Welcome to Wednesday's edition of PLEASE STOP WRITING.
As always, we start with today's crap from The Eye Patch.
June 25th came and went and I'll bet no more than a dozen Iowans and probably less than two dozen people in all of America, for that matter, know the significance of that date.
According to Proclamation 5672 — filed with the Office of the Federal Register, 4:13 p.m., June 25, 1987 — it's National Catfish Day, as proclaimed by former president Ronald Reagan.
The proclamation states, in part: In recognition of the value of farm–raised catfish, the Congress, by House Joint Resolution 178, has designated June 25, 1987, as National Catfish Day, and authorized and requested the president to issue a proclamation in its observance.
"Now, therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, president of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim June 25, 1987, as National Catfish Day. I call upon the people of the United States to observe this day with appropriate ceremonies and activities."
Unfortunately, as with too many things political, this proclamation is incomplete and somewhat misleading. You will note that this proclamation was made in recognition of the value of farm–raised catfish. There are a great many different species in the catfish family, some no bigger than your little finger, others of such huge size you couldn't fit them in your bathtub. Of all these, the only one that is farm–raised is the channel catfish, and it should have been stated so in the proclamation.
The channel catfish should also have been designated the official state fish of Iowa years ago.
GEORGE L. MARZECK Sr.
West Burlington
Mr. Marzeck Sr., I'm mildly unhappy that you wrote and wasted my time with this. I'm even unhappier that you reproduced. I'm sure Reagan and his staff spent hours, maybe even days discussing which catfish to praise and which to ignore. Perhaps he even had the Presidential bathtub filled with catfish to check their size.
And of course, you're right, our legislators should take time away from piddly topics from education, health care and the environment, and get to work on naming Iowa's OFFICIAL FUCKING FISH.
Let's stick with the Eye Patch for letter 2:
Kudos to Phillip W. Hillman on his opinion of the recent pay raise of our city manager. I couldn't agree more that this seems to be unnecessary and overindulgent. The City Council cited its decision for giving him this pay raise — it doesn't want to lose him. Like there's no one else qualified to be in this position? Wake up citizens of Burlington. You've been led around by your noses too long. Open your eyes and your mouths. It's time.
KATHY R. CALDWELL
Burlington
Y'know, she's absolutely right. Anyone who wants to make more than $6600 a year is just greedy. So as Ms. Caldwell says, "open your eyes and your mouths." And look at the fact that your mayor would still be below the poverty line if you doubled his salary. Then say something about political greed.
Here's a quick one for #3:
Worldwide there are some 6,700 languages and 39,000 dialects spoken, yet English is used as the language of international diplomacy, business and air-traffic control. This use of a common language promotes understanding, efficiency and safety.
It is simply impractical to provide government services and documents in the 162 languages spoken in the United States. We should conduct official business in a common language and private business in our language of choice.
-Tim Ehrich,
Corydon.
6700 languages? Really? And to find 39,000 dialects, you'd have to count three different kinds of Minnesotan. I don't need the people at the local police station to speak Ojibwe, but can one person in the office speak simple Spanish? Is that really that much to ask?
This has been KL Snow.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Tuesday's edition of PLEASE STOP WRITING is brought to you by the letter C, for CRAZY, the letter I, for IRRELEVANT, and the letter S, for STUPID.
First, the crazy one, which of course comes from The Hawk Eye:
Remember Sunday's post, when Charles Young of Phoenix, Arizona, was informed of his great potential? Well, I sense a great potential in him too. A great potential to write utter crap. Favorite lines are in bold, as always.
Kudos to George L. Marzeck Sr. for his excellent letter, "Seeking Answers", July 2. He certainly speaks for me, and far more eloquently than I.
I would add a comment. Congress is made up of gutless cowards who march goose steps behind George W. Bush. They will never have the courage to impeach Bush. But half of them will be running for re–election next year. What we must do is get out the vote to remove the cowards from office and replace them with people who have the courage to stand up to Bush and his administration of street thugs. I have great admiration for Howard Dean because he stands up to George W. Bush. The Republicans hate Dean ... why? Because he tells the truth and the Republicans hate the truth. The truth uncovers all their lies.
Kudos, too, to Dick Distelhorst for his fine letter, "Please Explain", June 28. There is nothing I could add to his letter. He said it all!.
Dennis Caulfield's letter July 3, "Burning Question" left me quite perturbed over his apparent belief that 'might makes right', therefore it is quite permissible to assault anyone who disagrees with him. The difference between burning the flag and setting someone on fire is that burning the flag is a form of free speech, while setting someone on fire is an act of bodily assault and is a crime.
I wonder if Mr. Caulfield would feel the same way if someone would take a baseball bat to his head to see if they could pound some logic into his head. The flag is nothing but a piece of cloth. What it symbolizes is something that is in the heart of every American and cannot be burned away. The flag is not a holy icon.
I might remind Mr. Caulfield that according to the rules that govern the disposal of the flag, one of the methods that are approved is to 'burn the flag'. So if the amendment to ban flag burning went into effect, if one should dispose of a flag by burning it, then that person would be breaking the law that bans burning the flag. Sounds like Catch–22 to me. I would advise Mr. Caulfield to be wary of anyone speaking softly and carrying a big baseball bat.
CHARLES W. YOUNG
Phoenix, Ariz.
Wow. Flatly, wow. First of all, Charles, you win the award for "repeat offender sending letters the greatest distance," a remarkable 1647 miles.
Now, let's address your actual content. You wrote a letter, and mailed it almost 2000 miles, just so you could praise three letter writers, and add some insanity to their viewpoints?
Oh no, wait, you did something else too. You threatened to attack a letter writer with a baseball bat. This is the kind of crap the Hawk Eye publishes every day.
But we're not done with The Hawk Eye. Actually, let's call it the Eye Patch, cause reading it just makes me want to cover my eyes.
Here's the irrelevant. You may remember Mr. Caulfield from the letter above.
Steamboat Days. Budweiser and/or Miller Lite. We do seem to have a dilemma of monumental perpetuity.
I don't know how many parties you've been to, but usually the old school rule of thumb is with keg beer it doesn't make any difference if after a few beers whether Clorox or Sani–Flush is stamped on the keg. As long as it is free, cold and wet, the party is on.
And also, don't hand me that worn–out myth about judging the whopper of a hangover by the brand of beer you drank, along with that undercooked brat. You simply had a six–pack too many. Steamboat Days is not a beer–tasting contest. It's a party. Even though the beer is not free, two out of three ain't bad.
DENNIS CAULFIELD
Burlington
Mr. Young, you may not need your baseball bat after all. Just some Clorox to put in Mr. Caulfield's keg. Apparently he had a few before writing this as well, just check out his grammar. "but usually the old school rule of thumb is with keg beer it doesn't make any difference if after a few beers whether Clorox or Sani–Flush is stamped on the keg" might be the most grammatically incorrect sentence ever to appear in a newspaper.
Finally, the stupid one, from a first time offender, the Sioux City Journal.
I am concerned about the upcoming vote regarding renewing the school tax.
I recall that when this tax was initially proposed, about seven years ago, there was a statement made by the school board that there would be no more than 10 years needed to bring our school buildings up to snuff.
Now, what happened to that? I understand some changes needed to be made, i.e. closing Hoover instead of making renovations, and some other changes. My question is, what is going on regarding selling the site Hoover sits on, the site East Middle used to sit on, and the site West Middle used to sit on? And why are we putting an addition on West Middle? It doesn't take rocket science to determine how big a school needs to be.
I think we need to know how much those new schools cost, what is going on with marketing the old real estate and, fineally, how much longer are we going to have this penny tax?
Wouldn't it be great to vote OURSELVES an extra $6 to $8 million a year?
Brian H. Smith
Sioux City
Ok, first of all, Mr. Smith, if you really want to know what your school costs, you can find out in about 30 seconds by using Google. If you're too lazy to do that, go here. Furthermore, you say yourself, the project was supposed to take 10 years. SEVEN years later, you're whining. You probably spend more on porn than you'd save by getting back that penny tax. And if you were going to spend it on education, I'd vote you $6 to $8 million too.
I haven't seen a Mr. Smith this dumb since Brad Pitt.
This has been KL Snow.
First, the crazy one, which of course comes from The Hawk Eye:
Remember Sunday's post, when Charles Young of Phoenix, Arizona, was informed of his great potential? Well, I sense a great potential in him too. A great potential to write utter crap. Favorite lines are in bold, as always.
Kudos to George L. Marzeck Sr. for his excellent letter, "Seeking Answers", July 2. He certainly speaks for me, and far more eloquently than I.
I would add a comment. Congress is made up of gutless cowards who march goose steps behind George W. Bush. They will never have the courage to impeach Bush. But half of them will be running for re–election next year. What we must do is get out the vote to remove the cowards from office and replace them with people who have the courage to stand up to Bush and his administration of street thugs. I have great admiration for Howard Dean because he stands up to George W. Bush. The Republicans hate Dean ... why? Because he tells the truth and the Republicans hate the truth. The truth uncovers all their lies.
Kudos, too, to Dick Distelhorst for his fine letter, "Please Explain", June 28. There is nothing I could add to his letter. He said it all!.
Dennis Caulfield's letter July 3, "Burning Question" left me quite perturbed over his apparent belief that 'might makes right', therefore it is quite permissible to assault anyone who disagrees with him. The difference between burning the flag and setting someone on fire is that burning the flag is a form of free speech, while setting someone on fire is an act of bodily assault and is a crime.
I wonder if Mr. Caulfield would feel the same way if someone would take a baseball bat to his head to see if they could pound some logic into his head. The flag is nothing but a piece of cloth. What it symbolizes is something that is in the heart of every American and cannot be burned away. The flag is not a holy icon.
I might remind Mr. Caulfield that according to the rules that govern the disposal of the flag, one of the methods that are approved is to 'burn the flag'. So if the amendment to ban flag burning went into effect, if one should dispose of a flag by burning it, then that person would be breaking the law that bans burning the flag. Sounds like Catch–22 to me. I would advise Mr. Caulfield to be wary of anyone speaking softly and carrying a big baseball bat.
CHARLES W. YOUNG
Phoenix, Ariz.
Wow. Flatly, wow. First of all, Charles, you win the award for "repeat offender sending letters the greatest distance," a remarkable 1647 miles.
Now, let's address your actual content. You wrote a letter, and mailed it almost 2000 miles, just so you could praise three letter writers, and add some insanity to their viewpoints?
Oh no, wait, you did something else too. You threatened to attack a letter writer with a baseball bat. This is the kind of crap the Hawk Eye publishes every day.
But we're not done with The Hawk Eye. Actually, let's call it the Eye Patch, cause reading it just makes me want to cover my eyes.
Here's the irrelevant. You may remember Mr. Caulfield from the letter above.
Steamboat Days. Budweiser and/or Miller Lite. We do seem to have a dilemma of monumental perpetuity.
I don't know how many parties you've been to, but usually the old school rule of thumb is with keg beer it doesn't make any difference if after a few beers whether Clorox or Sani–Flush is stamped on the keg. As long as it is free, cold and wet, the party is on.
And also, don't hand me that worn–out myth about judging the whopper of a hangover by the brand of beer you drank, along with that undercooked brat. You simply had a six–pack too many. Steamboat Days is not a beer–tasting contest. It's a party. Even though the beer is not free, two out of three ain't bad.
DENNIS CAULFIELD
Burlington
Mr. Young, you may not need your baseball bat after all. Just some Clorox to put in Mr. Caulfield's keg. Apparently he had a few before writing this as well, just check out his grammar. "but usually the old school rule of thumb is with keg beer it doesn't make any difference if after a few beers whether Clorox or Sani–Flush is stamped on the keg" might be the most grammatically incorrect sentence ever to appear in a newspaper.
Finally, the stupid one, from a first time offender, the Sioux City Journal.
I am concerned about the upcoming vote regarding renewing the school tax.
I recall that when this tax was initially proposed, about seven years ago, there was a statement made by the school board that there would be no more than 10 years needed to bring our school buildings up to snuff.
Now, what happened to that? I understand some changes needed to be made, i.e. closing Hoover instead of making renovations, and some other changes. My question is, what is going on regarding selling the site Hoover sits on, the site East Middle used to sit on, and the site West Middle used to sit on? And why are we putting an addition on West Middle? It doesn't take rocket science to determine how big a school needs to be.
I think we need to know how much those new schools cost, what is going on with marketing the old real estate and, fineally, how much longer are we going to have this penny tax?
Wouldn't it be great to vote OURSELVES an extra $6 to $8 million a year?
Brian H. Smith
Sioux City
Ok, first of all, Mr. Smith, if you really want to know what your school costs, you can find out in about 30 seconds by using Google. If you're too lazy to do that, go here. Furthermore, you say yourself, the project was supposed to take 10 years. SEVEN years later, you're whining. You probably spend more on porn than you'd save by getting back that penny tax. And if you were going to spend it on education, I'd vote you $6 to $8 million too.
I haven't seen a Mr. Smith this dumb since Brad Pitt.
This has been KL Snow.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Monday's edition of PLEASE STOP WRITING:
Our first letter comes from, where else? The Hawk Eye It isn't long enough to warrant any bolding of favorites.
After scanning the column by Mike Sweet on June 30, I just have one question: Does Mike have any formal education — I mean, beyond the third grade?
DALE BOREX
Burlington
Thank you, Dale Borex of Burlington, for sending us a letter with a two-line personal attack, no evidence to back it up, and a very thin reference to ANY TOPIC AT ALL.
Here's one from the Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier:
Do you like it if someone talks about you behind your back? I don't. It surprises me how many people do it. It needs to stop now. Everyone has the right to know what is being said about them. If you talk about someone behind their back they might be mad. It also makes them look bad. Also they might not want something released. They might not want other people to know something like a new job, or change of address. You have to respect that. Please do not talk about other people without their permission. Please let people talk for themselves, and do not talk about people.
It irritates me to see people who can make their own decisions but others will not allow them to. I have heard someone tell someone that they cannot drink Kool-aid because they have outgrown it, but that person has not outgrown it. I have heard people tell someone they cannot go on vacation because they do not have an invitation, but no invite is needed; liquid laundry soap is better than powder; this is better than that. Do not tell someone how to live their life. Everyone has the right to live their life the way they want to, even if someone is disabled. Just because someone is disabled does not mean they can't decide what's best for themselves.
SARA JOHNSON
Waterloo
People talking behind the backs of others is inevitably a new development, and now that Sara's addressed it, I'm sure the turnaround is in sight.
But you're never too old for Kool Aid.
Only two today: Good work Iowa.
This has been KL Snow.
Our first letter comes from, where else? The Hawk Eye It isn't long enough to warrant any bolding of favorites.
After scanning the column by Mike Sweet on June 30, I just have one question: Does Mike have any formal education — I mean, beyond the third grade?
DALE BOREX
Burlington
Thank you, Dale Borex of Burlington, for sending us a letter with a two-line personal attack, no evidence to back it up, and a very thin reference to ANY TOPIC AT ALL.
Here's one from the Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier:
Do you like it if someone talks about you behind your back? I don't. It surprises me how many people do it. It needs to stop now. Everyone has the right to know what is being said about them. If you talk about someone behind their back they might be mad. It also makes them look bad. Also they might not want something released. They might not want other people to know something like a new job, or change of address. You have to respect that. Please do not talk about other people without their permission. Please let people talk for themselves, and do not talk about people.
It irritates me to see people who can make their own decisions but others will not allow them to. I have heard someone tell someone that they cannot drink Kool-aid because they have outgrown it, but that person has not outgrown it. I have heard people tell someone they cannot go on vacation because they do not have an invitation, but no invite is needed; liquid laundry soap is better than powder; this is better than that. Do not tell someone how to live their life. Everyone has the right to live their life the way they want to, even if someone is disabled. Just because someone is disabled does not mean they can't decide what's best for themselves.
SARA JOHNSON
Waterloo
People talking behind the backs of others is inevitably a new development, and now that Sara's addressed it, I'm sure the turnaround is in sight.
But you're never too old for Kool Aid.
Only two today: Good work Iowa.
This has been KL Snow.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Here's a new blog feature, I think I'm going to call it PLEASE STOP WRITING. For those of you who don't know, one of the things I do everyday is look over the letters to the editor in several papers. Why I do that is irrelevant. What I find is sometimes maddening.
Three examples from today. The first is from the Burlington Hawk Eye, far and away Iowa's single greatest source of crackpottery. My favorite lines are in bold.
In re: to Mr. Young, Phoenix, Ariz., June 29 — your alleged disbelief in God and your reading of the Bible is a paradox.
If you don't believe in God, why fight against Him? Wouldn't that be referred to as sparring with a myth or, as St. Paul says, "fighting as one beating the air." Would you use the dictionary but deny the well–known lexicographer Noah Webster as the author?
Your disbelief in God does not diminish Him in any capacity, it only diminishes you.
The real truth is, God believes in you, Fact. He loves you, He thought you were worth dying for.
Saul of Tarsus also didn't "believe" while on his way to round up all Christians to kill them. He was knocked from his horse, a bright light surrounded him, he heard a voice saying, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"
Please note Saul's response, "Who art thou Lord?" Saul became Paul, the greatest disciple for God.
Perhaps God has His eyes on you, Charles. I feel a greatness in you that even you don't realize is there.
Working for God? The pay isn't much but the retirement plan is out of this world! And I wouldn't miss that for the world!
JOSIE WOLFE
West Burlington
Let's make one thing perfectly clear. There are lots of perfectly acceptable places for this debate to happen. None of them happen to be the Hawk Eye. It's a NEWSpaper. It's supposed to publish NEWS, and sometimes opinions on the NEWS. It is not the place for your theological debates, your belittling of the views of others, or Dennis Caulfield's bi-weekly letters to the editor concerning the boring nature of Star Wars and the need to start a Straight Pride parade.
And that line about "feeling a greatness in you that even you don't realize is there," is more than a little creepy.
Next letter, and surprise! It's also from The Hawk Eye:
Richard Distelhorst is certainly correct. It is now time we impeach Bush.
Our so–called brilliant government impeached President Nixon for some piddly thing. Nixon had great relations with countries including China.
What Bush is doing now is a million times worse. As we all know there were no weapons of mass destruction found in Iraq. Saddam Hussein had nothing to do with 9/11. Bin Laden was totally responsible, and still after four years we still haven't found him. He might be playing High Hold 'Em in Las Vegas.
SPENCER GARTH LARSON
Burlington
First of all, Spencer Garth, (S.G.?) when liberals like me start backing away from you, that means you're WAY on the left wing. Our so-called government? What else would we call them if we didn't call them that? Some piddly thing?
Reasons for going to war are a touchy subject, and I don't ever plan on arguing them here. I'd rather talk about the bigger problem: That some dumbass named Spencer Garth felt the need to proclaim himself an expert on the matter.
Lastly, I'm pretty sure if Bin Laden was playing Texas Hold 'Em in Vegas, Bravo would've asked him to be on Celebrity Poker Showdown.
This last one comes from the Iowa City Press Citizen:
On June 24, Tom Cruise finally crossed the line. In a Today Show television interview, he declared: "There is no such thing as a chemical imbalance." In an Entertainment Weekly interview, he also compared psychiatry to Nazism.
Along with the American Psychiatric Association and National Mental Health Association, NAMI condemned Cruise's remarks in a formal statement released to the news media. He is entitled to his personal point of view but not false facts -- particularly when they perpetuate stigma around the nature of mental illness and treatment. I am disgusted with Cruise. What possible good is it to shame someone for having a mental illness?
Mental illnesses involve biological brain disorders, no matter what Cruise says. Medication and proper therapy often make a difference between life and death.
It is irresponsible for Paramount Studios and Cruise to use a movie publicity tour to promote an ideological view that deters people with mental illness from getting the care they need -- and adds to stigma.
Paramount Studio should help undo the damage by supporting legitimate mental health organizations and public awareness campaigns around mental illnesses.
I wonder how many more suicide attempts will be made because of Cruise's thoughtless comments.
Linda Hug
Coralville
Ok, admittedly, this one isn't as bad as the other two, but any letter that starts with "On June 24, Tom Cruise finally crossed the line" has got to draw mention here.
Tom Cruise is on a career suicide mission at this point. Much like Mel Gibson shortly after the Passion or Brad Pitt after any public moment, the general public is well on their way to discovering that there is ABSOLUTELY NO intelligence required to being a leading man in Hollywood, and that the ultimate truth is more likely to come from a bowl of Alpha Bits than from Tom Cruise.
If you're committing suicide or denying yourself the mental care you need because Tom Cruise doesn't believe you have a problem, then maybe your problem is irrational choice of authority figures.
I tend to think my problems are caused by stupid people who write letters.
This has been KL Snow.
Three examples from today. The first is from the Burlington Hawk Eye, far and away Iowa's single greatest source of crackpottery. My favorite lines are in bold.
In re: to Mr. Young, Phoenix, Ariz., June 29 — your alleged disbelief in God and your reading of the Bible is a paradox.
If you don't believe in God, why fight against Him? Wouldn't that be referred to as sparring with a myth or, as St. Paul says, "fighting as one beating the air." Would you use the dictionary but deny the well–known lexicographer Noah Webster as the author?
Your disbelief in God does not diminish Him in any capacity, it only diminishes you.
The real truth is, God believes in you, Fact. He loves you, He thought you were worth dying for.
Saul of Tarsus also didn't "believe" while on his way to round up all Christians to kill them. He was knocked from his horse, a bright light surrounded him, he heard a voice saying, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"
Please note Saul's response, "Who art thou Lord?" Saul became Paul, the greatest disciple for God.
Perhaps God has His eyes on you, Charles. I feel a greatness in you that even you don't realize is there.
Working for God? The pay isn't much but the retirement plan is out of this world! And I wouldn't miss that for the world!
JOSIE WOLFE
West Burlington
Let's make one thing perfectly clear. There are lots of perfectly acceptable places for this debate to happen. None of them happen to be the Hawk Eye. It's a NEWSpaper. It's supposed to publish NEWS, and sometimes opinions on the NEWS. It is not the place for your theological debates, your belittling of the views of others, or Dennis Caulfield's bi-weekly letters to the editor concerning the boring nature of Star Wars and the need to start a Straight Pride parade.
And that line about "feeling a greatness in you that even you don't realize is there," is more than a little creepy.
Next letter, and surprise! It's also from The Hawk Eye:
Richard Distelhorst is certainly correct. It is now time we impeach Bush.
Our so–called brilliant government impeached President Nixon for some piddly thing. Nixon had great relations with countries including China.
What Bush is doing now is a million times worse. As we all know there were no weapons of mass destruction found in Iraq. Saddam Hussein had nothing to do with 9/11. Bin Laden was totally responsible, and still after four years we still haven't found him. He might be playing High Hold 'Em in Las Vegas.
SPENCER GARTH LARSON
Burlington
First of all, Spencer Garth, (S.G.?) when liberals like me start backing away from you, that means you're WAY on the left wing. Our so-called government? What else would we call them if we didn't call them that? Some piddly thing?
Reasons for going to war are a touchy subject, and I don't ever plan on arguing them here. I'd rather talk about the bigger problem: That some dumbass named Spencer Garth felt the need to proclaim himself an expert on the matter.
Lastly, I'm pretty sure if Bin Laden was playing Texas Hold 'Em in Vegas, Bravo would've asked him to be on Celebrity Poker Showdown.
This last one comes from the Iowa City Press Citizen:
On June 24, Tom Cruise finally crossed the line. In a Today Show television interview, he declared: "There is no such thing as a chemical imbalance." In an Entertainment Weekly interview, he also compared psychiatry to Nazism.
Along with the American Psychiatric Association and National Mental Health Association, NAMI condemned Cruise's remarks in a formal statement released to the news media. He is entitled to his personal point of view but not false facts -- particularly when they perpetuate stigma around the nature of mental illness and treatment. I am disgusted with Cruise. What possible good is it to shame someone for having a mental illness?
Mental illnesses involve biological brain disorders, no matter what Cruise says. Medication and proper therapy often make a difference between life and death.
It is irresponsible for Paramount Studios and Cruise to use a movie publicity tour to promote an ideological view that deters people with mental illness from getting the care they need -- and adds to stigma.
Paramount Studio should help undo the damage by supporting legitimate mental health organizations and public awareness campaigns around mental illnesses.
I wonder how many more suicide attempts will be made because of Cruise's thoughtless comments.
Linda Hug
Coralville
Ok, admittedly, this one isn't as bad as the other two, but any letter that starts with "On June 24, Tom Cruise finally crossed the line" has got to draw mention here.
Tom Cruise is on a career suicide mission at this point. Much like Mel Gibson shortly after the Passion or Brad Pitt after any public moment, the general public is well on their way to discovering that there is ABSOLUTELY NO intelligence required to being a leading man in Hollywood, and that the ultimate truth is more likely to come from a bowl of Alpha Bits than from Tom Cruise.
If you're committing suicide or denying yourself the mental care you need because Tom Cruise doesn't believe you have a problem, then maybe your problem is irrational choice of authority figures.
I tend to think my problems are caused by stupid people who write letters.
This has been KL Snow.
Friday, July 01, 2005
A funny exchange from this evening, which ties in with this post:
Kati: and i still have all the dried out roses
TheEvilKL: dried out roses are creepy.
Kati: i love them
TheEvilKL: When I buy a girl roses, it's because I want her to enjoy their beauty, not because I want her to slowly watch them die and then display the corpse.
Where else in life is this acceptable? In absolutely no other situation is it acceptable to give something that's dying as a gift. If I give you a fish, I'm really supposed to give you a fishbowl, or at least something with water in it, like a hollowed out skull. Flowers? Nope. I'm supposed to give you flowers with a vase or something, something to keep them from tipping over as they slowly but surely begin the process of rotting. It's the plant version of giving someone a recently removed finger.
And now, an all new one act play by KL Snow!
KL usually disc golfs in the morning with friends, but after hard days at work he'll go do it by himself, just to clear his head. Today, he got to the first hole. ASSHOLE was there, just standing around.
KL walks up to the first tee.
ASSHOLE: Excuse me, I was here first.
KL: I'm sorry, I thought you were waiting for someone.
ASSHOLE walks up to the tee, pulls a disc out of his disc golf purse, and throws. Then he stands there at stares at the disc for a long time.
ASSHOLE pulls a second disc out of his disc golf purse, winds up, and throws again, landing the second disc about two feet away from the first disc.
KL is getting restless.
ASSHOLE pulls yet another disc out of his fucking disc golf purse, winds and throws. The throw goes wide and skips across the road.
KL tries and fails to supress a chuckle.
ASSHOLE glares.
ASSHOLE pulls a FOURTH driver out of his fucking goddamn disc golf purse (which is on wheels for days when he's too fucking lazy to carry it), winds, and throws it over a tall chain link fence. He pulls out the handle on his pansy-ass purse, wheels it to the fence and tries to climb over a couple of times and fails, before he finally gets a foothold, vaults over the fence and lands on his ass on the other side.
In the meantime, KL plays through.
Moral of the story: One mulligan is allowed. Playing four discs at a time means I'll laugh if you suck.
This has been KL Snow.
Kati: and i still have all the dried out roses
TheEvilKL: dried out roses are creepy.
Kati: i love them
TheEvilKL: When I buy a girl roses, it's because I want her to enjoy their beauty, not because I want her to slowly watch them die and then display the corpse.
Where else in life is this acceptable? In absolutely no other situation is it acceptable to give something that's dying as a gift. If I give you a fish, I'm really supposed to give you a fishbowl, or at least something with water in it, like a hollowed out skull. Flowers? Nope. I'm supposed to give you flowers with a vase or something, something to keep them from tipping over as they slowly but surely begin the process of rotting. It's the plant version of giving someone a recently removed finger.
And now, an all new one act play by KL Snow!
KL usually disc golfs in the morning with friends, but after hard days at work he'll go do it by himself, just to clear his head. Today, he got to the first hole. ASSHOLE was there, just standing around.
KL walks up to the first tee.
ASSHOLE: Excuse me, I was here first.
KL: I'm sorry, I thought you were waiting for someone.
ASSHOLE walks up to the tee, pulls a disc out of his disc golf purse, and throws. Then he stands there at stares at the disc for a long time.
ASSHOLE pulls a second disc out of his disc golf purse, winds up, and throws again, landing the second disc about two feet away from the first disc.
KL is getting restless.
ASSHOLE pulls yet another disc out of his fucking disc golf purse, winds and throws. The throw goes wide and skips across the road.
KL tries and fails to supress a chuckle.
ASSHOLE glares.
ASSHOLE pulls a FOURTH driver out of his fucking goddamn disc golf purse (which is on wheels for days when he's too fucking lazy to carry it), winds, and throws it over a tall chain link fence. He pulls out the handle on his pansy-ass purse, wheels it to the fence and tries to climb over a couple of times and fails, before he finally gets a foothold, vaults over the fence and lands on his ass on the other side.
In the meantime, KL plays through.
Moral of the story: One mulligan is allowed. Playing four discs at a time means I'll laugh if you suck.
This has been KL Snow.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
A Stupidity Timeline
by KL Snow
Wednesday, early afternoon: KL is struggling through the afternoon of the third consecutive "canvass all morning, office all afternoon" weekday. These days aren't that bad when I have something to do to prevent boredom from killing me in the afternoon. On this particular day, I'm helping Leonard search for a dead possum in our air ducts. Everyone knows someone like Leonard. Leonard is harsh, abrasive, knows everything, verbally abuses everyone, and is only kept alive because sometimes you need someone to get a dead possum out of your air ducts. Actually, most people probably never need a dead possum removed from their airducts. So why do we leave the Leonards of the world alive? The jury is out.
Wednesday, mid afternoon: KL gets an e-mail from, of all people, his former pirate crew. The e-mail is to inform him of an upcoming pirate "wedding," between two former crewmates. KL knows the girl well, and knows the guy a little bit. He has forgotten, however, how dedicated full-time pirates are to their game and the attached life.
Wednesday, late afternoon: KL leaves work and comes home, and decides to re-subscribe and play some pirates, if for no other reason than to talk to the girl he used to know. KL gets immediately sucked into the politics of the game again.
Wednesday, 11 pm: KL hasn't left his computer since late afternoon. He calls it a night. He's expressed his interest in talking to the bride a couple of times, and assumes someone will let her know at some point.
Thursday morning: KL is given the morning off from canvassing, and plays Pirates for 4 more hours. Still no bride. Rumors had been started that KL had come back to "interfere" with the wedding. KL assures the groom that his intentions are not nearly that malicious.
Thursday afternoon: Work.
Thursday evening: KL goes out to a bar to meet a political group, has too much to drink.
Late Thursday evening: KL comes home drunk, turns on Pirates and is confronted by his former captain, asking why he wants to talk to the bride. The former captain appears jealous, angry, and all in all grumpy. Few words are exchanged, and being mildly tipsy, KL leaves her to judge him by herself.
Friday afternoon: Work.
Friday evening: KL goes online briefly and in confronted with a fabricated "chat log" produced by his former captain, detailing his intentions to ruin the wedding, steal the bride, and use her as his second girlfriend. Less than 3 full days after returning, KL is forced to leave his crew. He joins a new crew, sails for a little while, then turns the game off, and uninstalls it.
Today, I can't help but feel like that whole process, from Wednesday to last night, was just tremendously stupid. I've got considerably bigger fish to fry.
I'd like to hope "stupidity concludes."
This has been KL Snow.
by KL Snow
Wednesday, early afternoon: KL is struggling through the afternoon of the third consecutive "canvass all morning, office all afternoon" weekday. These days aren't that bad when I have something to do to prevent boredom from killing me in the afternoon. On this particular day, I'm helping Leonard search for a dead possum in our air ducts. Everyone knows someone like Leonard. Leonard is harsh, abrasive, knows everything, verbally abuses everyone, and is only kept alive because sometimes you need someone to get a dead possum out of your air ducts. Actually, most people probably never need a dead possum removed from their airducts. So why do we leave the Leonards of the world alive? The jury is out.
Wednesday, mid afternoon: KL gets an e-mail from, of all people, his former pirate crew. The e-mail is to inform him of an upcoming pirate "wedding," between two former crewmates. KL knows the girl well, and knows the guy a little bit. He has forgotten, however, how dedicated full-time pirates are to their game and the attached life.
Wednesday, late afternoon: KL leaves work and comes home, and decides to re-subscribe and play some pirates, if for no other reason than to talk to the girl he used to know. KL gets immediately sucked into the politics of the game again.
Wednesday, 11 pm: KL hasn't left his computer since late afternoon. He calls it a night. He's expressed his interest in talking to the bride a couple of times, and assumes someone will let her know at some point.
Thursday morning: KL is given the morning off from canvassing, and plays Pirates for 4 more hours. Still no bride. Rumors had been started that KL had come back to "interfere" with the wedding. KL assures the groom that his intentions are not nearly that malicious.
Thursday afternoon: Work.
Thursday evening: KL goes out to a bar to meet a political group, has too much to drink.
Late Thursday evening: KL comes home drunk, turns on Pirates and is confronted by his former captain, asking why he wants to talk to the bride. The former captain appears jealous, angry, and all in all grumpy. Few words are exchanged, and being mildly tipsy, KL leaves her to judge him by herself.
Friday afternoon: Work.
Friday evening: KL goes online briefly and in confronted with a fabricated "chat log" produced by his former captain, detailing his intentions to ruin the wedding, steal the bride, and use her as his second girlfriend. Less than 3 full days after returning, KL is forced to leave his crew. He joins a new crew, sails for a little while, then turns the game off, and uninstalls it.
Today, I can't help but feel like that whole process, from Wednesday to last night, was just tremendously stupid. I've got considerably bigger fish to fry.
I'd like to hope "stupidity concludes."
This has been KL Snow.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Ok, it's time for another rant about a crappily made video game. Ready?
I signed up to beta test Ultimate Baseball Online a long time ago. The idea was simple: A massive online multiplayer baseball game where you take one player of approximately low skill level, play games, level him up and get him to the big leagues. I like that concept.
Apparently the project has died and been restarted several times, most recently under the tutelage of ESPN, who is now offering the game, in another "beta test" phase, for free. I was excited. I downloaded. I drank the kool aid.
I installed the game this afternoon while listening to the Brewer game. Then, in the middle of the Brewer game, it locked up my computer. I've considered killing for less.
So I waited until late tonight, when nothing else was distracting me, to try it again. I was still excited, until I actually started playing. Here's what I found.
Step 1: The graphics blow. Imagine if, all of a sudden, instead of connecting to your bones, your muscles connected to some point infinitely distant in the sky. Imagine how hard it would be to see the world around you if everyone's muscles did that.
Step 2: My "fully customizable player" was, in fact, 1% customizable. I named him. I told the game he's a pitcher. The game then assigned him lots of non-adjustable skill levels, decided what pitches he throws (12 of them, in fact), and, of course, the game still decided to make him completely impossible to view, graphically, since his "stretched to infinite" muscles hid all notable physical features.
Step 3: I decided to try a game. The lineups were also non-adjustable, so as a pitcher, I would've been due up first, that's right, a leadoff hitting pitcher. Maybe they were impressed by my muscles. It would've been impossible to not hit me with a pitch.
First, though, I had to pitch through the top of the first. The following sequence occured.
GAMEOVER steps to the plate.
KLSnow throws a strike over the inside corner.
The catcher throws the ball back, but KLSnow can't see it and blows the catch 3 straight times. KLSnow's defense grows restless.
KLSnow throws a strike over the outside corner.
GAMEOVER: "Dood, throw it over the middle."
KLSnow thinks that's poor advice.
KLSnow throws GAMEOVER a slider that looks like a fastball over the middle, but breaks away. Strike 3.
GAMEOVER: "Fine, I'm gonna pitch hard to you too."
KLSnow thought that's how baseball is played.
KLSnow blows a couple more relay throws.
The next hitter steps up. KLSnow throws him a fastball over the middle. The hitter hacks and misses.
KLSnow blows the relay throw, and tries to find the button to talk to his teammates to explain his problem seeing the ball.
After trying lots of combinations of buttons to talk to his teammates, KLSnow hits escape, and sees "Are you sure you want to quit?"
KLSnow has never been more sure of anything in his life.
In 5 minutes I had a poor experience with the game's graphics, it's non-customizable nature, its gameplay, and of course the kind of people who would play a massively multiplayer online baseball game. I'm glad I didn't pay for this. Immediately after quitting, I uninstalled it. The only thing that makes this experience better than Donkey Konga is the fact that no money changed hands.
This has been KL Snow.
I signed up to beta test Ultimate Baseball Online a long time ago. The idea was simple: A massive online multiplayer baseball game where you take one player of approximately low skill level, play games, level him up and get him to the big leagues. I like that concept.
Apparently the project has died and been restarted several times, most recently under the tutelage of ESPN, who is now offering the game, in another "beta test" phase, for free. I was excited. I downloaded. I drank the kool aid.
I installed the game this afternoon while listening to the Brewer game. Then, in the middle of the Brewer game, it locked up my computer. I've considered killing for less.
So I waited until late tonight, when nothing else was distracting me, to try it again. I was still excited, until I actually started playing. Here's what I found.
Step 1: The graphics blow. Imagine if, all of a sudden, instead of connecting to your bones, your muscles connected to some point infinitely distant in the sky. Imagine how hard it would be to see the world around you if everyone's muscles did that.
Step 2: My "fully customizable player" was, in fact, 1% customizable. I named him. I told the game he's a pitcher. The game then assigned him lots of non-adjustable skill levels, decided what pitches he throws (12 of them, in fact), and, of course, the game still decided to make him completely impossible to view, graphically, since his "stretched to infinite" muscles hid all notable physical features.
Step 3: I decided to try a game. The lineups were also non-adjustable, so as a pitcher, I would've been due up first, that's right, a leadoff hitting pitcher. Maybe they were impressed by my muscles. It would've been impossible to not hit me with a pitch.
First, though, I had to pitch through the top of the first. The following sequence occured.
GAMEOVER steps to the plate.
KLSnow throws a strike over the inside corner.
The catcher throws the ball back, but KLSnow can't see it and blows the catch 3 straight times. KLSnow's defense grows restless.
KLSnow throws a strike over the outside corner.
GAMEOVER: "Dood, throw it over the middle."
KLSnow thinks that's poor advice.
KLSnow throws GAMEOVER a slider that looks like a fastball over the middle, but breaks away. Strike 3.
GAMEOVER: "Fine, I'm gonna pitch hard to you too."
KLSnow thought that's how baseball is played.
KLSnow blows a couple more relay throws.
The next hitter steps up. KLSnow throws him a fastball over the middle. The hitter hacks and misses.
KLSnow blows the relay throw, and tries to find the button to talk to his teammates to explain his problem seeing the ball.
After trying lots of combinations of buttons to talk to his teammates, KLSnow hits escape, and sees "Are you sure you want to quit?"
KLSnow has never been more sure of anything in his life.
In 5 minutes I had a poor experience with the game's graphics, it's non-customizable nature, its gameplay, and of course the kind of people who would play a massively multiplayer online baseball game. I'm glad I didn't pay for this. Immediately after quitting, I uninstalled it. The only thing that makes this experience better than Donkey Konga is the fact that no money changed hands.
This has been KL Snow.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Ok, pre-warning: I'm angry.
Y'know why I stay in politics?
Cause people like this need to be stopped at any cost.
Y'know why I stay in politics?
Cause people like this need to be stopped at any cost.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Ok, another All New One Act Play by KL Snow!
This one is titled "Not the Best Way to Handle This Situation, Volume 2"
Situation: KL is at the Media Center, has been for 2 1/2 hours, and has only heard footsteps in the hallway one time. In the meantime, the Braves and Phillies are tied 0-0, in the bottom of the ninth inning. Three attempts to watch the game online via different means have failed. The following events ensue.
KL checks the score one last time, finds it is now the top of the 10th.
KL shuts down the computer, locks the doors, and leaves.
KL attempts to call Ryan for some interim play-by-play, no luck.
KL reaches in his pocket, finds the keys and puts them in the mailbox.
KL walks the full length of FAC, and down a flight of stairs.
While walking, KL talks to himself, wondering who else he can call for play by play. KL turns a corner and nearly runs over a frightened looking girl.
KL reaches in his pocket for his car keys, finds the media center keys.
KL returns to the mailbox, retrieves his car keys, replaces media center keys.
KL walks the full length of FAC again.
KL drives home, and finds the Braves scored while he was gone.
KL curses loudly.
Phillies scored 2 in the bottom of the 10th to win it 2-1, at least I got to see that.
This has been KL Snow.
This one is titled "Not the Best Way to Handle This Situation, Volume 2"
Situation: KL is at the Media Center, has been for 2 1/2 hours, and has only heard footsteps in the hallway one time. In the meantime, the Braves and Phillies are tied 0-0, in the bottom of the ninth inning. Three attempts to watch the game online via different means have failed. The following events ensue.
KL checks the score one last time, finds it is now the top of the 10th.
KL shuts down the computer, locks the doors, and leaves.
KL attempts to call Ryan for some interim play-by-play, no luck.
KL reaches in his pocket, finds the keys and puts them in the mailbox.
KL walks the full length of FAC, and down a flight of stairs.
While walking, KL talks to himself, wondering who else he can call for play by play. KL turns a corner and nearly runs over a frightened looking girl.
KL reaches in his pocket for his car keys, finds the media center keys.
KL returns to the mailbox, retrieves his car keys, replaces media center keys.
KL walks the full length of FAC again.
KL drives home, and finds the Braves scored while he was gone.
KL curses loudly.
Phillies scored 2 in the bottom of the 10th to win it 2-1, at least I got to see that.
This has been KL Snow.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Ok, two thoughts for today, the first one will probably be funnier, because it's
An all new one act play by KL Snow!
Let's call this one "Not the Best Way To Handle This Problem."
KL and LAURA are at Sec Taylor Stadium (they call it Principal Park now, but I could care less) watching an I-Cubs game, and are a fair distance from the field, KL is keeping score with one hand and has the other arm around LAURA. CUBBIE is the I-Cubs mascot. He comes up the stairs and sits down on the other side of LAURA.
CUBBIE puts his arm around LAURA, in the process knocking KL's arm off of LAURA's shoulder.
KL tries his best to ignore the situation.
CUBBIE reaches out and waves his hand in front of KL to draw his attention, then motions for KL to move away from LAURA.
KL again tries to ignore it.
CUBBIE does it again. KL has seen enough.
KL (without looking away from the game): I can hurt you in ways you can only imagine, asshole.
KL discovers the older couple on his left is CUBBIE's aunt and uncle.
Ok, all of that is true except for what I said to CUBBIE. In reality, there was just a brief glare involved. Some things I've since considered as things I should've said:
a) "I can hurt you in ways you can only imagine, asshole."
b) "You can have her, she's a pain to cook for and clean up after."
c) "So what're your intentions with my sister?"
I don't like mascots much. I'm a bald guy (cue the mascot's attempt to shine my head), I'm usually watching the game pretty intently (cue mascot trying to distract me) and I go to a lot of games (cue massive quantity of opportunities to mess with me). The mascot at Cedar Rapids knows better. I'd like to throw Cubbie down the stairs.
SIDE NOTE: After the game, during the fireworks, the guy who was inside Cubbie came up to sit with his aunt and uncle. He came in from the other side, so I didn't notice him at first, but I heard his aunt ask "isn't it hot in that costume?" He was significantly creepy. I pointed out to Laura that she was flirting with that guy before. Good times.
And now...page two.
I can tell it's getting late in the semester, and if you're wondering how I know, it's because I'm starting to worry about my grades. This semester it's an especially big deal, as I'm taking 17 credits, and to graduate in a month I need...17 credits. In hindsight, I wish I had tried a little harder to pass Marketing, which would've left me 14 credits short, and left some margin for error, but shit happens and now I'm wondering how I'm going to make this semester's miracle happen in these last few weeks.
While I don't really honestly know the ultimate answer to this problem, but I can tell you one part of it: Don't let your parents know there's a problem. Offer no hint of concern. To explain why, here's a little mini one act play, a fictional phone conversation with my dad:
DAD: So how's the Earth moving?
KL: Pretty good, all told. There's only a slight, insignificant chance that the sun may not rise tomorrow morning.
DAD: A CHANCE?
KL sets the phone down, then goes to his desk across the room and waits until his father screams himself hoarse before returning to the phone.
You see, I worry about things. I lose sleep over things. My father worries too. But he tends to believe he can fix the world by screaming. I tend to believe he'll bring about the end of the world with his screaming. It's a definite difference in philosophy.
But anyway, to keep him from worrying, I'm going to imply the Gold Star Technique. Remember in kindergarten, when you did a good job and got a gold star? Starting tomorrow, college works the same way. Need to hide a letter grade? Gold star. Need to hide a letter grade and a score? Make that two gold stars, and add a quote like "Now that's some good work." And if you fail the class anyway, you've got this line to fall back on:
"Well, I studied really hard, but I only got a green star on the final."
This has been KL Snow.
An all new one act play by KL Snow!
Let's call this one "Not the Best Way To Handle This Problem."
KL and LAURA are at Sec Taylor Stadium (they call it Principal Park now, but I could care less) watching an I-Cubs game, and are a fair distance from the field, KL is keeping score with one hand and has the other arm around LAURA. CUBBIE is the I-Cubs mascot. He comes up the stairs and sits down on the other side of LAURA.
CUBBIE puts his arm around LAURA, in the process knocking KL's arm off of LAURA's shoulder.
KL tries his best to ignore the situation.
CUBBIE reaches out and waves his hand in front of KL to draw his attention, then motions for KL to move away from LAURA.
KL again tries to ignore it.
CUBBIE does it again. KL has seen enough.
KL (without looking away from the game): I can hurt you in ways you can only imagine, asshole.
KL discovers the older couple on his left is CUBBIE's aunt and uncle.
Ok, all of that is true except for what I said to CUBBIE. In reality, there was just a brief glare involved. Some things I've since considered as things I should've said:
a) "I can hurt you in ways you can only imagine, asshole."
b) "You can have her, she's a pain to cook for and clean up after."
c) "So what're your intentions with my sister?"
I don't like mascots much. I'm a bald guy (cue the mascot's attempt to shine my head), I'm usually watching the game pretty intently (cue mascot trying to distract me) and I go to a lot of games (cue massive quantity of opportunities to mess with me). The mascot at Cedar Rapids knows better. I'd like to throw Cubbie down the stairs.
SIDE NOTE: After the game, during the fireworks, the guy who was inside Cubbie came up to sit with his aunt and uncle. He came in from the other side, so I didn't notice him at first, but I heard his aunt ask "isn't it hot in that costume?" He was significantly creepy. I pointed out to Laura that she was flirting with that guy before. Good times.
And now...page two.
I can tell it's getting late in the semester, and if you're wondering how I know, it's because I'm starting to worry about my grades. This semester it's an especially big deal, as I'm taking 17 credits, and to graduate in a month I need...17 credits. In hindsight, I wish I had tried a little harder to pass Marketing, which would've left me 14 credits short, and left some margin for error, but shit happens and now I'm wondering how I'm going to make this semester's miracle happen in these last few weeks.
While I don't really honestly know the ultimate answer to this problem, but I can tell you one part of it: Don't let your parents know there's a problem. Offer no hint of concern. To explain why, here's a little mini one act play, a fictional phone conversation with my dad:
DAD: So how's the Earth moving?
KL: Pretty good, all told. There's only a slight, insignificant chance that the sun may not rise tomorrow morning.
DAD: A CHANCE?
KL sets the phone down, then goes to his desk across the room and waits until his father screams himself hoarse before returning to the phone.
You see, I worry about things. I lose sleep over things. My father worries too. But he tends to believe he can fix the world by screaming. I tend to believe he'll bring about the end of the world with his screaming. It's a definite difference in philosophy.
But anyway, to keep him from worrying, I'm going to imply the Gold Star Technique. Remember in kindergarten, when you did a good job and got a gold star? Starting tomorrow, college works the same way. Need to hide a letter grade? Gold star. Need to hide a letter grade and a score? Make that two gold stars, and add a quote like "Now that's some good work." And if you fail the class anyway, you've got this line to fall back on:
"Well, I studied really hard, but I only got a green star on the final."
This has been KL Snow.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Welcome to Insomniac Theater, I'm your Insomniac, KL Snow.
Tonight, I can't sleep, but with limited problems of my own to solve, I stepped into the problem of another, one Ryan. Ryan is in a bind. He has a speech to give at 8 am on family traditions. I know his family, half of it is my family too. So I wrote him a speech on our family's biggest tradition: drunkenness. The text of the speech follows:
From coast to coast, yes, all the way from Green Bay to Superior, families like mine exist. They get together on holidays and anniversaries, sometimes they get together just to celebrate the fact that they're all still together. And they all have one thing in common: the need for social lubricant.
Under normal conditions, hearing the same stories, laughing at the same jokes, and eating the same food would grow tiresome. And if it didn't, the genuine uneducated, grating nature of members of our own families would cause us to go mad and attempt murder with plastic silverware. Thankfully, to alleviate the problem, my family gatherings are stacked to the fucking gills with alcohol.
A family gettogether without a keg or a case is like a horse without an ass. Twelve ounce servings of tolerance turn a potentially hazardous situation into something you'll only remember parts of in the morning. And while the sober people will tell you the family gatherings are really about "togetherness and family unity," drinking with 3 generations of family around really means you'll never have to drive yourself home.
So crack open a beer and raise it now in toast to the saving grace of the family gettogether, alcohol. Just don't drink it all, you'll need alcohol again the next time they're coming over.
It'll probably fall short of the three minutes he needs to fill. But I think it's good work, given the circumstances.
This has been KL Snow.
Tonight, I can't sleep, but with limited problems of my own to solve, I stepped into the problem of another, one Ryan. Ryan is in a bind. He has a speech to give at 8 am on family traditions. I know his family, half of it is my family too. So I wrote him a speech on our family's biggest tradition: drunkenness. The text of the speech follows:
From coast to coast, yes, all the way from Green Bay to Superior, families like mine exist. They get together on holidays and anniversaries, sometimes they get together just to celebrate the fact that they're all still together. And they all have one thing in common: the need for social lubricant.
Under normal conditions, hearing the same stories, laughing at the same jokes, and eating the same food would grow tiresome. And if it didn't, the genuine uneducated, grating nature of members of our own families would cause us to go mad and attempt murder with plastic silverware. Thankfully, to alleviate the problem, my family gatherings are stacked to the fucking gills with alcohol.
A family gettogether without a keg or a case is like a horse without an ass. Twelve ounce servings of tolerance turn a potentially hazardous situation into something you'll only remember parts of in the morning. And while the sober people will tell you the family gatherings are really about "togetherness and family unity," drinking with 3 generations of family around really means you'll never have to drive yourself home.
So crack open a beer and raise it now in toast to the saving grace of the family gettogether, alcohol. Just don't drink it all, you'll need alcohol again the next time they're coming over.
It'll probably fall short of the three minutes he needs to fill. But I think it's good work, given the circumstances.
This has been KL Snow.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
I need a new idol.
I came to this realization years ago, but it really came to a head over the weekend. You see, my idol for years has been Mick Foley. Whether he was the badass Cactus Jack, the crazy Mankind, the somewhat out of place Dude Love, or later the goofy Commissioner Foley, I ate it up. He was funny, he was tough, he was what I wanted to be, both as a wrestler, a best selling author, and a person. He was just an all around cool dude.
Then he retired. And un-retired. And retired. And un-retired. The problem is, wrestlers never un-retire to make another championship run. They un-retire because they were offered a bunch of money to get thrown down a flight of stairs by someone who wouldn't have been qualified to wrestle in the same building with them years earlier. They un-retire to make a quick buck by screwing over the reputation they spent years building.
Mick Foley has hit that point, run over it and kept going. Saturday night I got a phone call from Laura. Here's the quick version:
LAURA: There's a car show in Green Bay next weekend, you know who's going to be there?
KL: Who?
LAURA: Mick Foley. Wanna go see him?
KL: I really wish he'd stop showing up every time someone offers him 5 bucks.
I'd have driven to Green Bay 5 years ago to see him. Now, I think I'd cry if I saw him doing this. My idol has gone from being my hero to using his quasi-celebrity status to work the car show circuit. And I need a new idol. Any suggestions?
This has been KL Snow.
I came to this realization years ago, but it really came to a head over the weekend. You see, my idol for years has been Mick Foley. Whether he was the badass Cactus Jack, the crazy Mankind, the somewhat out of place Dude Love, or later the goofy Commissioner Foley, I ate it up. He was funny, he was tough, he was what I wanted to be, both as a wrestler, a best selling author, and a person. He was just an all around cool dude.
Then he retired. And un-retired. And retired. And un-retired. The problem is, wrestlers never un-retire to make another championship run. They un-retire because they were offered a bunch of money to get thrown down a flight of stairs by someone who wouldn't have been qualified to wrestle in the same building with them years earlier. They un-retire to make a quick buck by screwing over the reputation they spent years building.
Mick Foley has hit that point, run over it and kept going. Saturday night I got a phone call from Laura. Here's the quick version:
LAURA: There's a car show in Green Bay next weekend, you know who's going to be there?
KL: Who?
LAURA: Mick Foley. Wanna go see him?
KL: I really wish he'd stop showing up every time someone offers him 5 bucks.
I'd have driven to Green Bay 5 years ago to see him. Now, I think I'd cry if I saw him doing this. My idol has gone from being my hero to using his quasi-celebrity status to work the car show circuit. And I need a new idol. Any suggestions?
This has been KL Snow.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Here's a One Act Play that's going to eat at my brain for a while:
KL and Laura are in the apartment, KL is preparing to make dinner, and goes over to Laura's desk to see what she's doing. She's discussing my desire to not have children with an ex boyfriend. The following statement ensues:
LAURA: I still think that if I just stopped taking the pill, and a little while later there was a baby, you'd like it.
That's gonna haunt me for a while.
This has been KL Snow.
KL and Laura are in the apartment, KL is preparing to make dinner, and goes over to Laura's desk to see what she's doing. She's discussing my desire to not have children with an ex boyfriend. The following statement ensues:
LAURA: I still think that if I just stopped taking the pill, and a little while later there was a baby, you'd like it.
That's gonna haunt me for a while.
This has been KL Snow.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Ok, news flash.
The world around me, and unless you're from somewhere else, the world around you, is STUPID.
Back to back cases in point.
I was home tonight and I was bored. So bored I decided to go into the gym to work out on what would normally be an off day for me. I should've recognized this as a bad omen.
I got to the gym and got on the elliptical machine, which normally beats the crap out of me for about 40 minutes, before I go let weights beat the crap out of me some more. Normally I listen to a CD during this time. Tonight my CD was skipping. I should've recognized this as a bad omen.
But instead, I changed the channel on my headphones and started listening to CNN. Yes, that's right, CNN, a primary source of news and informed debate in our country. Sometimes. But not tonight. Tonight, there was a debate taking place. A debate between a congressman and a housewife. The topic, you ask? Start times of movies. Yes, that's right. The housewife was angry and thought a law should be made forcing theaters to start movies at their advertised time, with no previews. This woman apparently has nothing more important in her life than this matter.
I got off the machine. There was no way I could have stayed on the machine and not hurt myself while listening to this debate. Stupidity on this level throws me into rage of Lewis Black proportions. So I went to the locker room, changed clothes, got in my car, and did what I always do when I see something stupid: I called Ryan. Ryan is either the person who always gives me a sympathy laugh whether I'm funny or not or the person with the sense of humor most similar to mine, I'm not sure which. Anyway, I vented at Ryan, Ryan laughed, and I was starting to feel better when I got home. Until I checked my e-mail and found this, from Ticketmaster.
"Don't miss Aaron Carter." Yes, Ticketmaster, which has sold me exactly one ticket in my life, sent me an e-mail to let me know that Aaron Carter will be performing in West Des Moines, on Friday the 22nd of April. Aaron Carter is the musical equivalent of having a live grenade shoved up your ass. Thank you Ticketmaster, and thank you CNN, two prominent entities in a world around me which is inherently STUPID.
This has been KL Snow.
The world around me, and unless you're from somewhere else, the world around you, is STUPID.
Back to back cases in point.
I was home tonight and I was bored. So bored I decided to go into the gym to work out on what would normally be an off day for me. I should've recognized this as a bad omen.
I got to the gym and got on the elliptical machine, which normally beats the crap out of me for about 40 minutes, before I go let weights beat the crap out of me some more. Normally I listen to a CD during this time. Tonight my CD was skipping. I should've recognized this as a bad omen.
But instead, I changed the channel on my headphones and started listening to CNN. Yes, that's right, CNN, a primary source of news and informed debate in our country. Sometimes. But not tonight. Tonight, there was a debate taking place. A debate between a congressman and a housewife. The topic, you ask? Start times of movies. Yes, that's right. The housewife was angry and thought a law should be made forcing theaters to start movies at their advertised time, with no previews. This woman apparently has nothing more important in her life than this matter.
I got off the machine. There was no way I could have stayed on the machine and not hurt myself while listening to this debate. Stupidity on this level throws me into rage of Lewis Black proportions. So I went to the locker room, changed clothes, got in my car, and did what I always do when I see something stupid: I called Ryan. Ryan is either the person who always gives me a sympathy laugh whether I'm funny or not or the person with the sense of humor most similar to mine, I'm not sure which. Anyway, I vented at Ryan, Ryan laughed, and I was starting to feel better when I got home. Until I checked my e-mail and found this, from Ticketmaster.
"Don't miss Aaron Carter." Yes, Ticketmaster, which has sold me exactly one ticket in my life, sent me an e-mail to let me know that Aaron Carter will be performing in West Des Moines, on Friday the 22nd of April. Aaron Carter is the musical equivalent of having a live grenade shoved up your ass. Thank you Ticketmaster, and thank you CNN, two prominent entities in a world around me which is inherently STUPID.
This has been KL Snow.
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