Overthunk

Catch phrases run the gamut from "kiss my grits" to "can you smell what the rock is cookin?" I like to make my own, though, and of late, my favorite has been "I hate __________." We live in a world that is uncomfortable with hate, and because it is forbidden, I guess, is why it's fun to say. I'm not all about the hatin' exactly. It's just whatever you're not supposed to do is fun to do. Forbidden words hold more power. Also, there's no thinking, just denouncing. You can't hate everything. People are too complicated to hate. If you start to hate one, and then think some more, you'll find something that wasn't so bad. And if you hate someone for being a hatemonger, then you're just as bad as they are, aren't you? So hate has to be more specific, like "I hate floral print shirts." "I hate when good sloths go bad." "I hate vocational training." "I hate Death by Chocolate type desse...

In just an hour or so of watching old cartoons on Boomerang (old meaning, 30's - 60's produced) I mentally tallied a few stark differences between the cartoons of now and those of old. On the Pink Panther I DVR'ed, there were about five scenes containing guns, including one fired at the Pink Panther's head at point blank range, rendering him grey-headed and exploded, one cigarette (smoked by the gunman), and some scant sexual references to can-can girls (by the Inspector), and even a suicidal duckling on an old Tom and Jerry I caught who attempted a self-gullotine with a giant ax on a string. So the question is, then, how come we watched all this and there were few to no school shootings back then? Why did public violence seem to increase in an inverse relationship to the amount of violence that was fretted over and strained from kids' tv in the 80's and 90's? Now new cartoons are mostly a contest to see who's more badly drawn or the most insane. Where...

Brought to you from the State Fair of Texas is this concoction invented from materials on hand while sitting waiting for a sheep dog show to start. Fair Food Burritos 1 bag freshly spun cotton candy 1 paper cup slightly stale popcorn Peel off thin layers of cotton candy to create a candy "tortilla" in your hand. Sprinkle in a handful or so of popcorn inside the cotton candy tortilla. Fold "tortilla" together, adding extra strips of candy on the top or sides to seal it in. Stuff in mouth, making "mmm" sounds as you go. It's a crunchy, soft, sugary, salty slice of junk food genius. Enjoy!

Even though we're all unique and special, just like every fuckin' snowflake and everyone else, we are also composites of stereotypes. While everyone talks shit about stereotypes, we also know that they wouldn't exist if there wasn't some truth to them. Here's a list of some of mine, in no particular order: American White Female Of Irish Descent -- i.e. Hot-tempered, Hardworking, Drunken, Proletarian Short and Fat Poor kid Teacher Texan From Dallas Writer Blogger College edumacated Curly-tressed Bleach blonde Intellectual Artist Musically obsessed Dog person Gamer Animal lover Homeowner Conventiongoer Sister Conservative Tree hugger Foulmouthed Computer geek Yep, that pretty much sums me up. Or not. Care to put your labels on the table?

If you just want to experience New Orleans without all the sweating and beignets and staggering and hurricanes, read this: A Confederacy of Dunces There's a statue of Ignatius Reilly in the French Quarter somewhere, and I'm kicking myself that I didn't see it. A movie might be made at some point, but, I guarantee you, it will be a gossamer shadow of this book's greatness. Read it. Even if only for the pale purpose of saying you've read a Pulitzer prizewinning fiction. Suffocate yourself laughing, slobber everywhere crying. Just read it. Trust me.

worship me for my drollness or sarcasm, one of the 2 or both at once like a big yin yang thing sweet and sour tangy syrup msg for your tongue and brain

(least that's how they pronounce 'Histoires' in French) Why the frog, say you? 'Cause I'm here to favor you with some tales from the dank, mildewed streets of New Orleans' French Quarter, which I got invited to journey to a few weeks back. And let me say, not to worry! Depravity and drunkenness, never affected by natural disasters, are in full swing. TRAVEL TIPS When you know you'll be passing through airport security, avoid wearing an underwire bra that costs less than $10. If you do, boob inspections by security officers will be provided courtesy of Wal-Mart stores' Cheapest Undergarment Materials Possible Division. For added fun, get a call from your school about missing children who are in your class (who merely strayed from their waiting spot after school and have since been found, but that's not mentioned until 2 minutes into the call) at the same time. ITINERARY If you stay on Bourbon Street and it's between March and November, this is you...

Step into motorized listening booth Accelerate onto thoroughfare Put on heaviest metal to blot out niggling thoughts that pull at brain Let the unrelenting bass guitar thundering report of sticks on skin banging angry cadences Drive out these idiot notions Purging needless pain from the soul ------------------------------------ Does that make me crazy? -- Gnarls Barkley