We, the Caveman Youth Council (CYC), would like to take this opportunity to file a formal complaint against the Caveman Elders (CE) regarding the invention of the wheel. Although the elders are adept at many things, like spearing sabre-toothed tigers, building fires, and the removal and consumption of lice, and their wisdom – even at the advanced age of thirty-five – is unsurpassable, we believe that the wheel, as presently constructed, suffers from several serious design flaws. These flaws, as presented below, severely inhibit the wheel’s ability to accomplish the goals originally decided upon at the last council meeting: namely, those of transportation and convenience. We understand that the wheel’s chief architect, Tuk Tuk, had tremendous success on previous invention projects – the statue, the sculpture, the effigy, and the bust – however we believe his skills do not translate well to this particular field. The flaws we have found are as follows:
- The wheel has not moved since that glacier deposited it in the Cave square three months ago and it was so named “the wheel”.
- It is made of rock.
- It is larger than a wooly mammoth.
- The massive spikes carved into the back side of the wheel not only inhibit motion, they have become a hindrance to the community, as just last week Ug, a skilled hunter, lost an eye while chasing a mastodon through the Cave square.
- Pteordactyls, as we know, are easily provoked. Thus the target on top of the wheel with the sign next to it that says “Pterodactyls! Poop Here!” has become a community nuisance.
- Since it is mating season for the wooly mammoth we believe it was a mistake to cover the front side of the wheel in wool. Confused mammoths have been doing things to the wheel that no Caveman should have to see until he or she reaches maturity, or age seven.
- The face carved onto the west side of the wheel that bears a striking resemblance to Tuk Tuk has in no way helped the wheel become a tool for transportation. Also, we disagree with the inscription next to the face that states, “Most handsomest Caveman.” Everyone knows Ong is the most handsomest caveman.
- Similarly, the wheel does not benefit from the sign declaring “Tuk Tuk wuz here.”
- The wheel is square.
We believe that these flaws will never allow the wheel to reach its full potential. Thus, the CYC would like to raise the issue to a vote at the next council meeting and make a motion to re-invent the wheel. It is our belief that a circular, wooden prototype, devoid of spikes, wool, targets, signs, carvings, and inscriptions would better accomplish the goals set out at the start of this project. Also on the agenda for the next meeting: the CYC believes the crude and primitive practice of grabbing one’s hand and shaking it vigorously upon introduction should be replaced by the much more informative sniffing of the genitals. It is much more practical for mating purposes. Thank you for your time.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
In Praise of Xe Services
“Blackwater, now known as Xe Services, has come under intense criticism for what Iraqis have described as reckless conduct by its security guards, and the company lost its lucrative State Department contract to provide diplomatic security for the United States Embassy in Baghdad earlier this year after a 2007 shooting that left 17 Iraqi civilians dead.” – The New York Times, December 15th, 2009
It all started when my wife whipped up a batch of her famous double chocolate chip cookies. After gorging on them, we placed the rest in a Ziploc bag, which I unfortunately forgot to zip lock, thereby inviting all creatures and critters within our home to feast.
And feast they did. The next morning, as I went to enjoy a post-breakfast cookie, there, treading on our cookies, were dozens of ants. Yecch! Ants – as you may know – have six legs, and who knows where those legs had been!?
A week later, as we were cleaning up after dinner, we noticed the cutting board was littered with ants. They were lifting up gigantic crumbs of sourdough bread and carrying them off to the bowels of our house. We weren’t planning on eating these crumbs but still, the audacity! Under closer surveillance (a microscope) I followed their trail to a crack in the wall by the microwave oven where the critters poured in freely. We had a regular insurgency on our hands!
I ran to the google machine and typed in the words “Insurgency” and “Defense”. I clicked on the first hit and was taken to the website for Xe Services, or the artist formerly known as Blackwater. It seemed they had recently lost a contract or something, yada yada, and were opening their doors to domestic employment opportunities. I called and scheduled and appointment for the very next morning.
Well, first let me tell you that those guys are punctual! At exactly 8:00 AM, or O-eight-hundred hours, as they called it, a black Hummer pulled up in front of the house. Three men exited the vehicle and I ran out to greet them. I was surprised they sent three people, and that they were wearing all black, including black face paint, but the Yelp reviews had been mostly positive so I held my tongue.
The driver introduced himself as Norton, ex-navy seal. He had a grizzly neck beard from which two veins as thick as breathing tubes ran down his shirt. He introduced his “associates”: ex-navy seals Thurman and Green, who were both, it seemed, incapable of blinking.
I welcomed the gentleman into the house and directed them to the last known whereabouts of the insurgency. Norton said something in unintelligible military jargon and suddenly Green began sniffing the cutting board. He followed his nose to the microwave oven, and then behind it to the crack in the wall. Thurman did one of those double-pointy things with his fingers, first at his eyes, and then at the microwave oven. I didn’t know ants had such good hearing! Norton nodded, and suddenly Thurman ripped the microwave oven from the counter. Underneath, dozens of ants scurried about in fear. Thurman made a strange sound in his throat, like someone attempting to start a lawnmower, and before I knew it, had spit the largest volume of saliva I’d ever seen onto the scurrying ants. I was about to say something like, “Hey, you just spit on my counter!”, but then I noticed the effectiveness of his technique: caught in the quarter-dollar sized globule were a dozen ants who could no longer warn the other cells of their impending doom.
At this point Norton told his men to retrieve the artillery, which sounded intense, I’ll admit, but they had located the insurgency in less than two minutes and were already reducing its numbers. At this point Norton also advised me to leave and return in no sooner than one hour, citing the “ugliness” of what was to come.
I walked to my favorite café, had a coffee, read the paper, and then made back for the house. At first I was quite concerned, due to the plumes of smoke rising from our home. I ran up the steps and found the gentlemen waiting in the kitchen, smoking cigars.
“What the hell happened here?” I screamed.
But Norton calmed me right down when he showed me the complete and utter thoroughness of Xe Services.
“Those ants will no longer conduct operations in the vicinity of your microwave oven,” said Norton with authority, and right he was! There was a gaping hole in the counter where the microwave oven used to be.
“We located all the cells and torched those six-legged freaks,” added Thurman.
They lead me down to the basement and showed me the charred remains of the ants. The main cell, they told me, was behind the washing machine, and was now totally incapacitated, due to the fact that the washing machine was now a smoldering pile of charred metal.
“We took out all the roaches too,” said Norton. “They appeared to be operating in league with the ants.”
“Great!” I responded.
Then I noticed the pile of dead spiders next to what used to be the dryer.
“And were the spiders in league with the roaches and the ants?” I asked.
“No,” replied Norton. “We dismembered those motherfuckers. For fun.”
I must’ve given Norton a strange look at that point, something that he probably interpreted as, “What could possibly be fun about dismembering spiders?”
“Oh and uh, also, the spiders appeared hostile,” Norton added, with a reassuring smile and wink. What a stand-up guy!
I’ll admit, the price was relatively steep, and due to the compromised structure of the house, and the toxic fumes that may have been released in the destruction of the insurgency, we have been spending the last month living out of a hotel. However, I have visited the house on occasion, and at no time have I seen any signs of the ants, roaches, spiders, or any living thing for that matter. They really did a meticulous job and therefore I can honestly recommend Xe Services. In fact, I’m thinking of calling them again. There is this girl at work who has been going all jihad on the communal coffee machine and boy am I miffed.
It all started when my wife whipped up a batch of her famous double chocolate chip cookies. After gorging on them, we placed the rest in a Ziploc bag, which I unfortunately forgot to zip lock, thereby inviting all creatures and critters within our home to feast.
And feast they did. The next morning, as I went to enjoy a post-breakfast cookie, there, treading on our cookies, were dozens of ants. Yecch! Ants – as you may know – have six legs, and who knows where those legs had been!?
A week later, as we were cleaning up after dinner, we noticed the cutting board was littered with ants. They were lifting up gigantic crumbs of sourdough bread and carrying them off to the bowels of our house. We weren’t planning on eating these crumbs but still, the audacity! Under closer surveillance (a microscope) I followed their trail to a crack in the wall by the microwave oven where the critters poured in freely. We had a regular insurgency on our hands!
I ran to the google machine and typed in the words “Insurgency” and “Defense”. I clicked on the first hit and was taken to the website for Xe Services, or the artist formerly known as Blackwater. It seemed they had recently lost a contract or something, yada yada, and were opening their doors to domestic employment opportunities. I called and scheduled and appointment for the very next morning.
Well, first let me tell you that those guys are punctual! At exactly 8:00 AM, or O-eight-hundred hours, as they called it, a black Hummer pulled up in front of the house. Three men exited the vehicle and I ran out to greet them. I was surprised they sent three people, and that they were wearing all black, including black face paint, but the Yelp reviews had been mostly positive so I held my tongue.
The driver introduced himself as Norton, ex-navy seal. He had a grizzly neck beard from which two veins as thick as breathing tubes ran down his shirt. He introduced his “associates”: ex-navy seals Thurman and Green, who were both, it seemed, incapable of blinking.
I welcomed the gentleman into the house and directed them to the last known whereabouts of the insurgency. Norton said something in unintelligible military jargon and suddenly Green began sniffing the cutting board. He followed his nose to the microwave oven, and then behind it to the crack in the wall. Thurman did one of those double-pointy things with his fingers, first at his eyes, and then at the microwave oven. I didn’t know ants had such good hearing! Norton nodded, and suddenly Thurman ripped the microwave oven from the counter. Underneath, dozens of ants scurried about in fear. Thurman made a strange sound in his throat, like someone attempting to start a lawnmower, and before I knew it, had spit the largest volume of saliva I’d ever seen onto the scurrying ants. I was about to say something like, “Hey, you just spit on my counter!”, but then I noticed the effectiveness of his technique: caught in the quarter-dollar sized globule were a dozen ants who could no longer warn the other cells of their impending doom.
At this point Norton told his men to retrieve the artillery, which sounded intense, I’ll admit, but they had located the insurgency in less than two minutes and were already reducing its numbers. At this point Norton also advised me to leave and return in no sooner than one hour, citing the “ugliness” of what was to come.
I walked to my favorite café, had a coffee, read the paper, and then made back for the house. At first I was quite concerned, due to the plumes of smoke rising from our home. I ran up the steps and found the gentlemen waiting in the kitchen, smoking cigars.
“What the hell happened here?” I screamed.
But Norton calmed me right down when he showed me the complete and utter thoroughness of Xe Services.
“Those ants will no longer conduct operations in the vicinity of your microwave oven,” said Norton with authority, and right he was! There was a gaping hole in the counter where the microwave oven used to be.
“We located all the cells and torched those six-legged freaks,” added Thurman.
They lead me down to the basement and showed me the charred remains of the ants. The main cell, they told me, was behind the washing machine, and was now totally incapacitated, due to the fact that the washing machine was now a smoldering pile of charred metal.
“We took out all the roaches too,” said Norton. “They appeared to be operating in league with the ants.”
“Great!” I responded.
Then I noticed the pile of dead spiders next to what used to be the dryer.
“And were the spiders in league with the roaches and the ants?” I asked.
“No,” replied Norton. “We dismembered those motherfuckers. For fun.”
I must’ve given Norton a strange look at that point, something that he probably interpreted as, “What could possibly be fun about dismembering spiders?”
“Oh and uh, also, the spiders appeared hostile,” Norton added, with a reassuring smile and wink. What a stand-up guy!
I’ll admit, the price was relatively steep, and due to the compromised structure of the house, and the toxic fumes that may have been released in the destruction of the insurgency, we have been spending the last month living out of a hotel. However, I have visited the house on occasion, and at no time have I seen any signs of the ants, roaches, spiders, or any living thing for that matter. They really did a meticulous job and therefore I can honestly recommend Xe Services. In fact, I’m thinking of calling them again. There is this girl at work who has been going all jihad on the communal coffee machine and boy am I miffed.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Zen and the Art of Zen and the Art of Books
Anything can be done gracefully. Consider: one can peel an orange such that the rind is removed in a single, spiraling helix of citrus. Or, one can carelessly stab at the rind with stubby fingers, extracting chunk by little chunk, ending up sticky and frustrated. Similarly, one can write a Zen and the Art of book using piercing wisdom to enlighten the reader on how a random hobby (archery, motorcycle maintenance, etcetera), when done correctly, can unlock the secrets of the universe. Or, one can choose a hobby, throw together some randomly selected clichés, and trick the reader into thinking they have unlocked the secrets of the universe.
Of course, peeling an orange perfectly is a painstaking, arduous task. Gaining piercing wisdom can also be painstaking and arduous. Sure if we had the time we’d all pick up an esoteric hobby and attain nirvana through our single-minded devotion to flower arrangement, or calligraphy, etcetera, but instead we have jobs, bills, and responsibilities. Thankfully, using my simple four-step process, you will be able to slap together clichés and publish your very own Zen and the Art of book, without having to do all that annoying soul-searching and grueling transcendence.
Step 1: Choose your subject and declare its utter simplicity.
Many people mistakenly believe that enlightening hobbies must be complex. This is not the case. In fact, the simpler the activity the higher the potential for melding hobby, mind, and body into an all-encompassing-oneness. Why? Because universal secrets cannot be divulged by building exact replicas of all thirty Major League Baseball stadiums. That is just dorky. However, knitting, now that’s a hobby! All you have to do is instruct your reader to lose their ego in the repetitive action of needle and yarn, to blur the line between self and other such that there is no longer any separation between little Timmy’s socks and Auntie Ruth. You must write about how simple said hobby is, because said hobby is not the important thing here, the important thing here is the metaphor: crocheting, stamp collecting, etcetera, is just like life!
Step 2: Declare the utter complexity of your hobby.
Many people mistakenly believe that enlightening hobbies must be simple. But wait! Am I not contradicting myself? Well, only if you think there is an I that I can contradict my self with. But let’s not jump the gun. Because this contradiction is not only pre-meditated (not to be confused with meditation), it results in paradox, and paradox is the life-blood of these books. People go totally ape-shit for it. If it were really just as simple as becoming one with a random hobby, nobody would need your book. However, it is in stage two where you show the reader that no, building model cars is not just about becoming one with super glue and plastic (note: if you become one with super glue contact a physician immediately), but it is about recognizing that in the act of building a model car you are actually deconstructing your own ego, that every creation is actually a destruction, that every birth comes with a life sentence, and so next time you glue a tiny little hubcap to a tiny little wheel, do so with the conviction of a God or Goddess building reality, because reality is what you make it, and you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take (note: if you don’t know how to finish a sentence, add a few clichés to the end so that the reader forgets how the sentence began).
Step 3: Resolve the paradox.
Of course, only those with a keen insight can truly understand the paradox, and thereby resolve it, attaining the highest hobby-chakra. Your reader is aware of this, and will be sucking at the teat of wisdom, nodding their heads and thinking, gee, I have pretty keen insight, I totally get what you’re saying, it’s simple, it’s complex, yin, yang, right on! Perfect. They are ready for the culmination, in which you resolve the paradox and blow their minds with your ridiculously good logic. Is kite flying simple or is it complex? Ha! Trick question. Simplicity and complexity are merely two points of view. How many points of view are possible? Three-hundred and sixty! All that talk about simplicity and complexity was merely to butter your reader up for the big revelation: kite flying is simple, it is not simple, it is both simple and not simple, and it is neither simple nor not simple! Just like life! (Note: exclamation points are the grammatical equivalent of mind-blowing! Use them often during the third step!)
Step three is the big payoff, where the reader understands how misguided he or she was all along. Jewelry making, pottery, etcetera, are simply the most complex things you can do. Because it is only through these hobbies that one can transcend the boring ol’ viewpoints of everyday life such as I and you, simple and complex, and bask in the metaphorical liberation one has not nearly attained.
Follow my steps and you will see that writing a Zen and the Art of book is actually the easiest thing in the world, once you have given up all distinctions between easy and hard, teaching and tricking, and can rest in the middle of the circle, looking at all the viewpoints surrounding you, and shaking your head, gently, but condescendingly, with a patronizing smile smeared across your all-knowing face.
Step 4: Rake in the cash.
But this is the main reason you are smiling.
Of course, peeling an orange perfectly is a painstaking, arduous task. Gaining piercing wisdom can also be painstaking and arduous. Sure if we had the time we’d all pick up an esoteric hobby and attain nirvana through our single-minded devotion to flower arrangement, or calligraphy, etcetera, but instead we have jobs, bills, and responsibilities. Thankfully, using my simple four-step process, you will be able to slap together clichés and publish your very own Zen and the Art of book, without having to do all that annoying soul-searching and grueling transcendence.
Step 1: Choose your subject and declare its utter simplicity.
Many people mistakenly believe that enlightening hobbies must be complex. This is not the case. In fact, the simpler the activity the higher the potential for melding hobby, mind, and body into an all-encompassing-oneness. Why? Because universal secrets cannot be divulged by building exact replicas of all thirty Major League Baseball stadiums. That is just dorky. However, knitting, now that’s a hobby! All you have to do is instruct your reader to lose their ego in the repetitive action of needle and yarn, to blur the line between self and other such that there is no longer any separation between little Timmy’s socks and Auntie Ruth. You must write about how simple said hobby is, because said hobby is not the important thing here, the important thing here is the metaphor: crocheting, stamp collecting, etcetera, is just like life!
Step 2: Declare the utter complexity of your hobby.
Many people mistakenly believe that enlightening hobbies must be simple. But wait! Am I not contradicting myself? Well, only if you think there is an I that I can contradict my self with. But let’s not jump the gun. Because this contradiction is not only pre-meditated (not to be confused with meditation), it results in paradox, and paradox is the life-blood of these books. People go totally ape-shit for it. If it were really just as simple as becoming one with a random hobby, nobody would need your book. However, it is in stage two where you show the reader that no, building model cars is not just about becoming one with super glue and plastic (note: if you become one with super glue contact a physician immediately), but it is about recognizing that in the act of building a model car you are actually deconstructing your own ego, that every creation is actually a destruction, that every birth comes with a life sentence, and so next time you glue a tiny little hubcap to a tiny little wheel, do so with the conviction of a God or Goddess building reality, because reality is what you make it, and you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take (note: if you don’t know how to finish a sentence, add a few clichés to the end so that the reader forgets how the sentence began).
Step 3: Resolve the paradox.
Of course, only those with a keen insight can truly understand the paradox, and thereby resolve it, attaining the highest hobby-chakra. Your reader is aware of this, and will be sucking at the teat of wisdom, nodding their heads and thinking, gee, I have pretty keen insight, I totally get what you’re saying, it’s simple, it’s complex, yin, yang, right on! Perfect. They are ready for the culmination, in which you resolve the paradox and blow their minds with your ridiculously good logic. Is kite flying simple or is it complex? Ha! Trick question. Simplicity and complexity are merely two points of view. How many points of view are possible? Three-hundred and sixty! All that talk about simplicity and complexity was merely to butter your reader up for the big revelation: kite flying is simple, it is not simple, it is both simple and not simple, and it is neither simple nor not simple! Just like life! (Note: exclamation points are the grammatical equivalent of mind-blowing! Use them often during the third step!)
Step three is the big payoff, where the reader understands how misguided he or she was all along. Jewelry making, pottery, etcetera, are simply the most complex things you can do. Because it is only through these hobbies that one can transcend the boring ol’ viewpoints of everyday life such as I and you, simple and complex, and bask in the metaphorical liberation one has not nearly attained.
Follow my steps and you will see that writing a Zen and the Art of book is actually the easiest thing in the world, once you have given up all distinctions between easy and hard, teaching and tricking, and can rest in the middle of the circle, looking at all the viewpoints surrounding you, and shaking your head, gently, but condescendingly, with a patronizing smile smeared across your all-knowing face.
Step 4: Rake in the cash.
But this is the main reason you are smiling.
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