person (see: my post from 4/14/09). Sometimes, you *think* you've looked in your last place and you despondently "give up", because you still haven't found it. But then, alas, one day when you least expect it, you look in another last place (the REAL last place), and there it is! Most of the time though, you lose something, you look and look and look for it, and then, fairly unceremoniously, you look someplace and there it is. And where was that place you found it? The last place you looked.

Boom...clockwork.

Alexander Von Testicle is just not that funny

What is so funny about Alexander Von Testicle? Ok, I get it, he was the first person to sail from Russia to the Virgin Islands.* The Virgin Islands. Ha, ha. These islands never had sex. Yeah, great. These islands still have their hymen. That doesn't even make sense to say about an island.

But it's like everytime I mention that I wrote my undergrad thesis on Alexander Von Testicle, its chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. I worked hard writing about Alexaner Von-Testicle. There is not a lot of scholarship on Alexander Von Testicle. Alexander Von Testicle is an important, but largely looked over historical figure. But, everytime I try to discuss my work on Alexander Von Testicle and mention that he sailed to the Virgin Islands, I can't get a word in edge-wise over the uproar.

Look, folks, Alexander Von Testicle is just not that funny. Show some respect and restraint and maybe you'll learn and thing or two about Alexander Von Testicle.

*Among his other significant accomplishments, maritime historians generally credit Alexander Von Testicle with the invention of the girthy wind shaft, a wooden support used to prevent sails from tearing in windstorms, and the cock box, which was used throughout the 18th Century to help sailors more efficiently transport large quantities of livestock.

Some Things Never Change

This morning I had an epiphany. It came to me as I was eating my Frosted Mini Spooners and watching the morning news. I found myself thinking, “Oh. There was another senseless murder in Chicago today. Some things will never change.” And it really is true: some things never change.

For instance, as long as we’re around, the sun will always rise and set each day. Also, I babysit a few kids and have noticed they act just like I used to when I was their age. Kids acting like kids? Not gonna change.

Look, I’m not trying to be negative, just realistic. I just want everyone to be aware and not waste time trying to move mountains where they won’t budge. My boyfriend will always leave the seat up, time will keep going by too quickly, and I will always get stuck behind the car of some slow motherfucking Chinese woman when I’m running late.

...just kidding; I don't have a boyfriend.

When you are lucky, good things come your way

There's an old adage that says "good things come to those who wait." Well, I'm here to tell you that the same applies to those who are lucky. If you happen to be a lucky person, or even a person simply having a lucky streak, good things will come to you.

Think about it. Lucky people win the lottery all the time. Lucky people win awards and honors. Lucky people win big in Vegas. Lucky people meet the love of their life. Lucky people win sporting events. Every year, one lucky person wins the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes and gets a giant check. The list goes on.

I rest my case.

Barack Obama is Half-black Too!

As most people know, Barack Obama was elected president last November and assumed the presidency on January 20th, 2009. Like many white Americans, I watched on with humility and pride as Barack became the 44th consecutive president who was at least 50% white. Though I can’t help but thinking that we as a people have finally arrived, a piece of interesting information is being glossed over by the media. Barack Obama is half-black. With all the talk of how his mother was a white lady from Kansas and how he was brought up around his white grandparents, the fact that his dad was Kenyan has been omitted from the story time and time again. I’m not saying that we as white Americans should not feel a certain degree of pride for the election of Barack. We definitely should. But we should always remember that Barack is not just the 44th consecutive president who is at least 50% white, he’s also the first president who is 50% black. That’s kind of important too.

Disney's Aladdin is Not Realistic

We all love a good flick, and Disney is generally good at delivering such entertainment. But every once in a while I see a Disney movie that is so unrealistic – so farfetched – I’m not able to enjoy it. I know that all those kids’ movies are based on fairy tales and supposed to stretch our imagination, but my imagination can only be stretched so far.

We all remember how Aladdin succeeds in winning over Jasmine despite her initial hesitancy. He goes to enormous lengths to impress Jasmine and her father, the Sultan, but even after he tricks Jafar into trapping himself in a black lamp for thousands of years, Aladdin is unable to marry his lover. It was a matter of law: princesses can only marry princes, and Aladdin was just a “street rat.” So the Sultan takes it upon himself to change the law so Jasmine can marry anyone she chooses. Of course, she chooses Aladdin and they live happily ever after.

As if. The tradition of arranged marriage has deep aristocratic roots, and it is unlikely that the Sultan would simply cast away this royal tradition to placate his little princess. Royalty are groomed to be leaders, to study law and hold themselves in service to the public. For this reason, and to preserve the integrity of the throne, royal youth should marry only within their caste. Occasionally, an arranged marriage takes place over any objections, even if punishment or disinheritance is necessary. Marriage in Aladdin’s time was really more of a business exchange than a function of love. And while Jasmine was blinded by desire, her father was in a position to make a more pragmatic decision on her behalf. Because she was the Sultan’s only child, the future of the kingdom was in her hands. That the Sultan would cast aside tradition and honor and change a longstanding law to appease his daughter’s lust is ludicrous.

Disney, you really had me going with this one. I was really feeling the magic carpet rides, the little chattering monkey and the outlandish blue genie. But the ending? Unacceptably fantastic.

This relationship should stay platonic

Look, I'm not trying to tell anyone how to live, but I don't think this relationship should progress to the "more than friends" phase. I know a lot of people don't believe that its possible for a male and a female to have a totally plantonic relationship, and urges can be hard to fight. Things happen, right? But, still, I'm just saying - ideally, these two won't move past the platonic stage. If things were to advance, I think there would be a lot of obstacles, and I'm guessing both people would wind up regretting it.

Whenever it rains, my hair gets wet

Maybe I was born under a bad sign. Maybe I did something to deserve this. I'm not sure exactly why, but every darn time it rains, my hair gets wet. Now, maybe this problem is specific to me. After all, I have a very temperamental texture of curly hair. But I suspect this problem happens to other people too; its just that no one likes to talk about it. Well, I'm here to say now, loud and proud, that I'm not perfect. And neither is my hair.

I've learned to deal with it throughout the years. There are a panoply of quick fixes such as rainproof coats with hoods, hats, umbrellas, anti-humidity hair spray, etc. But these don't solve the root of the problem: when drops of rain fall from the sky and touch my tresses, they get saturated, limp, and begin to curl in unexpected and unflattering ways.

If anyone else is also experiencing this very personal and embarrassing problem, please feel free to email me. I'm here to talk.

Diabetics Are Not Trustworthy

Forgive me if this post is a little too intuitive for your tastes but I just need to share this. After many hours of careful consideration, I'm going to say what isn't said often enough: diabetics can not be trusted.

My research indicates that there are two types of diabetics. Type one (or "juvenile") diabetics are born with The Sugar. Type two (or "Testicular") are people that eat so many gumdrops and human placentas that their body can no longer produce insulin. It's sort of like a raver whose done so much Ectasy that their brains can no longer recognize shitty music.

So every diabetic you met was either marked by a vengeful God from birth or is being punished by said God for eating too many Ho-Hos. (Just think about how many Ho-hos that would take! It's not like eating Ho-hos is inherently evil in the way cotton-poly blends are.) So either way, these people have been singled out by a vengeful God. And I'm supposed to ride the same bus system as them? Fat chance. (Pun intended.)

And this not just a moral issue (although it certainly is that). Diabetics are simply not dependable. You see, diabetics frequently fall into what the medical community calls "diabetic comas". There is no consensus at the American Medical Association as to whether diabetics fake these episodes or if they are genuine symptoms of their malady. Either way-don't even thing about making plans with one of these Sugar Babies. I mean let's say I have plans to golf with Wilford Brimley. But then he goes and throws a hissy-fit/coma and next thing you know, I'm stuck paying his god damn green fees. All the while, he's laying on his back with an intravenous supply of pixie sticks plugged into his disease-addled vein. And if he does show up, all you'll hear about is oat meal.

And don't be fooled by this picture. They're also not very good at fellatio.

Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart: Not as gross as you might have thought

It was announced recently that Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart are engaged. I bet most people around the globe thought, "well that's pretty gross," upon hearing the news.
The thing is, it's not THAT gross. Well it is gross, but not as gross as I initially thought. Like many of you, until very recently I thought Harrison Ford was like 85 and Flockhart was in her late 20's. As my former gf would say, "vom." But as it turns out, Indy is 66 and Sticks is 44, leaving only a 22 year age gap. Sure, if I dated someone 22 years my junior they'd lock me up and throw away the key, but we're talking about a guy who, in his last movie, survived a nuclear bomb falling basically on top of him by jumping in a refrigerator. The man can do anything.
And it is legal. She's consenting. And c'mon people. If they have love, who are we to judge.
So, in closing...Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart: Not as gross as you might have thought.

Hey kids-Put down the guns and read a book

(Adults, please bear with me. This post is geared toward the adolescent gang banger, who, believe it or not, has been a targeted demographic of ours since day one.)

Hey kids, how’s it going? It sure is a beautiful day today. Did you see the Final 4 last weekend? Crazy, huh? My name is Steve, and I’m writing today to discuss your futures and the options you have. Before you think I’m a pedophile or some freak who takes an interest in children in general, take one step back. I don’t care about you per se. I just don’t want you guys to kill me or my kids some day. So put down the gun and read a book.

I was once like you. Lost. Angry. Armed. There was a time when, if anybody said boo to me, I’d shoot them in the face. We’ve all been there. It’s really nothing to be ashamed of. What’s done is done. What you can control, what we all can control, is tomorrow, and the rest of our days. So let’s turn the page…literally. Put down your gun and read a fucking book. It will change your life.

I’m sure you’re wondering, “how will this work?” Well it’s simple. Instead of living a life of crime out on the streets, you should become a literary scholar instead. Can’t quite picture it? Let me take you through an average week in my program and show you the differences between guns and books.

Imagine it’s Sunday. What do you usually do on a Sunday? If you’re like I was, Sunday was for sobering up, burying the bodies, and getting a new stash of the good stuff to sell during the week. Pretty busy and stressful day. Digging sucks. Anywho, imagine that instead of doing all that, you’re curled up on a couch in Borders reading Pride and Prejudice. All your worries wash away. You start thinking about love. You cry maybe, but in a good way.

OK fast forward to Monday and Tuesday. Shitty days for a gang banger. Robbing liquor stores and holding your turf on the corners, running from cops and making sure people pay up. Shit is hard, man. Now imagine you and a female companion reading Romeo and Juliet by candle light. You could easily make it through the play in two nights if you acted it out. You might even have time to make sweet love between acts. Just remember to use a condom. You probably have some blood-borne diseases she doesn’t need to know about but does need to be shielded from. After all you’re not an animal. Now look, you’re only three days into the “read a book instead of shoot people” plan and you’re already loving life.

Wednesdays and Thursdays are pretty much identical to Mondays and Tuesdays for gang bangers. I know when I was “bangin’ (that’s what we called it, no big deal), I didn’t even know what day it was half the time. Pick up the shit. Sell the shit. If the boss says push a button on a guy, we push a button on a guy. If the boss wants milk, you ask 1% or 2% and do what he says. It’s a terrible existence. But you don’t do that shit anymore. You’re reading, baby. You start the day by reading to your illegitimate kids. They’re back in your life-hey you’ve cleaned up. Maybe you read some Berenstein Bears or your personal favorite, “Where the Wild Things Are.” You’re starting to feel as if your life has meaning. As the kids drift off to sleep, you pick up the day’s New York Times. You read the Op-Eds first. You like some. You could go without some others. You skim through the articles on the front page. Oooh the president has just given a speech. You learn all about it. You’re getting smarter by leaps and bounds. You go to the crossword. It’s hard as hell, even for non-gang bangers, but you put up a good effort, completely filling in one corner and getting some other words too. Life is fucking good, gang banger. Reading, man. Shit yea. You put down the Times but you’re not done. You hunger for knowledge. You pick up “Stamos: The Autobiography of John Stamos,” read it for a while, and drift off to sleep. Your life is getting better and better.

Now it’s Friday and Saturday-the end of the week. If you were still “bangin,”, these would be particularly dangerous days. Friday and Saturday are your collection days. If guys owe you or your gang money, you go collect. If they don’t have it, well we all know what’s going down. You’ve had some close calls. You’ve had partners not come home from days like this. It’s tragic. BUT it doesn’t have to be this way. Remember, you’re reading now. You’ve started “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” You are at peace with the world. You are in the moment. You’ve completely changed your life around, and in only one week. Can you imagine what would happen if you did this shit every day. You could do big things.

So take a look. In a book. It’s Reading Rainbow. You can do anything!