Posts (page 2)
While being waved into a parking spot at the temple, shortly after talking about the Special Olympics.
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Me: Oh, look, they even have a "special" guy directing traffic.
Jill: No, Kevin, that's just a Boy Scout.
Jill, Nanda and I went to the Holi Festival, or the Festival of Colors, at the Krishna Temple today. I don't practice or believe in any religion, but she insisted that the Festival is a good time and that the temple is beautiful; both claims turned out to be true.
If you don't know what this fesival is all about, it's this: a bunch of hippies and teenagers gather together and throw colored powder on each other. I may possibly be simplifying things. I'm sure it's a celebration of life or Krishna or both, but mainly it's an excuse for people to throw green dust into strangers' faces without getting punched. At one point, a fellow walked by and said, "Here's some color for your beard," whereupon he massaged blue into my chin. Nobody was harmed.
Here's what I looked like upon our arrival:
A couple hours later, the hippies started going nutso:
The peace and harmony reigned until we got in the car to drive home, at which point everybody turned into a rude cunt. This angered me:
All in all, it was a good day, and I'm glad I went even if I'm still blowing dust out of my nose.
So, today Jill got a mystery envelope in the mail, and told me to close my eyes. Later, as I opened them, I saw that she was sliding an authentic Special Olympics medal over my head. She had bought it on eBay, and it appears to be a generic medal that you get for participation.
Now, the fact that she bought me my own Special Olympics medallion is of course incredibly cool (if insulting), especially with this whole hullabaloo about President Obama making a Special Olympics joke on The Tonight Show, but I can't help thinking about the back story.
This medal once belonged to an actual Special Olympian. The ribbon is faded, and the medal itself is scratched and cloudy, like an old coin. Is there a 45-year old guy with Down Syndrome somewhere who is now deprived of his medal? Am I wearing the medal of a dead retard? Did some special guy just decide that his glory days being behind him, he'd rather not possess this mocking reminder of his winning youth?
Who knows?
The point is that I now have the foundation element of the best Halloween costume ever.
Here's a photo of me looking a bit like a Special Olympian with my medal. In truth, I was only smiling this widely because Jill was having trouble with the camera.
I changed things so that it won't post my Twitters here anymore, and I deleted all the old Twitter posts. It was turning my blog into one of those blogs I hate, and plus, it was giving me the impression that I was posting content when I wasn't. So, if you want to read my Twitter, you'll have to actually join Twitter and follow my feed.
Maybe this will spur me into posting more interesting content here, like I used to before Twitter swallowed my soul.
1. "If I said you had a beautiful body, would it fit in my trunk?"
2. "Has the Rohypnol kicked in yet?"
3. "So, I read that most women prefer a below average to small-sized penis for anal sex. Guess who just hit the jackpot?"
4. "Is it hot in here, or is it just the cleansing fire I started in the restroom? BURN, SINNERS!"
5. "Could you help me? I need some assistance opening the cap on my Cialis prescription."
March 22nd is "As Young as You Feel Day," so show us something that makes you feel young.
Monday: HONOR DUELS
Tuesday: WET WILLIES (INDIAN BURNS, PURPLE NURPLES, ETC.)
Wednesday: ARSON
Thursday: INDEPENDENCE
Friday: ORIGAMI
I just started reading The Cyberiad, and I encountered the following bit:
The kingdom to which Trurl repaired was ruled by King Atrocitus. He was a militarist to the core, and an incredible miser besides. To relieve the royal treasury, he did away with all punishments except for the death sentence. His favorite occupation was to abolish unnecessary offices; since that included the office of the executioner, every condemned citizen was obliged to do his own beheading, or else--on rare occasions of royal clemency--have it done by his next of kin. Of the arts Atrocitus supported only those that entailed little expense, such as choral recitation, chess and military calisthenics. The art of war he held in particularly high esteem, for a victorious campaign brought in excellent returns; on the other hand one could properly prepare for war only during an interval of peace, so the King advocated peace, though in moderation. His greatest reform was the nationalization of high treason. As the neighboring kingdom was continually sending spies, he created the office of Royal Informer, who, through a staff of subordinate traitors, would hand over State secrets to enemy agents for certain sums of money. Though as a rule the agents purchased only outdated secrets--those were less expensive and besides, they were held accountable to their own treasury for every penny spent.
Naturally, this is all exaggerated for satirical effect, but I can't help but recognize our former administration in the overall philosophy, if not the actual letter, of this paragraph.
If you could to create your own music band, whom would you put in it?
Submitted by Jack Yan.
Allow me to translate this from the apparent non-native-English-speaker who submitted it.
If you could recruit any musicians, alive or dead, into your perfect band, who would they be?
I don't really have an answer. That question was just pissing me off.
While listening to a mysterious voice singing somewhere outside.
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Me: Is something mystical happening outside?
Jill: I don't know.
Me (going to the door to listen): I think somebody's having a religious experience out there.
Jill: Could be.
Me: As long as they don't get any on me!
Jill: I hear it's sticky.
Me: "Don't get your God-jizz all over me!"
