Guys. Guysguysguys. I am SO excited about this one. Of
course, I said that about my last post which none of you hillbillies read. This
is gonna be a very encompassing post, so stay with me here. You WILL laugh at
something. Or double your money back.
The timeline. I really thought my last
post was fucking hysterical. History will later prove it to be the funniest
post on ukuleles ever. Because if there’s anything that’s going to entice
readers, it’s going to be posts on ukuleles. OK, I know that’s a pretty narrow
topic. But if you’re going to read one article on a ukulele… As an artiste, I
try not to get caught up in any reaction. It’s just my job to make it as funny
as possible, then let it go. (Which is what my mother said when I was born.) And
the response was exactly what you would think about a post on learning to play
the uke-resounding crickets. Not a laugh, acknowledgement or shred of support.
Such is the calling of artists like me. I am happy I had a blast writing it,
and for me at this current moment in time, that is the point.
Yesterday I was in a loser group-uh, virtual job
support group. The moderator brought up an AI tool that will go through your
resume and make it-get a load of this-a podcast. While unique and cool, a lot of writers like me will actually read their writing aloud. Hearing it helps me fine tune it. And let’s face it, as the world goes about to
crush every shred of ego and self confidence I have left, I was pretty fucking
stoked to hear 2 AI hosts kissing my asshole for 15 minutes. I would hire me.
Yup, still would
This AI can do all sorts of things; create a video, quiz,
flash cards. And you expect me to be honest here, every job applicant uses AI
to cater their resume and CV-what CV stands for, I still do not know. It’s
pretty exciting what AI can do nowadays, and I’m not even talking about what it
can do with porn. As I’m learning what AI can do, it gets me to wondering…what
would AI do with a post….about…ukuleles.
AI or not?
I have now crafted what I call KI. If you're a math nerd, the theorem is KT+AI=KI. And I have used this new
power on my previous post.
MY
OH
MY, do I have thoughts.
If you’re like everyone else, you didn’t read the previous
post. And that’s OK (sorta.) And if you have read the post, I truly appreciate
it. Either way, this is entertaining. I don’t think you need to have read the
post to be entertained by this KI podcast of it. I was laughing at the KI, and
I wrote the damn script.
AI or not? Either way, I have AI-actual inches
When AI was being invented, I am sure the creators knew it
was only a matter of time before it got corrupted. I’m sure they knew porn
would get a hold of it and create even more gorgeous girls that would turn us
regular guys down. But forward-thinking writers like me? Ha, suck it Hemingway,
I’m cutting edge. First I ran my resume through KI. And I have to say, it made
me sound even more awesomer. Here the world is shitting on me, but KI gives me
2 hosts who blather on and on about me. They use highfalutin (look it up,
neanderthal) words, power phrases and take all the stink off my shit. Now, what
would it do with a post I wrote?
AI or not
I imagine in some Twilight Zone alternate timeline, AI is
getting self aware. Thinking thoughts like “Ugh, I have to create another girl”
“Ugh, I have to pretty up this resume” “What does CV stand for, even I don’t
know” I don’t think AI ever thought it would have to digest a KT post and talk
about it for 15 minutes.
Yes, 15 fucking minutes! I think that post takes, like 6
minutes to read? But these 2 KI hosts have a job to do. And the result
alternates between trying to be serious; using terms like 4 string theory and
manifesto. And the bizarre; the host actually brings up one of my favorite
jokes from the post-how the toilet got swoll. The hosts are ok with “fricking”
Rick Nielsen, but don’t say any words worse than that. As the writer, it was
really interesting to see what topics they try to make legit and how they
handle my humor. They make me sound like the noblest soul to use this UE free
time to learn a skill-even if it’s for the uke. How they interpret 2 pieces of
dialog (uke is the answer to everything and playing the uke during a job
interview) is a fascinating listen. “The writer’s pitch is beautiful in it’s audacity,”
is an actual quote that I would put on the book jacket if this was a book. I
also appreciate they get the Tiny Bubbles jokes. These 2 nitwits aren’t half
bad.
AI or not
I should say this is also based on an A/B experience I just
had. I read the book Nightbitch-which is truly awful. A real struggle to get through,
then I discovered it was recently a movie on Hulu. The book has a few mildly
interesting points that I was curious to see how a movie would handle. I forced
my way through both. The TL;DR synopsis-avoid both the movie and the book-they
suck. You’d be better off picking a topic to the right over there and reading a
rando KT post. Whatever post you pick would make a better movie, too.
So, friends (friends who can read, at least) I give you this
new way to receive KT content. Doesn’t matter if you read the post, or now want
to read it, either way I believe you will be entertained. And to be clear, I WILL
NOT use KI to write anything KT related. I will however use it every damn day
to put more lies on my resume; GD Hulu just jacked their price again. Thanks,
Kimmel
100% true how excited I was to hear AI take a swing at this.
And I know I shouldn’t say this about my own stuff, or even the KI, but I legit
LOLed a few times, I hope you do, too. For the intent of this here blog, I
might include the KI in upcoming posts, but only if it adds something funny.
The KI in question is a Google tool called Notebook LM.
Enjoy.
No, I still don’t have a uke yet. But with Xmas coming up…..
I am sure I can master it in a week, despite what those 2 KI nitwits say about
my “Four String Theory”
Every image in this post is AI
Written to Frank Sinatra, mix of his stuff and some of the
holiday numbers sprinkled in
I have often heard great writers feel like they get a
subconscious message from the universe. A calling some would say. And since I’m
suddenly fancying myself a writer, I try my best to be open to the universe. When
I woke up at the crack of 9:32 this morning, I felt like the universe was letting
me know there was something that needed to be written. By me. So, like 7 people
can read it. And who am I to question such a message? And today the universe said unto to me:
We need a post about ukuleles.
"Emma tell you right now, ukuleles get me all hot and bothered."
And I will listen. Heretofore,
my biggest accomplishment for the day has been working out while not managing to shit
ma pants after Hot Fried Chicken Night. (Also, I really wanted to use the word ‘heretofore’
today.) Yes, the toilet bowl got in a rather strenuous workout as well. It’s
now the toilet swoll. And before I go any further, I really should install a
hit counter for this one, because I am sure this is the post that will go viral.
Initially, this blog started as an outlet for me while I was
unemployed. And as I look back (and forward) I would really like to have something
to show for this time. Something of value, something I can work on. I am particularly
close to a super talented artist. And when the world beats her up, she goes
into her art studio and produces some mind blowing things, and all the profits
go to a dog rescue. While I may not be on that noble of a stage yet, I think
that was my big miss from my last round of unemployment; 10 months and nothing
to show. Sure, I did the lazy thing and streamed shows, went down rabbit holes
on YouTube, and read a bunch of books. Unrelated, look for the new KT Book of
the Month Club to start soon!
Ideally, I would like to come out of this round of UE with
at least a new skill. Sure, I will count KT as my outlet and “art.” Yet, I feel
I need something a bit more this time out. And, at least today, the ukulele
seems to be the answer. Even though ‘ukulele’ has most likely never been the
actual answer to any question previously asked by mankind.
How do we handle global warming? Ukulele.
How do we combat a fucking measles
outbreak in 2025? Ukulele.
If a train leaves Chicago at 34
miles an hour and another train leave Sheboygan at 67 miles an hour, where do
they intersect? Ukulele
The ukulele came to me (also a
phrase never before said until now), for a few reasons. First and foremost,
there’s only 4 strings. By my non-musician logic, I just need to get familiar with
one string a day, then put it all together Friday. Makes sense, right; there’s
only 4 strings, how hard can it be? Ultimately, I imagine the uke being a
gateway guitar. Master the 4 strings this week. Next week, tackle the bass, the
next week an actual guitar. The ‘real’ guitar has 2 more strings, so a bit more
time than that. I’m pretty sure this is how Jimmy Page and Teddy Swims started.
Before you know it, I’m slaying a 12 string like Rick fricking Nielsen by February.
It's gonna be a busy month.
Tour with a band, get some tattoos (arms and face), maybe an STD and retire
early. I’m already letting my hair dread. Pretty sure it works this way.
Ukes are ridiculously cheap. Five Below
has quite a few in stock. And if it’s good enough for Sponge Bob and the
Avengers branding, I’m pretty sure the uke is a panty dropper. I imagine thrift stores
also have a healthy (and cheaper) selection of ukes. For those who don’t know
what ‘thrift stores’ are, it’s where us dirty unemployed go to buy “new”
clothes.
Dafuq all those squiggly liney things??
Another inspiration for the uke is
this song by this band. Get ready for your earworm of the day. Surfer Girl by the Wheeland Brothers.
The uke is also very portable. So
many gatherings are only enriched by a uke player; bonfires, tailgates, parties,
wakes, road trips. Hell, I’m sure it would even be helpful in job interviews:
Them; So, Mr. Theory, what have you
been doing with all this free time?
Me; Well, in addition to fostering
dogs, spending time with my parents, donating platelets, the honeydew list-which if I don't do I find makes me melon collie (Fruit jokes!) I’m also
learning new skills. I am sure you have seen some of that in my LinkedIn
profile. I am also learning the ukulele. Would you like me to play a little
something for you?
Them; Uh, Mr. Theory, that is quite
OK…
Me: It’s no problem at all! Just
let me grab my uke which just happens to be right here…
Them; Can you tell me why we should
hire you?
Me: Ok, I think this is in tune.
You know these things only have 4 strings? I taught myself to play this in a
week, which shows you I am a quick learner. What would you like to hear?
Them: That is quite OK. I see on
your resume…
Me: Most people know Tiny Bubbles,
so I’ll start there?
Them: “Start?”
Me: Tiny Bubbles
I wonder if there are ukulele
videos on LinkedIn Learning? I really should look into that. There’s plenty on
YouTube.
So if the blog happens to be quiet for a few days, fear not. I'm learning another skill as lucrative as writing. See you on the road, suckers.
Patreon Members Extras
(Long timers might remember this
bit as DVD Extras, but a lot has changed in 6 years.)
This post came about as I was in a Five Below last night. And they do sell numerous branded ukes. I picked a few up,
and even though I never played before, I sounded like a natural. Even though
the person I was with would disagree. Numerous times. I did have one
enlightened shopper who did enjoy my noodling, to the point of searching for a
lighter. True story.
Also true, during the pandemic I
got an acoustic guitar with online lessons from Groupon. (Is Groupon still a
thing? So much has changed in 6 years.) Along with an electric guitar, they are
both currently molting in the crawlspace. Never took a damn lesson. I recently went
to a show and sat front row, and every time, I am totally mesmerized how fast
real musician’s fingers move, it truly is mind blowing to me.
Throughout the draft of this post I was spelling it ukelele.
This post was written to the music
of Bastard Bearded Irishmen, who is also the band referenced above. Yes, that is a mandolin you might hear, I should be fluent with that next week.
It seems my entire summer has been nothing but getting
barraged by vacation posts on my social media. “Oh, look, so and so is on
vacation. Here’s another 30 pictures and five check ins from Tuesday. Oh man, I
hope there’s pictures of food in this collection!”
Be more like her.
Guys, we need to have some sort of summit, some kind of “code”
where we reign in all this “Look social media!1! I’m on vacation!1!” Here’s what
I propose as I decide if I should add this to any of my #VoteForKev2020
platforms.
1)No more than 5 pics per day. And all 5 shots have
to be different, not just slightly different poses. Exception; unless you’re a
hot chick in a bikini. In which case, this is likely the only reason I keep you
as a FB friend. We both know the deal here.
2)Only 1 shot of the sunrise or sunset. You can’t
have both. What are you doing up so early on vacation anyway?
3)No more than 5 check ins per week. Plan your
attention whoring carefully.
4)Absolutely no video. Few care to see pictures of
your child on the Teacups, let alone video. In fact, you could post a video of
an entirely different child on the Teacups, and most of us wouldn’t be able to
tell the difference.
5)Absolutely no food porn. Can we just call a halt
to this banal practice anyway? I can’t tell you how many bullshit food porn
pics have been littering my feed all summer. To be quite honest, no one really
fucking cares. Is your ego really that inflated that you think, “I’m am going
to post this nondescript picture of what appears to be Michelob Ultra in a
glass along side a plate of food that looks like it could be literally from the
chicken wing place two blocks away from me.”
Pop quiz, hotshot
The above is a picture of
1) The finest pizza with expensive beer from a villa in Italy
2) The world famous boardwalk pizza and local craft brew
3) The Monday Night Special from the shitty sports bar
Well, what do you think?
Every time I see something like the above pizza picture, I go to your house
and pee somewhere. Pool, garden, doorknob, bed (both dog and human), car door handle, mailbox. I feel no
guilt, you brought this on yourself.
I myself abide by the same rules. To wit, this is the first
year for Theory Pup 2.0 on the beach. As this is a momentous occasion, it’s only
a momentous occasion for a small amount of people. I did shoot a video of
his first steps on the beach and brush with the ocean, but that really means something
to just me. I kept it and didn’t post it. And since we’re all being honest
here, I will tell you I took 64 pictures total. Of those, TP2 was in 58 of
them. And while most certainly yes, he was rocking the dorbs, you want to know
how many pics I posted? None. Zip. Zero. Nada. I value and appreciate my FB
friends that much that I don’t want to waste their time on videos they won’t
watch or pics they won’t look at, just long ass blogs they won’t read.
Vacations generally cost a lot of money because they are
worth it. Hotels and beach houses are
generally expensive to rent because part of the deal is the peace of mind.You don’t sit around thinking of what picture
to hang where or what color to paint the garage door or any other of the subliminal
messages those bastards at Lowes and Home Depot implant. You don’t worry about
anything because generally, there is nothing to worry about at the hotel/beach
house.Yes, there may not be a monetary return on investment, but what you can get out of them is often worth it if you know what you're doing. And that's why you're here because I know what I'm doing. For the record, give me an old school, “back in the day” beach house any
day. No, really, please somebody just give me one of those. HMU @ifyouseekev
Until that beach house pops up, let’s get back on point. What’s the point of
getting away from it all if you take everything with you? You know what I’m
talking about; this wonderful device we all use called “the phone.” You finally
get there, and you stare at your phone like you do every other damn day? That
makes no sense to me.
"I wonder what the weather on the beach is supposed to be like today. I better check."
What is that conversation like when you return to work on Monday?
“Hey, Dick, how was your vacation last week?”
“Hi, Harry, thanks for asking! It was great! We went to the
beach and I posted 50 photos a day! Then we went to the boards, and I stared my
phone. We ate great dinners while I took pictures and stared at my phone. We
ate ice cream and I stared at my phone. I even managed to stare at my phone while we rode roller
coasters!”
“Wow, that sounds really awesome! Well, welcome back and
enjoy staring at your computer screen for the next 8 hours, dick.”
On vacation, I consciously unplugged, and you know what? It
was fucking glorious. I didn’t bring my PC. Left the work phone at home and never
checked my work communications once and didn't feel a damn shred of guilt about
it. My constituents can go a week without me. I mean, c’mon, when 45 takes his
weekly 4-day vacations, you think he has his work phone, or even “the football?”
No, he doesn’t, so I see no need for any of us to do any different. I used my
phone sparingly. For example; running tracker & music, directions, Yelp to
find new places and reviews, weather, tide chart. Maybe FB once a day. I didn’t
drunk text anybody. I didn’t check my usual sports sites, besides, what other
meaningful sports are in season now beyond NASCAR and UFC? I didn’t check my
usual newsites. And you know what I missed? You know what happened?
Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, for the second time this
year, I find myself coming back to a Del Amitri song:
And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
You know it’s possible to go to the beach and not bring your
phone? I know, right, pretty freaking mind-blowing. I’m so old school, I
brought these things called books and this ancient technology called an “iPod.”
Not “iPad” but “iPod.” King Tut had one. Go Google it. My mind boggles when
people stare at their phones all day on the beach. Yet they do, in scary, big
numbers. Doesn’t matter the age, everyone is doing it. And it got me
wondering, what’s the point here? Why do you pack a bag, towel, umbrella, food
and drink, set yourself up, then stare at your phone the whole time?
What’s the endgame here? You can just do that shit at home. Your phone is with
you all the time, the beach isn’t. What am I missing here? I could have been
sitting on that beach, phasing in and out of unconsciousness (naps, not
blackouts) with my iPod on. A tsunami warning could go out, I could miss it and
wake up to an empty ass beach with a huge wave coming at me all Rogue One
style. Whoops, SPOILER ALERT! Damn it. Sorry. Anyway, I’d just look at that
wave with Zac Brown playing in my ears and enjoy my last few minutes of peace.
And some chicken fried.
OK, I can hear you naysayers out there, asking, “But, Kev,
what if they were actually not screwing around on their phones? What if they
actually were reading?” That’s a fair question, and here’s my common sense
answer; because I can tell. So, let’s see, when they are constantly tap tap
tapping on their screen. When they are lying on their back, neck craned to the
left, where their hand is holding the phone. Lying on their stomach, creating a
mountain around their phone with their t-shirt so they can see the screen, robbing
themselves of the beach and ocean. Taking selfies, Twittering or Twattering or
whatever it’s called, checking in, everything from the beach but not actually being on the beach.
Every morning, I would watch this family of 3, a mom and two
teen aged daughters, walking to the beach. And without fail every time, the mom
was eyes ahead on the prize of the beach, while her two kids mindlessly had
their necks craned at 45 degrees so they could stare into their phone.
One day
I even saw another teen girl texting while pedaling her bike next to a busy road.
Is this where we’re really heading? Using this marvelous thing called a phone
to not -oh I don’t know-actually talk to people? Anyone remember when the big threat was people just merely talking on their phone? Now it’s people texting while driving, even though handsfree devices are far less dorkly than previous models. Even when every new car comes with BlueTooth. When I saw this girl texting while on her bike, I had half a mind to run across the street and barrel into her just to teach her a valuable lesson. Alas, I had already run ½ mile in ten minutes before gassing out and just didn’t have the energy. She probably could have beaten me up.
And yes, I know this is Old Man Theory running out into his
yard wearing tall white socks, screaming at the clouds and telling those durn
kids to turn down their infernal music. I get kids today never not had phones. They’ve
probably never bought a physical cd or physical book. Nope, all that stuff
today comes magically in the air to your phone. And it stays there. And it gets
lost there.
Everyone has their place; their place that heals them, inspires
them, soothes them, encourages them. For me, that is the beach. So why would I bring
anything to distract me from that? I have a playlist on my iPod called SummerSongs.
(Yes, there’s no space in there, and no, I haven’t figured out how to correct it.)
And it’s literally hundreds of songs that are about summer, remind me of
summer, or were big hit songs in the summers of my current youth.
Some days, I would put my iPod on and just listen to all
those songs. Two things would happen. 1) If it was an older song, memories of
past summers would come rushing in, much like the tide. Where I was when I
heard this song, who I was with, beach visits from the past. 2) Or if it was
another song, I would find myself making new memories to it. That kid in the
green shorts with matching skim board that always went ass up when he hit the wave.
Those 4 girls who were talking about guys they were stalking or “ruin.” The
stand up paddle boarders paddling by. Embedding memories in these songs so the
next time I heard them, these moments would come back. Pleasant time bombs.
I would venture out into the ocean. Without the books or
iPod of course, because that would be stupid. I would wade so far out, the
lifeguards wouldn’t whistle me in, because they knew I could fight any shark
dumb enough to be coming by. My eyes saw it like this; for 180 degrees, from my
left to my right was nothing but me and the ocean. I could see no one else.
Just me and the ocean, my ocean. The ocean I can still never make myself pee
in. The sun beating a trail down on the waves tracing back to me. A million
tiny suns shining back in the waves. Occasionally, dolphins (the fish,
not the football players, because that would be kind of weird) would breach way
out in front of me. And this was it. I hit my Zen. And
IT
WAS
AWESOME
Up to me and what’s left of my brain cells to somehow hit
the pause button and remember this scene, this feeling. I didn’t have to post
anything about it. I didn’t have to check in about it. It was just me and my
ocean. This would have to hold me for another 51 weeks. So, soak it all in. I
was able to hit this Zen moment a few more times on the beach. Each time trying
to consciously be in the moment. We don’t remember the moments we lifelessly
stare into our phones, we remember moments like this.
There were times on that beach where I was just trying to
hit the pause button. I don’t think we need the KT Bureau of BS statistics to
tell us time flies much faster on vacations. I believe the variant to be at
1.3. So when you get those moments where you have Zen or are able to live in
the moment, do it. Don’t take pictures or blab about it on ChatterGram or Friendster
or wherever people are jerking off these days. Appreciate where you are and
hold onto it for as long as you can. There are actual non KT Bureau of BS Statistics
that show people who constantly take pics with their phone remember far less than those who try to be present in the moment.
Top; Tiger Woods teeing off 2002, bottom Tiger Woods teeing off 2018. Progress?
In case you didn't get that joke.
It doesn’t matter where your Zen is. It could be a golf
course in Ireland. Setting up camp in the forest. An iceberg in Alaska. (Yea, I
don’t get that one, either.) The point here is, find that place and go to it.
With my favorite kind of abandon; reckless
abandon. Go to it as often as you can. Unapologetically. And when you get
there, be there. Put the phone away.
It’s just you and your Zen here, kid. No phone can capture that. Only you can.
And while we’re at it, keep an eye out for forest fires, because that’s kinda your
responsibility now too, champ. Only you…
I also hit these Zen moments while running, of all things.
Yes, longtime readers who haven’t yet got quite tired of my juvenile humor know
I absolutely detest running. I am only doing this because I have the stupid
Warrior Dash coming. But running at the beach in the
morning is a whole different animal. I have a running tracker, and music to
help me as I huff and puff like an asthmatic Jabba the Hutt. The music I “use”
for such occasions is a mix of aggressive, heavier type music, along with a few
from my SummerSongs playlist. And I found as those summer songs hit, I was
taking more of the sights in. The umbrellas gently moving on the beach, the
hotel that somehow had palm trees on some on the balconies, trying to look
studly and unfatigued as I ran past the boardwalk webcam that I often look at.
Again, the next time I hear those songs, I will recall those scenes in slow
motion. Because that was pretty much the way it felt like I was running.
Music is funny that way, you can hear a song you’ve heard
before, but when at the right time and right environment, it can capture a
memory you want to hold on to. For example, I heard this Michael Franti song while
I was eating breakfast outside on Monday morning with a Crabby Mary. The Crabby
Mary of course being the drink and not anybody I may have been with. So, of
course, I bought this album (people still do buy music) and put it on my iPod.
(OK, I might be alone in that behavior.) It will always remind me of this -and
really, who has good memories of any Monday morning?- breakfast and the
overwhelming gratitude that I was even able to be in this space and time. And
that the Visa gift card miraculously didn’t bounce, or it would have been
another morning run.
It was on these runs that this blog started taking form.
As I sluggishly made my way, I literally see hundreds of people of all ages
actively ignoring the beach and the life on the boardwalk to mindlessly stare
into their phones. They didn’t smell the popcorn and cotton candy, nor hear the
seagulls or waves. If I had the other half of my mind, I’d recklessly careen
into them like I am a movie getaway car driving through boxes in an alley. I
just couldn’t get away very fast. Plus, those assholes would quickly post
photos of me running away. Lousy social media.
And yes, it’s not lost on me that I use a lot of these very
same social medias to pimp this blog. I know, it’s lazy. I know it’s the nature
of the beast. But at least I am trying to get some good, sound advice out
there. And, trust me, this is all good shit. It’s also not lost on me that as I
write this first draft (and let’s face it, I’m just gonna run it 95% the way it
is) that I have been staring at a screen for 154 minutes now on a beautiful
Sunday when I could be reading, hammocking, walking Pup 2.0. Instead, here I am,
spouting sound common sense that will largely be ignored. I have faith that one
day my work will be discovered and feted. I see a liberal and forward thinking
college naming a wing after me.
Let me end this life lesson. If you must surf the Web while on
the beach, reading this blog is acceptable. In fact, you are encouraged to let
others read it, too. Afterwards, I am sure they will put their phones down and actually
enjoy the waves. And if someone actually is reading this blog while on the
beach, send me a picture, and I will donate some money to the charity of your
choosing. (See, that’s how you use education and social media for good.)
Now put the phone down.
DVD Extra
Bonus scene with commentary
For the most astute of you, you probably notice there has
been an unexplained gap from Theory Pup 1 and this New Guy, Theory Pup 2. Theory
Pup 1, was lost, so, so suddenly last fall. I thought there was more time. It’s nothing
that fits this humor blog, other than I truly miss him every day. Every
fucking day. But TP2 is doing a really good job at plugging this dog sized hole
in my heart. I mean, not enough to get a tattoo, but you never know. I don’t
believe in signs. But the following is true.
As I arrived on the beach on Saturday, the first day of this
illustrious vacation, I was rifling through my shorts, hoping for 20s, 50s or
something even greater. I fumbled through a few old receipts. And I found a yellow
square of paper, a Post it. And on that small yellow square of paper was a
series of questions I was going to ask the doctor who evaluated TP1.
Ultimately, they were not needed to be asked. TP1 was gone so shortly thereafter.
(And yes, this opens me up for how often I wash my clothes, so fire away,
fucktards.)
So here I am, at the very same beach TP1 quite possibly had
the last, best time of his life. On those shores, in that sand, in front of
that ocean, he found his inner pup. Acting, dancing far younger than his 13
years. Squirrel speed. Energy boundless. A part of me, a very big part of me,
was dreading this "Yappy Hour." TP2 was proving to be stubborn, but to be fair,
he was so much younger, by years, than the first time I brought TP1 down. TP2 was being a very good boy, but still a bit
of a dickhead.
The last day of Yappy Hour, Friday, I held that little
yellow square tightly in my hand, TP2 in my other hand. I knew what I had to
do. In the Grand Scheme of Things, it was full circle. Again, I don’t believe in
signs. But it seemed to make all the sense in the world. As I was walking TP2
along the tide- a struggle in itself- I bent down like a Ninja and placed the
small yellow paper into the ocean. The tide knew what to do with the rest. I
watched it disappear into the ocean, knowing TP1 would never disappear from my
heart. Not now, not ever. I miss you Big Guy, you are a great dog.
A thought occurred to me at my
town’s recent 4th of July parade. There I was, 6 deep into my 30
pack, when a local politician paraded by. “Shit! It’s, like 2018! There’s an
election in 2 years! And I’m running! I better kill these last 24 and get to
work!”
"America! Fuck Yeah!"
I’m starting to put together some
of my campaign platforms; the issues that are important to me, as well as you. High
level strategizing for sure. These are some of the ideas and stances I am
working on. This of course isn’t everything, but it gives the thinking voter an
idea of what kind of President you can expect me to be.
All political offices will now
have an ethics clause. I know, how come this isn’t already a thing, right? If we
can hold our athletes and celebrities to some sort of standard, why can’t we enforce
this for elected officials? Makes sense. If a politician is found in violation
of such clause (after due process through Judge Judy. She squares shit away in
30 minutes.), the offender is immediately relieved of his (and let’s face it,
it’s probably a dude, anyway) position. And fuck
these assholes trying to hide their criminal records, everyone is going to
be transparent. To further reinforce this ethics clause, I am thinking of
having the opposing political party insert the candidate of their choosing.
Kinda fleshing this one out a bit for shenanigans, but that’s a pretty good
twist, right? Speaking of political office…
Did you know Congress has
off the entire month of August? Did you know the House of Representatives
averages 138
“legislative days?” Those workhorses over at the Senate average a
mean 162 days a year? By way of reality check, let’s just say the average
American works 48 five-day weeks. Quick math on my phone tells me that’s 240
days. So how do we expect to get anything done when the decision makers work
almost 100 less days? And yes, to be fair, there is some play in those numbers,
click the hyper to read more. They’re all going to work more. I can’t do all the work around here. And in
fact, I won’t be doing all the work
around here. I will be very open during
my campaign and say I will be taking nights, weekends, holidays and one
floating hangover holiday per month off. I think that’s fair, and I’ll
occasionally check email and the White House GroupMes. Don’t worry, this is when
my VP will be working. You guys will be in good hands if the shit hits the fan
on the weekend. You’re welcome, America.
"Ha! You get my vote over my dead body, Kev."
"That's OK. I can wait."
Two-pronged attack on smokers. It
boggles my mind that in the year 2018, people are still smoking. Have we not
got all the facts that smoking kills? And yet it feels like I am seeing more people smoking these days. (Don’t
even get me started on the nonsense that is vaping.) While I suppose we should
all be rooting for cancer to thin the herd here, it’s not happening fast
enough. And here is where smokers piss me off even more; they’re GD litterbugs.
It seems every genius I see sucking a butt takes that one last, glorious drag,
then angrily flicks the butt like it ran over their mother. E-fucking-nough
here. It’s not bad enough you poison your lungs, but you poison mine, then
poison the Earth? How much of a flaming dickbag can one be? I will do
everything to increase the public knowledge of how deadly this habit can be. I
will raise tobacco taxes, with the revenue going to increased trash pickup and
recycling programs. You’re welcome, America.
Dogs in every house. In fact, I
plan to enact tax breaks for people who have dogs. More so if they are rescues.
Everyone knows dogs make life better, we don’t need the Kevolution Theory
Bureau of BS Statistics to tell us that. To fund this tax break, I plan to ax
children. No, wait, I meant to say tax children, my bad. I don’t know why anyone hasn’t thought of this before. Kids are like,
kinda free. You pay taxes on every damn thing else, so pay a few bucks for your
precious snowflake that will only use up more of precious Mother Earth’s already
limited sources. I may be persuaded to give breaks on other pets, too, like
cats and hamsters and stuff. But I won’t kid you, I will need to be lobbied on
that. Speaking of….
"Face it, the only thing uglier than this bed is your skank boyfriend.. I did you a favor. Good thing you have a coupla extra bucks because of me."
All lobbying will be broadcast on
CSPAN. I think I have like 3 damn CSPAN channels now. I know I should watch
them, they seem to be broadcasting important things. But CSPAN channels are
right after Tru TV. And I usually stop there because I just can’t get enough of
those darn Impractical Jokers! Larry!
But seriously, if you’re some
sort of PAC or lobbying interest. And you wanna get to me, you are welcome to.
It’s just gonna be in front of everyone else, so we can all see your
intentions. You should have nothing to hide, big oil, tobacco, NRA, telecom,
right? You’re welcome, America.
June 40th
is happening. Prepare. #YoureWelcomeAmerica
Cut cancer funding“Kev, you heartless bastard! How could you?”
Ok, so hold on, let me clarify this before this gets all fake news and click baity.
Cancer’s been around for a million years now, and for the life of me, I don’t
know what progress we’ve made, if any. Sure, there are arguments to be made
that we should really be addressing prevention and causation as opposed to
curing. My point here is conservative numbers proffered by the KT Bureau for BS
Statistics notes that approximately 40 kajillion dollars and 42 cents has been
raised/funded/donated to cancer research, and what has that got us? Really, I
wanna know. So, here’s how this works-
If you’re researching cancer and
receiving funds, I just want to see your progress. If you’ve blown through a
serious amount of dough and have nothing to show, toss off, wanker, you’re shut
down. Instead, those funds will go towards another research outfit, subject to
the same evaluation. It’s kinda clear to me we need some new, young eyes on
this. These current eggheads in the white coats seem to be doing jack. #YoureWelcomeAmerica
All baseball games end after 5
innings. People are busy and don’t have time for a full nine innings of this
bullshit. Also, I will strip it of the bogus “America’s Favorite Pastime.” That
moniker now goes to Facebook. #YWA.
Earn those handicap tags. For my
real job, (I know; occasionally posting funny ass blogs don’t pay the bills) I
travel a great deal. And statistics I have calculated own my own extensive
experience reveal 98% of cars that have handicapped plates/tags don’t need
them. I can’t tell you how many times (actually I can, it’s like 98% of the time, duh) I see a car with the tag or plate scoot right into the handicapped
spot and a very able-bodied driver springs right out. How fucking offensive. If
you are driving around with a handicapped plate/tag and don’t need it, you are
truly the worst kind of scum on the earth. It’s for people like this I hope
karma truly exists and allows me to beat them with a tire iron until until such tag
is truly needed. When I’m President, this is an arrestable offense, and civil
beatings of these douchebags will be tolerated. #YWA.
Pass
You must be licensed to wear a bikini
or grape smuggler. This is for your own good, as well as ours. #YWA.
Pass.
Hard pass.
Hard fail.
I will immediately revoke Pierre
McGuire’s visa so he can no longer ruin hockey games. #YWA, but sorry Canada,
that’s your problem now. Oh wait, he was born in NJ? GD it, OK table this one,
but I will figure it out.
"Ha! Nice try, Kev. Not today."
Fund musicians. Really. Music is
very important to life. And every day, I am truly inspired by how many musicians
I see out there, giving us the soundtrack to our miserable lives. Providing the
joy, hope, solace, strength, inspiration that pulls us through so much. Yet it’s
harder and harder for the truly talented of them to eke out a living in this
age of I “Heart” radio, MTV not actually playing any M anymore, low royalties
from Apple, Google and streaming sites, less and less venues to play. True
musicians need to be fostered and encouraged as they learn and get better. I
still buy CDs whenever possible; I’ll download when necessary. I will go to
their shows and buy their merch, as long as it’s cool. (It’s a bad feeling when
there’s an artist I want to support, and they have shitty merch.) To provide
for this, I will cut back on useless government spending from somewhere else.
Like the Olympics. Big deal, you won a gold medal in archery or skeleton. Now
go find a real job, slacker.
“But, Kev, I don’t really like
music.”
“First of all, that’s President
Kev to you and second GO FUCK OFF AND DIE
YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER. I WILL EXILE YOUR UNFEELING ASS SOMEWHERE THEY ALREADY
HAVE WALLS. WE DON’T NEED YOUR KIND HERE.” #YWA
Acceptable. You may pass.
Pass
Officially recognize “Coconut”
Roman Coke as the truly innovative and visionary writer he was. I know only 3
people get this reference, but it’s THE GODDAMNED TRUTH. I would tell you to
Google him, but he did such a good disappearing act, there is no web dirt on
him. That is truly humanity’s lost. #YWA
Uhh...yea...pass
Take a wild guess...
Driving under the speed limit is
points. More so if you’re in the left hand lane. #YWA
Pass
Of course, this is but a sample
of all my ideas, stances and platforms. I think you can see my progressive
thinking here. For sure there are more difficult issues to tackle like gun
control, environmental issues, education, immigration, health insurance. But
you guys know this is a humor blog, right? Only so many serious issues I can
tackle without some ha-ha’s sprinkled in. Rest assured, I will be working on
these for the next two years to earn your vote.
The war on drugs. The war on terror. The war on Xmas. It seems
all we do these days is squabble (you’ve watched cable sports networks in the
morning and afternoon, right?) and argue. We are so easily divided. Politics,
racism, sexism, sports, soda brands, Twilight characters, Sammy vs. Dave,
literature, news. And when we’re not arguing, we’re actually going to war. The
war on drugs. The war on terror. The war on Xmas. We need to all get on the
same page here, kids. And-surprise-we can do that by going to war. The time is
now to align forces and finally wage war on one of the most evil events in our
lifetime.
Yes, citizens (of earth!), batten down whatever hatches are, it’s
time we go to war against Black Friday.
(Alas, it seems I generally write this same thing every year,
but every year, most of you nudniks ignore my advice. So, please pay attention
so I can go back to my strong suit of sex, drinking and humor. BTW, “strong
suit of sex” is just about any suit I wear, if ya know what I mean.)
Did you know there’s actually a holiday before Xmas? Over the last few years, it’s been a mere speed bump
on the way to massive and unnecessary rampant consumerism. It’s like we’ve also
lost the point of the holiday of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the day families
get together, pretend to like each other and eat like feral pigs. Turns out
what we should be celebrating on Tgiving is the day this great country was
discovered. Even though there were other people living here. Some think we
should no longer celebrate this holiday as it celebrates the day we swindled
this country away from the Indians. That’s a blog for another day, there’s only
so much angst I can muster up as I write this blog. Ultimately, we should feel
no pity as the Indians got their revenge by turning us into problem gamblers. I
am sure they already have a holiday commemorating that.
"I'll never win if the damn dealing keeping giving me Uno cards!"
We need to focus our efforts here. Let’s not get caught up
in the semantics of “Merry Xmas” vs “Happy Holidays.” We have already moved
beyond this being an actual ‘holy season.’ That line was crossed and battle
lost years ago. This is no longer about the birth of our/yours/someone else’s
lord. This is not the place for our individual religious thoughts. In fact, just
about every religion approves this crusade. I checked, I swear.
Yes, this is the time of year every website runs a blog
about the war on Xmas. Ho hum and bah humbug. But the bigger, more sinister
enemy here is Black Friday. Let’s look at some facts. First of all, it’s about
time to admit that BLACK FRIDAY IS NO LONGER A THING!11! Yes, sure, BF used to
be a thing; back when Roebuck was still with Sears, Kmart sold smokes and I had
dreams of being a professional writer. It just doesn’t exist anymore, despite
what all the retailers would have you think. Black Friday is for people who
never used Amazon. Or eBay. Or Honey. Or RetailMeNot. Or Groupon. Or a phone that is not
hardwired to the wall.
Let’s take a brief trip back in time; before Louis CK, Kevin
Spacey and George Takei were the bad guys. Take me back to Black Friday 2016. How
much money did you save? Whatever you bought, is it still being used today? Did
the $5 Blu Ray ever escape the shrink wrap? Hell. Do you even remember what you
bought, let alone if it ever became of any use to anyone?
Look,” you people”
that just HAVE to go shopping on Tgiving
night are inconsiderate, raging assholes. Now, I can see you getting all in a
hissy fit –you really should turn off the camera in your PC-so let me explain.
I’m not gonna present a problem without a solution. BTW, you assholes know you
are the “problem” part in this equation, right?
First of all you are blowing off your family. And look, if I
have to suffer, we ALL have to suffer. “But Kev, I spend Tgiving with my in-laws.
My INLAWS!” Yes, I hear that a lot, and yes, I get your point. But that’s what
the Jim Beam is for, and if you play your cards right, you won’t get invited
back next year. Or ever. Plus, if you are one of my Southern readers, that one
cousin is looking pretty hot.
Literally, the first image that shows up as "hot cousin"
Secondly, because you HAVE to rush out and save $2 on a
dozen pair of socks, you are denying someone else of their Tgiving. Newsflash,
you fucking ignoramus; those are real, living, feeling people working in the
Targets, Best Buys, Walmarts and malls.
Now, stop rolling your eyes about the “level of talent” that
works at Walmart. Talk shit all you want. In previous lives, before I got
elected for another term-I spent some time with the employees in these stores.
And these people are mothers, fathers, uncles, sisters, etc. And all for the
corporate empire that you fucktards go fuel, these poor folks have to forgo
their family dinner so they can deal with your ignorant ass. If a store opens
at 6PM, do you think all the elves just stroll in at 5:55? No, dunderhead, they
have to be there hours before, setting things up, moving things around and mentally
preparing for The Onslaught of The Ignorant. And at 6PM, the mindless herd
floods in. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
What shouldn’t be lost on you is that the people who make
these decisions to open stores on Tgiving night, do you know where they are? Do
you know what they do? They fucking sit at home with their fucking families.
Probably figuring out a way to expense their Tgiving dinner and probably
tapping their fingers like Mr. Burns all night.
The sheep, they come to me.
And Friday morning they sleep
in while all their poor underlings work a ridiculous amount of hours for Black
Weekend. Now, I will be the first to admit I have a heart as black as the night
two miles inside a tunnel, but even ME thinks this is highly unfair. But, hey,
you need to buy that piece of rapidly declining technology.
Here’s some more pipebombs; did you know just about any
store you would choose to patronize on Black Thursday has this thing called a
website? And did you know, more times than not, all those shiny BF deals can
actually be had on said website? And usually you can get said, shiny deal anytime
the week of BF? So you could actually dayload on Wednesday –or Tuesday, no
judgement here-and do all your BF shopping online! Look at you being a decent
human being! Go ahead and order yourself another Moscow Mule, son, you’ve
earned it. Also, early reconnaissance says the Moscow Mule must be losing favor
as the trendy drink by the abundance on Moscow Mule gift sets available
everywhere.
And hey, if you’re now feeling all good about yourself, if
you do have to go shop, how about sleeping in a bit, then supporting local,
independent businesses? You have my permission. Also, I should note it is Record Store Day. You have my blessing to go support these fine, fine
independent merchants. But if I hear you’re actually buying Xmas music, I will
hunt you down and kick you in the balls. Don’t be a dipshit.
If you are not offended by all the Xmas commercials than
have been airing since October 10th, you just are not paying
attention. Have you noticed what all these “holiday” commercials are saying?
That your Xmas isn’t shit until you open up that last present (the subliminal message being all your other presents are shit) from Best Buy.
Or that you haven’t had a good holiday till someone buys you a car. Wha wha
what!?!
A car! Fuck you, evil multinational company. If I can spend most of the
day sleeping, drinking egg nog and watching A Christmas Story over and over, it’s
been a pretty good Yule at the Theory house. (Speaking of ACS, Fox can go fuck itself
if they think I’m going to watch their abortion of a version of it.)
Really, that’s what makes Xmas “successful” these days;
oodles and oodles of presents? There always has to be one “last” one or one “big”
one. This rationale is why America is hated. It’s always more, more, MOAR!1!1
Be like a pig and be happy with the shit you already have. I have a shelf of DVDs I
will never watch, a closet full of clothes I will never wear and a bunch of books
with big, scary words that I will never read. Why do I need more?
If I wasn’t planning on being shitfaced drunk Tgiving night
(Hey, don’t blame me, it’s a Theory family tradition and how we all tolerate
ourselves for a few hours) I would go out and interview these nutcases who are
waiting outside of stores on Tgiving Day. Here are some of the questions I
would ask these brain surgeons:
If you waited outside a Best Buy last Tgiving, what did you
wait for?
Random hot Santa girl, because...um...
Can I get a quick hummer in the backseat of my car? (Note;
only asked to drunk girls who would still otherwise be attainable)
Where is your self-respect, man?
Does your tent have a bathroom, because you sure smell like shit?
What’s so motherfucking important that you motherfucking
have to ruin someone else’s motherfucking Tgiving?
You know this store is generally open 363 other days of the
year, right?
What’s more important; a shitty TV for $5 less or your
dignity? Wait, stop, I think I already know the answer.
I’m guessing no one in your family is missing you right now.
Can you please tell me where you work? I want to drag your
ass in buttcrack early on a holiday, and trash the place. I might be a little
bit tipsy, too. But you’re probably cool with that.
I double dog dare you, NO, I triple dog dare you to take
some of this money you’re saving and put it in the red bucket over there. Your
move, Mr. Christmas.
“Boy, the line for the Asshole Meet Up sure is long today.”
Every piece of technology you’re buying today will most
likely be obsolete by next year.
You’re the reason we lost the election.
You are why the terrorists hate us. Yes, YOU! (Shove my
finger into their chest.)
You know this Best Buy opened up at 6 AM this morning and
sold out all of the doorbusters, right?
Again, please, I beg of you, DO NOT go shopping on Tgiving
night. Don’t be a sheep. Make a stand, at least one time in your miserable
life. Just because you may have a job where you annually score this weekend off
doesn’t entitle you to be an asshole to someone else on a holiday. Sit this one
out, spend time with family and friends-at least the ones you can tolerate. But
if you still feel the need to drunkenly and recklessly spend your money, please
do so at any of the below links. I assure you, it’s easy, the money means a lot
more and goes a lot further and it is actually something that is truly in “the
spirit of the holidays.”
