Life or Deaf

Ah. CCR. One of my favorite nighttime addictions. Kids in the Hall, singles hotline infomercials, and CCR ruled the Vegas airwaves after-hours. And I miss them all.

Nice blog, RDT. I didn't realize you like pork so much. Do you like pork rinds? How about pet projects that senators get funded for their rich friends back home? Just curious.

There is only one thing I can't live without. And that thing is seaweed. I once went a whole week without eating seaweed. No seaweed and tomato sandwiches. No seaweed espressos. And no seaweed-flavored chewing gum. And at the end of that week, I died. Just keeled over and perished. Right in front of about one hundred people. Why was I in front of 100 people? I was about to give my acceptance speech at the Poets of Vegas Academy Awards and Bake Sale. I won "best poem by an albino" for my beautiful sonnet "Yes, I Admit It." Everyone was there. Harry Bush. That math teacher from Woodbury's son. Sylvester Stallone's brother Frank. Sam Donaldson. And of course, my parents' attorney.

Anyway, there was I was, under the bright neon of the Boardwalk, an anxious crowd eagerly awaiting to be enlightened by the speech I plagiarized from an old episode of It's a Living, when all of a sudden, BAM! I'm on the floor, in the process of falling crushing to death that monkey that collected quarters. My pulse was 0. My heart stopped beating. My fingernails continued to grow. In other words, I was toast.

Thank goodness all the poets in Vegas know CPR. 42 of the finest rhymers in SoNev brought me back to life, not with life-saving CPR maneuvers, but with their collective body odor, which would resuscitate the deadest of dead people.

So yes, I literally can't live without seaweed.

I suppose it's my turn to ask you a question. Here it is: Who is Tabo? He randomly comments on our blog, and quite frankly he's starting to scare me. Is he a friend of yours? Is he really a watercolor? Does he eat seaweed?

Getting High Off the Hog

Ryan, you are crazy. You're like that Emeril guy, only with some strange mental condition or something. Lemon juice and eggs? 1/3 cup milk instead of 1/2 cup? Ryan - you so crazy. I mean, sausage jello, that sounds... well, kind of good.

See, something strange about me is as follows: I love pork products. Bacon, sausage, ham, Canadian bacon, pork chops; if it had a snout, a curly little tail and oinked, I am totally down with it. We took Sadie to see Charlotte's Web yesterday and I kept getting a little mad at that uppity, yet adorable, little pig. I mean, somebody's got to be bacon! Who cares if you're nice to spiders? What makes Wilbur so special that I can't put a couple of slices of him on my turkey sandwich? Seriously. That movie made no sense.

I often imagine what my life would be like if I had to keep Kosher. Had I been there when Moses was talking to the Flaming Shrubbery and it was telling him that there would be no more ham sandwiches, no more bacon for breakfast, no more [gasp!] sausage dip (mmmmm... sausage dip... oh man, sausage dip!) I would have probably asked for a plague of locusts or something, anything else. Maybe an outbreak of hemorrhoids? A flood? Whatever it takes, just pleasepleaseplease don't take my bacon away. I mean, have you had pulled-pork tacos? They're amazing. "I promise," I would have begged, "We'll be good. No more wandering in the wilderness or golden cows or anything. We'll even cut out the murmuring. Please?" Then I'd try pouting. If that didn't work: tantrum.

Wait. Is this sacrilegious? And if so, how sacrilegious? Am I going to go to the hot place for this? Because I burn really easy. Seriously, you put me in direct contact with the sun and I burst into flames. I am a white person, people. Like, white white. Oh man, I hope I don't go to the hot place.

Anyway, this whole pork issue is most likely why I wasn't born a Hebrew in the time of the Exodus. I probably would have said, "What? No pork in the Promised Land? Naw, you guys go on ahead. I guess I'll stay here. I mean, these pyramids aren't going to finish themselves, right? Right?"

So, anyway, I guess that... doesn't answer your question at all, does it? Hmmm. Do I do anything sneaky? I can't think of anything off of the top of my head. Well, except for the shoplifting that I do like, all of the time. And the income tax evasion. And the stealing of Girl Scout cookies. And that time I rigged the Superbowl. And that whole Lee Harvey Oswald thing. Or the time I hit a Sasquatch and just left it there on the side of the road and drove like heck. I am not going to jail over no Sasquatch.

So, Ryan, my question for you is this: what do you love so much that you just can't live without it? And no mushy stuff like love or air or anything like that. It has to be something sort of stupid. Like pork. Or that blanket you carry everywhere. Or existential dread. Or that autographed picture of Count Cool Rider you have hidden in your closet behind all your clothes that you wink at every now and then.

Anyway, I look forward to your response. Also, this:

"Ryan, It was great being in Geometry class with you. Pythagoras rules! Stay cool. Have a great summer. K.I.T. B.F.F. Your pal - C.C.R."

secret ingredient

Thanks, man. For the history lesson (I googled Shakespeare and learned he was madly in love with Gwenyth Paltrow), for the warning about the oompa-loompa sounding dudes (too lazy to bring the blog back up and reference the correct name), and most of all, for the chicken pox vaccination. Though, you didn't mention that gingivitis is a side-effect.

Hey, I loved that post. It was excellent. As always, you love to play anti-limbo with me.

I thought of something funny I do, and I wonder if you or our legion of fans do the same. Whenever I make a meal for the family and its bodyguards, I always mess up the recipe. On purpose. Like, if I'm making eggs, I'll throw in some lemon juice or something equally crazy. Who knows? What if I invent the next great American meal by experimenting?

That in and of itself is not the funny thing. The funny thing is how I hide my experiments. If I decide to use 1/3 cup of milk instead of 1/2 cup, I quickly dispose of the measuring cup so as to not bring attention to my experiment. If I decide to add soy sauce to the brownie mix, I put the bottle back so fast it would make your bobble head spin. And bobble.

So, do you ever do something sneaky and cover up your tracks? That's what I want to know.

Now if you'll excuse me, my sausage jello smells like it's burning.

Easing the Swelling in the Brainal Canal

Ryan, you should really have a doctor look at that blockage. It ain't healthy. I'm sure there's a creme or ointment that you can rub on your brainal canal to help ease the swelling and help that flowage get back to normal. Have you tried Funnymucil™? It tastes like chalky black licorice pork rind pickle juice hash browns old rubber bands elmer's glue, but I've heard from some pretty reliable sources (among them a certain former writer on Saved By the Bell, no less. A certain Gregory Miller. Yeah, I name-drop. So what?) that it will keep the funny a-flowin'. And that guy should know. He wrote that episode where Zack, trying to make money for the dance, sells Screech's zit creme but it really makes everybody's faces turn red - just before the dance! Ha! Man, how do they come up with that stuff?! Oh man, I am so laughing! If only there was an internet shorthand for this, like Laughs-Out-Loud (LOL? That looks retarded. Who would type that?) or something, then I wouldn't have to explain in such detail the nature of my laughing over how funny that episode of Saved By the Bell is/was! Ho ho! Hee Hee! I just peed a little!

Personally, I think writer's block is a myth, not unlike the Loch Ness monster (not, I repeat not Bigfoot - dude is for reals!) or the rumor that Paul from the Wonder Years was really Marilyn Manson (geez, where'd that guy disappear to? Marilyn Manson, that is. Did the Dumb Police finally track him down? Let's hope so. If not, why are we paying taxes? I mean, besides to pay for that giant super-laser-firing satellite to stop the Martians when they finally get up the stones to attack. Do you hear me, Martians?! We're ready for you and your hordes! Bring it, my red friends! Bring it! Let us bathe the stars in blood!).

I mean, do you think George Washington got writer's block before he wrote the "Gettysburg Address"? No. Did Angus Young, Malcolm Young or Brian Johnson (Seriously, it took three people to write that song? Hmmmm.) get writer's block before writing "Back In Black"? Aw, hecks naw. Did Shakespeare get writer's block before he wrote the script for Bio-Dome starring Pauley Shore and the blond Baldwin? No. He sat down at his time-travel typewriter and wrote it, knowing that the finished product would arrive safely in the year 1996 and be made into a movie with immense social and comedic impact. I mean, that's some Sword of Damocles to have hanging over your head, there, but did Billy Shakespizzy shirk? No. He wrote the heck out of that movie.

So there you have it... errr, types something inspirational. THE END. Cue the credits, turn up the house lights, get the kid in the vest in here to sweep up all this popcorn. I've got some Valentines candy to steal from my daughter. Peace in the Middle you-know-where.

P.S.: Ryan, your basement is cold. Watch out for Wampas. They will smack you across the head and fasten you to the ceiling for eating laters. You'll have to summon the power of the Force to get your lightsaber out of the snow and then chop its arm the heck off and then run like the dickens only to hallucinate, pass out and then get shoved into a tauntaun carcass to be kept warm. I'm just sayin': be careful. Those tauntauns are some smelly beasts. I've been told they smell worse on the inside than they do on the outside.

Still blocked

I still have writer's block. I don't think it's anything serious. Instead of writing funny stuff, I'll write what's on my mind right this instant:

- I have to pack for my little trip to Las Vegas. I have to include my basketball so I can get a pick-up game going with my brothers and Jamie "Mad Dog" Mattern.

- I have to go to the Rockies box office on Saturday. I have two gift certificates for tickets that can only be redeemed at the box office, and Saturday is the day the Yankees tickets go on sale. You know those are going to go faster than my finger upon the remote when I hear the opening theme song to American Idol.

- Julia just climbed out of her bed. She sleeps in a top bunk.

- My basement is cold.

Well, I guess that's all. Sorry about the serious tone. But sometimes a brother's gotta recharge his funny batteries.

Ryan, It's a Deal...

The following is a chat from this last week. As Ryan is suffering from some blockage of the writing, I will post this instead. Enjoy.

Dylan: whazzzzzzzzzapppp!
hello?

Ryan: Are you there?

D: yes. yes, i am. i am
....
RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!!

R: I thought that was a cat!!

D: what are you up to?

R: Responding to my website client. Her budget has been slashed by 50%. Flash is definitely out. I'm trying to figure out how to handle her.

D: mmmmm
by the way, i'm loving mostly funny. how about you?

R: Yes. I'm reading your post right now...

D: i like the picture
lee majors kicks majors

R: I'm reading the e-mail version. I'll have to go to Mostly Funny in a sec.

D: the e-mial version is pre-lots-of-revisions
for some reason, I can't really edit until i see it published
then i edit the heck out of it
repeatedly

R: I like to edit-edit.

D: i don't know what that means... but i like it
do you think stephen hawking will get mad at me when he finds out i referred to him as "the guy in the wheelchair with the 'johnny five is alive' voice box thing?"
i kind of hope he does.
i would love to be cursed out by stephen hawking

R: Isn't that the name of his autobiography?

D: actually yes.
the sequel is "i am so dang smart your head would explode like a dropped cantelop
e if you knew half of what i know."

R: No, that's Gallagher's autobiography title.

D: i thought it was "please kill me because i suck."

R: No, that's Man E. Faces's autobiography.

D: i'm totally posting this chat on the blog.
anytime you can go from gallagher to man e. faces is a good time

R: I agree, growled Beastor romantically.

D: i was going to "go there," with a teela crack, but decided against it
i'm glad you went for it

R: So am I, whispered Battle Ram.
What an unoriginal name for a character, by the way. That was his name, right?

D: "ram man"
close.
geez, i'm a nerd.

R: Yes, you are, cried Prince Adam.

D: he was my favorite he-man figure
well, him and the asian guy with the golden hand that chopped stuff
jitsu?
don't even get me started on g.i. joe

R: Why? After all, knowing IS half the battle.

D: g.i. joe was my religion. well, that and an utter devotion to the
force.

R: Hey, I have to go to sleep now. Someone is singing a musical song.

D: goodnight, sweet prince adams

R: Goodnight, Orco.

Sorry, I'm flaming...I'm out.

Great question, Dylan (if that is your real name). I have never had an experience quite like the one you had in NYC. I am currently suffering from writer's block. I have absolutely nothing to add to this blog. Would you mind posting on my behalf? Write something hilarious and attribute it to me. Then, later on in our blog romance, I will return the favor. Deal, or no deal?