Don't Be That Dude: The Speedo

That is just disgusting,dude!

I know you recently lost weight. You look great! But you're not exactly sporting a David Beckham body!

Your body is covered with a brown pelt, and your ass cheeks swallow just little more material each time you walk. No one needs to see that dude!

Especially me. You've betrayed me.

Last night, at the bar, we were saying how great it would be to go to the beach in the morning, and sleep off our hangovers. I even agreed to do the driving.

This is how you repay me? Sporting a neon yellow banana hammock?

Dude, now my hangover is back, and I think I'm going to throw up.

Huh? You wanted to what?

Whaddya need a tan ass for?

Forget it. I don't want to know. But you need to set up your blanket way over there or you can find another way to get home.

Don't be that dude.

To(o) Many Words. Really

 A couple of weeks ago I posted my final original writing post to my Tumblr account. Not by design, or with any forethought, but it became my last notwithstanding.

It all happened because of "To Many Words." Three grammatically incorrect words meant to critique a post I had written about the abuse of the acronym LOL.

The post topped out at 333 words, including the 5-word title -- not terribly long in the old-school world of publishing from whence I have come. So I asked a Tumblr friend of fine, "What gives?"

"Tumblr as a whole is supposed to be more visual," she says. Oh, now she tells me.

To be serious, that kind of confirmed what I had been sensing about Tumblr for some while. I've been pouring my editorial heart out on Tumblr and no one is reading. Great! Well, at least there's a reason. So I switched it up and made Tumblr a photo posting spot.

So, hopefully the "to many words criticism was just from someone trying to clue me on the fact that Tumblr readers aren't really feeling the "longwinded" posts.

What I dread about "to many words," however, is if this is indicative of some greater loathing toward reading by a society more accustomed to 144-character Tweets and staccato, fragment-sentence Facebook status updates.

Really no way to be sure. And if even if that is happening, who's to say whether it's a good or bad shift.

But maybe, just maybe, if people did read more, they would know the difference between "to" and "too" and even "two.

Just my (too) cents.

Don't Be That Dude: Dancing at the Club

Dude, what the hell are you doing over there?

Get off the dance floor right now!

Why?

Because you can't dance, dude.

What's that? No, guys on the dance floor don't always get chicks; guys on the dance floor who actually know how to dance get chicks.

Guys who do what you're doing get laughed at, get pissed off about it and curse out some girl, get escorted out of the club, and get to go home early - by cab.

Uggh! I couldn't believe what I saw. You got your arms bent at the elbow at a ridged 90-degree angle, hands tightly knotted in a fist, head titled back, and your eyes closed. You pick up your feet and move them from side to side, and you might as well not have a torso - cause it ain't moving at all dude.

And that girl you were dancing near…

What?

No, not with, next to…Well, that girl wants to dance, with a dancer. And you ain't one.

So stop embarrassing yourself and the rest of us. Get off the dance floor, go grab a Rum and Coke, and Don't Be That Dude.

The Pregnant Woman Refused My Seat, and Another Guy Took It

I remember reading a really great post from the Chocolate Belly recently about pregnant women not getting the seat privileges on mass transit -- being lumped under the moniker of disabled. The post also posed the question as to whether one would give up his, or her seat to a pregnant woman.

Not to pat myself on the back, but I am a big proponent of this. It makes me feel good, and is respectful to the woman and the precious cargo she carries. But I've been burned before, and last night I got burned again.

On an ultra-packed, standing-room-only 5:38 train out of Penn, I had a seat - a prime commodity, like beachfront property in the Hamptons. I saw a woman get on the train, who looked pregnant. She wasn't showing amazingly, but she was pregnant.

I deliberated for a few seconds, and got up. I tapped her on the shoulder, and offered her the seat.

She turned me down. It turned out she was getting out in a few stops and would probably be harder to get up after sitting down.

I didn't want to sit back down; that's kinda rude. In case she needed the seat, the offer would stand for as long as I was on the train. Turns out, so did I - stand, that is.

What's worse than that?

Some other bonehead who happens to call himself a man gets on the train, spies the seat, and claims it. Not once did he consider the fate of this woman with child.

What is wrong with people these days? There were many men sitting down, and none of them even flinched to give her the seat.

Men: Give up your seats, before you give up your souls
Pregnant Women: Take the seat.

Don’t Be That Dude: Using Big Words

Dude, you know I love you, right? Like a brother. We’re bros!

So that’s why I got you the hell out of there. You were making a fool of yourself!

I heard you tell that guy you were kind of obsequious about going on that Mediterranean cruise in the fall? Huh?

Why did you use that word, dude? You sucked in English, and you’re no better now. Dude, that guy is an English professor at St. John’s. Now they’re all laughing at you. What? No, it does not mean unsure, brother; it’s like, when you’re overly attentive to someone, like a kiss-ass or their slave or something.

Oh, and then I thought I heard you use the word “retinue” in a sentence? Did you? Huh? I thought so.

It doesn’t have anything to do with going to see a movie at night. It just refers to an entourage, or a group of people who follow you around and cater to you.

Whaddya mean, why am I getting all upset? This is serious stuff.

By the way, Lucky Charms cereal can never be magically and loquaciously delicious. That just means you’re talkative.

Anyway, stop with the big words. I know, you’ve been seeing them in the elevator on your way up to work, and they show up when your iMac goes into screen-saver mode. Actually, I’m impressed that you remembered the words; but you need to retain their meaning or refrain from using them.

We both know you’re not up to that task, so don’t be that dude.

What If I Were President: A Vote for Me Is…A Vote

The smoke from my Independence Day barbecue wafted into my brain, changing my genetic code for good, somehow, and I began to focus on the race for President of the U.S. What I really started thinking about is how bored I am with the tired, staid agendas of our two traditional parties. Even formidable third-parties and fringe candidates pretty much repackage points from the platforms of the big two.

A new candidate, in a new party, with a new platform, with new, big, crazy ideas. That's the kind of politics we need. That's the kind of platform would I run on...if I were to throw my proverbial hat into the ring, and join in the race for president of these United States.

You see, I think outside the box, so far outside the box, in fact, that I end up back in the box – though it may or may not be a different box.

Anyway, I have a 6-point plan that covers how I think we should be handling the top issues the country is facing.

• Healthcare
• The Mideast
• The Economy
• Education
• Taxes
• Immigration

And if there’s a party out there that will have me, maybe I'll actually run, because: A vote for me IS a vote.

A Vote for Me: Healthcare - Just Don't Get Sick

This is a very divisive issue, despite the Supreme Court’s recent ruling. I deeply believe that there is no right or wrong solution, but I think we can all agree on one thing: If none us got sick, we wouldn't need healthcare. Right? Are you with me?

And that's why, if I were elected president I would put forth a simple mandate to the American people:

Please do not get sick during my term as president.

Really, it’s only four years; how many times do you typically go to the doctor in a four-year span?

And not going to the doctor is the first step to better health. I mean, people are never sick until they go to doctors, who always seem to find things.

That means not going out in the rain, and wearing a jacket when it's cold outside. Drink plenty of orange juice, and, first and foremost -- eat an apple a day.

Now, avoiding doctors may mean we lose some of the innocent people, who may have been able to be cured through the modern marvels of medicine. But every good cause needs martyrs.

A Vote for Me: Education - Let's Relax, Everyone!

Kids today are way overworked. They have no energy to devote to important stuff, like gymnastics, dance lessons, vocal and acting training, skateboarding, video games, listening to music, blogging, Tweeting, Facebook, or just plain hanging out at the pizza place.

That’s not right.

How else is a little child to realize his or her full potential unless that child has some serious down time?

As parents, how often do you find yourself wondering: “I don’t remember having that much homework when I was in school.” I don’t either.

What are we trying to prove, anyway, with all this education? That we can keep up with China or India? Fat chance. Good luck. Let’s face facts: they’re just smarter, more committed, and more disciplined.

Plus, part of the new Immigration plan will include an intelligence threshold, for which any new immigrants cannot exceed. That’ll show ‘em. And then our kids won’t have so much pressure and will maybe be able to find a job.

What we do best, as a nation, is prepare our kids to be really involved with popular culture. What’s wrong with that?

A Vote for Me: Taxes - Tax the Homeless, Seniors, and People Who Walk

Many of us are feeling way overburdened by taxes. But the answer is not less taxes, it’s more.

There are some key areas of taxation that we’re missing, which could be generating a lot of revenue – if we can get the Supreme Court to go along with it.

First off, we need to tax walking. All walking and running too. A flat tax, no matter how fast, how far, north, south, east, or west. Walkers and runners do a lot of damage to our lawns, roads, parks, and it’s about time they “step up” and pay the piper. Haven’t they ever heard of treadmills and elliptical machines?

I also want to establish a senior citizen tax. Progressive, based on age, relatives will have to pay for anyone in their families who is age 65 and over. This will really help families of the future to determine just how important old Uncle Billy is to the rest of the family.

Lastly, we need to tax the homeless people. States would be forced to pay this Federal tax for each homeless person living in their state. This will not only be lucrative, but will help us to solve the homeless problem. States will compete for great prizes, like iPads and gift cards, to see who can lower their homeless populations.

A Vote for Me: The Economy - Wait Til We're a Third-World Nation

Patience is the order of the day when it comes to the economy.

You see, this recession we're going through in America is only going to get worse. But once we become a third-world nation, we’ll have growing countries like China, Brazil, and Venezuela beating a path to move their businesses over here for the tax breaks, cheap labor, and a new market.

Sound familiar?

For our part, we need to be prepared for when this starts to happen. We’ll need to encourage all the beautiful but poor citizens of our nation to reproduce like jackrabbits, so we can meet the demand for future employees.

And then we’ll also need to accommodate tourism. We’ll need to set up marketplaces at all our ports, so when giant cruise ships dock and let off their fat-cat travelers, we can sell useless arts and crafts, which they’ll break shortly after they get it back on the boat. Hair-braiding is also a key skill for this effort.

And we’ll have to become better at haggling. I know we’ll do fine.

A Vote for Me: The Mideast - Just Switch the Country Names

OK, I’m tired of all these middle-eastern countries squabbling, bickering, and just being downright nasty to each other. What’s up with that? You're tired of it too, right?

I mean, we just want their oil. There's no reason we should have to put up with that.

That’s why the solution here is to simply switch the names of all the countries.

I don’t care what they say either. If we stand firm on this one, it will work.

Here's how it works:

Let’s say we changed the name of the country that is now known as Israel to Iran, and vice versa. If you live in, say, the land of Israel, your new country is really Iran, which was once your sworn enemy. Only now you live in Iran. Conversely, the old Iran is now Israel. So, the Iranian government, formerly Israel, could never attack a country called Israel. It would be like attacking itself. And it wouldn’t be able to attack itself, even it’s now it’s own mortal enemy.

Think about it…Yeah, baby, I know!

A Vote for Me: Immigration - Only Let the Hot People In

"Only come in if your good-looking."

That's what my mother-in-law always says when I come over. She lets me in anyway.

But that's basically the crux of my Immigration policy.

When it comes to controlling immigration, I contend that we only let in people who are hot.

I mean, how great would it be?

Everywhere you go, totally good-looking people are there. No more letting in ugly people to taint the country’s genetic code. And I'm no chauvinist either. This goes for all sexes, as well as races, religions, and ethnicity. So put that in your pipe and smoke it!


And once those immigrants start mixing with our own beautiful people, we’ll all start to become hotter.

Of course, we’ll need to establish a department of exterior beauty and personal aesthetics, but we’ll figure it out – together, as a nation of really hot people. I’m thinking that Paris Hilton might want to serve in my cabinet and head up that department.

I know: it sounds a bit superrace-ish now. But you need to look to the future. I give it about 40 or 50 years, and we’ll have hotties running around everywhere. Everyone will be part of the superbeautiful.

That is awesome, isn't it?

Booty Pop? Sinking the Good Ship Lollipop

Have you ever heard of Shirley Temple? Not the non-alcoholic red drink with a Maraschino cherry that parents used to give their kids on special occasions, but the child star from the 1930s. We also knew her as the singer of "On the Good Ship Lollipop," a cutesy-ootsey song about a world of candy and sweet foods, where "bon-bons play, on the sunny beach of peppermint bay."

I thought about her when I saw a news article about Albert Roundtree Jr., a 6-year-old rapper who has gone viral with his song and video, "Booty Pop." During the course of the song, the kindergarten casanova raps about seducing women, and makes his case as to why girls should go out with him. The chorus refrain is pure poetry, with Roundtree singing, "I can make your booty pop, booty pop, booty pop."

All the while, bikini-clad girls shake what they got, just like in regular rap videos. At one point, there's just his tiny head bobbing between two close-up rump shots.

If this is done in jest, as some type of satire on the rap video genre, then it's brilliant. But something tells me its' not. And if it is real, the video is really disturbing on many accounts.

• First, there's Roundtree's bully button. What is up with that outtee? He may as well still have the umbilical cord attached.
• Who are these girls who have such a low self-esteem that they feel it's OK to be seen gyrating that close to a little kid?
• Whose idea was it to have little Albert hold a water gun from his crotch and shoot water at the dancing girls? I mean, c'mon now.

But, in this day and age, this video makes perfect sense. Just like parents were willing to exploit Shirley Temple, Michael Jackson, and a host of other child stars, these parents are looking through their children to find the gold. In fact, according to the Huffington Post article, "...Albert's parents...paid for the video in the hopes that their son would become a famous rapper."

And to be in that game, this is the kind of video you need to produce. No matter what the age, and no matter what the cost.

Don’t Be That Dude: Air Guitar Concert

Dude, didn’t you hear us stop laughing after about 5 minutes into your Air Guitar performance last night?

No? Maybe your Air Guitar amplifier was cranked up too loud.

Whatever, my friend, it’s no biggie. But the Air Guitar concerts are played out, especially since you never really made it as a musician. It just makes it sadder.

And what were you doing? It’s one thing to Air Guitar on a righteous Santana solo, or when that Stevie Ray Vaughan song came on. But you were playing Air Guitar chords. Air Guitar chords? How is that even meaningful to people who don’t play an instrument? How do you even think that is funny?

And then you started strumming Air Guitar along with Jim Croce’s “Don’t Mess Around With Jim”? That’s when you really lost us, bro.

And you must’ve sensed something too. That was right around the time when you mooned everyone, in a last-ditch effort to get a laugh. Then you gave us all the finger and started in on the hard stuff.

Oh, and that chick you were checking out, sitting on the red cooler, she was checking you out too – until you busted your head on the garden hose reel when you tried that behind-the-neck Air Guitar move during Foxy Lady. She just looked at her friend, rolled her eyes, and left. Uggh! Hendrix would not have been proud, and neither were we.

Dude, chill with the Air Guitar. Don’t be that dude.

Shocking Study Finds Americans Love Christmas, and Other Holidays Too

Wow! I never would've guessed this in a million years, so let's all be grateful that Gallup research can finally confirm:

Americans love Christmas Day.

I was listening to NPR last night and heard Gallup's Frank Newport chatting it up with host Sarah Gardner about this groundbreaking study. Gallup asked Americans: "What are the happiest days of the year?" Newport told Gardner.

He went on to explain that not only was Christmas Day the happiest day of 2011; the holiday has ranked number one since Gallup has been conducting this important research. And the surprises don't stop there: Thanksgiving Day and Easter Sunday ranked second and third, and July 4th and New Year's Day tied for fourth place.

It's no wonder that all of our fave holidays involve either stuffing one's face, gorging on sweets, getting and giving gifts we can't afford, blowing things up, drinking heavily, or some combination thereof.

The kicker was when Gardner said that her happiest day of the year is "the first day of vacation." Newport retorted, "Vacations, clearly based on our data, are something people really enjoy. That comes under the category of what we pollsters call a 'duh finding.'"

Seems like this whole study could be placed under that category, no?

Keep up the hard-hitting research Gallup. We need to know, the things we already know.

Safety Not Guaranteed, But Your Enjoyment Is!

Note: this is not my attempt at using my blog to review films. But this blog is about truth, and Safety Not Guaranteed has truth overflowing from its indie pockets.


My wife and I do not get out to the movies much. It's expensive, and most of the time there's really nothing that interests us. Put it to you this way: the last film we saw in the theater was Avatar, because of all the hype: "If you're going to see Avatar, you gotta see it in the theater."

Safety Not Guaranteed is not that kind of movie. You don't need to see this on the big screen. But that's not an indictment; it's part of this movie's charm.

Because, in fact, this film is really big. It's got big heart; big, real emotions that are played out by a bunch of newcomers and fringe actors like Aubrey Plaza, Jake Johnson, Mark Duplass, and Karan Soni.

The film's main story revolves around a Seattle magazine editor (Johnson) who takes two interns (Plaza and Soni) on a road trip to track down the author of classified ad searching for "someone to go back in time with."


The idea of going back in time to fix the blunders of the past, on its surface, is a well-worn path in Hollywood. But time travel is so peripheral to this film. It's what these characters are able to do in the present -- address and resolve the issues they've created and dealt with in the past -- that makes the entire trip like going back in time.

And the ending, while subdued, is as stirring as watching ET say goodbye to Elliot. 

Hope that makes sense. If not, sorry: Sensibility Not Guaranteed.

Just see this movie if you want to feel better than you did when you walked in.

How Are You? How Are You?

Hey, I just asked you how you were doing. And your answer: "How are you?"

You answered my question with another question, the same question. Did you not hear me, soldier! I said, "How are you?"

Maybe you were about to ask me, just before I asked you. But I asked you first, so now it's time to shift the gears of your brain in a new direction and come up with an acceptable response.

"Good." "Fine." "Beautiful." "Amazing." "Crappy." "Horrible." Any of these would've fit the bill. And, if you wanted to ask me a question, here's one: "How Am I What?" It's a bit sarcastic, but it would do.

Now, by returning my question back over the net to me with the same question, we're caught in an endless volley of "How are you." Way to go, guy! Now, my response can set off the conversation in a thousand different directions. I didn't want that responsibility.

I just wanted to know: "How are you?"