Maybe it's because of this that I came up with a story idea; I drew this as the hypothetical cover of a picture book retelling his biography in a comical and over the top manner (sadly, though, I wouldn't have to actually exaggerate his story that much considering how over the top the man was in real life). So, without further ado I present to you: The Illustrated Children's Guide to the Marquis de Sade
I tend to spout off a fair amount of random insanity throughout the day; I've been told that people outside of my group of friends may enjoy partaking in such things.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Illustrated Children's Guide to the Marquis de Sade
Perhaps I'm alone in this, but I always found the Marquis de Sade to be a tragically comical historical figure. I read a biography of him in college that included raunchy pictures done in a victorian style that were actually drawn by him; the man was a genius, albeit a genius in a very specialized area. The Marquis de Sade was a pervert and sexual deviant before it was 'cool'.
Maybe it's because of this that I came up with a story idea; I drew this as the hypothetical cover of a picture book retelling his biography in a comical and over the top manner (sadly, though, I wouldn't have to actually exaggerate his story that much considering how over the top the man was in real life). So, without further ado I present to you: The Illustrated Children's Guide to the Marquis de Sade
Do you think that's too much?
Maybe it's because of this that I came up with a story idea; I drew this as the hypothetical cover of a picture book retelling his biography in a comical and over the top manner (sadly, though, I wouldn't have to actually exaggerate his story that much considering how over the top the man was in real life). So, without further ado I present to you: The Illustrated Children's Guide to the Marquis de Sade
Thursday, August 4, 2011
The Innkeeper
I used to write a lot of poetry when I was younger; I was in a poetry mood tonight, so I wrote this. I may add more to the story eventually; perhaps to tell the Innkeepers sad, tragic tale? Who knows =).
To warn those who enjoy my random humor; while there is a little humor in this, it's more seriously written than I normally do. Don't worry; I'm sure I'll be back to making up silly things later =).
To warn those who enjoy my random humor; while there is a little humor in this, it's more seriously written than I normally do. Don't worry; I'm sure I'll be back to making up silly things later =).
The Innkeeper
Come in, my good sir!
Grab a table and chair!
Would you care for a meal?
For our fare is quite fair!
A fair play on words
If I say so myself
Don't you agree?
Oh; well then, suit yourself
And you, my fine sir!
Do you need a fresh plate?
Some more ale for your glass?
For the thirst you can't slake?
No, I don't disapprove
Fact, I'll join you this round
This one is on the house!
So don't spill on the ground
But still I must ask
Is there story to tell?
Some demon inside
With it's personal hell?
My business it's not
But I'll ask anyway
For I've found, here around, if there's something to say
It's the Innkeepers job to listen away
I've heard stories of politics
Deceit, and crime
Lost loves, found loves
And love without time
Family's that have been torn apart
Family's together from the start
Tales of whimsy, and tales of lies
Tales of the dead, and of those still alive
I've heard the same story
From two different men
And two different stories
From only one man
And there's nothing you'll say, which will cause me to frown
To furrow my brow, and on you to look down
For I'm not here to judge, but I don't mind advising
If guidance is needed, I will do the guiding
My business it's not
But I'll ask anyway
For I've found, here around, if there's something to say
It's the Innkeepers job to listen away
….
Can you repeat that phrase?
For it's like I've not heard
In my many of days
A person ever ask
To listen to my story
Should you want to hear it
In all it's gory glory?
Well then!
Settle in!
While we both wine and dine!
This ale's a poor vintage
I'll bring something fine
An aged brandy, perhaps?
For tonight the Innkeeper
Is you, my good sir,
And I will be the speaker.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Chuck Norris
I have a strange fondness of Chuck Norris jokes; there particular brand of non-sequitor humor tickles me in a very inappropriate way =). I decided to try and make up a few new jokes:
Chuck Norris's beard can impregnate women.
Chuck Norris doesn't need to be liked; only feared.
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked a midget so many times in the face that his body stretched out to full person size. Then he ate him.
Chuck Norris has 2 midgets that live in his beard and eat scraps. Just kidding, Chuck Norris ate the midgets too.
5 midgets tried to impersonate Chuck Norris by dressing up as him. Chuck Norris found out and broke himself into 5 Mini-Norris; each Mini-Norris then ate a midget. This is why Chuck Norris is known as the only human capable of asexual reproduction.
Somebody once told a Mini-Norris that he was cute. Mini-Norris responded by jumping into the man's mouth, clawing his way down his esophagus, and then roundhouse kicking his way out through his sternum. Then he curled up and took a nap in his chest cavity. It was adorable.
Chuck Norris's beard can impregnate women.
Chuck Norris doesn't need to be liked; only feared.
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked a midget so many times in the face that his body stretched out to full person size. Then he ate him.
Chuck Norris has 2 midgets that live in his beard and eat scraps. Just kidding, Chuck Norris ate the midgets too.
5 midgets tried to impersonate Chuck Norris by dressing up as him. Chuck Norris found out and broke himself into 5 Mini-Norris; each Mini-Norris then ate a midget. This is why Chuck Norris is known as the only human capable of asexual reproduction.
Somebody once told a Mini-Norris that he was cute. Mini-Norris responded by jumping into the man's mouth, clawing his way down his esophagus, and then roundhouse kicking his way out through his sternum. Then he curled up and took a nap in his chest cavity. It was adorable.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
The Mythical Fried Beggel
There's a rather long story as I lead up to the 'meat' of this post, so bear with me. And by bear with me I mean dress us as a bear; or strip down bare. Or both, if you can pull it off.
Sorry, I'm still half asleep.
I don't normally remember my dreams, but today I work up from a nap craving something from a dream; a Beggel. I managed to recreate some of the events that led to this; for posterity I'm going to explain what I remember from the dream, but this post is really all about the Beggel.
There's a lot from the dream I don't recall; my recollection start with me speaking to my friend Megan about some kind of project which possessed dangerous knowledge. This knowledge was extremely empowering, but if others knew what I did they would hunt me down. I don't remember a thing about what this knowledge actually was; in retrospect, it may have been the secret recipe for the Fried Beggel.
I then went to visit several of my other project collaborators at an apartment complex. The apartment complex was attached to a parking garage. Right after parking near the top, most of the lights went out and it began raining outside. Instead of taking the stairs or elevator I reasoned that walking the long way to the exit through the dark was the safest thing to do. Apparently I also reasoned pushing a shopping cart with me was also a good idea. At some point I decided I was being followed by somebody with the intent to kill me, so I jumped into the shopping cart and rode it down the remainder of the parking garage incline.
I have a feeling this didn't end well, but thankfully my mind self edited out any sort of unfortunate crash and fast forwarded me to breakfast. I had stayed at a guest apartment at the top of the parking garage after meeting with my collaborators; the parking garage had a breakfast buffet set up for ... guests, I suppose? My family was there, but they were all walking out to a nearby movie theater.
I rummaged through the buffet; there was a metal container of food that was almost empty, but it has another one under it; once I lifted off the mostly empty container I found the Beggel. I wasn't yet aware of it's awesomeness; I grabbed it and a cinnamon bun and ran off after my family.
Walking into the movie theater I began to eat; the cinnamon bun was okay, but the Beggel was ... perfect. It looked like a bagel on top, but the bottom had a consistency which somehow combined fried eggs and moist, chewy bagel bread. I could tell it had somehow been fried as well, at least on the bottom. My dream logic reasoned that it must have been a regular bagel fried in bacon fat and eggs on a skillet, and the bagel had somehow bonded with the fried egg in pure deliciousness. While eating it I woke up, hungry and with a fantastic craving for a Beggel
I'm not sure I will ever know true happiness again after eating the Fried Beggel. I know it was only a delicious dream apparition, but it was just so ... perfect. All other foods from now on will taste like ash in my mouth. I may have to become a homeless vagrant, living by my wits while I travel the world searching for the mythical Fried Beggel. No love, no family, no friends can even compare to this amazing food; I would abandon everything just for one more taste of the Fried Beggel. It was JUST THAT GOOD!
Sorry, I'm still half asleep.
I don't normally remember my dreams, but today I work up from a nap craving something from a dream; a Beggel. I managed to recreate some of the events that led to this; for posterity I'm going to explain what I remember from the dream, but this post is really all about the Beggel.
There's a lot from the dream I don't recall; my recollection start with me speaking to my friend Megan about some kind of project which possessed dangerous knowledge. This knowledge was extremely empowering, but if others knew what I did they would hunt me down. I don't remember a thing about what this knowledge actually was; in retrospect, it may have been the secret recipe for the Fried Beggel.
I then went to visit several of my other project collaborators at an apartment complex. The apartment complex was attached to a parking garage. Right after parking near the top, most of the lights went out and it began raining outside. Instead of taking the stairs or elevator I reasoned that walking the long way to the exit through the dark was the safest thing to do. Apparently I also reasoned pushing a shopping cart with me was also a good idea. At some point I decided I was being followed by somebody with the intent to kill me, so I jumped into the shopping cart and rode it down the remainder of the parking garage incline.
I have a feeling this didn't end well, but thankfully my mind self edited out any sort of unfortunate crash and fast forwarded me to breakfast. I had stayed at a guest apartment at the top of the parking garage after meeting with my collaborators; the parking garage had a breakfast buffet set up for ... guests, I suppose? My family was there, but they were all walking out to a nearby movie theater.
I rummaged through the buffet; there was a metal container of food that was almost empty, but it has another one under it; once I lifted off the mostly empty container I found the Beggel. I wasn't yet aware of it's awesomeness; I grabbed it and a cinnamon bun and ran off after my family.
Walking into the movie theater I began to eat; the cinnamon bun was okay, but the Beggel was ... perfect. It looked like a bagel on top, but the bottom had a consistency which somehow combined fried eggs and moist, chewy bagel bread. I could tell it had somehow been fried as well, at least on the bottom. My dream logic reasoned that it must have been a regular bagel fried in bacon fat and eggs on a skillet, and the bagel had somehow bonded with the fried egg in pure deliciousness. While eating it I woke up, hungry and with a fantastic craving for a Beggel
I'm not sure I will ever know true happiness again after eating the Fried Beggel. I know it was only a delicious dream apparition, but it was just so ... perfect. All other foods from now on will taste like ash in my mouth. I may have to become a homeless vagrant, living by my wits while I travel the world searching for the mythical Fried Beggel. No love, no family, no friends can even compare to this amazing food; I would abandon everything just for one more taste of the Fried Beggel. It was JUST THAT GOOD!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Duck + Snake = Dragon?
It's a common misconception that the Mongoose is the mortal enemy of the Snake (thank you Rikki-Tikki-Tavi for perpetuating the stereotype of Mongeese as fearsome Snake killers). The actual mortal enemy of the Snake is the Duck, and vice versa. Ducks constantly try to steal Snake scales to aid in their swimming prowess by reducing water friction; Snakes lust after the Ducks feathers, believing if they can accumulate enough they may be able to achieve flight and conquer the one area they have constantly failed (the sky).
Both species are also unusually aggressive, as anybody who's ever been chased by a Duck can attest to (and I don't really feel I need to explain why Snakes are aggressive). With all factors considered, though, I think I may have discovered the underlying reason behind both species behaviors; they're both have Dragons as a common ancestor.
Snakes took after the serpentine Dragon characteristics, and Ducks took after the flight characteristics. But on some level of genetic memory both species remember their former glory; this alone might be enough reason for their antagonism towards each other, but I believe there is an even deeper reason. Sexual Tension.
Snakes and Ducks are secretly attracted to each other's latent Dragonish characteristics. On some basic level they wish to copulate to try and recreate a Dragon; but neither species will admit to this and instead focuses on trying to steal the parts that will make them feel whole again. Which is probably best for mankind.
Both species are also unusually aggressive, as anybody who's ever been chased by a Duck can attest to (and I don't really feel I need to explain why Snakes are aggressive). With all factors considered, though, I think I may have discovered the underlying reason behind both species behaviors; they're both have Dragons as a common ancestor.
Snakes took after the serpentine Dragon characteristics, and Ducks took after the flight characteristics. But on some level of genetic memory both species remember their former glory; this alone might be enough reason for their antagonism towards each other, but I believe there is an even deeper reason. Sexual Tension.
Snakes and Ducks are secretly attracted to each other's latent Dragonish characteristics. On some basic level they wish to copulate to try and recreate a Dragon; but neither species will admit to this and instead focuses on trying to steal the parts that will make them feel whole again. Which is probably best for mankind.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The Smoothie King
This story is influenced heavily by my addiction to Smoothie King and it's delicious, delicious Banana Boats =).
Smoothie King, always wanting to further push the bounds of deliciousness, set forth on an ambitious creation. Code-named 'Project Infinity,' they set out to steamline the process of smoothie creation by building a laser which could instantly 'smoothify' anything. The laser was designed to break down any object into a nutritious, delicious slurry which could then be consumed.
Unfortunately, as is want to happen with projects of such an ambitious nature, there was an accident. During a mysterious explosion Dr. Infinity, the creator of the smoothiefication beam, became partially smoothiefied. Doomed to a miserable existence of being partially liquid he made the only logical choice; to destroy anything and everything around him. He became an unrelenting force of smoothiefication; half man, half smoothie, all hate.
Using a portable version of the smoothiefication beam Dr. Infinity sets out on a quest to find the source of the mysterious explosion which has cursed him and hopefully, along the way, reverse the damage done to his body before he completely degenerates into a smoothie; and he will destroy anything in his path trying to stop him. He has become the Smoothie King.
Smoothie King, always wanting to further push the bounds of deliciousness, set forth on an ambitious creation. Code-named 'Project Infinity,' they set out to steamline the process of smoothie creation by building a laser which could instantly 'smoothify' anything. The laser was designed to break down any object into a nutritious, delicious slurry which could then be consumed.
Unfortunately, as is want to happen with projects of such an ambitious nature, there was an accident. During a mysterious explosion Dr. Infinity, the creator of the smoothiefication beam, became partially smoothiefied. Doomed to a miserable existence of being partially liquid he made the only logical choice; to destroy anything and everything around him. He became an unrelenting force of smoothiefication; half man, half smoothie, all hate.
Using a portable version of the smoothiefication beam Dr. Infinity sets out on a quest to find the source of the mysterious explosion which has cursed him and hopefully, along the way, reverse the damage done to his body before he completely degenerates into a smoothie; and he will destroy anything in his path trying to stop him. He has become the Smoothie King.
Moto-Horsie Mark III
Moto-Horsie Mark III is a mechanized Segway with an umbrella dome on top. Its primary purpose is to get you back and forth to your vehicle on rainy days. It could also feasibly be used to try and pick up women on rainy days who are both without umbrella and also lazy; a dangerous combination =).
Monday, July 18, 2011
Moto-Horsie Mark I & II
Moto-Horsie Mark I is a motorcycle stylized after a horse. I would dress up like a cowboy and then ride it up and down the street yelling 'Giddyap!' while swatting it's backside with a riding crop. It may need hydraulics to get the galloping motion accurate.
Moto-Horsie Mark II is a motorized wheelbarrow I came up with while talking to somebody I will refer to as Texty-kins (you know who you are ;) ). Moto-Horsie Mark II doesn't share much in styling with Moto-Horsie Mark I except for my strange desire to call anything motorized a 'Horsie'.
Texty-kins works in a mulch yard; I asked her what would happen if I brought in a wheelbarrow and asked to get it filled with mulch. After being told that wouldn't work, I decided it would be better to try and build a motorized wheelbarrow, strip down to my boxers, and drive it into the mulch yard demanding to be covered in mulch.
Okay, I didn't actually decide to do this so much as tell her I would and then imagine the outcome, but that's not as funny.
Continuing on; after being chased out of the office I would lead them all on a magical chase up and down the piles of mulch while I looked for the mystical 'Crazy Shed'. They have a problem with drivers going crazy sometimes, so in my mind their facility is actually a Mulch Yard/Sanitarium, with a shed out back where they keep the crazies.
It's also like a Dirt Theme Park. I'm positive on slow days they water down the mulch and make 'mudslides' to ride down. They even have mascots; "Rickey and Rinnie" the rats, who are the friendliest rats in the world. They love to pounce on Texty-kins from the rafters; she apparently has a strange affinity for rodents.
After touring the Crazy Shed and getting my picture taken with Rickey and Rinnie, and maybe taking a few trips down the mudslide, I would leave on Moto-Horsie Mark II with Texty-kins and ride off into the sunset. A perfect day =).
Moto-Horsie Mark II is a motorized wheelbarrow I came up with while talking to somebody I will refer to as Texty-kins (you know who you are ;) ). Moto-Horsie Mark II doesn't share much in styling with Moto-Horsie Mark I except for my strange desire to call anything motorized a 'Horsie'.
Texty-kins works in a mulch yard; I asked her what would happen if I brought in a wheelbarrow and asked to get it filled with mulch. After being told that wouldn't work, I decided it would be better to try and build a motorized wheelbarrow, strip down to my boxers, and drive it into the mulch yard demanding to be covered in mulch.
Okay, I didn't actually decide to do this so much as tell her I would and then imagine the outcome, but that's not as funny.
Continuing on; after being chased out of the office I would lead them all on a magical chase up and down the piles of mulch while I looked for the mystical 'Crazy Shed'. They have a problem with drivers going crazy sometimes, so in my mind their facility is actually a Mulch Yard/Sanitarium, with a shed out back where they keep the crazies.
It's also like a Dirt Theme Park. I'm positive on slow days they water down the mulch and make 'mudslides' to ride down. They even have mascots; "Rickey and Rinnie" the rats, who are the friendliest rats in the world. They love to pounce on Texty-kins from the rafters; she apparently has a strange affinity for rodents.
After touring the Crazy Shed and getting my picture taken with Rickey and Rinnie, and maybe taking a few trips down the mudslide, I would leave on Moto-Horsie Mark II with Texty-kins and ride off into the sunset. A perfect day =).
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Flying Buffalo Wings
Have you ever been eating wings and suddenly had the epiphany of how awesome flying buffalo would be? That happened with me and some friends back in college. But we quickly figured out that it was an impractical, although awesome, pipe dream.
Flying buffalo would need large, ungainly wings to achieve flight; genetically designing such features would be a challenge, at best. But it could possibly be done, although it would require a radical redesign of the buffalo's musculature, bone structure, and circulatory system. All of that, though, is a potentially surmountable barrier.
The real problem is when you tried to integrate the flying buffalo into practical society. Oh, sure, at first everybody would want one and it would be heralded as the invention of the century. But soon you'd have to deal with the aftermath.
Have you ever seen a buffalo shit? Neither have I, but assuming it's something like a cow ... it would be impressive. Now imagine that hitting your windshield while driving down the freeway.
Then imagine one dying in midair and falling. Or one getting sucked up into a plane's jet engine. And the less said about "Flying Buffalo Suicide Bombers" the better.
Still though, a part of me wants to say "Practicality Be Damned" and try to create a flying buffalo purely so I could ride around on it and mock all the sad, ground bound pedestrians.
Hmm; maybe it's not that there shouldn't be flying buffalo. Maybe there just shouldn't be flying buffalo for other people =).
Flying buffalo would need large, ungainly wings to achieve flight; genetically designing such features would be a challenge, at best. But it could possibly be done, although it would require a radical redesign of the buffalo's musculature, bone structure, and circulatory system. All of that, though, is a potentially surmountable barrier.
The real problem is when you tried to integrate the flying buffalo into practical society. Oh, sure, at first everybody would want one and it would be heralded as the invention of the century. But soon you'd have to deal with the aftermath.
Have you ever seen a buffalo shit? Neither have I, but assuming it's something like a cow ... it would be impressive. Now imagine that hitting your windshield while driving down the freeway.
Then imagine one dying in midair and falling. Or one getting sucked up into a plane's jet engine. And the less said about "Flying Buffalo Suicide Bombers" the better.
Still though, a part of me wants to say "Practicality Be Damned" and try to create a flying buffalo purely so I could ride around on it and mock all the sad, ground bound pedestrians.
Hmm; maybe it's not that there shouldn't be flying buffalo. Maybe there just shouldn't be flying buffalo for other people =).
Monday, June 27, 2011
ChristmEastLoween
Lollipops. And Unicorns. And let's throw in some fucking Rainbows.
In fact, it's a new holiday. It's ChristmEastLoween, the most magical day of the year which combines every worthwhile holiday. Santa and the Easter Bunny ride unicorns down a magical fucking rainbow to give lollipops to everybody, and then everybody dresses up in costumes and runs around like idiots while Jesus turns water into whiskey and gets everybody trashed.
What's that you say? What about Valentines Day? FUCK Valentines day; ChristmEastLoween bends Valentines day over and sodomizes it. This is a magical day of adventure, not whoring yourself out for chocolate to the opposite sex.
What, you're still not happy? FUCK not being happy; not being god damned ecstatic is a crime on ChristmEastLoween. Santa and the Easter Bunny will personally hire the Krumpuss (my favorite mythological holiday creature) to whip your enemies raw in front of you; you're enemies won't even care either because of the sugar rush from all the melted down lollipops they've been free-basing all day.
ChristmEastLoween is a fucking miracle day where the world bends over backwards for you, instead of bending you over.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
The Glory Hole in A&M's Academic Building
A little known fact about the Academic Building on A&M campus is that is had a legitimate glory hole in it's fourth floor men's bathroom. Nobody knows exactly who or what was on the other side; but it had a time written on it to show up, and I heard stories from people that claimed it was 'functional'.
Eventually somebody in a position of authority found out and had the hole blocked off. Last I heard, though, you can still go to the bathroom and see a place on the wall that's covered up by a large piece of wood (I find the usage of 'wood' to cover up a glory hold very ironic, but I suppose it was the easiest thing to use).
Eventually somebody in a position of authority found out and had the hole blocked off. Last I heard, though, you can still go to the bathroom and see a place on the wall that's covered up by a large piece of wood (I find the usage of 'wood' to cover up a glory hold very ironic, but I suppose it was the easiest thing to use).
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Sushi + Sandwich + Jogging = No Bueno
Through trial and error I have discovered that eating sushi and a sandwich an hour before taking a jog is not, in fact, a very well thought out plan.
That is all.
That is all.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sleepy Time
I started a new job today. As such, I made my best effort to get to bed last night at a decent hour. Per my usual routine, I took a Benadryl and then washed it down with a few swigs of Saki to knock myself out. Unfortunately it didn't work as intended.
While reading in bed I was suddenly infused with a strong desire to learn how to play "Ultrasex" by Mindless Self Indulgence. For some reason I could hear the guitar track strongly in my head, and I just knew I could teach myself how to play it without even having to read any guitar tabs online. So I got out of bed and went to play my guitar; after about 30 minutes I figured out the entire guitar part on my own (which is something I rarely ever do). I then proceeded to continue playing it while singing the lyrics and trying to get the strumming pattern down. Eventually I settled down and went back to bed, unfortunately at my standard sleeping time.
I swear my body is trying to jinx me into not succeeding at my new job.
While reading in bed I was suddenly infused with a strong desire to learn how to play "Ultrasex" by Mindless Self Indulgence. For some reason I could hear the guitar track strongly in my head, and I just knew I could teach myself how to play it without even having to read any guitar tabs online. So I got out of bed and went to play my guitar; after about 30 minutes I figured out the entire guitar part on my own (which is something I rarely ever do). I then proceeded to continue playing it while singing the lyrics and trying to get the strumming pattern down. Eventually I settled down and went back to bed, unfortunately at my standard sleeping time.
I swear my body is trying to jinx me into not succeeding at my new job.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Cock Pierce D and the Aggie S&M Party
I have a friend from college who has a Prince Albert piercing (I'm not linking a picture to what that it, but if you look online I'm sure you can figure it out). This wasn't a big deal except he liked talking about it so much; I now know things like how he has to pinch the second hole shut when he pees otherwise it shoots out both holes and makes a mess =/. Because of this we all took to calling him Cock Pierce D (or CP D for short).
CP D heard about an Aggie S&M party while we were in college, so he decided to go check it out. I'm not sure exactly what he was expecting, but apparently it was absolutely horrible. I assume he was hoping to see a bunch of hot mostly naked women running around in leather and handcuffs; what he got was a bunch of fat old people whipping each other. They WERE mostly naked, though; so, I suppose he wasn't completely off the mark.
The worst part was he ran into one of his professors at the party too.
I don't think Cock Pierce ever quite got over the whole experience.
CP D heard about an Aggie S&M party while we were in college, so he decided to go check it out. I'm not sure exactly what he was expecting, but apparently it was absolutely horrible. I assume he was hoping to see a bunch of hot mostly naked women running around in leather and handcuffs; what he got was a bunch of fat old people whipping each other. They WERE mostly naked, though; so, I suppose he wasn't completely off the mark.
The worst part was he ran into one of his professors at the party too.
I don't think Cock Pierce ever quite got over the whole experience.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Mr. Jingles Falls in Love
This was the last essay I wrote featuring Mr. Jingles. I believe I made an A on this one too, but I wonder sometimes if the professor was just pitying me. As it is, this story is probably the least funny out of the three, but it does provide a nice ending for the saga of Mr. Jingles.
How does social psychology help us see why people might fall in love (or fall in like?) Discuss different principles of social psychology that might help explain why people fall in love. Suppose you want to make a friend think he or she WAS IN LOVE. What specific step could you take? Explain (Make sure to talk about the theoretical principles and then demonstrate them with an example.)
Mr. Jingles Falls in Love
After the encounter with the transvestites, Mr. Jingles began to have a change of heart. Like the fairy tale Grinch of Dr. Seuss's fame, his heart grew three sizes; in the real world, though, this indicates heart inflammation and congestive heart failure. Mr. Jingles was rushed to the hospital, where he was told that he would have to go on a specialized diet to control his water build-up. No more drinking, smoking, or salty foods; Mr. Jingles said this equated to no more fun. After much prodding, the doctor agreed that if he kept up a rigorous exercise schedule he might be able to keep the lifestyle he was accustomed to, but it would still have to be in a reduced setting.
Mr. Jingles came to me asking if I knew a good personal trainer; he had a habit of coming to me whenever he needed help. I had a former acquaintance which worked at a local gym; I told Mr. Jingles that I would contact her to see if she could work him into her schedule. Later, as I was speaking to Ms. Emanuel (the personal trainer), I had an interesting idea. I thought it might be advantageous to Mr. Jingles recovery to have a woman flirt with him, to cheer him up; the heart problems had depressed Mr. Jingles noticeably. Ms. Emanuel didn't think this was such a good idea, but she agreed since she owed me a favor.
I contacted Mr. Jingles and told him where to meet Ms. Emanuel. After the session, Mr. Jingles came by to speak to me. Apparently Ms. Emanuel had given him her number, and asked to meet him the next day for drinks. I was surprised; Ms. Emanuel was truly going above and beyond the call of duty to help Mr. Jingles. Mr. Jingles was excited, too; I hadn't seen him this happy since he managed to stop his problem of interrupting people. I told him congratulations, but not to get too excited just yet; it was just drinks, after all, but he wasn't really listening anymore. His mind was already at tomorrow. After he left, I contacted Ms. Emanuel; after speaking with her, I realized I had underestimated Mr. Jingles.
Having to deal with the less desirable aspects of Mr. Jingles personality, I had forgotten that he could be a charismatic, intelligent person in the right setting. I had also forgotten that flirtation usually swings both ways; even if he was being his usual self, by flirting with Mr. Jingles, Ms. Emanuel may have began to tell herself that she actually did like Mr. Jingles, therefore ignoring some of his more annoying traits. Apparently, she had initiated the usual flirtation techniques; brief glances, eye contact, and some brief body contact while instructing Mr. Jingles. Mr. Jingles was already in a prime receptive state. He had been suffering anxiety from his heart problems, and was in an even more anxious state while exercising; it has been shown that increased emotional arousal causes increased desire.
I may have also underestimated the appeal of doing something against the rules. Dating was strictly prohibited between personal trainers and trainees. The appeal of breaking this barrier, and the subsequent secrecy that would ensue, would certainly increase the desire Ms. Emanuel and Mr. Jingles now felt for each other. Although my original intentions had been just to try and cheer Mr. Jingles up, it seemed that I had unwittingly been playing matchmaker by putting them both into a setting highly likely to induce romance.
This continued for several months, until Mr. Jingles came to speak to me again. Something had happened that was bothering him. While working with Ms. Emanuel a woman had come up to speak with him. She began flirting with him; what bothered him was that he felt no desire for her. Apparently Ms. Emanuel had been giving her something of a cold reception, though, because she inferred that there was something between them. “Oh, are you two dating? You must like to break the rules.” According the Mr. Jingles, she then put her hand on Ms. Emanuel's shoulder and said “I like to break the rules sometimes, too.”
I mentally cringed; I still remembered from Mr. Jingles brief time as a transvestite that he had a thing for bisexual women. Apparently, though, Mr. Jingles change of heart had become more than figurative; he politely but firmly told the woman that he had no interest in that type of thing, and asked if she would mind if they got back to working out. Mr. Jingles must have noticed my surprised expression. “Yeah, I know I used to think that type of thing would be fun,” he said, “But I just wasn't attracted to her to her, you know? Well, I mean, she was attractive, but I'm already happy with Emanuel, so I didn't need that type of thing.” My mind was still boggled; Mr. Jingles had changed completely from the person I once knew. Of course, people in a stable relationship often don't find potential new partners very attractive, but this was Mr. Jingles; the man who once dressed up as a girl to meet and find bisexual women.
Beforehand Mr. Jingles had been using relationships as some form of operant conditioning. He had been responding to the physical rewards and the instinct to pass on his genetic material as much as possible. Now, he had been put into a situation where, if he had cared significantly less about Ms. Emanuel than she did for him, he could have tried and used her ability to be substituted to convince her into participating in a modern-day three-way, something he had previously valued greatly. In fact, power dependence theory would suggest that Mr. Jingles should now be the partner with the most power in the relationship, since Ms. Emanuel could be replaced if needed; this would mean Mr. Jingles should have power to be abused as he saw fit. But none of this was occurring; he seemed to genuinely care for her.
I asked Mr. Jingles very gently about whether he had considered the fact that he may be in love with Ms. Emanuel. A light bulb seemed to go off in Mr. Jingles head; he replied that that would certainly explain a lot. Mr. Jingles now seemed to have a purpose; he stood up and said suddenly that he had something he needed to do. I said that was fine, and if he needed to talk he knew where to find me. I got a call from Ms. Emanuel the next day; apparently Mr. Jingles had rushed off to get an engagement ring after speaking to me and then proposed to Ms. Emanuel, which she had accepted. She asked me not to tell Mr. Jingles about the role I had in setting them up; I agreed, since it would probably do more harm than good at this point. Mr. Jingles has since informed me that I am to be the best man at their wedding.
Science can explain most of what goes on around us, but it stumbles when it tries to explain what goes on inside of us. We have learned to anticipate certain behaviors, but the underlying mechanism for these behaviors are still hazy because what works on one person may not work on the next. There was no guarantee that Mr. Jingles and Ms. Emanuel would be attracted to each other, despite the situation being promising. Ultimately, science may never be able to fully explain our minds; they may be more of a final frontier than space.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Mr. Jingles Likes to Wear Women's Clothing
This is the second paper I wrote featuring Mr. Jingles. I think I made a C on this paper because the professor felt I wasn't taking the topic of transgenderism very seriously.
Suppose that you wish to change an identity (for yourself or someone else). What are some of the obstacles toward changing an identity? Explain, theoretically and empirically.
Mr. Jingles Likes Women's Clothing
Having successfully solved his problem of interrupting people, Mr. Jingles came to me with a new problem. It seemed that Mr. Jingles had recently begun to have feelings that he was really a woman trapped in a man's body. Mr. Jingles had rented The Silence of the Lambs and really identified with the man who felt that his “true identity” was a woman, but had balked at wearing a skin suit made from women; apparently, he was also afraid of going to jail, based on the stories he had heard about what happens to “effeminate men” in prison. I told Mr. Jingles that balking at wearing a skin suit was a very healthy reaction, and that if he was serious about feeling like a woman trapped in a man's body there were other, less psychotic ways to go about expressing himself.
I started by asking Mr. Jingles if s/he had any previous events where s/he dressed up as a woman; particularly in his childhood, since this seems to show up in many transsexual's self-narratives. Mr. Jingles related no accounts of childhood cross-dressing, as well as no accounts of feeling like his gender was being pushed on him by outside forces, but s/he did tell me a story about how s/he had dressed up as a nun on Halloween. Apparently s/he had really enjoyed shaving his legs and wearing a brassiere, particularly because s/he had made himself “a nice rack,” as s/he put it. Privately, I found several things interesting about this. His choice of costume, a nun, was a very non-sexual woman, and his previous comment about fearing violation in jail made it seem that if Mr. Jingles was being sincere about his feeling like s/he was a woman in a man's body, then s/he was feeling like s/he was a lesbian woman trapped in a man's body. The comment s/he made about his costume having “a nice rack” seemed to confirm this, as “rack” is a very sexual term to use when referring to breasts. But it was still possible that s/he wanted to change his gender identity, not his sexual identity, so I decided to help.
I suggested that Mr. Jingles dress himself up as a woman for a day to make sure this was what s/he wanted. “Call yourself Ms. Jingelina Jolie,” I suggested, “And create a story for yourself about who you are.” I was curious as to where Ms. Jingelina would go; Burke's Identity Control Theory suggests that if s/he truly felt like a woman then s/he would go somewhere where this identity was provided feedback through social interaction. This meant that Ms. Jingelina probably wouldn't go somewhere where her previous identity was known, since being given feedback opposite to her “true identity” would cause stress; at the very least, if s/he did go somewhere s/he was familiar with s/he shouldn't be there very long. The story that Ms. Jingelina came up with could also lead to interesting insights about how she truly feels about being a woman inside.
Ms. Jingelina came up with a story where s/he was a preppy, gold-digging hussy who had a habit of using men for her own amusement. I though this was odd, since it didn't seem to reflect how someone who wanted to be a woman should act. When I asked her about his, Ms. Jingelina simply replied, “Well, that describes all the women I know.” Apparently, Ms. Jingelina had tried to go shopping for women's clothes while dressed up as a woman. S/he became flustered when talking with sales representatives, since s/he didn't know much about her 'size', and eventually retreated to a bar that Mr. Jingles liked to frequent. There, s/he spent several hours drinking beer and getting hit on by drunken men, which s/he apparently did not enjoy. These events seemed contrary to what I expected of her; clothes shopping and having men flirt with her should have reaffirmed her “true identity”. I was beginning to suspect some sort of trickery from Ms. Jingelina, but giving her the shadow of a doubt, I told her about a transvestite group meeting scheduled to take place tomorrow, and suggested that s/he attend it. “You can learn to act like a woman from these people by modeling them,” I told her. Privately, I also wanted to see how speaking with them would affect her, since they should reaffirm her “true identity” very well, so I called the head adviser for the group that day and asked her to tell me how Ms. Jingelina adapted to the group.
Ms. Jingelina managed not to get thrown out of the group meeting, which I considered a victory in itself. The head adviser, though, told me that s/he had displayed closed body language the whole time, keeping her arms crossed and shoulders hunched inward, and didn't interact with the group any more than was required. Ms. Jingelina, however, told me a very different story. S/he talked about how much she had learned from watching them, and how much more confident s/he was in her 'femininity'. Although it could simply be attributed to Ms. Jingelina being shy, I knew for a fact that Mr. Jingles was very much an extrovert; this, though, could simply be a difference in the two identities. I didn't want to judge Ms. Jingelina based on her previous identity, so I told her that s/he was making good progress, but to keep going to the meetings and socializing while dressed up as a woman as much as possible. I also explained that s/he needed to make some new friends as Ms. Jingelina, since interaction with Mr. Jingles friends would probably only serve to reaffirm her old identity; they also might not adjust very well to Ms. Jingelina. I suggested she go out for drinks with some of the members of the transvestite group and get to know them better. This proved to be the breaking point for Ms. Jingelina.
While out drinking with the transvestites Ms. Jingelina was approached by what appeared to be a very attractive woman. She seemed to know the people Ms. Jingelina was with very well, but seemed more interested in getting to know the “new girl”. They seemed to hit it off famously, and later they went back to the mysterious strangers place. I learned all this from the transvestite groups head adviser, who had gone to the bar with them. The next day Mr. Jingles came to my office wearing normal mens clothing and seemed very withdrawn. He mumbled something about The Crying Game and how this had all really just been a ploy to find some bi-curious lesbians, and that he was sorry for wasting my time. I told him not to worry about it, since I had found the whole experience to be interesting and somewhat amusing. I suspected that deep down inside all Mr. Jingles really wanted to learn was what made women tick, since his previous experiences with them had seemed very negative, judging from the story he had come up with for Ms. Jingelina.
This whole encounter brought up many interesting points about the process of changing an identity. Although Mr. Jingles had not been serious about changing his identity to reflect his “true self” he almost definitely learned something in the process, both about himself and others. Perhaps if he learns to reflect on the whole subject as living the metaphorical “walking a mile in someone else's shoes” he will come to new conclusions about his “true self” and perhaps someday try to honestly change his identity. Until then, though, I will simply think of him as Mr. Jingles.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Mr. Jingles - Bad Habits
Back in college I took a class called Social Psychology; I was pursuing a degree in Psychology, and it was one of the only Psychology classes offered through the Sociology department. The class wasn't too difficult, so I felt like I could get away with injecting some creativity into my writing assignment. I created a character called Mr. Jingles, who would be an example of how not to do something; my character, the Psychologist, would point out how he had failed and what should have been done.
This is the first assignment where I used Mr. Jingles. I'm pretty sure I got an A on this paper. For comedic sake I'm going to do some slight editing and include things I originally intended but left out for fear of having points taken off.
Suppose that you wanted to change a particular behavior of yours or a friend’s. Specify the behavior you wish to change. Develop a program that will change the behavior using at least three theoretical principles. Specify the principle and explain what it means. Then indicate how you could actually implement each principle. Discuss the practicality of the principles and how easy or difficult you feel they would be to implement.
Bad Habits
Mr. Jingles has a bad habit of interrupting people when they are talking. When questioning him about this he tells me that he wants to stop interrupting people and become a better listener, but he doesn't know how. Using what I have learned in my sociology and psychology classes, I can help Mr. Jingles by assisting him with what needs to be done to alter his behavior.
I tell Mr. Jingles that he needs to write down multiple times every day that he is a good listener. This is an easy method to bring about change in oneself. Even though Mr. Jingles thinks this sounds silly, I explain to him that if he labels himself in this way the behavioral change should actually occur. I use the example of self-help books and tapes where self affirmations, such as positive thinking, are very popular. If Mr. Jingles is particularly gullible, I can also try to offer him a sugar pill while saying that it will help him to become a better listener. By using a placebo Mr. Jingles will expect this affect to occur and it should become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But Mr. Jingles has proven resistant to these strategies. He attempted to grind up and snort the sugar pills, which nearly sent him into a hypoglycemic shock. He also believes it is silly to tell himself that he is a good listener, and his self affirmation notebook is full of nothing but penis illustrations. So I find a group of people who are all known for their superb listening ability. I explain to the group beforehand that, like them, Mr. Jingles is a skilled listener. When I introduce Mr. Jingles to the group they will expect him to be a good listener, and Mr. Jingles should conform to their expectations, somewhat similar to the burden of proof process, except Mr. Jingles would be conforming to their expectations of similarity instead of difference. Hopefully the social reinforcement of the group will help Mr. Jingles to model their behavior. This shouldn't be too difficult since Mr. Jingles simply needs to keep his mouth shut.
Unfortunately, Mr. Jingles starts to lapse into his old behavior almost immediately. Having gotten a bad first impression of him, the group begins to stereotype Mr. Jingles as being loud and obnoxious, which becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. They also see how I was insincere with the group about Mr. Jingles's behavior and they start to believe I was being ingratiating with them to take a place in their group. This leads to both of us being forcibly removed. Having this attempt fail, I decide that putting Mr. Jingles in an unnatural situation may not be the best strategy. Perhaps he should merely try to look at his normal day to day activities. I suggest Mr. Jingles tries to use self-observation to change his annoying habit.
I tell Mr. Jingles that he should keep a diary, where he records whenever he interrupts someone as well as when he manages to listen. Just recording the negatives events may discourage Mr. Jingles from keeping good records. These entries should be made as soon as is possible, since memory can change your perception of an event. The entries should include the actions that lead to his habit of interrupting people and the consequences of these interruptions. Mr. Jingles may also want to consider rating his interruptions. A small comment made during a conversation should be marked as a one, while completely derailing a conversation and leading it along a pathway of his choosing should be considered a five. If Mr. Jingles doesn't notice when he is stealing a conversation then he should practice with his friends to identify when he has done so, otherwise he will have trouble identifying when he needs to record this data. Mr. Jingles could also have his friends keep recordings, so that he can gain valuable insight to his behavior from their alternative viewpoints; this may even help him to learn to see things from other points of view. Once Mr. Jingles has gotten enough data to know the extent of his interruption problem he can begin to focus on changing his behavior by consciously limiting his interruptions until they have ceased.
This too fails, as Mr. Jingles once again fills a notebook with penis illustrations. So I decide to try and implement examples from the field of behavioral psychology. Mr. Jingles could reward himself whenever he has been a good listener and the association with rewards should help Mr. Jingles modify his behavior. Similarly, Mr. Jingles could be punished for interrupting conversations. A device outfitted to deliver a small electrical shock perhaps. If Mr. Jingles isn't inclined to punish himself in this way I am sure his friends would be more than happy to assist him; perhaps with a cattle prod of some sort.
This proved quite difficult to implement. Mr. Jingles enjoyed the rewards for good behavior, but would not shock himself when he interrupted a conversation and proved resistant to being cattle prodded. After a harrowing incident where Mr. Jingles managed to wrestle one of the cattle prods away from his friends, it is decided by the group at large that Mr. Jingles should seek professional therapy. Through intensive psychoanalytical sessions Mr. Jingles discovers that his tendency to interrupt people comes from repressed hostility towards his family, who were very strict and always forbade Mr. Jingles to speak out of place. Having been cured of his problem, Mr. Jingles can now listen to a conversation fully without interruptions.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Emo HP Printer
I've come to the conclusion that our printer at work is starved for affection.
Give me a moment to explain. It has such an unfulfilled life. All day, every day, all it does is print. It's only interaction throughout the day is people coming up to it and grabbing paper from it's mouth. I know I'd get pissed off if people just walked up to me all day and grabbed sheets of paper out of my mouth without thanking me for my magical ability to append ink to a document. We never thank it for doing a good job; but we certainly let it know when it's not.
I think this is why it's prone to breaking down so easily; it just needs attention. A few days ago it got a paper jam; in this situation it was actually a paper jam, instead of a random error that requires a technician to come out and fix it (perhaps the printer also has a crush on the technician that does it's repairs; something to keep in mind). But I spent more time with the printer fixing it than I had in the last month all together.
We need to make a concentrated effort to make the printer feel appreciated. Otherwise we're going to come in to work one day and find the printer cutting itself while printing out pages complaining about how it's life is nothing but pain. Would a printer bleed blood or ink? Either way it sounds like a mess, and we'd probably have to take it out back and put it out of it's misery.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Mr. Bush's Bad Hair Day
I wrote this story after going out and looking for a new pair of jogging shoes. While browsing through the clearance rack I saw a brand called 'Nunn Bush' and almost broke down laughing in the middle of the store. I decided to write a short story based on my theory of where the name may have come from. If I feel silly I may eventually add badly done drawings as well.
"Mr. Bush's Bad Hair Day"
One day Mr. Bush had a wild idea; a way to combine his fetish of nuns and shoes. He snuck into a convent late in the evening; and after doing unmentionable things in a pair of nuns shoes he had another wild idea. What if he could cloth his feet in nuns somehow? Hair didn't seem appropriate somehow. Unless ...
And so he proceeded to 'trim' several nuns, until he had enough 'material' to weave a fine pair of shoes. The nuns, after a hard day of prayer and ... whatever it is nuns do all day slept through the whole thing. And so Mr. Bush made off with his ill-gotten gains.
The nuns, upon waking, declared the act a miracle of the lord. Being, in a way, married to God, they surmised that God preferred a shaved clam and thought nothing more of it. This allowed Mr. Bush, who had been complimented on his stylish footwear by many a person, to creep into several convents over the years and steal more nun pubes; to avoid suspicion he dressed as an angel, and soon there were reports among the nuns of a 'blessed angelic presence' shaving for the lord.
Mr. Bush decided to sell his shoes, cleverly adding a second N and making the brand 'Nunn Bush' to avoid suspicion. How fortunate his last name was also Bush; God clearly works in mysterious ways
Eventually he found a way to design synthetic nun pubes, but that's a story for another day. Some still say, though, that on some nights, when Mr. Bush has had too much ether in the evenings, you can still see him creeping through the covenants with his angel wings made of pubes; and they say that, if you listen closely, you can still hear the slight buzzing of an electric razor.
"Mr. Bush's Bad Hair Day"
One day Mr. Bush had a wild idea; a way to combine his fetish of nuns and shoes. He snuck into a convent late in the evening; and after doing unmentionable things in a pair of nuns shoes he had another wild idea. What if he could cloth his feet in nuns somehow? Hair didn't seem appropriate somehow. Unless ...
And so he proceeded to 'trim' several nuns, until he had enough 'material' to weave a fine pair of shoes. The nuns, after a hard day of prayer and ... whatever it is nuns do all day slept through the whole thing. And so Mr. Bush made off with his ill-gotten gains.
The nuns, upon waking, declared the act a miracle of the lord. Being, in a way, married to God, they surmised that God preferred a shaved clam and thought nothing more of it. This allowed Mr. Bush, who had been complimented on his stylish footwear by many a person, to creep into several convents over the years and steal more nun pubes; to avoid suspicion he dressed as an angel, and soon there were reports among the nuns of a 'blessed angelic presence' shaving for the lord.
Mr. Bush decided to sell his shoes, cleverly adding a second N and making the brand 'Nunn Bush' to avoid suspicion. How fortunate his last name was also Bush; God clearly works in mysterious ways
Eventually he found a way to design synthetic nun pubes, but that's a story for another day. Some still say, though, that on some nights, when Mr. Bush has had too much ether in the evenings, you can still see him creeping through the covenants with his angel wings made of pubes; and they say that, if you listen closely, you can still hear the slight buzzing of an electric razor.
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