Crash and Bern

Well, in light of last week's fiasco, I've decided that, just like Charles Foster Kane's "Inquirer", this noble publication needs some founding guidelines to keep its humble writer on the narrow path of common decency. Other similarities between Welles' famed character and myself include our singular, oft repeated subconscious obsessions (well, I guess mine is not so subconcsious, and is really a dual obsession if you count Dan Fogelberg), and our unbridled ambition and sense of self-importance . I can't say that I've ever "choked on a silver spoon" (although once I did get my color-changing plastic dino-spoon from the Quaker Oats box lodged in my left nostril very badly). However, I believe two examples out of three are enough to prove my fate to follow in the footsteps of Citizen Kane and come to completely disregard my founding principles at some later date. So I figure I might as well jut save myself a lot of heartache and sleepless nights (and the graham cracker opera house I've got in the works) and just make a complete mockery of them now.

1. I will never make reference to the movie "Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol" or any of its subsequent brethren in sub-mediocrity. Any allusion to arcane, childish ciinematic objects of shame unto the ancestors can EASILY be summed up by the first three Police Academy movies. To bring in the fourth or higher would be unspeakably ostentatious and would make the wild presumption that anyone has actually SEEN these movies, which I believe would cost me more readers than it's worth.

2. I will never make fun of the name "Reginald". Seriously, the world's been hard enough on you as it is. I can imagine one of our unfortunately-christened friends wandering despairingly over the vast cybernet wasteland saying "If I don't find a Reginald-friendly site on this next random click, I will develop an eating disorder and/or male pattern baldness", only to find icy-fresh hatred and scorn from CIAI. Needless to say, I have no desire to defend myself against accusations of heartlessness and callous disregard for the psychological well being of a small but absolutely vital portion of society. Seriously, the only thing I'm qualified to defend myself against is the chocolaty goodness of Snackwells Brand pudding desserts, and let me tell you, it's an uphill battle!

3. I will never attempt to describe the taste of Chapstick Lip Balm without using the letter "W"

4. "The Erotic Escapades of Beater Pan and Kinkerbell" will never be required background reading for anything. I promise.

5. I will try my darndest to use correct grammar and proper spelling at all times, except when the context absolutely demands use of words such as "Killa", "Biatch", "h8er", "Playaz", "Crazayz", "Nastayz" or "Aangstrom", which just happens to be a really hard word to spell.

6. I will never aid or assist in the making of a flash movie involving the death-struggle between a small mammal and a houshold appliance unless the small mammal is a Cusus and the appliance is a Goldstar microwave.

There, I think I'll stop.

As Promised...

Well, I now realize that I kind of backed myself into a corner last night when I promised I'd have something by Tuesday, so I guess I'm stuck writing without any theme or general sense of direction. Not unusual for me, I suppose.

So, honies, do you know what tonight was? It was "Full Moon on the Quad", where Stanford students all gather in the main quad and make out with random strangers. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. What I want to talk about is this: Oral Hygeine. Seriously, I can't get enough of this shit. Every time I go to the dentist, I always come in smuggly thinking to myself "Ah, I've been such a GOOD boy, dentaly speaking". But Nooooo! Every single time, that dental assistant squints her eyes and frowns after one look. OK, I don't know if they frown because they wear those masks, but STILL! And then they always write something esoteric and utterly unaccessable to all but those who have completed Brown Institute's rigorous 2 year program. The lecture is always the same, short and sweet. "Do you floss?". It's really a lecture, or even a gentle suggestion. Yet it is the single most guilt-inducing utterance I've been cursed with to date (with the possible exception of "are you wearing my panties?").

Anyway, long story short, they always send me home packing little containers of minty dental floss to incise my gums with for two days before I give up on it again. Ah, GLIDE, recommended by 2 out of 3 dentists. This got me to be thinking: dentists seem to have so much to say about the world, so much wisdom to share, yet we only poll them about dental products. I mean, they're smart guys right? They're not exactly brain surgeons or anything, but hey, at least they're down to earth enough to tell us what EVERYDAY people need, not just people with brain tumors or parkinson's disease (damn elitists!). We are sitting on a gold mine of knowledge here, people, if only we knew how to tap it. I mean, how many times has it happened to you that you're in the supermarket trying to decide which brand of, oh, say... salsa to buy. Now, normally we'd be taken in by clever packaging or a general appearance of pasteurization, but imagine if you knew what the DENTISTS thought! Life would be so easy! But we need not stop there, friends. Oh, no! Whenever you find yourselves at a moral crossroads, wouldn't it be nice if you knew what a DENTIST would do in this same situation? Imagine the classic moral conundrum involving the choice of a person in a train careening out of control to either switch the tracks and kill one person or keep on a straight course and cause the deaths of many. Now, this is a doozie, I'll admit. However, the Dentists would be our salvation! We'd just poll every dentist in the whole world and let the majority be the deciding factor.

Well, now, we've covered dentists, what can we talk about next? What really bugs me? OH, I know! Slutty girls! Seriously people, have some self respect! All I can say is that some day you're going to run into Kenny G in a dark alley and you won't be able to say no! [Segment deleted by author bucause he was really tired at the time and didn't realize what a jerk it made him sound like and has no wish to lose readers becuase of it}. Needless to say, I doubt this works very often, or if it does, it probably backfires horribly, turning little Johny into a shady regular at Madame Maloney's House of Starlight, which, incidentally, is recommended by 3 out of 4 dentists.

So Sorry to Disappoint

Sorry to jump the gun on my usual Tuesday postings, but I just thought I'd point out some new features on this blog. I know, I know, you clicked here, barely masking your undying hope that I may have published a day early, only dissapointed by my opening sentence. Don't dispair, my little jiggly friends, I promise that in two days time this site will be overflowing with the quality ramblings you've come to expect from me. I've updated the sidebar to include some very important background reading. Darlings, this is seriously important shit. Here I explain the unexplanable grandeur that is CIAI, tell you all you need to know about two of my favorite things, fill you in on my Kenny G fixation, and give you the lyrics to the Titanic song in case you were in a coma from December of 1997 until September of the following year. And there's so much more! Also, I've added a brief links section about what I've been reading lately, in case you are curious as to where some of the stuff I say comes from. Thanks for your patience, and I promise, Tuesday will yield great fruit for those who read!

TTFN (Ta ta for now)

Bike Rage

To those of you who have been harassing me about my recent lack of posts, I have an excuse. Today's meaty little tidbit were originally to be thrown into your foaming mouths with a side of pictures illustrating each offending cycling habit. However, the loss of a usb cable has indefinitely postponed that little endevour, so instead I'll serve them with a side of 80's song quotes. I know, 'tis a poor substitute, but it was either that or conjectures regarding the size of Kenny G's penis, so please consider yourself lucky. And now we return to our regular scheduled incoherent rant:

The sun does many things. Now, before you adjust your wire-frame glasses, loudly wipe your nose with your shirt sleave and project your hand into the air with the intention of haltingly informing me that hydrogen atoms are compressed to form helium under unimaginable forces only experienced by human beings in level 5, stage 3 of the Dargahort Galaxy in Spaceport 3: Journey to Gortexobran, let me suggest that we look for things the sun does right here on planet earth. Besides making the plants grow and melting my ice sculpture of Dan Fogelberg that I had been working on for 2 months, it tends to bring out bikers. Lots of them. Unlike cars, bikers don't really have any rules to follow, and probably wouldn't worry about breaking them anyway because a high speed game of cat and mouse on bikes offers police officers absolutely no shot of ever getting on COPS. So, I've identified some of the top bike-hazzards right here on campus.

5. The "I'm a competative racing cyclist" guy

Oh, this guy's a real hot shot, what with the aerodynamic helmet and knee pads. These people often appear out of nowhere, racing around a curve with an intense expression on their faces. They ride those hunch-over bikes with thin wheels that seem to be completely incapable of turning, since they will just barrel right through an intersection or corner and just expect you to avoid them. Occasionally, they ring their little bell before they run into you, so that everytime your oven-timer goes off in the future you will have a flashback to your near death experience from the ensuing crash. The joke's on them though; they may get to class 30 seconds earlier than everyone else, but they have to sit the entire time in those ridiculous shorts.

"She's a very kinky girl, the type you don't take home to Motherrrrrrr..."

4. The "I wear sun glasses at night" guy

You were a loser in high school, and there's nothing you can do to hide that, least of all be careening about the parking lot at midnight while wearing smoked aviators. Bikes may be required to have little flashing lights, but people aren't, and neither are stationary objects such as cars or trashcans, by the way. (I will not quote an 80's song here because, as many astute readers may have already realized, the title of this one was a double whammy).

3. The "Oh look at me, I'm signaling my intended change of direction" guy

Now, this one is a real mystery to me. First of all, unless we are on a busy street, there is absolutely no good reason to adopt a signal system that no one else knows about. For all we know, you could very well be pointing out that really weird looking TA from the Sociology department. Better to just slow down at an intersection and assume that we are all fundamentally stupid, drugged up, or fans of Michael Bolton (these three criteria are by no means mutually exclusive).

"Don't stop 'till you get enough, JAMON!"

2. The "Must have coffee at all times" guy

Seriously, these guys remind me of those people who try to rush a severed appendage from the site of an accident to a hospital so it can be reattached. However, the motives here are somewhat less clear to me. "Doctor! We have a case of old coffee, it looks serious!". "How long has it been out?" "About 5 minutes". "Sounds bad, but let's see what we can do. Scalpel. Clamp. Sponge. Non-Dairy Creamer. Stir Stick. MY GOD... It's... it's gone slightely lukewarm! Nurse, fetch the microwave safe mug... STAT!". "I'm sorry doctor, I got it here as fast as I could, only some guy riding around with sunglasses clipped my rear wheel". Lesson learned: get a coffee machine, a thermos you can put in your backpack, or just switch to Folger's Crystals.

"SOME DAY, LOVE WILL FIND YOU, BREAK THOSE CHAINS THAT BIND YOU..."

1. Cell phone bikers!

Ach! you probably guessed this one in advance, but in case you didn't, I regret to inform you that the most annoying trend in the car world has now become the most annoying trend in the biking world. Seriously, Tiffany can wait five minutes to hear about your hot math section leader. 'Oh, my gosh, Tiff, he's sooooo hot! Hmmmm? What's that noise, you ask? why, that's just the agonized scream of a biker who swerved to miss me, crashed into a pole and spilled scalding hot coffee all over his face. MMMmmmm, looks like second degree burns at least. So, you coming to Late Nite with Jessie and me?"

"KEEP ON ROCKIN' IN THE FREE WORLD..."

Pop vs. Soda

Ok, those of you who have spent your entire lives in the Midwest slopping down what you know as "pop" may not be aware that the wholesome, delightfully effervescent beverage that you have grown to love leads a double life on the coasts. I think you know where I'm going with this. Out here in California, boy, it's called soda. Now, before you stare at me gaping, your wife's famous taco casserole dribbling down the front of you Helly Hansen sweater or drop your knitting needles on your foot and cause a serious infection, I must regretfully inform you that there is even more to this sordid tale; down South, they call it "coke". However, since this nomenclature is just so mind-bogglingly stupid, I'll prevent you from having a coronary (or choking on your beef jerkey) and just stick to pop and soda.

The issue came to a head the other night when, between archaeology homework and IHUM reading, my Californian roommates pounced upon a particular utterance of the word "pop". Now, I had been heretofore unaware that there was even the slightest cause for contention in this matter, so naturally, I was curious. Then the roommate from Connecticut walks in and I say to myself "ah, perhaps an ally". But alas, it was not so. Those damn coastal-soda-drinking-elitists! They have no idea how REAL Americans live or what they call their carbonated beverages!

Long story short, chaos erupted; our Cartesian bases were shaken beneath us. And of course, being Stanford students, we pursued the matter to a ridiculous degree and came up with THIS. Forget that damn Roe vs. Wade crap, this is the REAL cultural divide! And I tell you friends, this battle is predicted by John in the book of Revelations, chapter 4 verses 6-7:

"Before the throne was something like a sea of glass, similar to crystal. In the midst of the throne, and around the throne were four living creatures full of eyes before and behind. The first creature was like a lion, and the second creature like a calf, and the third creature had a face like a man, and the fourth was like a flying eagle"

Obviously, the "Sea of Glass" represents Crystal Pepsi, whose second coming will act as a divine catalyst of the end times. The lion represents pop, the eagle represents "soda", the calf represents "coke", and the man represents Kenny G, because you just KNOW that slippery mamajamma gonna have something to do with it!

And so, the scriptures go on, and it turns out that we're all too diabetic and toothless to fight each other because we've been injesting too much of the very beverage whose apellation is at stake and just end up drinking Crystal Lite and watching Oprah, which is pretty much the same thing as the end of civilization, when you think about it.