Summer (Insert feel-good dumb subtitle here)

Because I'm an avid people person, I greatly love visiting with people. None of that is true.   I strongly feel that leaving the house should involve fun things such as:

my laptop
earbuds
any form of nudity
a cocktail or two
an empty table
two drunks fighting over something stupid and...

Netflix

Elsewhere in the summer downtime-- without provocation or express written consent, I've, somehow, inherited a lost or abandoned kitty. Given her abandoned/lost plight, I did the humane thing...I immediately had her euthanized.

In reality, she's now joined me on a blessed life path which involves a lot of crying.

   I'm really not anti social, I simply don't find any level of fun in spending discretionary time sitting at a table watching a handful of my friends texting, between snapping pics of their food while remotely "checking in", binge watching Better Call Saul or searching Wikipedia to investigate things which no one would normally research-- I.e Fox & Friends fan page or "Inventors Killed By Their Own Inventions." Ironic.

   As an added bonus, a couple of my friends, who are also neighbors also happen to be senior citizens-- this always affords a bizarre high speed car chase experience in that I gain valuable insights into precisely everything that is wrong with my life and how it's my fault. Added bonus, I receive a lot of banana bread while becoming an expert at Wheel of Fortune AND I'm now astutely aware of everything that's humanly possible to know about the weather forecast, dewpoint, tropical disturbances, humidity and Realfeel© temp for any given minute of each and every stupid minute of my life.

   I spent some time with my friends at the younger end of the spectrum where I learned more than required about Premier League soccer yet very little about what type of employer allows for all 27 year-olds to get drunk and not be at work at virtually any time of every single day during soccer season-- According to my senior friends, it's because soccer fans are communists-- I hold no opinion. Nonetheless, I'm proud that the younger generation of my friends leave a legacy of: 

-- inventing sex dolls
-- solving complex climate problems
-- doing funny things such as drinking Fireball
-- an inordinate level of nut allergies
-- inventing robotic machines, formerly sex dolls (which I believe will eventually bring about our brutal extinction)

...and they can recite every wacky moment of Good Mythical Morning with Rhett & Link."

Speaking of "Will It Waffle?" out of curiosity, I challenged myself to, nutritiously, feed myself on $13 per week for a month. Unlike Gwyneth Paltrow, I lasted more than three days...with funds STILL left over for sweet tarts. And, for some reason, I watched Lethal Weapon 4.

To answer the question from my friend, Amanda Port: "...what was the highlight of this summer?"
Absolutely nothing. But, I suppose I learned how to answer that question if nothing else.
I enjoyed moments of accidental fun since May by noticing simple stuff... such as watching my cat lick her ass and then stare at me indignantly for a minute and a half before going back to licking her ass again...which I feel strongly would make for an excellent YouTube Live stream.

copyright Flat Earth Media, 2018. all rights reserved.

Fall Is In The Air...for $12.99

I have a close friend who is well accomplished in many areas, all of which interest me in no way whatsoever. He does, however, offer sage advice periodically and recently offered this scad of positivity:

"...Jim, make time to enjoy the change of seasons."

I agree, except where transition between spring and summer occurs in New Orleans. 

   

   For those who are unfamiliar, spring lasts exactly 17 days in New Orleans, regardless of the calendar. One day it's sunny and 74 and on day 18 the city takes on attributes not unlike my vision of Hell. Surface temperature as that of the bright side of Venus, with 2,000% humidity, hovering idiots trying to bum a cigarette and a nonstop loop of cable news.

Be that as it may, I am keeping eyes wide open for the summer to fall transition and I think that I speak for everyone when I express great excitement that CrabFest is BACK at Red Lobster, placing a thrifty yet tasty punctuation mark on summers end each year.

Obviously, with a slogan such as:

"...an endless array of crab dishes from which to choose..."

We all now fully realize that there's, literally, a dozen ways to utterly fuck up a crab entrée.

I'm in no way a food snob by the way; I actually like every single restaurant on the planet, except for Red Lobster.

 

   God rest her soul, but, my mom really enjoyed the Red Lobster and when I'd visit, occasionally she'd drag me to the home of the 39 minute wait to be seated where we rediscover how badly I've angered God in some way.
Without hesitation, I'd eagerly exclaim:

"...great, I'll get my coat; I already can't decide what to order. I wonder what's fresh off the boat at the bustling seaport of Nashville, Tennessee? Let's hurry."

Mom appreciated my sarcastic humor-- I think it primarily had something to do with her knowledge that it didn't come from her-- since I was adopted at birth. I assume that she was aware that I was adopted since she's the one who told me early on.
As I recall I enjoyed the cheese biscuits and the exit door at Red Lobster.

   Nonetheless, I plan to take my friend's advice and have already begun basking in the air of an autumn to come on a strange new planet...from the west coast, where this morning I was the only person bundled in a coat because it was 56 degrees. So much for blending in I suppose.

copyright Flat Earth Media, 2018. all rights reserved.

Snap, Crackle, POP-Up

And now, fun with pop-up ads and algorithms...

I sometimes wonder how people survived back in the day and age without simple things like running water, pornhub, electricity, clinically insane political spectacles, The Real Housewives and...net algorithms. 

While I'm a big fan of running water, online algorithms theoretically serve as a friendly netting to keep undesirables out of your life, except for an ex showing up at your door at 3am...or Mark Zuckerberg.

   While simple times of long ago might not have been cushy, I believe Ye Olde School human algorithms worked pretty well, no internet needed:

Bill: (drunkenly slurring) "Hey, Fred, you s.o.b., we're gonna settle this shit right n..."

Fred: "Get the fuck away from me Bill or I will kill you and make your family watch."

Fred's home grown algorithm in action; a fun separation of bad from good. 

   In our grandparents' day human algorithm even worked for job interviews.

Ex:

Today's interview:
"...A co-worker asks you to clock in for them because their support koala bear took a shit in the Prius and they're running late. You..."
a) steep a cup of chai
b) clock the co-worker in
c) go to a quiet, gluten-free place
d) identify as a conscientious objector to powdered creamer in the break room...and the international monetary fund.

Interview from yesteryear:
Employer: "Are you drunk right now?"

Prospective employee: Nope.

Employer: "You're hired."

Which leads me to how web algorithms recently failed me via an unwanted pop-up ad as I Googled:
"Do hyenas laugh, even when they're being killed?"

Pop-up advertisement:
"Are YOU 6-feet Tall? Women want more tall, handsome men on our site. Join DateTallMen.com today to reach women near you!"

User: JIM has logged on--
I am not, in fact, 6-feet tall but I capitalized my name for stature. I never knew that 6-feet tall people were in such demand but now it makes perfect sense as to why many professional athletes are involved in troubling sexual scandals. Well, except for horse jockeys.

According to your website, altitude is, apparently, sexy! I’m 5’ 11’' and I do what most people who have failed at the 6-foot mark do-- spend a lot of time crying. I DO wear a size 11.5 shoe and, well, you know what they say about that...they say “Man, you have pretty stupid looking feet.”

Would you place me on your email list so that I might be reminded of my inadequacies or when you construct a companion website titled “Date 5’ 11’’men.com? At that point I will promptly place my profile on the site for the ladies who enjoy men of average height with big clown feet. 

copyright Flat Earth Media, 2018. all rights reserved.

OktoberFestivus

I read a thoughtful article today headlined:

"Female Oktoberfest
Tourists Slammed For

Porno Dresses."

WHAT? Yep. 

   
   A band of German traditionalists seem to have misplaced indignation over the fact that Mercedes automobiles are being assembled in Alabama and have aimed their precision engineering discontent toward the low-cut design of the dirndl and the women who wear them. A dirndl is the traditional dress worn during Oktoberfest...and, on occasion, by confused gentlemen lounging around the house.

   It never occurred to me that the Germans would dangle a moral barometer into the arena of "porno" labels, considering that their brand of porn involves being tied up while beaten senseless with a roll of sheet metal in a film titled:

"Mein linker Hoden schmerzt für entsetzliche Bestrafung"
*loosely translated: "My left testicle aches for horrifying punishment."

Have you ever SEEN German porn?? I have... thanks to a couple of friends who engage in questionable web activity and do not seem to be on the same page as that of the teachings of Jesus Christ.

An adventurous segment of Germany's sex subculture die each year, sadly knocking Florida off this prestigious list.

   Franz Thalhammer, 70, former chairman of a Munich festival group, called out Australian and Italian tourists specifically for sexualizing the festival dress, adding:
"It's as if I'd walk around half-naked and say HEY, I'm Australian!!!”

First of all, Franz, Australians would be flattered by that. You have to think outside the thunderbox to offend the Aussies, perhaps by screaming in agony while wearing a scuba suit with a giant rubber stingray suctioned to your back. (Shout out to Steve Irwin!! Too soon?)
   A man in Hamburg was recently discovered after chasing the perfect solo orgasm went badly. He covered himself with sliced cheese, pantyhose wrapped around his upper body, wearing a raincoat and a diving suit. He then sat down with a plastic bag over his head in front of a heater that was switched on.
I have many, many questions.

   Back to the Dirndl... Oktoberfest purist, Gerhard Muller, simply claims that the low cut dresses are tarnishing German history. No offense Gerhard, but I believe there are a couple of historic items in the German public relations filing cabinet worse than a dress with a push-up bra.

Since I'm not interested in being involved in a porno experience which involves a funeral plan, I say-- ladies raise a stein and sport the dirndl with pride. 

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2018. all rights reserved.