Best. Campaign. Ever.

Here's another thing that I hate: people in blogs who don't write for a long time and then come back and say, "Oh, I'm sorry I have been away so long! Here's what I did..." That's not what this blog is about, and if you were expecting that, then I'm not sure you'd enjoy this blog anyway. Go read some camwhore's Amazon wishlist. Just assume I was doing pretty much what you were doing, except four or five times more awesome. Yeah. It was that good.

I try to avoid politics here, because I write about that other places and I know that not all four of you like politics. But the next few months are going to be amazing. We just finished the Olympics, where we were beaten in the golds by the evil Chinese, Democratic Convention was this week, Republican is next week, college football opens this weekend (I will be in Atlanta watching Clemson crush the Crimson Tide, by the way, look for me -- you'll know me when you see me), and McCain announced his running mate today. And it's a girl! (I think my little brother has a crush on her.) This makes this race exciting again, and maybe even more accessible to people who care more about Dancing With the Stars. (I'm guessing, I don't watch that show. Although I do think it would fun if Missouri settles their electoral votes by a dance-off. Maine should do a lobster-off. There need to be more competitions ending in -off in my life.)

Joe Biden is a fun pick too, because he's like your crazy old uncle who has opinions on everything and doesn't give a damn about who is listening. I love that in a politician. And an uncle. But most of the excitement on Democrats came when Obama joined this shindig, and that's yesterday's news now. Like bologna. That's right, I don't eat bologna anymore.

I'm pretty sure I've said this here before, but election season is like my World Cup. It comes around every four years, most of the country is really bored when it happens, and I like to wear a cape made from the flag of my favorite team while watching. I can't really intelligently make a soccer analogy, because I don't understand how the game works, but imagine if an extremely exciting game became boring (tough, I know) and then suddenly became the most exciting game ever played. That's what I'm looking at right now. No matter what happens, history will be made, like if a baby led the Lions to a Super Bowl. Can you imagine? The Lions in the Super Bowl?

Name three things

I have gone back on three things that I toyed with before this week, and finally made the plunge. I am not opposed to trying new things, in fact, I rather like doing that. You know the first time I ate cake? I don't remember it, since I was probably like two, but I bet that was pretty freaking awesome. Just think on how much cake I would have missed out on if I didn't have that kind of courage back then. I'm a pretty big fan of cake.

I am also a pretty big fan of milk, as well. Especially with cake. I have been pretty loyal to whole milk for as long as I can remember. It is creamy and delicious. However, I no longer have the metabolism of a jungle cat or a meth addict because I sit in an office for the better part of 9 hours a day. I scaled it back to 2%, and it's still pretty delicious. But it isn't creamy and delicious. It's a little bit watery by comparison, but it still has some of that wonderful, life-giving fat in it. Twice as much as 1%. I won't even begin to discuss skim; it is an abomination.

One of my Christmas gifts was a watch. It's Swiss and fancy, so I imagine it's good. If there are four Swiss things that I trust, they are these: Swiss banks, Swiss chocolate, Swiss Misses, and Swiss watches. I also like Swiss cake rolls, but I'm skeptical that they actually come from Switzerland. I haven't worn a watch in ages (probably since the days of Shark watches -- man, they were so cool), so this has taken some getting used to. We also had a big discussion about which wrist the watch goes one between me and my also left-handed mom. We decided even though she wears it on the right hand, she's doing it wrong.

I also decided it's time to go back to the fusion. My old razor that was three razors was leaving me wanting, and the cartridges were getting hard to find. And I figure life's too short not to use an unnecessarily excessive number of razor blades to perform a morning task that I hate. I also am making pretty good money, so I can afford to spend an extra three dollars on my razor blades and have a face as smooth as a well shaven baby.

So are these steps forward or steps backward? Will I miss that Whole minus 2%? Will I be a changed man now that I always know what time it is? Will I be satisfied with 6 blades? Stay tuned for the next installment of... How Observant.

Invented by Terrorists: Pay Wi-Fi

I went to Starbucks this evening, because I have not yet discovered a local coffeeshop that does not require me to drive like 8 miles. I recognize that it is a Friday and I am doing a rather solitary activity, but it's the weekend before Thanksgiving and everyone I know is out of town. I mean that in the most literal sense possible; every single person I know is not in town right now.

But I went over to the Maw of the Beast and bought myself an ironically named tea -- Awake -- and opened up my laptop, connected to the wireless network and couldn't figure out why my AIM client wouldn't log in. The reason, it turns out, is that they make you pay for it now. I have just one question: What do I look like, a gullibull? Thumbs down, my friends, thumbs down.

Guess what else: it's really expensive. They wanted to charge me $10 for 24 hours of connection on their precious network. That's like half the cost of the service for the month. I'm already paying twice as much as I should for a mediocre Grande tea, (I know they've been doing this forever with their Italian and what not, but I never understood why the middle size is large) and you want me to shell out more money to use the internet? It's like they think they're a bar. Except people go to bars to get rejected by women. There were only high schoolers at this Starbucks and they didn't even have a hot bartender. Or barista. I forgot where I was in this analogy.

I heard on the news today that Starbucks is suffering from a decline in customers for the first time in like forver. That's what happens when you screw people. All those years of successfully trying to take over the world got to your head, didn't it Starbucks? Well look at you now. You'll be like that hot girl who never got into serious relationships because her life was going so well and her career was too good, but it all came crashing down when she couldn't keep up with expectations and got involved with coke and will die bitter and alone, with a face and body wrecked by all the hard livin'. You won't get any sympathy from me, Starbucks. Not this time.

You know he was Nightcrawler, too

The weather is turning cold again. This is terrible. I don't know what sort of brain defect causes people to form sentences like, "I'm so glad the weather is cooling off." I equate this to the same sorts of people who do crazy things like collect stamps or use "antique" as a verb. I know what you're thinking: "But it'll snow!" You know what? That sucks too. Snow is great in two places: on vacation and a post card. Otherwise, snow = terrible. It looks nice at first, then it gets gross and dirty and makes your socks wet. Go antiquing for stamps, jerk.

It also means that people start getting sick. The crazy changes in climate affect people in ways that lower their orange juice defenses. I don't pretend to understand it, I just know that it's flu season now based on the number of e-mails I get at work trying to convince me to get a flu shot. I'm not getting one, and here's why: I'm invincible.

I don't get sick anymore. I haven't gotten sick in a very long time, either. I think this is one of my beneficial super powers. I'm due a good one after getting shafted on not being able to sleep in and detecting ammonia. Not getting sick is pretty great, because you know how much it sucks when you have a cold? I don't, because I can't remember. I sneeze sometimes, but sneezing is pretty fun. I wish I could sneeze on command. But I'm not stuffy, I'm not drowsy and I don't have a sore throat. Mario's Starman has got nothing on me.

Wow, he's fat and he sucks (No, I'm not talking about Michael Moore)

I don't really like to talk about sports much, but I dislike Notre Dame just enough to pile on a little. This school decided that they should cut Ty Willingham loose after three years (the general rule of thumb for a college coach is four) and built Charlie Weis a giant treasure chest full of money and fried chicken, and it turns out that he's just not that good of a coach.

For those of you not so sports inclined, it would be like if a major movie studio that nobody likes, like Universal or Fox, decided in 1992 to invest a ten year contract in Kevin Costner. That's right after Robin Hood and Dances with Wolves, which made him gigantic, after he had a string of big movies with things like No Way Out, Field of Dreams and Bull Durham. At first it would look pretty good, because Tin Cup was fun, JFK was big and so was The Bodyguard. After that, though, people started noticing that he's not a terribly talented guy. He has a very Keanuish approach to line delivery (which reminds me -- I finally saw the third Matrix and it was awful. I would have rather watched a movie about a school full of monkeys competing in track and field) and is getting old, so you're not even going to get the women in their early thirties going to see movies he's in because he's in them. People in their early forties don't go out as much to the movies.

On top of being not talented, he started making movies like Waterworld and the Postman and 3000 Miles to Graceland. Not exactly the Untouchables, there Kevin. Then again, he had Sean Connery and Robert DeNiro in that movie with him, so it wouldn't be hard to pretend you can act a little around them.

So, Notre Dame is stuck with Charlie Weis and he just made Waterworld. Ty Willingham at least looks like he's improving, rather than claiming to be somebody who could outscheme anybody and literally being last in total offense. Kevin Costner wasn't that big of a bastard. His offense hasn't scored a touchdown yet. It's been three weeks! Is there anything funnier than laughing at arrogant people getting their comeuppance? I submit that there is not.

The radio is the window to the soul

Since I have very little patience for the foolish whimsy of today's youth's taste in music, I usually have a classic rock station on one of the presets in my radio. In each place that I have lived, there has been a go to song or a couple of songs that get way too much airplay. Any song by Styx would fit in here (yes, even Mr. Roboto -- Dennis DeYoung is a crazy person, by the way).

Back home in the VC, they played a lot of George Thorogood. He's a pretty tough rocker who made the Bo Diddley Beat famous to a whole new generation (Bo Diddley's Who Do You Love is way better, but of course, saying that the original blues song by a black guy is better than the white boy cover is like saying "I prefer the smell of cinnamon to that of flaming skunks"). He's also from Delaware, which just doesn't really jive with the image of Bad to the Bone, does it? Do they even have guitars in Delaware?

In the Haute, you could not get into the car and tune into 105.9 the River and not hear Jimi Hendrix's All Along the Watchtower. Oddly, Terre Haute had better taste in music than Daytona did, but as great as that song is, I don't want to hear it every time I get into the car. Clemson had an overabundance of the Eagles, but that thesis will be mentioned in a minute. Augusta seems to have a few issues: too much REO Speedwagon and a lot of Cocaine. Don't get me wrong, I love Slowhand, but one time I ate 15 peanut butter and chocolate chip Chips Ahoy cookies and never wanted to look at cookies ever again. REO Speedwagon has no redeeming qualities -- within the context of this analogy, REO Speedwagon would be trying to eat seven pounds of black jellybeans.

I have been convinced in my time in Clemson (and extrapolated to the other places I've been) that you can always find and Eagles song playing on the radio no matter where you are. At every location within the United States, if you have a functioning radio, you can hear either Take it Easy, Desperado, or Peaceful Easy Feeling. Guaranteed. I used to like the Eagles, now I don't care if I ever hear Hotel California again. I could go for some of those cookies, though.

Why can't one of these stations develop a weird obsession with somebody different? Like the Yardbirds or Spencer Davis Group or Johnny Horton? Sink the Bismarck! definitely does not get enough airplay.

Man, I wish I had an English accent

I bought a new cell phone this week. I passed on the iPhone, because I came out of my giddiness about a device that's very seductive that I don't actually need for $600. Also, I spent a pretty hefty chunk of dollars on my move, and I'd rather buy a lot of other things for $600. Like a stereo receiver, rent or oreos. Maybe a Playstation 3. Anyway, I got a lame Nokia flip phone (although I love the flip aspect of it) from AT&T. I say lame because it's functionality is limited to pretty much phone and camera, and I haven't used the camera for anything. I'm pretty sure Ansel Adams would have his thumb over the shutter with this thing. I think it's the 6085 for those of you keeping score at home.

I chose AT&T/Cingular for two reasons: my entire family uses it, so I can talk to them for free and for their commercials, which are not only the best cell phone commercials, but possibly the best commercials on tv right now. Having the best cell phone commercials is not a terribly impressive feat right now. I think that seeing how much of my whisk I can swallow would be competitive with the Alltel commercials for entertainment value, Verizon (it's the network) deserves no further mention, and T-Mobil doesn't use CZJ anymore. I don't remember what the other ones are, and I would be shocked to find that any of you actually want me to offer a synopsis of bothersome commercials. They suck, let's just leave it at that.

I think I need to clarify: it's the AT&T wireless broadband commercials that are great. It's not quite cellphones, but it's close enough in my book. That English (maybe not really English) guy "sneaking" up on the internet is such a wonderfully simple commercial. "Dug a hole! Didn't have to dig a hole, really. I did it to prove a point." It wouldn't work without the accent, and I don't care. I would watch a half hour of this guy. It's a shame, really, because I don't need that product. I might get it just to reward their ad people, though. "In hole! In a tree! In a bush! Would you like tea with that download? Yes, please. Thank you." Maybe I'm just a simple guy, but there needs to be more of this commercial. And less of that fratastic Chad from Alltel.

Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening

I am mostly writing right now to record the events I have seen this evening so that tomorrow when I read them I can be sure they actually happened. You see, tonight is a bit of a surreal time for me. I am in the laboratory running a computer program I wrote for a class on three computers because they take way too long (I think I wrote them poorly, but that's not the point. They work, and because they work, I am going to be done with grad school). I will likely be here for a few more hours, and I am starting to have those bleary visions when you've had your contacts in too long and it looks foggy indoors. Also, I have had a mug of tea and a bottle of Vault, which I think is bad news GI-tractwise. I think perhaps 20 oz. of that stuff is too much for mortal men to consume in one sitting.

Anyway, I've been sitting here a while, playing a lot of Zuma as I keep an eye on my computers. I am going to save that Aztec frog if it's the last thing I do as a Clemson student. I have also made a few trips to the restroom (tea and Vault will go through you) and I feel the need to mention one of my neuroses that I don't think has come up: when I enter a stall, I don't like to see or be seen by anyone. I don't really know why, but I feel the need to be undercover when I'm behind closed doors. It's like Clark Kent's glasses, except more convincing.

You might think that this goal would be easy to achieve at 12:30 at night on a college campus during the summer on a Wednesday (Thursday?). It was not. Foreign graduate students tend not to buy (split infinitive narrowly averted) internet access at their apartments, because it is expensive. So at this time of night, you can find a lot of folks who have eaten way more rice than you probably ever will. While I have been waiting, one of my lab mates got into a shouting match in Chinese (I only know two words in Chinese, and I didn't hear either of them) and while in the bathroom, my cover was blown. I'm less concerned now about the fact that my cover was blown, but more along the lines of how I was detected in the men's room.

As I exited to wash my hands, there stood a Chinese graduate student over the sink with his head bent down. I caught it with corner of my eye (failure number one) and figured he was just washing his hair or face. If you spend a lot of time in the lab, a quick whore's bath isn't such a bad idea. Especially with this heat, I could probably use one by now. When I exited to wash my hands, though, I saw in more detail (and he saw me -- failures two and three) and he wasn't doing either of those things. He was shaving his head with what looked like a Gillette Mach 3. I have never watched anyone shave their head before, so I didn't really think about the role that shaving cream would play. But this soon to be bald Asian man was covered in it.

If this were an actual dream, I would have no idea what it would mean. Perhaps a preoccupation with the Chinese, since there was a lot of yelling in Chinese (which, interestingly, due to the intonation system makes many sentences sound like they are not really over when they stop talking) and a Happy Gilmore dream sequence surreal image. Hopefully, this insanity won't continue for too long.

Invented by Terrorists: Mosquitoes

Wherever you go, people complain about the mosquitoes. The thing is, they're all wrong, except the Floridians and swamp people. The rest of you should simply smile and say, "Man, I'm glad the mosquitoes here don't organize." We have union mosquitoes down here, and they are angry at the other mosquitoes for taking their jobs.

The people in Indiana seemed to think that they had bug problems. They don't. When I was a freshman, local Hoosiers used to try to tell me with a straight face that you wanted to be careful near woods in the summer time. I did the polite thing and did not laugh in their faces. Think of it like this: somebody from Buffalo comes to see you, and you tell him that you're expecting a harsh winter with a lot of snowfall. The guy from Buffalo takes you at face value and gets his snow shovel and ski jacket ready. Eight inches of snow falls, and the locals are crying "Woe is me." The guy from Buffalo goes to the store in shorts, and is irate to find out that the stores are closed because of the snow.

That's how I feel about mosquitoes. As far as I'm concerned, the mosquito population in Indiana has been eradicated. Spending some time in South Carolina, I started thinking, "Maybe these guys can run with the big boys." Then I came home yesterday. It had been a long time since I had been down here in the summer (about a year, go figure) and I had simply forgotten. Granted, the Palmetto State looks like Biblical Plagues compared to the Midwest, but it's like go-karts versus the Daytona 500 down here.

Part of it is the rain. It tends to rain very heavily very quickly almost everyday in the summer. That is the same thing for mosquitoes as a bottle blond yelling out "I'm drunk!" at a frat party. The douchebags all come out. So, I hadn't even been out of the car in the Sunshine State for fifteen minutes before I was assaulted. If mosquitoes were tigers, I'd be dead by now. Hell, if the mosquitoes were angry kittens I'd be ripped to shreds. The next time you complain about bugs outside of Florida or a swamp, you better be getting infected with some sort of disease. Just ask yourself, Which Side are you on?

All your lint are trapped by us

I was doing a lot of laundry today, because if I didn't my next wardrobe choice would have to involve pillow cases in some way. That eventuality has been sidestepped, so now I will not be looking like a street urchin at church in the morning. I did make a few observations, though, as I was handling wet clothes. One was that clothes function much better when they're not wet. The invention of the dryer must mark a critical point in human evolution. The impact of having warm socks is enough to put this on like the level of drinking glasses. (I mentioned evolution and church in the same paragraph!)

I need to ask, though, is there anything quite as satisfying as rebalancing a washing machine that is way out of whack? I submit that there is not. Returning a washing machine into proper levels of whack must have been the equivalent of slaying a dragon to the 1950s housewife. Or finding a $5 bill on the way to a Braves baseball game. It's the small victories that excited the 1950s housewife. At least, that's what I'm assuming based on stereotypes and old television programs.

The thing, though, that raised (NOT BEGGED) the most questions was the lint trap. Were there dryers way back when that didn't have lint traps? What happened to the clothes dried in such a dryer? Did everyone walk around covered in lint? What did that look like? I hope it looked like this.

I see now, baseball is a metaphor for life. It's boring.

This is baseball season, unfortunately. We are in the wasteland of sports that is the summer, and although there are folks who are probably excited about tomorrow night's NBA playoff game, I'm sure it'll pass. I watched some of the NCAA baseball tournament today, and the vile Mississippi State Bulldogs ended the noble Clemson Tigers' quest for a national title this afternoon. But I finished following it on the radio. If you have read any of my work, you know I have rather strong opinions about the commercials. (I write this as if I expect somebody new to come across this page today.) I did see a Sonic commercial I did enjoy the other day, involving some uncertainty as to whether or not one of the characters knows how many letters there are in the standard Roman alphabet. (That's our alphabet, by the way.)

I was going to take this in the direction about how annoying commercials on the radio are, even more so than on television because you don't get the odd Geico or Sonic commercial that makes the whole free tv worthwhile. (Apparently, it costs like thirty bucks to get a commercial on the radio, because they make Alltel look preferable. [Actually, that's not true. Alltel is still much worse.]) I realized, though, as I was getting ready to write about the commercials on radio, that my life was pretty hollow right now. Like those delicious, delicious Easter bunnies.

I was also given a depressing description of the way life goes. I described my days as spending some time in the lab, coming home and talking to folks online afterwards while occasionally watching Law & Order. My mom basically said that's how life goes, except I'll have more money then. You know what? No dice. I don't want to be that guy who wears shirts and complaining about mortgage rates. I want to be the guy who wears shirts and talks about how I wish I were born in the 1820s so I could wear monocles and top hats. If my life were boring, then my blog were boring. Then I would be wasting your time, wouldn't I? I have an obligation to talk about the 1820s rather than mortgage rates, and it's a responsibility I don't take lightly.

Part of a complete breakfast

I used to be skeptical of cereal. I mean that in more recent times; before that I used to think that cereal could do no wrong. Cocoa Puffs, Lucky Charms, Froot Loops, you name it. If there would have been a civil suit between Sonny the Cocoa Puffs bird and some other non-cereal related cartoon character when I was 8, I probably would have sided with Sonny because he was involved with such a delicious cereal, even if part of the evidence provided by the other cartoon was a tape recording of "I'm cuckoo for tortious interference!" That is, assuming that's what the lawsuit was about and the other cartoon character was not a Ninja Turtle. I'm pretty sure they would have trumped everybody when I was 8.

That all changed, though, when I started buying my own food. Cereal is expensive, particularly the ones I mentioned. And if you have big bowls, they don't last for very long. It's also so easy to skip breakfast, so paying $5 a box for chocolate favored grains that are mostly air anyway is an easy excuse. It's a shame, really, because all we keep hearing about is how important breakfast is. I'm really a little surprised that the FDA or whoever else is responsible for PSAs hasn't tried this sort of ad campaign with Law & Order. That would reach a lot of people. The Saturday morning angle is nice, but that's only half the puzzle. The kids are key, yes, but half the time you tell an adult that you want something that has a childish name and they screw it up. Like, for example, my dad made reference to "MyTube" the other day. He meant Facebook. Adults need to be bombarded with terminology, and Law & Order is the way to do it. Dun dun.

But I've had a cereal renaissance lately. It started when I just got tired of not eating breakfast. I also found that Crispix, probably one of my Top 5 cereals is considerably cheaper than Lucky Charms, which is a natural top choice since I share a cultural heritage with that particular cereal. Crispix also seems like it's a good choice health-wise, since the it's ingredients are boring things like corn and rice and the sugar content isn't measured in pounds. Although at this point I don't really know exactly how to determine if a given food is all that good for you anymore, since one of my friends is a doctor and occasionally laughs at me for suggesting that something might be good for you. The reaction was akin to somebody suggesting to me that they did their own calculations for the buildings in their house by the statics formula F=ma^2. (Which is fundamentally false.)

At any rate, I'm going to keep eating Crispix as long as it's cheap enough to not offend my sensibilities. Also, Shrek is on the front of the box and he's almost as good as Sonny.

The most important question ever

The other day was my roommate's birthday, and his girlfriend made him a cake. I haven't had a piece yet, but I plan on having a piece of that tasty confection later this evening. With a big glass of milk and possibly some chocolate/vanilla ice cream. The presence of cake in my apartment, though, did raise a serious question that probably will never be solved: Cake or pie?

Now, both have their upsides. For example, cake -> frosting and pie -> crust. Cakes have all sorts of variations like from extremes like devil's food to angel food. It's really too bad that the Irish haven't provided us with their variant -- the banshee food -- but it would probably just be Guinness poured over soda bread. That doesn't really sound all that great, actually. Pies also come in all shapes and sizes, but are typically dominated by fruit, which is probably for the best.

Here is a list of the three best pies, in order: key lime, pecan, and apple. All others are inferior. I know somebody's going to say "You are committing a sin leaving out pumpkin!" I did it on purpose, because I think it is unnatural to make a pie out of a squash. Is there a zucchini pie? There's a zucchini bread, and there's a pumpkin bread, too. No summer squash pie, either. Mostly, though, I don't like pumpkin pies. And if you take a bite out of a pumpkin pie and a key lime pie and you prefer the pumpkin, honestly, you can keep your pie opinions to yourself. Graham cracker crust + key lime pie = scrumtralescent.

Cake, though, also has some pretty nice qualities. When it's fluffy and moist, it's pretty good. Also, a glass of milk complements the taste of cake so much, that's definitely a plus. Milk is so good that anything that makes it better is pretty good in my book. Most pies don't have that quality. The frosting is really the linchpin of the whole thing. I have to say that if the frosting is good, the cake probably wins. However, if the frosting is weak, the whole thing falls apart. It's like a really good defensive baseball team with crappy pitching, which I guess is the New York Yankees. The pitching is so critical that it doesn't work out right without it. That's the answer to the question.

The last line only works if you know I'm a boy.

I started this post when I saw a commercial with Elvis Costello in it. In fact, this is as far as I got before I saw a way better commercial: I just saw a commercial with Elvis Costello sitting in a Lexus. I like a few Elvis Costello songs, I don't think I know what they mean, but I like a few of them anyway. He seems like an interesting fellow.

The commercial was for Good Morning America, and Dina McGreevey is going to appear on it in an interview. If you don't remember, she was the wife of that governor from New Jersey who publicly announced that he was gay and having an affair with a man, but wouldn't resign just yet. He eventually did, but well, that's not the important part. The important part is that his wife is on Good Morning America.

I know what you're asking yourself. It's going to be some variation, "In this day and age, where homosexuals are making such progress entering the mainstream, would I give a damn what this woman has to say?" The answer, of course, is because she wants you to buy her book. Now I haven't read it, but I'm pretty sure the ending is that her husband is gay.

The best part of the commercial, though, was the voice over narration, you know the one -- it makes things like "kitten caught in tree, firemen narrowly escape injury" sound like the Doolittle Raid. In this particular case, though, the intense voice over was, "Could your husband be gay?" Honestly, I don't know how that could be funnier. Because, if you think about it, it's really kind of a trap question for have the population already. "Do your parents know you're a pedophile?" Well, gee, I don't know, I don't think so? I'm pretty sure my husband is straight... or is he?

Setting things right

I need to do something that I have allowed to go unfinished for far too long. I need to tell you, if you don't already know, which webcomic is the best one of them all. I have only sampled maybe ten, but my search is over. Before I reveal the answer at the end, I will explain to you the ones I have looked at and why this one is better than all those other pieces of digital crap.

There are a few that I try to keep up with on a regular basis (in addition to the best one), and they're not bad. Questionable Content isn't bad, and I read it everyday. This one and GPF-Comics which actually kind of sucks, both fall into the category of "I started with them and at this point I might as well keep up with them." Particularly the second one. If you go there, and leave me a comment saying, "Why do you read this? I enjoyed your writing until I found out that this is the sort of thing that you read," don't, because I acknowledge that I hate it. I just can't escape. Penny-Arcade is actually pretty funny, but I don't keep up with it as well because I don't actually know how often they update. It's a comic for nerds though. I only get about 70% of them because I don't really play nerd games anymore. I tried to grow out of that sophomore year of college. Now I only play tough games. Like poker with grenades instead of chips and Russian roulette.

I have tried to read Achewood once upon a time, but couldn't get into it. I also tried to read Sam and Fuzzy and Diesel Sweeties during the period between the end of college and actual graduation (that's really when I started on all of these) when I didn't have a lot to do. Sometimes they were ok, but I gave up on all of them. None of them were as good as Fruit Cakes.

The best one, though, is undoubtedly Dinosaur Comics. I wish Dinosaur Comics was a blanket so I could wrap myself up in it while I watch tv.

One of the few professions that are called brokers

I have a question. If I wanted to open a pawn shop, how do I enter that profession? It seems like an odd thing to just up and start, because it requires a large sum of money (to offer in exchange for the pawned items) and an almost reckless desire to keep it (since the folks who enter into arrangements with pawnbrokers are frequently of questionable scruples). And anyway, why would I want to buy stolen stereo equipment, copies of Boston LPs, crappy guitars and cheap firearms anyway? If I were trying to put on a stage adaptation of Joe Dirt, maybe.

There are all sorts of professions of comparable integrity that I think sound much more appealing if I have a lot of unused money lying around. Bookmaking, loansharking and futures speculator all seem to be about as risky and profitable. I don't have any hired muscle, though, and that could be a problem with some of those. When a Wall Street stockbroker is all coked up he'd be hard to bring down. Maybe one of those guitars or firearms would be handy after all.

Of those, I think, I would personally like bookmaking the best. I'd post odds on all sorts of crazy things. While I was a tutor in college, I wanted to do it with class averages for the tough engineering courses. I didn't, though, because I liked being a tutor. Wait, that's not completely accurate; I liked getting paid to be a tutor. If I were a bookie now, though, I think I'd post odds on things like the over/under on the number of people who almost get in a fight at one of the bars downtown (2 a night), the next presidential candidate to say something really stupid (6:1 Romney, 5:1 Obama, 3:1 Clinton, 3:2 Biden) and the over/under on how many glasses of milk I drink in a day (2).

The only problem is I wouldn't be able to do things like which household item is more awesome when dunked in liquid nitrogen, since that's kind of subjective. We're working on a quantification, though. And not just for liquid nitrogen, either; quantifying awesome in every context. Please let me know if you are interested in sponsoring this research project. I also accept objects for pawn.

A flaw in our bathroom paradigm

I, like most people, use the bathroom on occasion. I also like to wash my hands when I finish. It's really what separates us from the animals; cats dig in the dirt around their business, dogs just leave it it and people wash their hands. People - 1, animals - 0. Then again, animals are delicious, so I guess a fairer score would be people - 1, animals - 1.

I'll bet all of you have been in a situation where you are wearing a suit and need to quickly lose some weight. (If you're a girl who doesn't wear suits, I have not idea if there is an appopriate analog. Also, I'm not sure there are any girls who read this anymore.) After just finish up and you're pulling up your pants, tucking in the shirt, and buttoning up, I realize that in order to do all of those things I had to use my hands. The very same hands which are unfit for contact with the outside world. Instead, we have all sorts of bathroom germs on our pants, shirts and (heaven forbid!) belts. I can't say I'm particularly comfortable with this realization.

We all would be pretty alarmed if we saw our waiter leave the bathroom without washing his or her hands, right? Or a guy offer to shake your hand without, at the very least, a rinse? But unless you're in one of those handicapped stalls with the sink in there with you, you are literally wearing those very same germs on your person. My pre-realization respect for these handicapped accessible stalls were limited to novelty sake of having the room, if necessary, to park my car in the stall with me. That's all changed now. I am absolutely going to take advantage of the interior sink to wash before tucking. I'm no barbarian.

Granted, I'm no microbiologist, so I have no idea if the germs will live or die on my shirt, pants or (heaven forbid!) belt. But I suspect they are building some sort of tunnel system not unlike Boston's subway for rapid transit to get after my socks or possibly even tie. I think we need to make a push of relocating the sinks in every bathroom to be inside the stalls. We can't let the animals win.

Ironies of the Holidays

I got a pretty healthy injection to my wardrobe over the past two weeks. Good thing, too, because I was starting to look like a hobo. I think the clothes all look better than what I was wearing before, but I still don't trust myself to select things by myself in the future. It's like being in the cockpit of an airplane; a layperson can identify someone who is a good or bad pilot pretty easily, but making those decisions yourself it's a little intimidating so it's nice to have someone in there with you.

I think that the reason people always talk about getting into shape as their New Year's resolutions is so that they can fit into all those new clothes they just got. Every time I go home, I feel like I gain 15 pounds because my mom is a very good cook, but her sense of proportion is a little off. For example, the amount of food she makes for a meal would be appropriate if my family were the defensive line for the Miami Dolphins. We usually don't go hungry. Now, though, I need to discipline myself into resuming exercise or exchange all my pants.

I guess I should've been more active while I was at home, but I was really looking forward to the bowl season. That's really an unusual source of regret, don't you think? For like a month and a half, I was looking forward to watching all of the college football games (I pretty much achieved it, except for the odd one that even I couldn't muster any interest in or were airing simultaneously), but now I wish I had, maybe, played a game of basketball or something. The weather was nice, and I don't think I took sufficient advantage of it because I slavishly obeyed my plan. Maybe next year.

There's also a lot of family that explodes over Christmas. I find it amusing how easily it is to get worn out and run out of things to say to the more tangential relatives. It's also tiring to tell the same stories over and over again to different people, which I think is a big part of the problem. I should write out a pamphlet with the essentials and just hand them out when I meet people I haven't seen for six months. "Oh, how's school going?" Look at bullet point #4. "How long do you get to stay?" Intro paragraph. If they have interesting questions, you know, the sort that I'd expect someone who has known me for my whole life to ask, then that's one thing. Maybe I'm just being picky. I should probably do some exercise anyway.

We shall never be satisfied

Christmas came a little bit early at my parents' house. When I got back into Florida, there was a Gillette Fusion razor waiting for me. But who am I to turn down a free razor? I have been living in the past with a razor that's only three razors, so not only is this razor free, I'm being propelled for free into the now. I'm doubling the number of blades on my razor.

This attitude, though, doesn't answer the question of why Gillette is sending me free Fusion razors. I didn't get Gillette anything; does that make me rude? Then again, Gillette can afford it. I haven't used it yet. I still have a few razors that are three razors, but I'm afraid to jump headlong into the six razor, in case the experience really is as revolutionary as the commercials lead me to believe. It's also a little more expensive for the six razor cartridges than the three razor cartridges.

I can't remember the last time that something I bought was as revolutionary as the advertisers wanted me to think it was. High definition television, maybe, or limeade. Actually I don't remember seeing any ads about limeade, but it is pretty darn revolutionary. Lemonade is for pansies. But I sure don't remember getting something for free that changed my life. So I have to say I'm skeptical about the Fusion. Especially since I don't know how I can be sure that Gillette will stop at six. Why not eight? How about ten? How much of a luddite will I be considered if I stick it out with my three razors? Once I try out the Fusion, you can be sure that you'll hear about how smoothly shaven my face is. My guess is that it will be delightful.

I ate 3.14 slices of pie today

Today, as you are probably aware, was Thanksgiving. Unless you're in Canada, then it was sometime last month. But I'm not, and I ate turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing today. It was glorious. I'm so glad we do this every year. It's really too bad that the whole being thankful part of Thanksgiving is so minimized. Because I'm definitely thankful for gravy. And pie.

For some reason, nearly 50% of the people who were in attendance of my family's Thanksgiving festivities brought a pie. Or two. Or in some cases, more. The highlight was my brother's chocolate cheesecake, which was pretty spectacular. To properly capture it's spectacularity in words, I would say it's like when you get the white Toad's house in Mario 3. There were other pies too, so many that I didn't even get the chance to get to the pecan, which is easily my favorite of the holiday pies. I know what you're thinking right now, "What about that lovable gourd, pumpkin? Surely you didn't forget that! There's even a Charlie Brown special about pumpkins!" And you'd be right, I didn't forget. I just hate them. Pumpkin pies seem to me as if they were created as an industrial alternative to giving soldiers real dessert in World War I. I understand that this is probably heretical to a lot of you, and I am at peace with that.

I didn't get to the pecan pie because there was also a key lime pie in attendance, which is my goto dessert for the non-holiday times. There was even a homemade graham cracker crust involved, and honestly, I don't need Christmas now. So, considering that, key lime won out over pecan, even though it was a holiday. We also had cherry and mince meat and probably another that I'm forgetting. Cherry is a fine pie, but it's no apple; mince meat was an interesting choice because nobody on earth aside from my grandfather actually likes it. The highlight of this particular dessert, though, was that there was a rather lengthy debate about what mince meat actually is. There was unanimous agreement that raisins and currants were involved, but the presence of actual meat was disputed. I fall within the pro-meat camp; but don't misinterpret that to mean that I think it's a good idea.

Oh, also, I was awoken this morning much earlier than I would have liked to the sound of Christmas music. This is particularly poignant because just yesterday my mom was complaining about the ubiquitous nature of Christmas music so early. I was pretty sure that tomorrow, the day after Thanksgiving, is the first day it's legal to play Christmas music. But I think I'll let the early waking thing slide, since she also made the key lime pie.