Dec 21, 2010
Said Bianca, “The first sentence, ‘Looking forward to Friday’, is a no-brainer. It obviously calls for two exclamation points, especially since it’s followed by a second sentence regarding the same subject. But the second sentence, ‘Can’t wait to see you,’ is the one that’s torturing me. On one hand, we haven’t seen each other in like a month and the last time we saw each other we kind of got into a fight, which makes me think that maybe I should use four exclamation points. On the other hand, I usually reserve a quadruple exclamation point for special occasions, like when a friend is pregnant or engaged or something like that.” With a pained look on her face, Bianca sighed, “I just don’t know what to do.”
As of press time, Bianca was leaning toward simply calling Krista, although she hadn't yet determined how high of a voice pitch would be necessary to convey her excitement for the upcoming event.
Nov 17, 2010
When I last saw you (Saturday November 13, 2010 at about 2 p.m.), you were wearing a pair of True Religion blue jeans, black Ugg boots, a purple knitted sweater over a white tank top and you were walking your dog Lady Ga Ga (an obviously pure bred Dandie Dinmont Terrier who seems to be about a year and a half old and extremely healthy; granted, I’m only basing this on a handful of brief dental inspections). You wore a thick, black leather belt and, based on the panty lines in your jeans, you appeared to be wearing a thong (well done).
Since Lady Ga Ga was behaving uncharacteristically obedient that day, you were freed up to place a call to your friend Krista on your Blackberry (I love the new sparkly case, by the way). As you walked west through the Prado, you and Krista discussed the dinner date you had the night before at Cucina Urbana with a bespectacled gentleman named David (I also happened to be at Cucina Urbana dining alone that night, which is the only reason I know David wears glasses). Then you and Krista made plans to go out for drinks. You ended the conversation by telling her that you were happy swimsuit season was over because it meant you didn’t have to worry about being bloated from just having a couple cocktails (although you would miss going to the beach).
At about this time, you changed hiking trails from the Number 2 Trail to the Number 5 Trail and headed northwest, taking a right turn immediately after crossing the Cabrillo Bridge (by the way, nice job dodging that skateboarder). As you walked, you were still sucking on the 3 orange Tic Tacs that you originally placed into your mouth while standing next to the Koi pond adjacent to the Botanical Building (by the way, I’ve always thought that the scent of citrus on a woman’s breath was extremely sexy).
Then, apparently due to your choice in foot wear, you decided to quit your hike early and exited the park at the corner of Upas and Sixth.
I know that walking your dog through Balboa Park is a fairly common occurrence for you, especially on the weekend, so you probably need more detail.
After leaving the park, you walked south toward your condo on Nutmeg Street, where you ultimately returned home. However, you made a few stops along the way, as you often do. First, you stopped at Café Bassam at the corner of Fifth and Redwood and grabbed a double short Americano, with room for cream (your favorite; you certainly are a creature of habit). You appeared to enjoy the Americano, which you drank while sitting at a table along the north wall of the café. However, it left you unsatisfied, so you walked farther south to Evolution and bought a raw hummus wrap (to go), before heading home at about 2:20 p.m. As I’ve done so many times before, I stood across the street and stared at your body while you entered your home, wondering if I’d ever have the chance to make you mine.
I don’t know when or if you will ever read this, but I remain hopeful that it’s soon. Should good fortune grace me and you do happen to find our “missed connection”, please look for me the next time you leave your home. I will be wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and walking approximately 15 paces behind you.
Hope to see you soon (I’m sure I will.).
Longing For You In San Diego
Aug 19, 2010
Our viewers know that we at The Report never use words with multiple meanings because we respect our audience. And if you’re a fan of the show, you’re also aware that we have repeatedly and consistently condemned science for reasons too numerous to count – all of them equally justified. Our current beef with science: too many definitions. It’s confusing and makes it extremely difficult to know which books to burn.
Let’s start with the worst kind of science, the one being force-fed to our children at public schools. You know who you are, scientific method, and I’d bet you dollars to donuts that my Christ-loving soul can kick your deoxyribonucleic ass any day of the week…and twice on Sunday. You’re poisoning the minds of our children and you must be stopped.
And since we’ve already condemned science, obviously we also have to condemn the study of science: Scientology. That’s right, Scientology, you’re in the trash heap, along with your bookworm friend science.
Lastly, Christian Science. We are on to you Christian Science and you are a fraud. There is nothing Christian about you. In fact, our investigation revealed that the word science doesn’t appear once in the entire Bible. So, by definition, you can’t really exist. You are a figment of your own imagination. However, I would like to thank you for calling to our attention that science is found nowhere in the Bible…all the more reason to be a Christian as far as I’m concerned.
Our next wag of the finger goes to the word “clear.” There is nothing clear about you sir. Are you a verb, an adverb, an adjective or a noun? You choose…but we want to know by Monday.
Finally, a wag of the finger to the word “run.” Either I’m running in my stockings or I have a run in my stockings, but not both. Got it?
Jul 12, 2010
The difficulties of marriage in general.
New York cab drivers (or cab drivers in general).
Pharmaceuticals commercials (especially the long list of side effects the drugs have and how they are “worse than what the drug’s supposed to cure”).
The differences between gay and straight people.
How politicians are whores.
Whatever weird issue may be happening with your genitals.
Being fat / being skinny / being bald.
Whatever stupid thing you heard someone say recently.
Whatever stupid thing you saw someone do recently.
How people in general are stupid.
How your parents ruined your childhood / How your parents are crazy.
SUVs / Hummers.
How crazy _____ people (white, black, etc.) are.
Internet porn / masturbation.
How bad television is.
The size of your penis.
Legalization of whatever drug it is you like to do.
How stupid the government is.
The “crazy” celebrity encounter you had.
An impression of Christopher Walken.
How some foods that are “bad for you” used to be “good for you” and vice versa.
Bad drivers (including numerous sub-headings about how certain races of people drive or how men / women drive).
How women are willing to ask for directions and men aren't.
Any number of things that Bill Hicks or George Carlin has already said.
Anything followed by “what’s up with that?”
Using “absolute zero” or “cold fusion” as the basis of comparison for the difficulty of accomplishing a given task.
The South / Texas.
Your recent trip to the doctor.
Your recent trip to DMV.
How depressing it is to watch / read the news.
The city you’re performing in / just finished performing in.
Your trip from the last city you performed in to the current city you’re performing in.
Whatever happened on the set of your tv show / movie.
How cell phones used to be much larger than they are currently.
The frequency with which you engage in sexual intercourse.
The crazy thing that happened that one time when you were really drunk.
Jun 26, 2010
In a related story, some guy just blew his own brains out.
Apr 28, 2010
For those of you who may have assumed that such a Museum would at least attempt to contribute some rational ideas to a broad discussion of possibly the grandest scientific question of all time, that of the origins of the Earth and the universe, give up all hope now. The CEHM offers absolutely no evidence whatsoever that the Genesis creation myth is actually true. But never mind that. Why? Never mind, say the Creationists, because the creation story is in the Bible, which contains the word of God, which is by definition infallible.
If that’s not the best example of circular logic I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what a circle is.
Unfortunately, the reason that Creationists couch what they’re doing as “science” is to get their bullshit into the public school system so your kids are forced to learn it. It’s not “science” by any legitimate definition of that word. If it were “science,” there would be at least one shred of physical evidence to back it up. That’s exactly the problem, though. You can’t have a rational debate with Creationists because every reasonable person knows that there’s no point in reasoning with intentionally unreasonable people.
Some wonderful tidbits of knowledge gleaned from my trip to the Museum:
1) There are no proven scientific errors in the Bible (to be honest, I kind of expected them to say that).
2) The universe is 6,000 years old (why weren’t there dinosaurs in the Bible?).
3) There was no death before Adam sinned (somebody build me a time machine).
4) The reason we have weeks in the calendar is because God created the universe in a week (never mind the fact that this non sequitor presumes the validity of the creation myth).
5) The fact that the Earth's moon is relatively larger than the moons of other planets is clear evidence of intentional design.
6) Darwin was a racist and responsible for the rise of the Third Reich (I’ve always naively blamed Hitler and the inherent weakness and instability that existed in the Weimar Republic due to its over-reliance on referenda policy making, which created perfect political conditions for a despotic ruler to take control in Germany).
7) We are not causing Global Warming and Global Warming is helpful, not hurtful (great waves for surfers?).
8) A “true” scientist must support the “Biblical Worldview” (that certainly disqualifies a lot of scientists, especially considering that studies show that the vast majority of those in the scientific community don’t believe in God).
As the coup de grace, the Museum claims that Noah's ark was spotted numerous times in the 20th Century, as recently as 1987. I’m not joking.
In 1973, Al Shappell “reportedly took photos (of the ark) from a Navy plane.” Inexplicably, “the pictures have not been released.” Maybe Mr. Shappell wanted to keep the photos a secret or, more likely, the Pentagon classified the photos for national security reasons.
There was another sighting in 1973 (2 in one year!) by Ed Behling, an “airman” stationed in Turkey. Allegedly, Mr. Behling was led “to an area where he could view the ark” by “an old shepherd” (where have I heard that before?) from atop a set of cliffs. Unfortunately, this historic revelation is still unproven because Mr. Behling “was unable to reach the ark without climbing equipment.” What a bummer! I guess it wasn’t worth Mr. Behling’s or anyone else’s time to go get climbing equipment and return to the site to verify the ark’s existence. Doesn’t that make Mr. Behling a bad Christian? I guess Mr. Behling also couldn’t be troubled to go get a fucking camera, either.
In 1908 and 1910, George Hagopian “claimed the ark was partially exposed on the edge of a cliff.” What cliff? What continent? I guess no one knows. Sadly, it appears Mr. Hagopian took this one to the grave. He and Jesus and God probably sit around and talk about it up in Heaven, though.
“In the early 1900s” (no more specificity needed) Jacob Chuchian “saw the ark on several occasions.” There you have it.
In 1943, Army Corps of Engineers enlistee Ed Davis “was taken to the ark by a family of villagers” where it was then located in Iran. Wow, this ark gets around! The proof of this sighting is a 1986 sketch drawn by “Elfred Lee.” Who is Elfred Lee? Did he ever meet Ed Davis, who was most likely dead by then? How did he know what Ed Davis saw? Apparently only God and Jesus know. That’s good enough for me, though.
In 1985, Jim Wilson drew a sketch of the ark “after studying photos taken from a U-2 airplane.” The Museum alleges that there are “at least eight sets of military photos or data (data?) which indicate the ark’s existence.” Sadly, those photos also appear to be unavailable.
Aerial photos of the ark were also taken by the “ark Foundation” (sounds like an unbiased group) in 1987 that for some reason are unavailable and still “awaiting investigation.” I guess the “ark Foundation” hasn’t had time to conduct an investigation in the last 23 years. They’ve probably been too busy trying to prove that Jesus was white and that God hates homosexuals.
The “Nice-Tibbetts Sketch”: In the “early 1940s, R. Taylor (apparently “R.” didn’t want to divulge his full first name) took photos of the ark.” Two Australian airmen “Nice” and “Tibbetts” (not even first initials?) saw the photos and drew a sketch from them.
Also “During WWII, numerous Allied (of course not Axis) aviators saw the ark from the air, and many others saw photographs.” Is it just me who’s thinking “Where the hell are all of these photographs?” Just to save you some time, I checked the Bible and they’re not in there, either.
“The Schwinghammer Sighting”: In 1959, when “airline pilot Gregor Schwinghammer was flying over Mt. Ararat, he saw a partially exposed rectangular structure sticking out of the mountain.” Good enough for me!
“The Walton Sketch”: In 1945 or 1946, “Lester Walton saw aerial photos taken from a high altitude reconnaissance aircraft camera” from 20,000 feet that showed the ark on Mt. Ararat at approximately 14,000 feet.
Mt. Ararat is apparently the Roswell of Noah’s Ark sightings.
While flying in an airplane in 1953, George Jefferson Green viewed the ark hanging off the edge of a cliff. He also took photos (believe it or not, they are “unavailable”) that Fred Drake saw and drew a sketch of. I guess Mr. Drake was a better artist, which is why Mr. Green didn’t draw the sketch himself.
“The Duckworth Report” (by far my favorite): In 1969, David Duckworth allegedly “viewed photos and artifacts from the ark at the Smithsonian Institute.” Unfortunately, though, “These remain unacknowledged and unavailable.” Apparently, and I’ve suspected this for years, the Smithsonian Institute is part of the pinko, liberal, godless, media-driven government conspiracy to end Christianity. I’m also quite fond of the name “The Duckworth Report.” It has a very official sound to it, kind of like “The Zapruder Film.”
I didn’t skimp on the details or numerosity of these ark sightings (I detailed all of them) because I wanted it to be clear that this wasn’t just some tucked-away corner of the Museum, with a couple plaques put up as afterthoughts. It was more like a section and these ark sighting myths appear to be almost a cornerstone of the belief system perpetuated by the Creationists. If you can believe that all of these sightings are true, then you can believe just about anything. In my view, that is extremely dangerous, especially considering the fervor with which these people believe (they built a fucking museum, for Christ’s sake).
Why would God waste his time creating the rest of the universe if there’s no life in it? Of course, it is quite possible that life has existed or does exist in some form or another elsewhere in the universe, but that is not what Creationists believe. According to them, God made Earth and the stars and Heaven and created life to exist only on Earth, including Man, who was made in God’s image. So, what’s up with the immeasurably large portion of the universe that exists outside Earth? Was God just showing off? Did he have some time to kill? Did he want us humans to have places other than Earth to systematically destroy through pollution and overuse of finite natural resources?
Why did all the crazy Biblical stuff happen in antiquity? As one of my favorite people of all time, Bad Religion band member Greg Graffin once said: “well I guess God was a lot more demonstrative back when he flamboyantly parted the sea.”
While it may be futile to debate the creation myth and a lot of other myths with Creationists, it is especially futile to debate the existence of God. That’s because the Museum presumes the existence of God and then makes all of its arguments from that assumption. Surprisingly, though, the Museum does admit that science cannot prove that God exists. However, it proudly states that science also cannot prove that God doesn’t exist. What an accomplishment! The last time I checked, science cannot prove that anything doesn’t exist because it’s logically impossible to prove that something doesn’t exist, including God. Congratulations God. You can’t be disproven, just like Unicorns, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Pixies, Gnomes, Leprechauns, Vampires, Zombies and Gremlins.
If you’re more of a scientist and find all of this theological stuff boring, CEHM has something for you too. In what must be the scientific discovery of the century, the Museum has discovered the only true way to date a fossil (hint, don’t use science):
Apr 12, 2010
I have been in a variety of disastrously masochistic long term relationships, with consistently scarring consequences. Recently I got drunk on vodka alone and “Googled” my ex-girlfriends. But I like being single, it’s totally great. Anytime I want to just lay in bed and cry, which is a lot, I can. No interruptions.
I think I’m just at a point in my life where I want to meet people and experience what’s out there. You know, just throw myself in the fray and see what happens.
I wouldn’t say that I date a lot. But it’s all about quality, not quantity. What matters is that you make yourself emotionally available, give yourself the chance to get hurt. For instance, just a few days ago I said “hi” to a woman in the street. She didn’t even give me a look like she wanted me to. I just went for it. It was great! And that’s what life’s about, stopping to smell the roses. You can’t let yourself be afraid of intimacy.
So…umm, write me a letter…I guess…if you want. But if not that’s totally cool. There are plenty of fish in the sea. That’s not to say that you’re not great, because you are. I mean, if I were to go for someone, it would totally be you because you are a rad chick. I’m just being honest, you know. When I meet someone cool I just gotta let ’em know. That’s just the kind of guy I am. I’ve been…uh…drinking a little bit. I’m not drunk, though. I’m pretty much sober. I’ve just had a couple drinks. Drinks…I like drinks. Have you ever had a lunchbox? It’s the coolest shooter, perfect for like a brunch situation. You take a shot of amoretto and dump it in a pint glass filled half and half with beer and orange juice. Brunch is pretty cool. Have you ever had a mimosa? They are great, really great. So…I guess if any of you ladies out there wants to go out for a drink sometime, drop me a line. That’s not to say all I do is drink. I like lots of things. Like TV for example. You ever watch TV? It’s really cool.
Apr 5, 2010
My father, who was as grizzled as he was proud, knew there was value in things like plowing a field and loving Jesus. Yeah, these days you’d count yourself lucky if you were to hear someone say “howdy” or “evenin’.” Come to think of it, I can’t say that I’ve been invited to a box social for going on a decade.
But there are places where the art of folksy still exists. Where a cell phone is about as rare as a dodo bird. Where people make their own ice cream. These are places like Minnesota, Iowa and Wisconsin. In the Midwest, you can throw a hedge ball in just about any direction and you’re more likely to hit a porch swing than a multiplex theatre or strip mall.
There’s a reason that people from small town America are called the salt of the earth, and it’s because they put more salt on their food than a family bible has wear marks. That’s a lot of wear marks, at least in my family it is.
No, I can’t say I’ve ever been to a movie premier. I probably couldn’t tell you where to find a Saks Fifth Avenue or a Blockbuster video. I like my clothes plain and my tones earth. I like to whistle and I certainly never raise my voice, that is unless it’s absolutely necessary.
I can tell you quite a few things about war, especially wars that the old red, white and blue struggled in. I’ve been known to pick off a pheasant from over two hundred yards. I’ve also been known to take that same bird home, strip its feathers and skin from its body, then cut its flesh from its bone and eat that flesh after most likely frying it in some fashion.
I know it’s not that cool to put ranch dressing on your salad anymore but then again I suppose it’s not too cool to sing in the local church choir, either. I guess I’ll take my chances.
I like movies about the struggles of man against impossible odds that are sad and yet wholesome in a somewhat understated way. If you think Grapes of Wrath is not the greatest American novel, then I am going to have to give you a stern talking to.
I’m somewhat socially progressive as well as frightened and unworldly. I believe that a pregnant teenager is a tragedy the likes of which Joseph Stalin could only envision.
I know enough to know that you can’t beat a rainy day at home with the family, wrapped up in a quilt that Grandma knitted with her own, weathered hands. Which grandma? Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it?
I have eaten potatoes cooked in more than a hundred and seventy forms. If you handed me a plate of sushi, I might confuse it with the newest Britney Spears album. I like my rock and roll rebellious, but nostalgic and non-threatening. I go to church, but I certainly don’t think I’m better than anyone else, because that’s how I was raised.
I’m folksy and I’m proud of it.
Apr 2, 2010
So why does old Jeff Dahmer get such a bad rap? Of course, he was horrible. No one in his right mind would disagree with that. But what’s the difference between him and all of our “great rulers”? The only differences are that 1) Jeffrey Dahmer killed less people and 2) he wasn’t interested in political power. That’s it. Every one of our great rulers was just as blood thirsty and just as violent, if not much more so, than Jeffrey Dahmer, John Wayne Gacey, The Zodiac Killer, Richard Ramirez, The Boston Strangler, The BTK Killer, David Burkowitz, The Green River Killer and Ted Bundy combined.
But the same people who see these serial killers as the lowest of the low are willing to name their kids after genocidal dictators. It’s so common that people no longer think about it. For example, consider how popular the name David has become. Everyone knows a person named David. In fact, I’d guess most people know several if not many people named David. It’s so common that you don’t even think of King David when you meet someone named David. It’s just a name, like any other. You might as well name your kid Lawrence.
But what would happen if I named my kid Jeffrey Dahmer? I’m just spit-balling here, but my guess is that most people’s reaction would be something along the lines of “Why in the world would you name your kid Jeffrey Dahmer?” My response: “Well, don’t get me wrong, we have high hopes for him, but we knew from the beginning that he was no Caesar. I don’t want to limit his aspirations, though, so don’t tell him I said that.”
Maybe we would like Jeffrey Dahmer better if he had become President. Or maybe it’s an issue of the passage of time. Just because all of these “great rulers” lived so long ago, we assume that they lived in a different world, where violence was the norm and, therefore, you can’t judge their actions with modern moral standards. Oddly enough, a lot of the people making that claim would probably be Christian, Jewish or Muslim and the last time I checked those faiths are all guided by very old books about morality. It really just depends on who’s winning the horrible game of conquest, doesn’t it? If you were a Jew a couple thousand years ago, the Egyptians were evil tyrants but if you were a member of a neighboring tribe anywhere near David on his rise to power, look the fuck out because he and his troops were going to rape your women and burn your village down.
History will not be kind to any serial killers and it obviously shouldn’t. But I’d be way more scared about living in Julius Caesar’s neighborhood than Ted Bundy’s.
Mar 29, 2010
We at 94.9 bet that you didn’t. You probably even use the term alternative rock don’t you? Well, you are an idiot. You know less about music than the IT guy who fixes our computers when they go down.
Here at 94.9, where it’s about the music, we know more about music than you do. That’s right. Actually, it’s not so much about the music as it is knowing the most about music. Our DJ’s make college radio DJ’s look like Rick Dees. Matt Pinfield stopped by the other day and said, “damn you guys know a lot about music.” And that’s true, we do know a lot about music.
If indie rock had a clitoris, 94.9 would be in a constant state of fingering that clitoris. Bow to the giant pulsating phallus that is 94.9. Get on your knees and worship the glistening cock that is San Diego’s only source for good music.
You probably think that the stuff you’ve been listening to is good don’t you? I bet you have a classic rock station preprogrammed on your car radio. You probably think that Radiohead’s best album is OK Computer. You probably think that Nirvana’s best album is Nevermind…gotcha, that one was a trick. Nirvana’s best album actually was Nevermind, one of the few instances of a band’s most commercially successful work also being the most accomplished artistically. But even if you do think Nevermind is Nirvana’s best album, it’s most likely for the wrong reasons.
You’re probably going to say you were in a band in high school. Well we were in five, and we played a different instrument in each. You played a five string bass? You pussy. We played a six, fretless.
In fact, this station is so cool, you shouldn’t even be listening to it. Go listen to 91 X. Better yet, why don’t you go to the Hard Rock café and eat buffalo wings while you listen to The Verve Pipe. We’ll be in a corner booth at a trendy North Park dive bar listening to Lou Reed and drinking Stella Artois. What’s the name of this bar you might ask? Don’t worry, you’ve never heard of it.
Or instead maybe you and your parents can go have some rockin’ times at the Steely Dan show this weekend. We’ll be wearing a Replacements t-shirt and throwing blood on the concert attendees. Plan on sneaking a joint into the show? We’ll be doing so much Ketamine that we’ll appear comatose.
At 94.9 we recognize that most people are not nearly cool enough to listen to us (In fact, we’ve crunched some numbers and it turns out that there are actually less than ten in the entire City of San Diego). We’re so cool, our office staff are required to wear ear plugs because they are unworthy of the musical gospels we preach.
94.9, it’s about thinking you’re awesome.
Mar 24, 2010
1) "How old is the Earth?" (Personally, I'm looking most forward to the answer to this one, which I'm guessing is going to be off by a few hundred million years.)
2) "When did the Ice Age occur?"
3) "What is the evidence for the Genesis flood?"
4) "Why is there pain and suffering in the world?" (Finally!)
From its website, the "museum" touts itself as "a show case for a literal six day young earth creation model." I feel like the expression "chomping at the bit" was just invented to describe my anticipation.
Mar 22, 2010
As you can see, the dick and balls are connected, so I think it’s safe to assume that they both belong to the same set of genitals. I also assume that the dick and balls depicted in the tattoo belong to the tattooed gentleman and that the tattoo is a reasonably accurate portrayal of the actual appearance of his dick and balls. Granted, this is pure speculation on my part.
However, as a general rule, I try to avoid rushing to judgment about things like this. With that in mind, I have to admit that it’s entirely possible that the tattoo has a loftier, more artistic purpose than simply showing the world what D&B’s genitals look like. Perhaps it’s even possible that D&B was trying to teach us a lesson that requires a more rigorous and thorough analysis of the tattoo’s meaning.
After all, this isn’t an ordinary set of dick and balls we’re talking about. On the contrary, this set has wings.*** What do the wings represent? Of course, the obvious metaphor is that the wings are angel's wings and the dick and balls are ascending to Heaven or, at least, will one day ascend to Heaven after being favorably judged by their maker (God, not the tattoo artist). In other words: D&B has a heavenly / great set of dick and balls. But I don’t think that this is what D&B had in mind. Anyone with the good judgment and foresight to have a dick and balls tattooed on his arm isn’t going to leap at the first metaphor that comes to mind. Obviously, D&B wants us to dig a little deeper.
For instance, many people associate birds and flight with freedom. It’s certainly possible that D&B, being a lover of freedom and America, is making a subtle statement about freedom’s true nature. Much like Peter Fonda’s character Wyatt in the movie Easy Rider, D&B seems disillusioned with what we as a society have come to accept as freedom, a concept which D&B finds to be in stark contrast with his own. In this regard, D&B will always feel disconnected from his contemporaries, perpetually seeking what he cannot find: true freedom.
Or the tattoo could represent a mixed metaphor. Maybe D&B wants us as Westerners to question our widely shared cultural value that Earthly freedom is the ultimate state of human existence. The winged dick and balls remind us of the Buddhist concept of annica: nothing on Earth is fixed or permanent and nothing that belongs to the Earth can ever be free. D&B shows us that the only freedom we can ever attain as humans is through an elevated state of consciousness.
Or perhaps D&B’s quarrel is not with our concept of freedom but rather with the sexual mores imposed upon all of us beginning in childhood. With his depiction of flying genitals, D&B seeks liberation, not of his mind, but of his sexual being. After all, who are we to restrain D&B (or anyone, for that matter) with our culture’s Puritanical, outdated views on sexuality?
Needless to say, the potential layers of meaning in the tattoo are almost infinite. Do I have my own opinion about what the tattoo means? I will only say that I cannot in good conscience rob any of my readers of their own individual experience with the winged set of dick and balls tattoo by imposing my interpretation on them. I just wouldn't be able to live with myself (like if I had a tattoo of a winged set of dick and balls on my arm).
**I think it’s safe to assume that D&B owns a gun, not that there’s anything wrong with that per se. Also, maybe I’m being paranoid but I wouldn’t put anything past a guy who had a dick and balls tattooed on himself, including tracking someone down and killing him. My concern is heightened here by the fact that D&B intentionally walks around in a Wife Beater in order to show off the tattoo.
***While it may be easy to criticize the tattoo for this fact alone, we would do well to remind ourselves that many great artistic creations require suspension of disbelief.
Mar 14, 2010
Thicke: Thanks Barbara. That really means a lot. It’s easy to forget sometimes just how important my career has been to my fellow Americans.
Barbara: Aren’t you Canadian Alan?
Barbara: Ok, well, how about we start with Growing Pains, since that is how you really came into your own as a comedic actor.
Thicke: To be quite honest with you Barbara, I have answered so many Growing Pains questions over the years that I've decided to move on and not live in that past. Don’t think of me as Dr. Jason Roland Seaver. Think of me for my body of work as a whole, of which Growing Pains is but a small part.
You know, I was talking with Ron Howard the other day and we were in a discussion about comedy, a subject which I happen to know a fair bit about.
Barbara: Needless to say.
Thicke: Thank you. Anyways, as I was saying, Ron kept insisting that Back To The Future would have been better with me cast as Doc Brown. Although my humility prevented me from agreeing with him aloud, one does not question the artistic vision of Mr. Ron Howard.
Barbara: I couldn’t agree more. Did you ever give any thought to the role of Marty? I mean, it was a bit out of your age range at the time but…
Thicke: Oh, absolutely. In fact, I was just talking to old Marty Scorsese the other day. You know Marty, never stops talking shop. So anyways, me and Marty are chewing the fat at the new Wolfgang Puck restaurant and he said, “Alan, what the hell were you thinking when you turned down Marty McFly?” And I said, “look Marty, I’ll grant you that you’ve done some good work and I respect your opinion, but it just wasn’t the right role for me.” Way too shallow, right? I mean Christ, the guy Forrest Gumps his way through Goodfellas and all of a sudden he’s a casting agent. Give me a break!
Barbara: You definitely have some strong opinions…a quality I have always cherished in you. And such confidence!
Thicke: Thanks Barbara, that really means something coming from you.
Barbara: So what does the future hold for Alan Thicke?
Thicke: The possibilities are really limitless. One project that I’ve had on the back burner for awhile now is a period piece about the Boston Tea Party. I mean, hello, talk about fodder for slapstick comedy.
Barbara: I didn’t know that you had ever done any slapstick.
Thicke: I haven’t but I’m sure I could do it exceptionally well.
Barbara: There’s that confidence again. I love it Alan. I really love it.
Thicke: You know Barbara, over the years many people have come up to me on the street, sidewalk, public restroom, whatever. They always say the same thing, “Alan, how the fuck do you stay so down to earth considering what a huge part of American culture you’ve become?”
Barbara: I can’t wait to hear the answer to this.
Thicke: I always give the same answer: “the key to being Alan Thicke is remembering that I’m just a person, like everyone else.” It would be very easy for me to walk through life conducting myself like the comedic icon that I am, drunk on my own talent and influence. But nobody wants to pay ten bucks to see that guy in a movie theatre. What they want to see is understated perfection, and that’s what I provide to them.
Barbara: Alan, you are simply a treasure.
Thicke: Barbara, please.
Barbara: Of course, I’m sorry. You are far too modest. You know what I think many people at home are wondering? What's a typical day in the life of Alan Thicke? Do you put your pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us?
Thicke: What you have to understand Barbara is that a person as gifted as myself is still human in a lot of ways. I may have a bigger bank account than most of your audience. I have probably slept with more women than most of you men at home can imagine, but I’m still just a person.
Barbara: That’s great Alan, really great.
Thicke: Would you like to hear some poetry I’ve written?
Barbara: Maybe another time.
Thicke: Well, it’s your show. Bitch [whispers].
Barbara: What was that?
Thicke: Oh, nothing. What else would you like to know about me?
Barbara: Well, I have heard rumors that you are interested in expanding your work into the arena of action film. Any truth to that?
Thicke: I can’t say anything definitively, but let’s just say that I have been courted by a certain director of a certain movie starring a certain John Travolta and a certain Sam Jackson to appear in the third installment of Kill Bill.
Barbara: Quentin Tarantino?
Thicke: I didn’t say that Barbara. Don’t put words in my mouth. Miramax would shoot me if they heard I was spreading rumors.
Barbara: You are aware that this will be televised aren‘t you?
Thicke: Please Barbara, you’re talking to the former star of Growing Pains here. Get with the program.
Barbara: Well America, that was Alan Thicke, as told by Alan Thicke. Straight from the horse’s mouth, as they say. Thanks so much for your time.
Thicke: My only wish is that I could value myself as much as everyone else seems to. It’s really pretty amazing when you think about it.
Barbara: To quote the good William Shakespeare, “truer words were never spoken.”
Mar 9, 2010
Also, if you're going to use the term "workaholic," you should at least spell it workoholic, because alcohol is not spelled alcahol.
Mar 8, 2010
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
September 12, 2001
My name is Zelda Winchester and I am a concerned citizen of the great county of Clay, in the great state of Indiana [go Hoosiers!]. My purpose in writing is to make your office aware of a possible terrorist threat in our own community [of all places]. I know, I was surprised too.
Anyways, I was tending to my gooseberry bushes this morning [we must press on in our daily activities, as the Commander in Chief has said] when I noticed something queer. My neighbor, Maxine Johnson, was tending to her own gooseberries, as she does quite regularly. On an unrelated note, Mrs. Johnson, who is a widow-bless her heart-has taken first prize in the Clay County fair with her precious gooseberries seventeen straight years, enough to drive a person not as balanced as myself straight into the boobie hatch.
Today though, Mrs. Johnson was not alone. Working at her direction was what looked to be an illegal Mexican immigrant. I was as surprised as you will no doubt be when you read this. Anyways, this Mexican must have come via the new meat packing plant two counties over. I’m not one to tell rumors, but let’s just say that from what I’ve heard, the good people of Monroe County have had their hands full since the opening of this modern monstrosity!
Anyways, when I tried to engage Mrs. Johnson in conversation, she pretended not to hear me and then she and the Mexican went quickly into her large, centrally cooled home [apparently the crash of the Savings bank in the 80s didn’t hurt all of us]. Anyways, Maxine and the Mexican were in the house for what must have been an hour when they finally emerged and stepped into her car, which she used to drive both of them away [side note: the good widow must have come into some money recently, because she is now driving a new Cadillac, of all things!]. And when she saw me pointedly observing her actions with the Mexican, her face put on a look of strong annoyance [as if I, a concerned citizen, did not have the right to know what’s going on in my own town!].
Anyways, when I later confronted her about the suspicious nature of her activities, she rebuffed my concerns, saying that she had been experiencing severe arthritic symptoms and needed the help of the Mexican to maintain her blue ribbon gooseberries. Had I just fallen off the turnip truck I may have believed her. Fortunately for all of us living under the banner of the red, white and blue, I knew better. A woman of Maxine Johnson’s financial means obviously has the best of medicines at her disposal.
Anyways, I guess the ball is now in your court, no pun intended. I hope you will do whatever is necessary to ensure that this terrorist threat is eliminated before anything drastic happens.
P.S. Jesus loves you!!!
September 14, 2001
I am writing in response to your perplexing letter of September 12, 2001, in which you described what you perceived to be a “terrorist threat.” Although I share your concern for the state of our national security, you should know that you have chosen to air your grievance in the wrong forum.
As the clerk of court, I am unable to respond to any real or perceived “terrorist threats.” My office is mainly responsible for ordinary administrative tasks, including but not limited to issuing license plates, registering automobiles and recording deeds to real property.
If you wish to pursue this matter further, which I personally would not recommend, you should address your concerns to local law enforcement, be that the Center Point city police or the county sheriff.
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
September 18, 2001
Dear Barb [I hope it’s okay that I dispense with formalities]:
Thank you for your prompt and kind response to my letter of September 12, 2001. I know that you will do what is in your heart.
Anyways, I thought I should call your attention to further terrorist activities in our beloved community. I would have written yesterday but I had my weekly canasta game in the afternoon and found myself buried in peach preserve canning until late into the evening [it was nearly eight o‘clock when I finally retired!].
Yesterday I saw my good neighbor Maxine Johnson engaged in what can only be described as un-American activity. It was approximately seven in the morning, so I had been awake for several hours and already had my single cup of coffee that I limit myself to now that I have hypertension, so I know I was clear-minded. Anyways, I was looking across the yard into Maxine’s garage from a secluded view on my sun porch.
What I saw shocked me, and I am a woman of the world, so that’s saying a lot! Mrs. Johnson was pulling something out of her trunk as she had just returned home from God knows where. I can’t be sure of what I saw, but it looked as though it could have contained explosives.
Despite all of the admonitions from national pundits that the next terrorist attack will probably occur in an urban area, [which would be infinitely more justified] I am savvy enough to know that the bread basket of America is more important to our great country than any slum-filled, minority-laden metropolis. And, although these terrorists look dumb, some of them are quite smart and have probably figured this out as well.
Let your conscience be your guide.
P.S. The next time you see your sister Penny, please thank her for her wonderful contribution to the annual Future Farmers of America hayride. Her rhubarb cobbler should have no competition at next summer’s fair!
September 26, 2001
Although I thought my letter of September 14, 2001 was quite clear regarding my functions as the clerk of court, apparently you found its language ambiguous.
My office has no law enforcement function of any kind. We are not involved with the investigation or punishment of any criminal acts, including terrorist activities. I explained this to you personally on September 16, 2001 when you came into the office to transfer title of an automobile to your grandson Eric.
My job duties have in no way changed since that conversation, nor have the duties of any of my co-workers [here I would like to reference a phone call you made to my secretary, Patti Hornbaker, on September 17, 2001 to alert the court of a possible terrorist threat posed by your son-in-law].
On a personal note, I should say that I have known your son-in-law Frances since he was a child, as I used to baby sit him. I am quite certain that he is not now nor has he ever been involved in the production of methamphetamine. I also find it ridiculous that you would accuse him of harboring Iraqi terrorists in his basement. We were both in attendance at the Labor day barbecue he and your daughter hosted and you know just as well as I do that the only other people living in that house are your grandkids, whom Frances and your daughter provide quite well for.
I hope this will finally settle the matter.
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
P.S. I mentioned to Penny that you were quite fond of the cobbler. She says thank you.
P.P.S. I heard the hayride was a great success.
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
September 27, 2001
Thank you for your encouraging response. When the dust settles, it will be people like you and I who have made this world safe to live in again.
You may or may not be surprised to hear that I have witnessed further terrorist activity by my neighbor, the good widow, Maxine Johnson. Today as she was returning from a rather expensive lunch with her rebel-rousing friend Kathy Huffington [I have a friend who works across the street at the tire shop, which is the only reason I know this], I overheard the two of them engaged in a political discussion.
Needless to say, Maxine, who is a Democrat [like the unfortunate name of our local rag/newspaper] had some less than flattering things to say about our leader President George W. Bush. I only managed to hear a few seconds of the conversation, but what I did hear was enough to peak my cautious skepticism of her love of freedom and America.
I won’t go into the details, because everyone knows there’s nothing worse than a gossip. However, this should serve as notice to your office that Maxine Johnson is a threat, and an immediate one at that!
P.S. Hope to see you at church this Sunday!
October 22, 2001
Your repeated mailings, in addition to being misguided, have become a hindrance to the proper operation of the court. I request that you cease all efforts at communication with me and this office.
Although I would probably do well to leave it at that and consider this nonsense a thing of the past, I cannot resist the urge to make a few personal comments.
First, I find it deplorable that you would go to such great lengths to tarnish the image of Mrs. Johnson, a woman with whom you have been friends for over thirty years. I am also astonished that you would accuse her of being a terrorist when you know full well, just as everyone in town does, that Mrs. Johnson is so riddled with arthritis that she has trouble taking care of herself and thus requires part-time medical care in her home at times of severe symptoms.
Further, your apparent obliviousness to my repeated statements that this office is in no way involved in law enforcement leaves me no choice but to think you have as your goal to make my life more difficult.
I will ask you a final time to not direct any further accusations of terrorist activity to this office. And, for God’s sake, mind your own business.
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
Clerk of Court of Clay County, Indiana
October 23, 2001
As always, I want to thank you for your tireless service to this great community. As you are no doubt aware, our terrorist threat has been stamped out. The widow Johnson, bless her heart, passed away in her sleep last night. The newspaper said she died of a stroke, but I think we both know that the true cause was the swift and unerring justice of our own Federal Bureau of Investigation.
A court of law probably would have been swayed by some slick lawyer from Bloomington or Fort Wayne anyway, so it’s just as well.
Anyways, I guess we can both sleep a little easier, for now. Just a hint, though, I would keep your eye on my new neighbors. I haven’t seen anything specifically terrorist-related, but I did notice that the man of the house was wearing corduroy pants. Corduroy pants!
Anyways, God bless us all.
P.S. See you at the visitation.
P.P.S. I’m bringing my famous gooseberry pie!