Sequitur

I think Mohammar Gadhafi is getting a little bit of a bad rap in the media. I keep hearing about how he's "killing his own people." Ehhh...I mean I get that he's the leader of Libya, and he's having Libyans killed, but I wouldn't really describe them as "his people." They're an angry band of armed rebels who hate him. In fact, they're trying to kill him.


So when Gadhafi says things like "My people all love me," that's really not all that crazy, when you put it in context. I'm sure he considers "his people" to be the gun-weilding maniacs slaughtering rebels in his name. Those people definitely love Gadhafi. He probably gave them all Gadhafi t-shirts that they wear all the time. I mean, that's basically how I became a Giants fan. Subsequently, it's also the reason why I'd murder a Dodger fan in a heartbeat like the Libyan rebel dogs they are. So I get it.

This all relates back to my anger about the dude I met in Cabo last weekend with the "San Francisco" tattoo who told me he switched from being a Niners fan to a Saints fan because of Hurricane Katrina. I'm the one who stole your jacket.

Cocaine is Awesome

One thing that really chaps my lips is how people, especially the "liberal media elite," are always talking about how drugs are bad. Without the magic of drugs, we would never have the 18 minute phenomenon that is this Charlie Sheen interview:

http://www.tmz.com/2011/02/24/charlie-sheen-two-and-a-half-men-chuck-lorre-argument-radio-talk-show-tirade-turd-thomas-jefferson/

Without cocaine, we would have never gotten the uber-accurate definition of San Francisco Giants closer Brian Wilson as "a Vatican Assassin."

"It's his job to embarrass people. Not just beat them, but embarrass them in the process. And he's as radical as you think he might be."

Preach the truth, brother. This dude is enlightened. He also screamed "Thomas Jefferson was a pussy!" I can't speak to that, but at least Charlie Sheen is offering a different point of view. Tea Party candidate, anyone?

And don't forget, without drugs, we wouldn't have the Libya uprising. That's a direct quote from their leader of 42 years.

Mental note: create a sitcom starring Charlie Sheen and Gaddafi. Instant smash hit.

See? Without drugs, I'd never have thought of that!

Hey, I Tried

It's Thursday, 9:15 AM. Due to a series of unfortunate events, I'm giving up on today and going back to bed.

I take medication for high cholesterol. The other day, when I went to the pharmacy to get my prescription filled, I was told they were unable to do it and that I had to call my insurance. My insurance provider told me I had to get it filled by mail, and to have my doctor fax them the prescription. My doctor said I had to come in to get my blood tested again. I made an appointment for today at 9:45 AM.

Unrelated to this, BMW sent me an email saying I was due for a service. I took my car in on Tuesday, where I was told my car in fact did not need a service; the email was some sort of inexplicable mistake. But there were in fact four recalls (!!!) they needed to do on my car, so they could do those and have it back to me in the morning.

Well, yesterday evening, when I still hadn't heard back about my car, I called BMW and was told my car had "failed programming," and would hopefully be ready first thing this morning. As you can guess, I have not received a call, so I still have no car, and thus cannot go to the doctor. Appointment cancelled.

I just opened my front door to discover that not one but both of my newspapers (the LA Times and Wall Street Journal) have been either not delivered or stolen. The coincidence of the former is highly unlikely; the fittingness of the latter is not.

G'night.

Illiterate = Irresponsible

Today was the end of an era. Well, not an era, really. Whatever the opposite of an era is. An episode? A blip? Today was the end of a relatively brief, less-than-meaningful span of time.

It began on a Saturday last June, when I spent all day inside the public library at Exposition Park in a seminar on tutoring illiterate adults, and ended today, in that very same library, when my student, Marvin, failed to show up for our bi-weekly session. In between were numerous canceled appointments (on both our parts, to be fair), many frustrating hours of sitting in rush hour traffic, some fleeting moments of satisfaction derived from helping a man slightly improve his reading and writing skills, and one delicious KFC chicken sandwich.

I liked Marvin. He was affable, enthusiastic, and black (that was a nice perk, as I don't know a ton of black people). A family man, he often spoke of his multiple children from multiple baby mamas. In retrospect, this may have contributed to his downfall, as recently he had been canceling several appointments to appear in court for custody hearings.

Nevertheless, he was the best student out of the three I had been assigned since volunteering for the program, mostly because he was an English-speaking American. That's more than I can say for the young Korean girl and Guatemalan businessman who tried to suckle from my literary teet.

But alas, my pride is just too damn big to let me keep waiting around government funded book warehouses waiting for lovable African-Americans who aren't coming. So I went back to my car, called Marvin up, accepted his sincere apology for forgetting our standing appointment we've had for the last 8 months, and suggested that we suspend the tutoring until he had his life a little more sorted out.

(That means "never," Marvin, in case you happen to be...oh, right.)

Farewell, Marvin. I truly hope that someday, somehow, you learn how James and the Giant Peach ends.

Then Again, I'm the One Watching Him

I just watched an episode of "My Strange Addiction" that featured a guy who likes to eat glass and bullets. The doctor he went to see was incredulous, telling him this is extremely dangerous, potentially fatal, and tells him he should stop right away. The guy isn't really convinced, and at the end of the show it said that he had "only eaten one champagne glass" since then.

This is why everyone should have to have health insurance. I can't be responsible for jamokes like this.

Rapelisberger

Hey Steelers fans: when you're watching the game tomorrow at your Super Bowl party, have fun explaining to the women there that you're rooting for a rapist to become a legend.

After Ben Roethlisberger coerced a girl into a Georgia bar bathroom and had non-consensual sex with her, police said there wasn't enough evidence to bring sexual assault charges against him. But that didn't stop NFL commissioner Roger Goodell from suspending him for 6 games (later reduced to 4) based on this incident, and oh yeah, because he was accused of raping another girl a couple years back.

The most telling thing is that Big Ben didn't even try to fight the suspension. He just apologized for his "actions" and vowed to become a better person. I don't know about you, but if I didn't rape a girl, and my employer was suspending me without pay for raping a girl, I'd probably put up more of a fight. You know, say something like "I am SO not a raper!" a la John C. Reilly.

So here we are, at the Super Bowl, and Roethlisberger has the opportunity to win his third championship. Or, if you're counting, that's one more ring than raping. I'm rooting for the totals to stay even. I'm guessing that 20-year-old girl in Georgia is as well.

What Happens in Vegas...

...gets blogged about right here.

Without naming any names (or initials), I would be remiss to not publicly chastise one of my cohorts from a bachelor party last weekend in Las Vegas. Saturday morning, the ten or so of us gathered in the lobby of our hotel to go out to brunch at the Wynn buffet. I looked down, and noticed that my friend was wearing these:

Horrified, I asked him if he was trying to be funny. He responded, quite sincerely, that he didn't know what I was talking about. When I pressed him and asked him why he was wearing these things, he became indignant and defensive, insisting that they were very comfortable. He couldn't understand why I was making an issue of it. He accused me of being an asshole. Tensions mounted.

Look, I'll explain this to you, as I did to him: I wasn't trying to be an asshole. I just firmly believe there is a certain standard of appropriate clothing to be worn in polite society, and these glove-shoes are significantly below it. They're barely acceptable out hiking on a remote mountain in the Himalayas; they most definitely should not be worn in a restaurant, in a city, surrounded by other humans.

The fact that they may be comfortable does not pass muster with me. My bathrobe is comfortable, but that doesn't mean I wear it out on the town. Only one man can do that, and his name is Hugh Hefner. If you're in your eighties and have six hot blondes holding you upright, you can wear whatever you want.

Except for these things.