Your Dirty Windows

The on-set of FaceBook, MySpace, SpaceBalls, BallBook, MyFaceOnBalls, BallFace, BallSpace, and CuteOverload.org all funnels into the same market of the 'net now known as "Social Media." We decide, choose, and connect how we wanna connect. You can't force somebody to be your friend on the 'net. There's no booze, no coke, no lingering feelings of parental neglect. No immediate pay-off to a relationship. So superficial. So 2009.

I wanna be your on-line friend, so I can stalk you from afar, and you can see how fat I got after Senior Year. Which, if I had to do over again, I would skip WAY more often. The schooling, not the fatness. Wow. My kids are skipping whether they like it or not. I'll force my kids to skip HOME Schooling and go hang at the local alternative high for crap's sake. FOR CRAP'S SAKE, MARC, YER TAKIN' THE PISS! Now, as people carry on posting pictures of their lives, we get a peek into what's important to them. And it varies up the scale of age.

Family and Married People post pics of their kids. If I want somebody to see my kids, I'll hold my kid over the balcony, thank you. But DAMN, my family and friends put out some really cute kids (NIECES PIECES RILEY!). Okay, fine. Now the "internet public is clamoring for more of the Obama's Daughters!" Bigger than Miley Cyrus!?!?! Not at WalMart! Not yet...

Single people post pictures of places they got drunk, taken while they were drunk in those places. Bathing suits on the hotties. Self-pics. Double-fisting (that oughtta get some hits). LOTS of hugs.

Anybody still in high school, emotionally anyway, posts pics they take of theyselves and they friends and they partying in a car, throwin' finger signs and being awesome. What-what? No. No.

So, now that we have a billboard unto the world to tell 'em all what we're about? We have unparalleled access and capability to say "CHECK ME OUT." And while people become their own paparazzi, I'm just not seeing much that's exciting enough to tune back in for. And THAT banality is exactly what is so intriguing!

Please, keep doing what you're doing, and posting the photographic evidence of your life. Someday, we'll look back and remember how great you could have been, until you came down with autophotoluciopia... Blindness caused by taking pictures of yourself because you don't have any actual friends to snap one for you, fart-saver.


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My Blog About My Dad

A New Erra

The 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama, has been sworn into office by the verbally-stumbling W-appointed Chief Justice John Roberts, and we now have the first non-white male as President. Better, but still behind a number of nations that have had FEMALE political leaders over the past few years. We'll dive into that another time.

I got flu-like chills listening to the Inaugural Speech, understanding that for the first time in my voting life, my vote may have counted. I usually give 2 hot squirts about politics, because at that high of a level, it's way the hell out of my hands as a man who thinks guns should be mandatory and drugs should be legal. At this time, however, I realize how important politics are in life, in family squabbles, and in getting ass from that chick who's "documentary hot." So now, as everyone gets their fingers wet in the welcoming folds of political chatter, we're gonna see who knows what, and who is shit-stacked on the innards.

The coffee shop pundits, bus stop campaigners, and kitchenette crazies will be chatting up Obama's first 100 days like it was 1998 and Rachel just found out Ross has been stealing her underpants, emotionally. Everyone's got something to say, and they have absolutely nothing to say.

"You know, he's closing Gitmo."
"I know. He's gonna sign the papers to close it."
"Yeah, they're gonna shut it down. It stood for a torturist stance on terrorism that showed the world a barbaric side of America."
"Yeah, we're better than that."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
(nodding)

AND? Then what? There won't be a fart's-worth of convo left because nobody sought deeper on it. Our barbarism is NOT supposed to be displayed. This is America. We keep that inside, locked away behind the facade of gleaming WELCOMES to all nationalities, but truly wanting them to shut up, register their presence, and pay their taxes.

Guantanamo is where they will train personnel of the Travel Safetey Administration.

The Travel Safety Administration (motto: "Slow Down, We're Here To Help YOU. You're WELCOME. Asshole.") How does the TSA keep hiring people who can't speak English, come from unfindable nations, yet determine which of us get on airplanes? Never have I wanted more to cause problems in the airport until I get to Security. If you have a rudimentary grasp of common courtesy being over-ridden by control issues, and like yelling at people, but are too dumb, fat, or unable to grow a 'stache to be a cop, get thee to a TSA office NEEOW. Creating rules against EVERYTHING and then scaling them back is not "pro-active" administration; it's horrible parenting, and it has to stop. The passenger-facing wing of the TSA doesn't set policies, they only misinterpret them before playing out their Swayze fantasy of rifling through pockets to make sure I'm not bringing any dignity on the plane.

So study 3 big things Obama's gotta do in the next 6 months. The Bailouts, Iraq, the sage-burning energy clearing of Cheney's office, and absorb these. Because there's nothing more invigorating than a lively conversation where you can refute the other person's claims with Truth, Peace, and a Flag-Tattooed Middle Finger.

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My Blog About My Dad

Wealth, Taxes, and Laziness

"You cannot legislate the poor into freedom by
legislating the wealthy out of freedom.
What one person receives without  working for,
another person mustwork for without receiving.
The government cannot give to anybody anything
that the government does not first take from somebody else.

When half of the people get the idea that they do not
have to work because the other half is going to take
care of them, and when the other half gets the idea
that it does no good to work because somebody else is
going to get what they work for, that my dear friend,
is about the end of any nation.

You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it."
Dr. Adrian Rogers 1931-2005

Change your thinking!  Right now! 
Change it to thoughts of all the abundance you live in, and h
much more you can bring to your life.
Now.  Don't wait for anybody or anything. 
It's YOUR Turn.  Because I am NOT feeding your ass.

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Pick Sure Pages

While at a baby shower a couple years ago, among other places that burn a hole in your soul... CUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!... I noted what appeared an insane number of inane photographs being snapped. A woman with a digital camera was snapping pics every 5 seconds, from a package being picked up, to the hand-off, to the faces of the mom and her couch-neighbor being explained-to what the package was... LET HER OPEN THE GIFT, DUMMY... basically 5 pics of every gift-opening. Why not just buy a video camera? Friggin' flip-book of banality.

In December, while I was in Vegas, I strolled everywhere on the strip and saw where people took pics. Some of the pics, sure, great opportunity. The Tour d'Eiffel at Paris. A view of New York-New York from across the street, it's massive. The gold Lion on the corner of the MGM Grand.


But in front of the M&M Store? It's 4 floors of retail space dedicated to all things M&M. Like, THE CANDY. I get the opulence and extravagance of Las Vegas. I understand the M&M store is a somewhat-welcome bastion of innocence in the middle of a city that promotes excess and addiction as though they were life support... which they can be... but as a tourist destination, hmmm...

Doug: "So, uh... Gary... I don't know if I told you this. About 2 weeks ago, when I was in Las Vegas?"
Gary: "Dude, if you tell me what I think you're gonna tell me, don't tell me. I don't want this on my conscience."
Doug: "Listen. I went to the M&M Store."
Gary: "Doug, I am calling BULL'S SHIT on that far-out line of storytelling."
Doug: "Wanna make it interesting?"
Gary: "Yeah, dick eyes. $10! You can't prove it!"
Doug pulls out his digital camera

Doug: "BOO-YES, CheeseSkids! GIMME MAAAH MOE-NAAAAY!"
Gary: "Daaang! You do live the high life."

Now, please explain why this picture was on the internet, twice now...
This young man is either
1) Not of legal drinking age
2) Foreign
C) Recovering from brain reconstruction surgery
IV) Not worried about girls, they'll see THIS picture and realize what a sweetie he is and finally give up the lovin'.
FIVE) So tooted up on 'shrooms he thinks he's getting a picture with "the chick from the Greek Wedding movie."

I guess I just can't stand the posed pictures, they're so fake and ugh.

As odd as it sounds, I do wish that I had taken a picture of myself the moments after finding out my dad died. That depth of emotion, that moment my heart bottomed out, THAT was Life. That was an end-point of the spectrum of feelings by which all others would be measured. It would have captured a lot, from sadness to love.

So please, before snapping that next picture, ask yourself... why am I sitting in this van with a rainbow wig and a lightbulb in my butt's hole?


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My Blog About My Dad

A $tudy in Restraint

If you're like me, sorry. Tax returns are beginning to be postponed while we get our things in order. That includes a lot of receipt separation for me, especially for the entirety of the comedy work I write off. But when it comes time to file, and the money comes back... WHATCHOO GONNA DO, BROTHER, WHEN THE GOVERNMENT RELEASES YOUR MONEY BACK TO YOOOOOOU?
(first off, I think income tax is a scam... you get taxed for HAVING A JOB, taxed for what you buy, taxed for selling anything at a profit, and taxed if you save and it the money makes money... and we're bailing out banks)

So, either I'm gonna plop my money into an interest-bearing savings account, an IRA, or a stimulus plan that includes dinner with The Wife! and an upgrade of home protection, including but not limited to, a flamethrower.

What're YOU gonna do with YOUR tax return this year?

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My Blog About My Dad