If I Were Gilligan

I was thinking how I used to be a team captain back in school. I think I'm a fair basketball star. I always foul out, to give my team mates some active game time. I don't like the skipper. Nothing against the late actor. I don't like his character. If I were Gilligan, I would dropkick the skipper. I bet he'd yell 'Umf!' If I were Gilligan on those radioactive spinaches, I pick up the skipper and launch him over the hut. Only if I were Gilligan. That would bring out my dark side. Otherwise, I'm a very agreeable person. And not the least bit violent.
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What He Said

I remember writing back there somewhere that philosophy can be dangerous when it touches a feeble or unbalanced mind. This may be why Professor Noam Chomsky may be keen on the kind of credentials that suggest academic tenure. Academic tenure is a kind of licence to have an opinion. It's meant to distinguish people with an objective and thorough understanding of sophisticated and often touchy concepts from the rest of us. As such, it's meant to save us from ourselves. And some of those early morning radio programs are not helping. We needn't feel left out. We may each speak with authority on our peculiar areas of expertise. I may have strong points to make within the realm of musical and artistic expression, but, once I venture over into more serious territory, it often slips into comedy. This is not initially deliberate and far from effective in advancing my hypotheses. One way to advance any hypothesis, regardless of critical analysis, is to resonate with what a large block of people already want to think. A lot of us distrust authority. Fertile ground for half-baked theories. I laughed out loud when Professor Chomsky walked off the Alex Jones program. Jones then turned around and called the man who has been flying in the face of US aggression since the 1960's and who was on the ground in East Timor to witness it firsthand alongside its victims a 'corporate shill.'
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Go Fish

If a group of sexy young chicks ever wants to meet me at MacDonald's or something, I would want to have a pen and paper with me so I could ask them all for their phone numbers so I could call them for a date. 'Cause last time all I had was a magic marker and no paper. I have given some thought to how I would accomplish such a feat as being with multiple female partners. I imagine the main group to be sitting at a table, playing a card game or something, while I have my way with each of them on the floor, one at a time, in the same room. I would stay with each girl just long enough for her to have her orgasm and then move on.
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Chariots of the Dogs

Having already covered dog frisbee in a previous entry, I thought I might touch on another form of play this morning, ball throwing. For some dog owners it's an option, for others a preference. If your dog is hyperactive, chances are you need to take it our for some playful exercise. Depending on how restless it is, you may need to have it tow you to the park on a bicycle or a derailed train. Just remember to follow the dog's path with your steering and watch out for any last-minute changes of direction. If you didn't bring your tennis ball with you, just look for one on the ground somewhere. It might be a little chewed up from passing through the mower, but that will just give the dog a head start. Hold the ball over the dog's head until he's stood on his hind legs for ten seconds, then hurl it with all your might, taking care not to aim in the direction of any elderly citizens with heart problems. Repeat until dog is huffing and puffing on the run back and still wants more. One way to save some wear and tear on your shoulder is to throw the ball into a lake and let the dog swim after it. It slows them down while making them work harder. Or you could invest in some sort of launching apparatus to ease your throwing. If done properly, your dog should heel normally for the duration of your walk home. You may permit it to carry the ball in its mouth if you don't want a handful of slime.
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The Good Old Days

I was just thinking of how piercing my crying must have been when I was an infant. I guess you can't blame my older brothers and my mother for stuffing my mouth with cotton balls and duck-taping it closed. Even that would probably only muffle it. I vaguely remember the time, and I'm sure I was only upset from being left to sit still after being thrown across the room - wrapped safely in aluminum foil, of course. I used to like flying through the air like that, and one of them would never fail to catch me. Sometimes the catch made a touchdown. Made me feel like a winner.
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Funny Penny

This happened this morning accidentally, as I threw some pocket change on my table. I got ESP from it, and one of the thoughts told me I reminded him of Dick York. Then, when I had to move the computer to get the web cam in close enough to take a picture of it, it fell over. But I stood it up again with little difficulty.
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Folk Night

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What War?

I watched a funny documentary a while ago about the beginning of modern television broadcasting in Germany during the 1930's and 40's. That's right, TV networks began in Nazi Germany. The strict policy of German broadcasting during this period was to offer a pleasant diversion from any wartime realities which might be having an adverse effect on public morale. Apparently, it was a stubborn policy. They kept tap-dancing right up to when the Russians had Berlin surrounded. (I guess they liked tap dancing.) When I think of how mainstream television treats the war today, there doesn't appear to be much difference from the original approach. As long as the bombs aren't landing on your doorstep, you'd have no clue whether you were winning or losing. At the risk of sounding hedonistic, I have no objection to this policy. My passion for Harryhausen movies is also well known. While this is how I like my video entertainment, it does not undermine my awareness of the real world. That would only be the case if all I ever did was to watch videos.
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Take the Logos from Your Eye

What is the logos? The reason. The word. An important term in philosophy and religion, according to Wikipedia. We need a reason. We need answers, so we can feel rational about our actions. Look how calm and rational news of wartime operations is broadcast. They won't come out and say they wiped out a village and cremated everyone within a mile-long radius. If it's mentioned at all, it will be mentioned as a footnote, with words like 'aerial mishap' (or 'oh oh spaghettios!') Religion supplies these answers in the fashion of a Hollywood blockbuster, which seems to have popular appeal. But, if you look carefully at some of the gospels, you'll find that part at the end where Christ cries out from the cross, 'Why do you people need a logos anyway! Look here, I'm being crucified because you all need a logos! And it's not even a Jewish idea! It's Greek!' (It's there. You just have to read between the lines.) Philosophy delves into it more seriously, but still presumes to supply the same impossible answers. The philosopher takes the question one step farther, 'Why am I contemplating why we need a logos?' If he's a hedonist, he may conclude, 'I don't know why. I guess I'll ... get high.'
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Veality Check

Believing you're meat 'til it's all over town But you're already tender and your steaks are too round I'm covering you in saltines I've ground And leaving you in at twenty minutes a pound Boneless Might as well be cutlets
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