KilIing Clichés from A to Z

A for Albatross:
   "An Albatross around one's neck" is usually used by those who never read the opium-addicted Romantic's poem, and -- more importantly -- who don't have the foggiest what an "albatross" is.

B for Birds [and Bees]:
   If you were really taught about "the birds and the bees," you are NOT prepared to have sex.

C for Cat:
   A "cat nap" is a short sleep. I had a cat. It slept eighteen-hours a day, usually for several hours at a time. [Also, "'til the cows come home" means when you put the feed out. They will reliably show up. If your cows are coming home late, that's on you.]

D for Duck:
   Re: "having your ducks in a row." Baby ducks naturally follow in a line. If you're having to man-handle your ducks into rows, you should learn wu wei - the Taoist principle of effortless action. 

E for Elephant:
   If there's "an elephant in the room," it is definitely not a good time to talk matters over. Get the hell out, now!

F for Fish:
   "Fish out of water" may be fine, but -- to be fair -- "man in water" is just as accurate. A little waddling Gentoo Penguin could outswim Michael Phelps in the 400m and be finishing its kipper snacks while Phelps was still slogging through his first length. And Phelps is among the fastest our species can put in water. If the average human were dropped in the ocean, he'd thrash around until he got a lungful of water and died...and that's a kilometer offshore.

G for Goose:
    With respect to a "wild goose chase"... fun fact: if you chase a goose, it might well chase you back. I once read a book on the most dangerous animals (for humans) and, to my surprise, the goose was in it. They don't kill many, but they put their fair share of people in the hospital with beak-cracked shins. 

H for Horse:
    So, about "straight from the horse's mouth." If you got your information from a talking horse and are proud that it was 'right from the source,' you might want to consider cutting your acid blotters into smaller pieces. 

I for Indian:
    Not sure how the term "Indian burn" came to be, but I've lived in India for almost a decade and have never known anyone to induce a friction burn by twisting the forearm of another person. You may be saying, "Well, it's meant as in, 'Native American burn.'" But I still don't see any evidence for that. [Don't get me started on 'Indian giving' as an insult against someone who has the gall to want their stolen shit back.] Now, if you called it the "shitty little American schoolboy burn," that -- I would totally buy. 

J for Jackal:
    Jackals are, like anyone who's ever eaten at McDonald's, opportunistic omnivores, but to make them out to be the exemplars of "exploiting situations' is a bit harsh. For example, did you know a Jackal won't cheat on its spouse, even when an opportunity falls right in its lap. 

K for Kangaroo:
    I don't know who came up with "kangaroo courts" but I don't think we know enough about marsupial jurisprudence to cast aspersions upon the Kangaroo legal system. I think it is -- like many instances on this list -- simply deflecting. 

L for Leopard:
   Why would a leopard even want to change its spots? Certain humans (frequenting the Wal-Mart) go to great lengths to appropriate leopard spots. If they are fashionable for a plus-sized woman's stretch pants, why would the leopard think any differently. 

M for March Hare:
   They say "mad as a March Hare" because March is mating season. I think the saying should be "Horny as a March Hare." Alliteration intact. 

N for Nightingale: 
   I suspect ninety-nine percent of those who use "sings like a nightingale" couldn't pick a nightingale's song out of an audio lineup of bird noises. 

O for Oyster:
   "The world is your oyster" is supposedly a great thing. But when I elaborate by saying, "The world is your slimy raw foodstuff that has a twenty percent chance of making you vomitously ill," it doesn't sound like a good thing. 

P for Pony:
    We need to stop people from bitching about the fact that their pony only knows one trick. It's a fucking pony. You should be grateful it knows the one trick. 

Q for Quail:
   To "quail at ______" means to be timid in the face of some stimulus. I don't think it's particularly fair. If you were considered a delicacy, you'd be a bit skittish, too. 

R for Rat:
    If you "smell a rat," it's definitely dead, and -- ergo -- will not be plotting against you. 

S for Sheep:
    I shouldn't have to point out that a "wolf in sheep's clothing" is completely naked.

T for Turkey:
    A "Turkey voting for Christmas" is said to be acting against its own interests, but since everybody eats turkey for Thanksgiving and many people have ham for Christmas, I'd say the turkey knows exactly what it's doing. Even if it's one of the unlucky Christmas turkeys, it still got another month of living. Hell, there are humans who rack up million-dollar medical bills for the same outcome. 

U for Underdog:
   The first use of the term "Underdog" was in 1859, long before the cartoon from my youth. Is there an "Uber-dog" or an "Overdog?" How did this even enter someone's mind?

V for Viper:
   "A nest of vipers," is another bit of anthropomorphizing. The premise of the idiom is that it's a group of nasty people getting together. Whereas the snakes in a viper's nest are as likely to be as good as any.

W for Weasel:
    When someone uses ambiguous words to obscure their meaning, we say they're using "weasel words." But as far as I can see, weasels have the good sense to keep their mouths shut. (Unlike those secret-betraying horses.)

X for XYZ:
   People say, "for XYZ reasons" when they mean for an extensive list of reasons that no one seems to know.

Y for Yak:
   Somehow, we use "yak" for the act of being relentlessly chatty, and -- once again -- I must say that I've found yaks to be less than gabby. 

Z for Zebra: 
    "A zebra can't change its strips." See: "L for Leopard."

Food for Thought [Voltaire & Smartphones]

When Voltaire said:

“Once a nation begins to think, it is impossible to stop it.”

I don’t think he’d anticipated smartphones.

The Hut Life [Lyric Poem]

Just give me a simple brick hut
  with its doors tightly shut,
 and a cooling crossflow breeze,
   shaded by banyan trees.

I won't be expelled by AI
  or sold the daily lies.
We can talk live, not by "hit send" --
  clueless to the world's end. 

Doom-Mongers & Talking Heads [Lyric Poem]

You are not the heroes
   you think yourselves to be,
 dreaming up perfect worlds
    that can never be.

Anyone can picture
   a far-fetched perfection,
 and groan of other's faults
    with dead-eyed disaffection.

Misleading Lines [Lyric Poem]

The headline read, "The World 's at War!"
   It turns out "with halitosis."
 I couldn't bring myself to read more.
   I don't need no bad breath gnosis.

Customer Service Limerick

There once was a customer service rep
who spoke with a smile and great pep.
“That’s not my department,
but prepare for bombardment:
Your refund in twenty-six random steps.”

How to Kill a “Cereal Killer” and Restore Halloween

cereal killerI know what you’re going to say. Why would I want to murder a cereal killer, a taco belle, a holy cow, a pig in a blanket, a deviled egg, or any of the other bearers of bad Halloween punnery? First, you want to kill someone.  You don’t have to admit it to me and I’d advise against admitting it to the District Attorney, but at least admit it to yourself. Second, if you kill the person you really want to kill (e.g. your boss, the tax man, your personal trainer, or your hairdresser—sorry, low blow) you’ll be the lead suspect. Therefore, you need to find a way to vent your homicidal rage into productive outlets, and I’d argue that the killing of punsters is community service. You shouldn’t even think of it as murder. It’s more like culling the Halloween herd. Forest fires kill, but the next year the forest is more lush and beautiful than ever before.

 

Now let’s get down to the real reason to conduct your own Halloween killing spree. Because it’s the perfect time for the perfect crime. Think about it.

  • Anonymity: Except for the lazy people who wear a T-shirt with “Halloween Costume” printed in unimaginative block letters, everybody is in makeup or has their head stuffed in some stinking mask that five people have thrown up in within the last three years. This makes it almost impossible to identify suspects. The lazy bastards would be eliminated immediately anyway because it takes commitment to be a homicidal maniac.
  • Relative Inconspicuousness: You won’t be the only one who’s apparently blood spattered. Besides Marti Gras and full moons, what other nights can one say that. There will be large numbers of people wielding weapons and looking creepy. What better time to blend in?
  • Distraction: If I might be granted a brief diatribe. Halloween used to be the holiday of terror, but no more. Valentine’s Day may be the holiday of romance (or florists), but Halloween is the holiday of sex. However, you can use this trend to your advantage. There’s a great deal of distraction to be garnered from the proliferation of sexy nurses, sexy waitresses, and sexy actuarials. When the girl whose costume is painted on rather than worn walks through the room to get a single potato chip, that’s a good time to jab the hypodermic into the neck of the nearest drunk pun and get the hell out of dodge.

 

So how will you choose your target? First, as indicated, it’s best to pick someone who’s inebriated because no one will realize they’re dead–and not just passed out–until they begin to stink. Don’t worry, finding a drunk won’t be hard. At a given Halloween party there will be four designated drivers for the 150 people in attendance—so 148 people will be completely hammered. [No, my math is not that bad. Two of those designated drivers are cheating bastards. If you kill a pun who’s a cheating designated driver you’ve hit the trifecta—OK, maybe my math is that bad. At any rate, you get bonus points. ]

 

Next comes the question of determining whether the costume is a pun or not. This can be harder than it seems. Sure there are the easy ones I mentioned above (and others like Kevin “Bacon” [Kevin nametag on a meat vest], “Bat” Man [w/ Louisville Slugger], Down for the Count [Dracula with a blowup doll orally affixed to his crotch region], Spice Girl, Dust Bunny, Formal Apology [tuxedo-clad man with “sorry” written on his tie], etc.) that will be immediately obvious.

 

However, what if one sees a guy in a Grim Reaper costume with a bag of pot. Perhaps this is just someone who likes to imbibe. However, if the pot is dayglow green, then you may have a “the grass is greener on the other side” who desperately needs killing. The key is that one must pay attention to the details. Sometimes the costume will be poorly done. Imagine a fine “Tom the Cat” costume with three misshaped spheres feebly stapled to the crotch region. This is a “horny as a three-balled tom cat” who must die.

 

On the other hand, you should avoid reading too much into costumes. Say you see a girl who looks like a stripper. You shouldn’t engage in some Rube Goldberg-esque thought process in which you conclude that she is saying, “All that glitters is not gold–because sometimes it’s a stripper.” Said woman may merely be costumed as a stripper, or might be a stripper who just got off stage and didn’t have time to go out looking for a costume.

 

When in doubt, if the costume doesn’t seem to make a lick of sense, it’s probably someone’s sense of clever gone awry and you shouldn’t feel bad about friendly fire against a non-pun.

 

Finally, some general rules of thumb (BTW: feel free to kill anyone dressed in a giant mitten with a page of the tax code taped to the thumb):

  • Only kill one pun per party. Being a killer of puns is like being a Marine Sniper—except that it’s completely illegal and involves no honor whatsoever—my point is that if you loiter in place you’ll get pinned down by the Vietcong. It doesn’t matter whether the party in question has the best pigs in a blanket (i.e. the hors doeuvres, not the cutesy couple costume), the best DJ, or the sluttiest witches, maids, librarians, or geologists in town. Don’t get greedy. Get in and get out—well, you can grab a handful of those delectable pigs in a blanket on the way out, but then get out of the house!
  • Never wear the same costume to more than one party. The police call that a clue. You have to be like Kathrine Heigl in that 27 Dresses  movie—which I never saw. Do the quick change like Clark Kent between parties. That brings me to an alternative killing scheme whereby you can kill anyone who’s dressed as a character from a romantic comedy.
  • Don’t consume a lot of legumes, high fiber foods, beer, or Taco Bell before your outing. Just because no one will see your face inside that barf-splotched mask doesn’t mean they won’t be able to smell you. Plus the zippers in costumes are unreliable, and you don’t want a case of Taco Trots to hamper your evening’s fun.
  • Don’t wear a costume that’s too menacing. You want to be able to point to someone who is nearby, completely innocent, and who looks like a killer and say, “she did it.” Also, don’t wear the “Identity Thief” costume in which one has name tags all over one’s outfit with different names. First, it plants the seed of criminality in the mind of those around you. Second, it’s a bad pun and may result in your being stabbed. Which brings me to the ultimate rule:
  • Don’t wear a pun costume yourself, it may result in your being stabbed. I’m not saying that I once stabbed a prostitute with a Seeing Eye dog who turned out to be just another good-hearted Halloween killer because “love is blind,” but…

 

I hope this guide to perpetrating a Halloween massacre has been helpful. I think we’d all like to bring the fear back to Halloween like all the Saints who partied down on All Saints’ Day Eve intended. So, whether you’re a first time killer or you’ve been around the block (another potential costume cliché to kill), a few simple steps will keep you out of the hands of the slutty cops—or regular cops.

TODAY’S RANDOM THOUGHT: Hitler’s Final Victory

Source: German Federal Archives

Source: German Federal Archives

Hitler killed the short-stache (a.k.a. the “toothbrush mustache.”) Imagine that, almost 70 years after his death, he still holds power over people’s decisions about facial hair.

This is a misplaced take-away lesson. It’s the unbridled narcissism, the icy hatred, and the irrational exuberance in the power of evil of Hitler that should be abandoned (yet, somehow, those intangibles still quietly exist.) It’s not the superficial aspects of Hitler that should be shunned, but the ones at the bastard’s core.

I’m not saying the toothbrush-stache was a good look. On the contrary–as one who has had a mustache his entire adult life and has worn a beard now for several years–I’m a little offended by the lack of commitment to one’s choice of facial hair that the toothbrush-stache represents. (Incidentally, I feel the same about the sole patch and mutton chops.) In my mind, one should go full-stache or go home to shave.

Still, there being no accounting for taste, I think those individuals who would otherwise find the short-stache appealing (i.e. you know, indecisive types who wear culottes and eat with sporks) should revive the toothbrush mustache as a big fuck-you to Hitler–don’t let tyrants boss you around from the grave.

Toothbrush mustache admirers of world, unite!  (No, I won’t be joining you.)

RANT: There’s nothing worse than hyperbole!

There's nothing worse than a dictator with an angry army of warcocks!

There’s nothing worse than a dictator with an angry army of warcocks!

I’m taking a stand against the phrase, “There’s nothing worse than…”

OK, feel free to continue using it for saying, “There’s nothing worse than…

-Nazis.”

-nuclear Armageddon.”

-cancer.”

-catching on fire.”

-shrapnel in the face.”

-losing one’s job to a machine that isn’t even artificially intelligent.”

I’ll accept a bit of hyperbole because there’s no objective and universally-accepted way to determine who was worse, Hitler or Pol Pot. And it’s legitimate to exaggerate one’s personal crises–provided that crisis isn’t something like having the seat warmer go on the fritz in your SUV.

My problem is hearing,  “There’s nothing worse than…

-spotty cell phone reception.”

-when it takes 30 minutes to get your oil changed.”

-when a pay-per-view bout ends in the first round.”

-an empty Nutella jar.”

-when the elevator is broken and I have to walk all the way to the second floor.”

-getting in the line behind someone who still writes checks.”

Clearly, there are many things worse than any one of those things, or even all six of them happening on the same day. If you can’t think of one, you should get out more. I’m not saying one should be constantly comparing one’s problems with the biggest disasters in the world. Nor am I saying that, in the scheme of things, your  piddly-ass problems don’t matter. I’m just calling for perspective. It’s hard to take someone seriously who can’t imagine a fate worse than a cracked lid on a Starbucks half-caf latte.

The Horn As A Navigational Tool

When I was learning to drive, one piece of advice I still remember was:

Never blow your horn because whatever damn fool thing the other driver is doing to get you in an accident is predictable. They will continue to do the same damn fool thing. Therefore, focus on avoiding the collision, and not venting your anger. Honking the horn can only cause the other driver’s panicked reaction to be unpredictable, thus making the situation more dire. The horn can cause inopportune slamming of the brakes, gunning the accelerator, or swerving sharply (invariably in the direction one was hoping to avoid them.)

This isn’t advice practiced in India. Rather the horn seems to be used to say, “One of us should be paying attention right now, and I kind of need a break.”

I suspect one reason why Indians don’t follow the above advice  is because there is no erratic response to horn blowing here–there is no response whatsoever. The locals don’t even hear the horns anymore. I’ve only been here three days and I’m already becoming desensitized to them. (Although I took an early morning walk this morning and everything was perfect in the world because the horn blowers had not yet awoken.) No doubt, many literally cannot hear the horns after a lifetime subjected to the blare,

I wonder whether the blowing of the horn isn’t just an attempt to assert one’s existence among the whirring throngs of motorists.

Bangalore suffers from regular, albeit ephemeral, power outages. Sometimes the sewer drains don’t work as intended. Sometimes, cars come to a gliding halt; hoods popping up. But one thing works with the certainty of death and taxes. and that’s the horn on every single motorized vehicle in the country. One would think the horns would wear out, that they would choke and sputter, but there seems no sign of that.

1 in 3 drivers are looking at the road at any given moment

Only 1 in 3 drivers are looking at the road at any given moment (but the one not looking slams on his horn to alert others to keep an eye on him.)