HELLOOOO NEWMAN: Laughter is your sixth sense
Monday, 30 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Smart Water: The Interview
Helloooo Newman: Smart Water: The Interview: Did you know you can buy Smart Water? Why was this marvelous news kept from me? I suspected the tap water I drink was no magna cum l...
Smart Water: The Interview
Did you know you can buy Smart Water?
I suspected the tap water I drink was no magna cum liquid, but I didn't think it was dumb, stupid, slow, simple, Gumpish, imbecilic – watered down.
So much so, Helloooo Newman interviewed a bottle of Smart Water.
Newman: Thank you for speaking with us, Mr. Water.
Mr. Water: You can call me Smart.
Newman: A lot of people wonder what makes you smarter than other water. How do you answer them?
Mr. Water: Well, just look at regular water, like toilet water, or water that contains denge fever. You can tell on the first drop that comes out of their mouth.
Newman: Um, okayyyyy. People don't drink that water, but can you be more specific?
Mr. Water: It's the extra oxygen molecule. Dumb water has one oxygen molecule and 2 hydrogen molecules. I have an extra oxygen molecule – more oxygen to my brain. I've always had a real thirst for knowledge.
When I was a kid I always had my hand up first in class. I remember one bottle of dumb water (he was from a tap water family), the teacher asked what water is made of and he answered HbO. Too much binge watching, I guess. He was a few drops short.
Then I was streamed into the gifted program but didn't mix well with other liquids. Got into a scuffle with a really snooty bottle of olive oil. Pummeled him so bad now he just sits in a can at Red Lobster marinating leftover crab meat.
You know, they say Einstein was the man that changed the way we think. I want to change the way we drink.
Newman: It's just hard to imagine water having an I.Q.
Mr. Water: Listen, I'm a hell of a lot smarter than the people who buy me. $2.99 a bottle? What a joke.
Newman: Jennifer Aniston is your spokesperson. What is your situation with her?
Mr. Water: I would say it's very fluid. We're great friends, but sometimes she makes me boiling mad with her demands.
Newman: Any romance there?
Mr. Water: Ha. She talks dirty to me. Told me I make her wet. We took a shower together once. She couldn't find me for days
Newman: Um, I forgot to mention children might be listening.
Mr. Water: Oh, sorry. I'll filter myself.
Newman: I understand you got some acting gigs through Ms. Aniston.
Mr. Water: Yes. I was the rain in Rain Man.
Newman: Hmmm, I don't remember rain in that movie.
Mr. Water: Ya, they cut me out. Bummer. That was a really draining experience.
Newman: Do you drink Smart Water yourself?
Mr. Water: Do I look like a cannibal?
Newman: What's next for you, Smart?
Mr. Water: I might go over Niagara Falls in a bottle. You know, for publicity.
Thursday, 26 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: The Face That Launched a Thousand Doctors
Helloooo Newman: The Face That Launched a Thousand Doctors: Her smile was completely out of place. I was at the Service Ontario government office, standing in the line of the dead. There were bodies...
The Face That Launched a Thousand Doctors
Her smile was completely out of place.
I was at the Service Ontario government office, standing in the line of the dead. There were bodies everywhere but none of them were dead in the actual sense. We were dead, bureaucratically speaking – the depression-era lineup, obedient nobodies clutching forms, shuffling to the next available spot in the line, the stench of procedures and regulations everywhere, no eye contact, no EEG readings. Waiting…
After a while, the walls and the lighting meshed together, creating a soft hue of baby puke. Stay focused: I was here to renew my licence, not my humanity.
Moving to one of the service counters of the dead was the smiling woman. Why was she smiling, against such odds? This was no Gioconda, coy half-smile. This smile had a PhD in smiling. From corner to corner, the smile started in this office and ended somewhere around the edge of the known universe.
She handed her forms in and stepped in front of the camera.
"Ma'am, no smiling." A voice rang out with all the bellicosity of a Rhino protecting its young.
"You can't smile."
The smiling lady was flummoxed. "I'm not smiling", she said.
"Ma'am, no smiling", the Rhino repeated.
It turns out the government had not finished shrink-wrapping our soul and muting our humanity. Smiling for one's driver's licence photo was forbidden, even dangerous. It's important that your photo expressed all the joy of Charles Manson's mugshot.
Helter Skelter, mandolin version, was playing in the background.
The smiling lady kept insisting that she was not smiling. She turned to the crowd for help. Immediately I saw the problem.
Behold the face that launched a thousand plastic surgeons. Her face was not a face, it was a set of tupperware. Her lips (were they lips or stretch marks? did she give birth through the esophagus?) couldn't send the proper nerve signals to her brain, telling her "we are smiling, now we are not".
I had to help her. I suddenly remembered: Heat. Melts. Plastic.
Conveniently, the government office was located in a Canadian Tire store. I moved like a Gazelle. I lost my place in line and grabbed the most powerful blow dryer I could find – the Ferrari 3000.
I approached the woman's face with engines full. Her face began to droop. Oops. I turned the heat down. Some last minute sculpting and the lips normalized. She was ready for her closeup.
I smiled BIG.
For one brief moment, I felt alive in a government office.
I was at the Service Ontario government office, standing in the line of the dead. There were bodies everywhere but none of them were dead in the actual sense. We were dead, bureaucratically speaking – the depression-era lineup, obedient nobodies clutching forms, shuffling to the next available spot in the line, the stench of procedures and regulations everywhere, no eye contact, no EEG readings. Waiting…
After a while, the walls and the lighting meshed together, creating a soft hue of baby puke. Stay focused: I was here to renew my licence, not my humanity.
Moving to one of the service counters of the dead was the smiling woman. Why was she smiling, against such odds? This was no Gioconda, coy half-smile. This smile had a PhD in smiling. From corner to corner, the smile started in this office and ended somewhere around the edge of the known universe.
She handed her forms in and stepped in front of the camera.
"Ma'am, no smiling." A voice rang out with all the bellicosity of a Rhino protecting its young.
"You can't smile."
The smiling lady was flummoxed. "I'm not smiling", she said.
"Ma'am, no smiling", the Rhino repeated.
It turns out the government had not finished shrink-wrapping our soul and muting our humanity. Smiling for one's driver's licence photo was forbidden, even dangerous. It's important that your photo expressed all the joy of Charles Manson's mugshot.
Helter Skelter, mandolin version, was playing in the background.
The smiling lady kept insisting that she was not smiling. She turned to the crowd for help. Immediately I saw the problem.
Behold the face that launched a thousand plastic surgeons. Her face was not a face, it was a set of tupperware. Her lips (were they lips or stretch marks? did she give birth through the esophagus?) couldn't send the proper nerve signals to her brain, telling her "we are smiling, now we are not".
I had to help her. I suddenly remembered: Heat. Melts. Plastic.
Conveniently, the government office was located in a Canadian Tire store. I moved like a Gazelle. I lost my place in line and grabbed the most powerful blow dryer I could find – the Ferrari 3000.
I approached the woman's face with engines full. Her face began to droop. Oops. I turned the heat down. Some last minute sculpting and the lips normalized. She was ready for her closeup.
I smiled BIG.
For one brief moment, I felt alive in a government office.
Thursday, 19 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: If Not Now, When?
Helloooo Newman: If Not Now, When?: Do you ever troll through LinkedIn, only searching for really good looking people (chicks or guys, depending) and then connecting with them?...
If Not Now, When?
Do you ever troll through LinkedIn, only searching for really good looking people (chicks or guys, depending) and then connecting with them?
Me neither.
It's a time-waster.
My current mantra is: If not now, when?
This is meant to get myself to do things. I love, adore, covet putting things off. Procrastination is my minx, a pretty woman wooing me into indolence.
I also suffer from finifugalism. This is the fear of endings, of finishing anything. It's even hard to finish this sentence because I have so much to say the trees and winter's coming and I have to start my shopping what will I get this year oh no another blow dryer but the GrowBot is neat…see!
I repeat it in my mind every night before I fall asleep. I suppose this is a curious time for that specific mantra. "If not now, when?" implies I am about to do something really important that I've been putting off for years…but then I just fall asleep. I never put off falling asleep.
I enjoy putting things off so much that sometimes I will do something just to put off putting it off. Yes, it's that bad.
As a procrastinator, I'm in good company, historically speaking. There is a temple in Spain called the Sagrada Familia. Construction of the Sagrada started in 1882 by a dude named Gaudi. The damn thing is still being built. You read right. They're still adding shit to it. I have a picture of the Sagrada on my wall to remind myself of how well I actually am doing.
The main reason I put things off is fear. There's the finifugal fear, plus the fear of screwing up, failing, looking stupid, fear of missing a nap etc.
Lately, though, I've decided fear will not control me anymore. I like to say that fear is no longer my pilot. I'm the one flying the plane now. Fear is the co-pilot at best, and preferably the hot flight attendant that I can do on those moving stairs used to de-plane.
Only yesterday did I realize that "If not now, when?" is a question requiring an answer. I never thought to answer it. When is when? Now? Tomorrow at 1:20 p.m.? Once I've read all my Twitter feeds? There's no easy answer.
What are some of the things I need to do? Well, it would be cool to be bilingual. I have a friend at Toastmasters who is bilingual, and constantly reminds me of it. He speaks Spanish and English. Being a single guy, one time he told me he was also cunnilingual. I'm not sure what that meant. I said I'm married.
His favourite word was chucklefuck. "Oh man, that girl was a real chucklefuck", he would say. Nope, not sure what that means either.
I just try to focus on doin' the doin' and staying ahead of the Sagrada builders.
Me neither.
It's a time-waster.
My current mantra is: If not now, when?
This is meant to get myself to do things. I love, adore, covet putting things off. Procrastination is my minx, a pretty woman wooing me into indolence.
I also suffer from finifugalism. This is the fear of endings, of finishing anything. It's even hard to finish this sentence because I have so much to say the trees and winter's coming and I have to start my shopping what will I get this year oh no another blow dryer but the GrowBot is neat…see!
I repeat it in my mind every night before I fall asleep. I suppose this is a curious time for that specific mantra. "If not now, when?" implies I am about to do something really important that I've been putting off for years…but then I just fall asleep. I never put off falling asleep.
I enjoy putting things off so much that sometimes I will do something just to put off putting it off. Yes, it's that bad.
As a procrastinator, I'm in good company, historically speaking. There is a temple in Spain called the Sagrada Familia. Construction of the Sagrada started in 1882 by a dude named Gaudi. The damn thing is still being built. You read right. They're still adding shit to it. I have a picture of the Sagrada on my wall to remind myself of how well I actually am doing.
The main reason I put things off is fear. There's the finifugal fear, plus the fear of screwing up, failing, looking stupid, fear of missing a nap etc.
Lately, though, I've decided fear will not control me anymore. I like to say that fear is no longer my pilot. I'm the one flying the plane now. Fear is the co-pilot at best, and preferably the hot flight attendant that I can do on those moving stairs used to de-plane.
Only yesterday did I realize that "If not now, when?" is a question requiring an answer. I never thought to answer it. When is when? Now? Tomorrow at 1:20 p.m.? Once I've read all my Twitter feeds? There's no easy answer.
What are some of the things I need to do? Well, it would be cool to be bilingual. I have a friend at Toastmasters who is bilingual, and constantly reminds me of it. He speaks Spanish and English. Being a single guy, one time he told me he was also cunnilingual. I'm not sure what that meant. I said I'm married.
His favourite word was chucklefuck. "Oh man, that girl was a real chucklefuck", he would say. Nope, not sure what that means either.
I just try to focus on doin' the doin' and staying ahead of the Sagrada builders.
La Sagrada Familia
Thursday, 12 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Gentle Ben Carson
Helloooo Newman: Gentle Ben Carson: Unlike his evil compatriot, Jeb Bush, Ben Carson does not kill babies. He is gentle Ben. Ben was asked a slightly different question tha...
Gentle Ben Carson
Unlike his evil compatriot, Jeb Bush, Ben Carson does not kill babies.
He is gentle Ben.
Ben was asked a slightly different question than Jeb. "Would you go back in time and abort fetus Hitler?", was Ben's question.
A stern NO boomed out of his mouth. "Im not in favour of aborting anybody."
Gentle Ben said that, being a doctor, he would deliver baby Hitler, immediately shave the moustache, remove his arms so he could not invent the Nazi salute and operate on his tongue to create a lisp so that if he tried any of that dictator talk, people would just laugh and go picnic in the Black Forest.
Sieg Heil would sound like Thieg Heil, Nathzees. No real man will get behind that kind of talk, right?
Gentle Ben figures that baby Hitler didn't have enough Jethuth, sorry, "Jesus", in his life and also suffered from a poor diet.
Easily remedied, according to Gentle Ben. Ben's house is (in real life!) full of paintings of him posing with Him, that Him being Jesus.
That's right. A house full of religious selfies, Bible-style.
It's uncertain who painted these images. It definitely wasn't Charles Manson, another ruthless killer who Gentle Ben would gladly deliver from the womb. Charles thinks he's the second coming, and that upsets big Gentle Ben.
These paintings would be strategically hung around baby Hitler's play pen. Of course, Gentle Ben would have to explain to Baby Hitler which one in the paintings was God's son. I hear Ben often gets that confused.
Improving baby Hitler's diet is easy too. Ben would go further back in time, store some of that Egyptian pyramid grain in portable pyramid tupperware, zip back and feed it to Hitler.
Ben even considered specializing as a doctor who only delivers evil-doing babies, guaranteeing that his delivery would cure them of their sadistic impulses.
Running for President is a far greater calling for Ben.
He is gentle Ben.
Ben was asked a slightly different question than Jeb. "Would you go back in time and abort fetus Hitler?", was Ben's question.
A stern NO boomed out of his mouth. "Im not in favour of aborting anybody."
Gentle Ben said that, being a doctor, he would deliver baby Hitler, immediately shave the moustache, remove his arms so he could not invent the Nazi salute and operate on his tongue to create a lisp so that if he tried any of that dictator talk, people would just laugh and go picnic in the Black Forest.
Sieg Heil would sound like Thieg Heil, Nathzees. No real man will get behind that kind of talk, right?
Gentle Ben figures that baby Hitler didn't have enough Jethuth, sorry, "Jesus", in his life and also suffered from a poor diet.
Easily remedied, according to Gentle Ben. Ben's house is (in real life!) full of paintings of him posing with Him, that Him being Jesus.
That's right. A house full of religious selfies, Bible-style.
It's uncertain who painted these images. It definitely wasn't Charles Manson, another ruthless killer who Gentle Ben would gladly deliver from the womb. Charles thinks he's the second coming, and that upsets big Gentle Ben.
These paintings would be strategically hung around baby Hitler's play pen. Of course, Gentle Ben would have to explain to Baby Hitler which one in the paintings was God's son. I hear Ben often gets that confused.
Improving baby Hitler's diet is easy too. Ben would go further back in time, store some of that Egyptian pyramid grain in portable pyramid tupperware, zip back and feed it to Hitler.
Ben even considered specializing as a doctor who only delivers evil-doing babies, guaranteeing that his delivery would cure them of their sadistic impulses.
Running for President is a far greater calling for Ben.
Gentle Ben & Jesus – Buds
Tuesday, 10 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Jeb Bush Kills Babies
Helloooo Newman: Jeb Bush Kills Babies: Jeb Bush wants to kill babies. And he wants to be your President. Recently, while on the campaign trail, Jeb was asked that if it was poss...
Jeb Bush Kills Babies
Jeb Bush wants to kill babies. And he wants to be your President.
Recently, while on the campaign trail, Jeb was asked that if it was possible, would he go back in time and kill baby Hitler.
"Hell, ya. You gotta step up." That is a direct, real-world quote.
Finally, we're getting to the nub of an important issue that affects the middle class. Time travel, and its effect on nasty people.
It's remarkable that the iconic film Back to the Future, with all its ramifications, is finally causing reverberations throughout society, as I knew it would.
Marty McFly, philosopher of the ages. Sales of DeLorean's are skyrocketing.
It gets tiresome when politicians are continually bothered with "that's-not-gonna-happen", hard-to-believe scenarios like nuclear war, unemployment, terrorism, when history is full of far more important issues, like who was the caveman that threw the first ever punch.
My reaction is, why stop at one baby? Baby killing can be habit-forming. While your time machine is up and running, why not get Stalin? Pol Pot? Nixon?
Jeb went on to say that he would enter the nursery where little Adolph was born and do it quietly, with a pillow, identifying Hitler by his trend-setting moustache. He loved the irony of such a violent man going so gently into that good night.
At one point, the interviewer handed Jeb what looked like a genuine plane ticket, with the words "Virgin Air Time Travel-One Return Ticket" on it.
Jeb got very nervous, thinking holy shit, I might actually have to do this. The interviewer laughed and admitted it was a fake, but Jeb was unconvinced, sweat flowing from his armpits.
I so wish the interviewer presented him with other likely scenarios, so I can better judge if he is up for President. My question would have been: let's suppose a car hits a street lamp, the light falls, rolls into some scaffolding at a nearby building, which collapses, causing a large board to fall from a great height, further causing a nail to be flung from the board, whistling towards a nearby baby's head. Would you, Jeb, jump in front of that nail to save baby X.
A man who can kill babies one day and save them the next, a man who can make that crucial distinction, has President written all over his face.
Alas, there was some disagreement in the Bush household. Jeb's wife, what's her name, preferred the more motherly route: go back, breast feed Adolph and dress him in soft, hand-knit sweaters, so that he has the proper upbringing to avoid seeing people as vermin.
Could you be President? What would you do?
Recently, while on the campaign trail, Jeb was asked that if it was possible, would he go back in time and kill baby Hitler.
"Hell, ya. You gotta step up." That is a direct, real-world quote.
Finally, we're getting to the nub of an important issue that affects the middle class. Time travel, and its effect on nasty people.
It's remarkable that the iconic film Back to the Future, with all its ramifications, is finally causing reverberations throughout society, as I knew it would.
Marty McFly, philosopher of the ages. Sales of DeLorean's are skyrocketing.
It gets tiresome when politicians are continually bothered with "that's-not-gonna-happen", hard-to-believe scenarios like nuclear war, unemployment, terrorism, when history is full of far more important issues, like who was the caveman that threw the first ever punch.
My reaction is, why stop at one baby? Baby killing can be habit-forming. While your time machine is up and running, why not get Stalin? Pol Pot? Nixon?
Jeb went on to say that he would enter the nursery where little Adolph was born and do it quietly, with a pillow, identifying Hitler by his trend-setting moustache. He loved the irony of such a violent man going so gently into that good night.
At one point, the interviewer handed Jeb what looked like a genuine plane ticket, with the words "Virgin Air Time Travel-One Return Ticket" on it.
Jeb got very nervous, thinking holy shit, I might actually have to do this. The interviewer laughed and admitted it was a fake, but Jeb was unconvinced, sweat flowing from his armpits.
I so wish the interviewer presented him with other likely scenarios, so I can better judge if he is up for President. My question would have been: let's suppose a car hits a street lamp, the light falls, rolls into some scaffolding at a nearby building, which collapses, causing a large board to fall from a great height, further causing a nail to be flung from the board, whistling towards a nearby baby's head. Would you, Jeb, jump in front of that nail to save baby X.
A man who can kill babies one day and save them the next, a man who can make that crucial distinction, has President written all over his face.
Alas, there was some disagreement in the Bush household. Jeb's wife, what's her name, preferred the more motherly route: go back, breast feed Adolph and dress him in soft, hand-knit sweaters, so that he has the proper upbringing to avoid seeing people as vermin.
Could you be President? What would you do?
Saturday, 7 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Dancing with Wolf Blitzer
Helloooo Newman: Dancing with Wolf Blitzer: In my mind there's really only one authority in news – Wolf Blitzer. That's because Wolf has been covering the human news since wo...
Dancing with Wolf Blitzer
In my mind there's really only one authority in news – Wolf Blitzer.
That's because Wolf has been covering the human news since wolves first appeared, oh, about fifty million years ago, as estimated by scientists.
One builds up a pretty good resume after that much time. I wouldn't want to be the HR person who has to sift through his 100,000 page resume, but boy, I would be impressed with the page count.
Wolf Blitzer is one of those names where I have trouble believing someone actually called their child "Wolf", and someone's family name is actually "Blitzer".
Isn't there a reindeer called Blitzer?
Mr. Blitzer is German, so you're probably thinking that "Wolf" is short for "Wolfgang", a common German name.
You could call Wolf the Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart of news yelling. He started very early, coming out of the womb screaming about the "situation" in the Middle East, and with nary a teleprompter in sight.
However, after considerable research, I discovered that Wolfgang is not the etymology of his first name. He was, in fact, raised by wolves.
Wolf would sit in playgrounds and recite, in a newsy bellow, the various goings on of the children. People had enough when he started muckraking the parents, accusing them of affairs, embezzlement, child abuse, or colluding with Yasser Arafat. He wouldn't stop so his parents quietly left him in a nearby forest and the wolves received him without question.
When he first started in television, he would howl the news, pee on the cameras, causing an electrical fire, and then stalk, attack and eat his co-anchor. People got tired of the studio looking bloodier then the local car accidents they would cover.
Years of training has pared down those nasty instincts to a simple monotone yelling into the camera.
Somewhere along the line he made a huge civilizational leap – wearing really nice suits. This was accompanied by sophisticated talk, cocktail parties, art appreciation and a taste for the finer wines. I trust Wolf Blass is his wine of choice?
The true "wolf" in him lingers with those blue wolf eyes and oval pupils. Wide and always looking for the kill. Sometimes I'm still afraid he will reach out of the television and turn me into stewing beef.
I think if CNN ever dumps Blitzer, he has a career as a mutant, don't you?
Wolferine Blitzer?
That's because Wolf has been covering the human news since wolves first appeared, oh, about fifty million years ago, as estimated by scientists.
One builds up a pretty good resume after that much time. I wouldn't want to be the HR person who has to sift through his 100,000 page resume, but boy, I would be impressed with the page count.
Wolf Blitzer is one of those names where I have trouble believing someone actually called their child "Wolf", and someone's family name is actually "Blitzer".
Isn't there a reindeer called Blitzer?
Mr. Blitzer is German, so you're probably thinking that "Wolf" is short for "Wolfgang", a common German name.
You could call Wolf the Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart of news yelling. He started very early, coming out of the womb screaming about the "situation" in the Middle East, and with nary a teleprompter in sight.
However, after considerable research, I discovered that Wolfgang is not the etymology of his first name. He was, in fact, raised by wolves.
Wolf would sit in playgrounds and recite, in a newsy bellow, the various goings on of the children. People had enough when he started muckraking the parents, accusing them of affairs, embezzlement, child abuse, or colluding with Yasser Arafat. He wouldn't stop so his parents quietly left him in a nearby forest and the wolves received him without question.
When he first started in television, he would howl the news, pee on the cameras, causing an electrical fire, and then stalk, attack and eat his co-anchor. People got tired of the studio looking bloodier then the local car accidents they would cover.
Years of training has pared down those nasty instincts to a simple monotone yelling into the camera.
Somewhere along the line he made a huge civilizational leap – wearing really nice suits. This was accompanied by sophisticated talk, cocktail parties, art appreciation and a taste for the finer wines. I trust Wolf Blass is his wine of choice?
The true "wolf" in him lingers with those blue wolf eyes and oval pupils. Wide and always looking for the kill. Sometimes I'm still afraid he will reach out of the television and turn me into stewing beef.
I think if CNN ever dumps Blitzer, he has a career as a mutant, don't you?
Wolferine Blitzer?
Friday, 6 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Heeeerrrrs Johnny
Helloooo Newman: Heeeerrrrs Johnny: Okay, now I'm really confused. Who would I vote for? Donald Trump or Ben Carson? This is strikingly similar to a question I asked my...
Heeeerrrrs Johnny
Okay, now I'm really confused.
Who would I vote for? Donald Trump or Ben Carson?
This is strikingly similar to a question I asked myself last week – what would I rather die of, necrotizing fasciitis or lewy body dementia?
Dilemmas, dilemmas.
Mr. Carson is actually Dr. Carson. Doctors are smart, aren't they?
Dr. Carson recently said he believes the pyramids were built by the biblical Joseph to store grain.
You know, I'm not really sure how smart the ancient Egyptians were. None of them had PhDs, like Dr. Carson has.
Now keep in mind I'm neither an architect nor a farmer. However, if I were building a structure to hold grain, I would probably built it mostly empty. You know, so it could hold as much grain as possible. That way I'm not constantly riding my camel back and forth to the grain store, to fill up my grain pyramid.
The pyramids are mostly not empty, save for a few tunnels and chambers containing mummified corpses.
They are pretty much solid stone. Wow, someone in Egypt screwed up on the grain holding portfolio. Yet they had the astounding skill to build the pyramid in the first place. Somehow they carved and moved stones the size of bungalows. Confounding, indeed.
Think about a simple water-carrying jug, which I think the Egyptians carried on their heads. What shape is it? Is it tall and bowl shaped, or pyramid shaped, because it looks really cool.
They went with the bowl shape, a great decision. The bowl shape holds more water per unit of carrying time. A pyramid-shaped container would hold much less water, or would have to be about the size of the actual pyramid to make it worth while.
Someone in ancient Egypt forgot to apply the bowl logic to the pyramids. The chief architect declared, "Let's have the grain storage unit come to a point. It holds less grain, but it's gnarly, dude." I wonder if he was eventually fired.
Does anyone really care about Dr. Carson's grasp of history? Not really. Except that he's applying for a job that allows him to launch in the neighbourhood of 5,000 nuclear weapons. He gets to make that decision.
Unless…Unless he thinks those missile silos actually contain grain, not civilization-ending bombs.
I'm throwing my hands up and voting for Johnny Carson.
Who would I vote for? Donald Trump or Ben Carson?
This is strikingly similar to a question I asked myself last week – what would I rather die of, necrotizing fasciitis or lewy body dementia?
Dilemmas, dilemmas.
Mr. Carson is actually Dr. Carson. Doctors are smart, aren't they?
Dr. Carson recently said he believes the pyramids were built by the biblical Joseph to store grain.
You know, I'm not really sure how smart the ancient Egyptians were. None of them had PhDs, like Dr. Carson has.
Now keep in mind I'm neither an architect nor a farmer. However, if I were building a structure to hold grain, I would probably built it mostly empty. You know, so it could hold as much grain as possible. That way I'm not constantly riding my camel back and forth to the grain store, to fill up my grain pyramid.
The pyramids are mostly not empty, save for a few tunnels and chambers containing mummified corpses.
They are pretty much solid stone. Wow, someone in Egypt screwed up on the grain holding portfolio. Yet they had the astounding skill to build the pyramid in the first place. Somehow they carved and moved stones the size of bungalows. Confounding, indeed.
Think about a simple water-carrying jug, which I think the Egyptians carried on their heads. What shape is it? Is it tall and bowl shaped, or pyramid shaped, because it looks really cool.
They went with the bowl shape, a great decision. The bowl shape holds more water per unit of carrying time. A pyramid-shaped container would hold much less water, or would have to be about the size of the actual pyramid to make it worth while.
Someone in ancient Egypt forgot to apply the bowl logic to the pyramids. The chief architect declared, "Let's have the grain storage unit come to a point. It holds less grain, but it's gnarly, dude." I wonder if he was eventually fired.
Does anyone really care about Dr. Carson's grasp of history? Not really. Except that he's applying for a job that allows him to launch in the neighbourhood of 5,000 nuclear weapons. He gets to make that decision.
Unless…Unless he thinks those missile silos actually contain grain, not civilization-ending bombs.
I'm throwing my hands up and voting for Johnny Carson.
Thursday, 5 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Costdom?
Helloooo Newman: Costdom?: Freedom isn't free. This is the exalted wisdom of American presidential candidate Ben Carson. Many others have said the same thing, of...
Costdom?
Freedom isn't free.
This is the exalted wisdom of American presidential candidate Ben Carson. Many others have said the same thing, of course. Luminaries like George W. Bush (not to be confused with George H.W., who actually seems like a reasonable guy – maybe the H is for Hey, I don't know everything, maybe a little humility is in order).
But shouldn't freedom be free? Why does it have the word free in it? That's really confusing.
Maybe it's free, but it costs something to ship it to you. Six to eight weeks? Damn, I want out of this marriage now.
Dubya tried to export freedom and boy, the shipping charges on that were a whopper. One trillion and counting.
Or the batteries on freedom are sold separately. Freedom, the action figure.
Maybe it's like Netflix. The first month of freedom is free, then you start with easy monthly payments on your credit card. Freeforthefirstmonthdom.
Or there's Uber freedom. When you feel like being free, you open your app and order freedom to drive you around for a while. Next stop, servitude.
I suppose there must be a tax on freedom – there's a tax on everything, including my workout. Very taxing.
If freedom isn't going to be free from now on, I propose we call it Costdom. So we know what we're getting. Having the word free in freedom, and then charging the customer behind his/her back is just plain dishonest.
I guess Mr. Carson (initially I thought it was Johnny Carson running for Prez) means that we have to spend money to defend freedom.
I can get behind that. But are we defending "freedom"? Aren't we really defending a specific country and a way of doing things?
Freedom is a bad, inaccurate word – just like love. I love my parents and I love how freely available porn is on the internet. Obviously, I'm not talking about the same kind of love, but I have to use the same word. Using "parents" and "porn" in the same sentence makes me want to throw up my stomach lining.
Are we really free? What an annoying question. I never ask it of myself. Except now, for this important educational moment.
Freedom is clearly a relative term. It means nothing unless compared to some other state of being. Like being hung in a closet, auto-erotic style.
Some people are more freer and some are less freer – so let's call it freerdom.
We also have freedom "to" and freedom "from". Being free to watch porn (especially free porn) means I'm free from disease. I can offer free advice on where to find free porn, but that's a later, "free", blog article.
There's also the proverbial "free lunch", which doesn't exist. This means that even if you didn't pay for your lunch, someone has to along the line. We have to call that freeformedom. It was free for me, and I don't give a shit about the other person.
Whatever freedom means, don't underestimate it. In countries like China and Russia, people are not free to read this free article. I think if China or Russia ever do become really free, I'll start charging for this blog. Free them of some of their money.
Speaking of freedom "from", I think I'd like to be free from Mr. Carson as Prez of the USA. This man does not believe in evolution. I'm afraid that for me, believing in evolution is a requirement for any important job, like Librarian or professional Funeral Mourner (a real job!).
Hey, dying ain't free.
This is the exalted wisdom of American presidential candidate Ben Carson. Many others have said the same thing, of course. Luminaries like George W. Bush (not to be confused with George H.W., who actually seems like a reasonable guy – maybe the H is for Hey, I don't know everything, maybe a little humility is in order).
But shouldn't freedom be free? Why does it have the word free in it? That's really confusing.
Maybe it's free, but it costs something to ship it to you. Six to eight weeks? Damn, I want out of this marriage now.
Dubya tried to export freedom and boy, the shipping charges on that were a whopper. One trillion and counting.
Or the batteries on freedom are sold separately. Freedom, the action figure.
Maybe it's like Netflix. The first month of freedom is free, then you start with easy monthly payments on your credit card. Freeforthefirstmonthdom.
Or there's Uber freedom. When you feel like being free, you open your app and order freedom to drive you around for a while. Next stop, servitude.
I suppose there must be a tax on freedom – there's a tax on everything, including my workout. Very taxing.
If freedom isn't going to be free from now on, I propose we call it Costdom. So we know what we're getting. Having the word free in freedom, and then charging the customer behind his/her back is just plain dishonest.
I guess Mr. Carson (initially I thought it was Johnny Carson running for Prez) means that we have to spend money to defend freedom.
I can get behind that. But are we defending "freedom"? Aren't we really defending a specific country and a way of doing things?
Freedom is a bad, inaccurate word – just like love. I love my parents and I love how freely available porn is on the internet. Obviously, I'm not talking about the same kind of love, but I have to use the same word. Using "parents" and "porn" in the same sentence makes me want to throw up my stomach lining.
Are we really free? What an annoying question. I never ask it of myself. Except now, for this important educational moment.
Freedom is clearly a relative term. It means nothing unless compared to some other state of being. Like being hung in a closet, auto-erotic style.
Some people are more freer and some are less freer – so let's call it freerdom.
We also have freedom "to" and freedom "from". Being free to watch porn (especially free porn) means I'm free from disease. I can offer free advice on where to find free porn, but that's a later, "free", blog article.
There's also the proverbial "free lunch", which doesn't exist. This means that even if you didn't pay for your lunch, someone has to along the line. We have to call that freeformedom. It was free for me, and I don't give a shit about the other person.
Whatever freedom means, don't underestimate it. In countries like China and Russia, people are not free to read this free article. I think if China or Russia ever do become really free, I'll start charging for this blog. Free them of some of their money.
Speaking of freedom "from", I think I'd like to be free from Mr. Carson as Prez of the USA. This man does not believe in evolution. I'm afraid that for me, believing in evolution is a requirement for any important job, like Librarian or professional Funeral Mourner (a real job!).
Hey, dying ain't free.
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
Helloooo Newman: Take the Brain Train
Helloooo Newman: Take the Brain Train: Today is take your brain to work day. For me, anyway. From a human perspective, the most complicated and mysterious object in the universe...
Take the Brain Train
Today is take your brain to work day. For me, anyway.
From a human perspective, the most complicated and mysterious object in the universe is the brain.
Its secrets go far deeper than Bill Gates' pockets, or Justin Trudeau's sexy looks.
And scientists are only just beginning to make sense of this riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
Here's an example. One study had males look at two pictures of the same woman side by side and were asked to rate in which picture the woman looked friendlier, or sexier, and a whole bunch of other criteria as well.
As in most studies, there was a trick. The pictures were not quite identical. In one picture, the woman's pupils were dilated and in the other they were wide open.
The men, being the sophisticated apes they are, didn't notice this, as they were too busy shifting their erections around so they wouldn't experience penile snapping in their jeans.
The men overwhelmingly rated the women with the dilated pupils as sexier and friendlier than the same women without the dilation.
Think about that. A completely unconscious process potentially influencing which woman they would mate with.
That's just so…male. And it's not "our" fault. It's our brain. Which is essentially us, but not really. Sort of.
I prefer when a woman's nipples dilate, but that's just me. And yes, I can tell the difference between pictures of dilated and non-dilated nipples. Because I'm porn-smart.
I believe that everything we think of as important in this universe is just made up by the brain – things like personality, self, consciousness, "I", "me", love, faith, who wins the Stanley Cup.
A total illusion. That's what everything is. When your brain is gone, "you", your "self", your erotic dreams – all gone too. That last part is really depressing.
That's why it's so futile to ask the big "why" questions in life. Why am I here? Why do I continually eat burgers with Reese's Pieces inside the meat?
There is no answer, despite the fact that you need one.
The single most important question we can ask is – why is there something, anything, instead of nothing?
You might as well ask why a circle is round.
It is a question that cannot be answered. This is where I part with my buddy Stephen Hawking. That's probably why he won't Facetime me.
Stevie has publicly stated he wants to answer why there is a universe instead of nothing. Points for ambition, that's for sure!
I hate to say it, but Hawking will die, and the why will go on.
The person who never stops asking why is either very bored or being paid to ask it.
Why am I writing this and not eating the picture below?
From a human perspective, the most complicated and mysterious object in the universe is the brain.
Its secrets go far deeper than Bill Gates' pockets, or Justin Trudeau's sexy looks.
And scientists are only just beginning to make sense of this riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
Here's an example. One study had males look at two pictures of the same woman side by side and were asked to rate in which picture the woman looked friendlier, or sexier, and a whole bunch of other criteria as well.
As in most studies, there was a trick. The pictures were not quite identical. In one picture, the woman's pupils were dilated and in the other they were wide open.
The men, being the sophisticated apes they are, didn't notice this, as they were too busy shifting their erections around so they wouldn't experience penile snapping in their jeans.
The men overwhelmingly rated the women with the dilated pupils as sexier and friendlier than the same women without the dilation.
Think about that. A completely unconscious process potentially influencing which woman they would mate with.
That's just so…male. And it's not "our" fault. It's our brain. Which is essentially us, but not really. Sort of.
I prefer when a woman's nipples dilate, but that's just me. And yes, I can tell the difference between pictures of dilated and non-dilated nipples. Because I'm porn-smart.
I believe that everything we think of as important in this universe is just made up by the brain – things like personality, self, consciousness, "I", "me", love, faith, who wins the Stanley Cup.
A total illusion. That's what everything is. When your brain is gone, "you", your "self", your erotic dreams – all gone too. That last part is really depressing.
That's why it's so futile to ask the big "why" questions in life. Why am I here? Why do I continually eat burgers with Reese's Pieces inside the meat?
There is no answer, despite the fact that you need one.
The single most important question we can ask is – why is there something, anything, instead of nothing?
You might as well ask why a circle is round.
It is a question that cannot be answered. This is where I part with my buddy Stephen Hawking. That's probably why he won't Facetime me.
Stevie has publicly stated he wants to answer why there is a universe instead of nothing. Points for ambition, that's for sure!
I hate to say it, but Hawking will die, and the why will go on.
The person who never stops asking why is either very bored or being paid to ask it.
Why am I writing this and not eating the picture below?
Monday, 26 October 2015
Helloooo Newman: You've Got to Know When to Hold 'Em
Helloooo Newman: You've Got to Know When to Hold 'Em: You've got to admit, Kenny Rogers is a wise man. Maybe he's a wise guy too? Being in all those casinos. Well, he sure knows gambling...
You've Got to Know When to Hold 'Em
You've got to admit, Kenny Rogers is a wise man. Maybe he's a wise guy too? Being in all those casinos. Well, he sure knows gambling.
Idea for a movie: The Three Wise Guys. Based on the life of the three wise men, they were Jesus' bagmen. Collect money for Jesus, take delinquent payers and prayers into the stable and break their hands with a hammer.
One person who clearly doesn't know gambling is René Angélil.
Who's that? His more well known name is Celine Dion's husband. Or "That creepy old guy married to that famous Canadian singer".
Last time I was livin' la vida loca in Las Vegas, I found out that Mr. Dion built up a gambling debt of some $100 million dollars.
Okay, so he never spent time in Mr. Rogers' neighbourhood listened to his music. I totally understand that. He didn't know about holdin' 'em and foldin' 'em.
But still…you gotta question…
I think when I got to $10 million in loses, I might have said to myself, "Ya, you know what? I think I have a slight problem. I know I'm just a beginner so I'll give it another try, but I'm gonna keep in the back of my mind the Gambler's Anonymous tel # and maybe consider some other hobbies."
When I hit $30 million, I might have said, "Okay, I get it. Gambling doesn't come naturally to me. I have a lot of strengths, but bluffing isn't one of them. I'm gonna put Gambler's Anonymous on speed dial."
At $50 million? "Time for some serious thought. Maybe I should take a break. Take in a Cirque du Soleil show. Maybe I shouldn't live in a city that is completely devoted to gambling and praying on the hopes and dreams of desperate people. My wife makes a ton of cash. I could live anywhere. Des Moines, Iowa, maybe. Get my focus back."
At $99,999,999? "Fuck, man. It appears I'm really losing here. I'm not so sure I can turn this around anymore. One more dollar. I'll try just one more dollar. Then I'll ask my wife for more money."
Idea for a movie: The Three Wise Guys. Based on the life of the three wise men, they were Jesus' bagmen. Collect money for Jesus, take delinquent payers and prayers into the stable and break their hands with a hammer.
One person who clearly doesn't know gambling is René Angélil.
Who's that? His more well known name is Celine Dion's husband. Or "That creepy old guy married to that famous Canadian singer".
Last time I was livin' la vida loca in Las Vegas, I found out that Mr. Dion built up a gambling debt of some $100 million dollars.
Okay, so he never spent time in Mr. Rogers' neighbourhood listened to his music. I totally understand that. He didn't know about holdin' 'em and foldin' 'em.
But still…you gotta question…
I think when I got to $10 million in loses, I might have said to myself, "Ya, you know what? I think I have a slight problem. I know I'm just a beginner so I'll give it another try, but I'm gonna keep in the back of my mind the Gambler's Anonymous tel # and maybe consider some other hobbies."
When I hit $30 million, I might have said, "Okay, I get it. Gambling doesn't come naturally to me. I have a lot of strengths, but bluffing isn't one of them. I'm gonna put Gambler's Anonymous on speed dial."
At $50 million? "Time for some serious thought. Maybe I should take a break. Take in a Cirque du Soleil show. Maybe I shouldn't live in a city that is completely devoted to gambling and praying on the hopes and dreams of desperate people. My wife makes a ton of cash. I could live anywhere. Des Moines, Iowa, maybe. Get my focus back."
At $99,999,999? "Fuck, man. It appears I'm really losing here. I'm not so sure I can turn this around anymore. One more dollar. I'll try just one more dollar. Then I'll ask my wife for more money."
Monday, 19 October 2015
Helloooo Newman: It's Your Fault I Won
Helloooo Newman: It's Your Fault I Won: The Canadian election reminds me of that famous Groucho Marx line, later co-opted by Woody Allen in Annie Hall . Paraphrasing, the line is...
Helloooo Newman: It's Your Fault I Won
Helloooo Newman: It's Your Fault I Won: The Canadian election reminds me of that famous Groucho Marx line, later co-opted by Woody Allen in Annie Hall . Paraphrasing, the line is...
It's Your Fault I Won
The Canadian election reminds me of that famous Groucho Marx line, later co-opted by Woody Allen in Annie Hall.
Paraphrasing, the line is, "I would not join a club that would have me as a member."
If I were running as leader of a particular party, I would not vote for myself. I would also not kiss any baby who was going to vote for me, and the same goes for their parents.
In fact, I would choose not to represent the people who voted for me. It's entirely their problem they voted for me. They shouldn't have. After all, I didn't vote for myself.
I would not join the party that wanted me as their leader. I would probably move to another country if I won, and rule from that other country.
I would still enjoy actually running for office, only to be able to not vote for myself.
You see, I already know the truth about myself, and I know that I am not up for the job of PM.
The electorate? Well, they'll just have to find that out in good time. I've done my part by not voting for myself.
Anything I do in office after that is okay, because I didn't vote for myself. All my mistakes would be the fault of the people who didn't know me, and decided to vote for me.
If I actually won and became PM, I would continue refusing to accept the position, but would still rule over my subjects.
They would insist I rule or they would have to admit they wasted their vote, which is really stupid of them, but that's their choice.
So, I hope I don't have your vote.
Paraphrasing, the line is, "I would not join a club that would have me as a member."
If I were running as leader of a particular party, I would not vote for myself. I would also not kiss any baby who was going to vote for me, and the same goes for their parents.
In fact, I would choose not to represent the people who voted for me. It's entirely their problem they voted for me. They shouldn't have. After all, I didn't vote for myself.
I would not join the party that wanted me as their leader. I would probably move to another country if I won, and rule from that other country.
I would still enjoy actually running for office, only to be able to not vote for myself.
You see, I already know the truth about myself, and I know that I am not up for the job of PM.
The electorate? Well, they'll just have to find that out in good time. I've done my part by not voting for myself.
Anything I do in office after that is okay, because I didn't vote for myself. All my mistakes would be the fault of the people who didn't know me, and decided to vote for me.
If I actually won and became PM, I would continue refusing to accept the position, but would still rule over my subjects.
They would insist I rule or they would have to admit they wasted their vote, which is really stupid of them, but that's their choice.
So, I hope I don't have your vote.
Candidate, E: Paul Hardie – SPOILED
Helloooo Newman: Из России с любовью
Helloooo Newman: Из России с любовью: Здравствуйте The title of this article is From Russia with Love . The Russian word above is "hello". In Russian, of course. ...
Из России с любовью
Здравствуйте
The title of this article is From Russia with Love.
The Russian word above is "hello". In Russian, of course.
I would like to thank all my Russian friends for their support. You see, in the last few weeks the most readers I have had are from…(drum roll) Russia.
I'm as shocked as you are.
It's such a coincidence, because I have more in common with Vlad Poutine (Canadian spelling of Putin) than you would think.
First of all, I write all my articles with my shirt off. As I type on the keys, my sinewy muscles reverberate shock waves throughout my neighbourhood, much like Vlad's does when he is fishing. What's he fishing for? Must be Sturgeon, for the caviar. Or maybe for another piece of land he feels belongs to him.
I'll admit, I don't wrestle tigers and sharks, like Vlad does, but I do wrestle with my morals, my daughter, and with the English language, so that I can write with just the right, um, words.
Another coincidence – one of my great influences in writing is none other than the legendary Russian author Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
If you look closely, there are hints of Dostoyevsky's The Idiot in my work.
I know this because my fans say, "Paul, I read your last blog and it reminded me of an idiot."
I'm so flattered to be compared to, like, only the best Russian writer in history.
Or, maybe my blogs are a tale told by an idiot. Still, that's another great writer – Shakespeare.
Don't get me wrong, my Russian fans. I only make fun of your leader, not your country, the citizens or the magnificent history. I make fun of all political leaders, because they are all liars and cheaters (save for one or two, I guess), and no offence, but they should all keep their shirts on. Aren't you glad Boris Yeltsin kept his shirt on?
I can poke fun at the leaders in my country, Canada, just as easily. We have Justin Trudeau, still in diapers. I think he will win and Canada will collectively suck their thumbs.
Tom Mulcair, who thinks writing letters on paper and having them delivered door-to-door via the post office is the future of communication.
And Stephen Harper, whose face is being used to model the new doll in the latest Chucky horror film, Chucky Hides in the Closet to Save his Own Ass from the Gunman.
In fact, I've been to Russia twice, to adopt my wonderful daughter. I don't remember a whole lot, on account of the vodka I.V. I was on. But I do remember getting my daughter, because at this moment she is screaming her head off about some boy at school.
The people we met were wonderful and generous. I do hope our political leaders learn to get along, like you and I do.
The Russian word above is "hello". In Russian, of course.
I would like to thank all my Russian friends for their support. You see, in the last few weeks the most readers I have had are from…(drum roll) Russia.
I'm as shocked as you are.
It's such a coincidence, because I have more in common with Vlad Poutine (Canadian spelling of Putin) than you would think.
First of all, I write all my articles with my shirt off. As I type on the keys, my sinewy muscles reverberate shock waves throughout my neighbourhood, much like Vlad's does when he is fishing. What's he fishing for? Must be Sturgeon, for the caviar. Or maybe for another piece of land he feels belongs to him.
I'll admit, I don't wrestle tigers and sharks, like Vlad does, but I do wrestle with my morals, my daughter, and with the English language, so that I can write with just the right, um, words.
Another coincidence – one of my great influences in writing is none other than the legendary Russian author Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
If you look closely, there are hints of Dostoyevsky's The Idiot in my work.
I know this because my fans say, "Paul, I read your last blog and it reminded me of an idiot."
I'm so flattered to be compared to, like, only the best Russian writer in history.
Or, maybe my blogs are a tale told by an idiot. Still, that's another great writer – Shakespeare.
Don't get me wrong, my Russian fans. I only make fun of your leader, not your country, the citizens or the magnificent history. I make fun of all political leaders, because they are all liars and cheaters (save for one or two, I guess), and no offence, but they should all keep their shirts on. Aren't you glad Boris Yeltsin kept his shirt on?
I can poke fun at the leaders in my country, Canada, just as easily. We have Justin Trudeau, still in diapers. I think he will win and Canada will collectively suck their thumbs.
Tom Mulcair, who thinks writing letters on paper and having them delivered door-to-door via the post office is the future of communication.
And Stephen Harper, whose face is being used to model the new doll in the latest Chucky horror film, Chucky Hides in the Closet to Save his Own Ass from the Gunman.
In fact, I've been to Russia twice, to adopt my wonderful daughter. I don't remember a whole lot, on account of the vodka I.V. I was on. But I do remember getting my daughter, because at this moment she is screaming her head off about some boy at school.
The people we met were wonderful and generous. I do hope our political leaders learn to get along, like you and I do.
Любовь , от Канады
Moscow Metro station. A tad more glorious than Bloor station.
Friday, 9 October 2015
Helloooo Newman: Uber Everywhere
Helloooo Newman: Uber Everywhere: Uber is a brilliant business model. It's the wave of the future. Here are a few businesses that would do well using the Uber model. ...
Uber Everywhere
Uber is a brilliant business model. It's the wave of the future.
Here are a few businesses that would do well using the Uber model.
Uber Fertility Clinic:
It's called Uberm. Women having trouble getting pregnant call us up on their cell, we go to their location and give them the ride of their life.
Yes it takes business away from some poor husband, but he's obviously not doing a good job.
Uberm is all about enhancing the passenger experience. We'll get them to where they want to be much quicker. In about 5 seconds, actually.
Uber Suicide Hotline:
Feeling down in the dumps? Want to end it all?
Call us from atop that bridge for a quick pick-me-up.
Uber Soul Searching:
Feeling guilty? At a crossroads in your life?
Call us. We know the shortest route to your soul. We can help you find what you're looking for in there, too. We never get lost.
Uber Loner:
Are you a loner? Or just need some alone time?
Call us and we'll leave you alone.
That's right. We won't show up. We'll make sure no one else shows up too.
And in honour of the Blue Jays…
Uber Baseball:
Traffic during the World Series can be horrendous. Bases can get very loaded. Who needs the stress?
We'll take you on a safe round trip from home plate to home plate, as often as you like.
Bring some friends. Score more points and chat while you win.
Here are a few businesses that would do well using the Uber model.
Uber Fertility Clinic:
It's called Uberm. Women having trouble getting pregnant call us up on their cell, we go to their location and give them the ride of their life.
Yes it takes business away from some poor husband, but he's obviously not doing a good job.
Uberm is all about enhancing the passenger experience. We'll get them to where they want to be much quicker. In about 5 seconds, actually.
Uber Suicide Hotline:
Feeling down in the dumps? Want to end it all?
Call us from atop that bridge for a quick pick-me-up.
Uber Soul Searching:
Feeling guilty? At a crossroads in your life?
Call us. We know the shortest route to your soul. We can help you find what you're looking for in there, too. We never get lost.
Uber Loner:
Are you a loner? Or just need some alone time?
Call us and we'll leave you alone.
That's right. We won't show up. We'll make sure no one else shows up too.
And in honour of the Blue Jays…
Uber Baseball:
Traffic during the World Series can be horrendous. Bases can get very loaded. Who needs the stress?
We'll take you on a safe round trip from home plate to home plate, as often as you like.
Bring some friends. Score more points and chat while you win.
Thursday, 8 October 2015
Helloooo Newman: Team Ice Cream
Helloooo Newman: Team Ice Cream: Hello folks. We are here with Presidential candidate Dez Parrot. Today we are discussing a topic on many people's minds, those many be...
Team Ice Cream
Hello folks. We are here with Presidential candidate Dez Parrot.
Today we are discussing a topic on many people's minds, those many being the silent majority. The ones who never seem to say anything about anything.
The cold button issue is ice cream.
Interviewer: What is your stance on ice cream?
Dez P: I like it. A lot.
Interviewer: Why is it important to support ice cream?
Dez P: Who doesn't like ice cream? It's cold, refreshing, tastes great. We are Team Ice Cream.
Interviewer: What is your favourite ice cream?
Dez P: Vanilla.
Interviewer: There has been some controversy swirling around the fact that you like vanilla ice cream. Are you a racist?
Dez P: Nope. I like chocolate ice cream too. And chocolate sauce on vanilla ice cream.
Interviewer: What about vanilla sauce on chocolate ice cream?
Dez P: Do they have that?
Interviewer: Nope. But would you support it?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: What about other colours and flavours of ice cream? Are you the inclusive candidate?
Dez P: I've come out in favour of neapolitan ice cream too. One day I hope we can learn to stop enjoying the different colours and flavours and just think of it all as ice cream.
Interviewer: Post-racial ice cream?
Dez P: Exactly.
Interviewer: Does vanilla ice cream matter?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: Does chocolate ice cream matter?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: Do they equally matter?
Dez P: Only on Tuesday.
Interviewer: Do you think people should be able to strap a trombone to their body while they eat ice cream?
Dez P: Yes, if it's part of their culture. People come to this country to eat their ice cream any way they want.
Interviewer: What if their culture forces them to eat their ice cream wearing a trombone?
Dez P: I would advise them to try and substitute for a smaller instrument. Harmonica or something from the woodwind family. Dividing the ice cream population does us no good.
Interviewer: What about people who rob convenience stores with a gun, stealing the ice cream?
Dez P: Background check when you buy ice cream is the answer.
Interviewer: Do you think ice cream tastes as good as it use to?
Dez P: No. I'm going to make ice cream taste great again. I'm going to make a big wall out of ice cream, along with some bridges, alleys and highways. Cars will run on ice cream. There will be so much ice cream, the planet will cool down. I'll be great for ice cream.
Interviewer: Wow. I actually believe you. Are you here to apologize for your comments as well?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: Do you know what you're apologizing for?
Dez P: No. But it's important I apologize.
Interviewer: Thank you. Next week we'll discuss bread.
Today we are discussing a topic on many people's minds, those many being the silent majority. The ones who never seem to say anything about anything.
The cold button issue is ice cream.
Interviewer: What is your stance on ice cream?
Dez P: I like it. A lot.
Interviewer: Why is it important to support ice cream?
Dez P: Who doesn't like ice cream? It's cold, refreshing, tastes great. We are Team Ice Cream.
Interviewer: What is your favourite ice cream?
Dez P: Vanilla.
Interviewer: There has been some controversy swirling around the fact that you like vanilla ice cream. Are you a racist?
Dez P: Nope. I like chocolate ice cream too. And chocolate sauce on vanilla ice cream.
Interviewer: What about vanilla sauce on chocolate ice cream?
Dez P: Do they have that?
Interviewer: Nope. But would you support it?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: What about other colours and flavours of ice cream? Are you the inclusive candidate?
Dez P: I've come out in favour of neapolitan ice cream too. One day I hope we can learn to stop enjoying the different colours and flavours and just think of it all as ice cream.
Interviewer: Post-racial ice cream?
Dez P: Exactly.
Interviewer: Does vanilla ice cream matter?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: Does chocolate ice cream matter?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: Do they equally matter?
Dez P: Only on Tuesday.
Interviewer: Do you think people should be able to strap a trombone to their body while they eat ice cream?
Dez P: Yes, if it's part of their culture. People come to this country to eat their ice cream any way they want.
Interviewer: What if their culture forces them to eat their ice cream wearing a trombone?
Dez P: I would advise them to try and substitute for a smaller instrument. Harmonica or something from the woodwind family. Dividing the ice cream population does us no good.
Interviewer: What about people who rob convenience stores with a gun, stealing the ice cream?
Dez P: Background check when you buy ice cream is the answer.
Interviewer: Do you think ice cream tastes as good as it use to?
Dez P: No. I'm going to make ice cream taste great again. I'm going to make a big wall out of ice cream, along with some bridges, alleys and highways. Cars will run on ice cream. There will be so much ice cream, the planet will cool down. I'll be great for ice cream.
Interviewer: Wow. I actually believe you. Are you here to apologize for your comments as well?
Dez P: Yes.
Interviewer: Do you know what you're apologizing for?
Dez P: No. But it's important I apologize.
Interviewer: Thank you. Next week we'll discuss bread.
Tuesday, 6 October 2015
Helloooo Newman: Afterbirth Suit
Helloooo Newman: Afterbirth Suit: Today is my birthday. I like birthdays. Just not my birthday. It reminds me of the day I was born. The day I was born was the worst day ...
Afterbirth Suit
Today is my birthday. I like birthdays. Just not my birthday.
It reminds me of the day I was born.
The day I was born was the worst day in two people's live – me and my mom's.
Well, also for JFK, because that was around the time he had to decide if he was going to nuke Russia over storing some missiles at various all-inclusive Cuban resorts.
I'm sure JFK wished for something far less dangerous to handle, like getting Marilyn Monroe pregnant.
Nope. He got my mom pregnant. Obviously that's not true. If I were JFK's son, I wouldn't be able to count the number of women I parlayed into my lair on one finger.
My birth resulted in all kinds of emotional and mental damage. I call it the afterbirth. As I was exiting the canal – sounds so romantic, canal, like you're riding a gondola through the watery streets of Venice, sipping olive oil and play-acting the romantic scenes from The Godfather –
As I was exiting the slippery tube-like structure, my mom exhorted, "send him back."
I am in complete agreement. I had a good thing going in the womb. Being on complete life support is a good deal. I can't wait to be on it again.
I blew it. While I was in the womb, I should have drawn up a "do not suscitate" order and pinned it on my mom's vagina, just like the "do not resuscitate" order I'm working on now.
I never actually heard my mom say "send him back", but in later years she told me she said that. I'm glad she was so honest because I felt badly it was just me who was a little let down by the bright lights, screaming, scissors, having to chew my food, losing the automatic climate control, cigarette smoke in the delivery room, getting places and raising myself.
Nevertheless, here I am. I sustain myself with wisdom that I've gained over the years.
Forget about the past, because you can't change it.
Forget about the future, because it's not here yet.
Focus on the present, and bitch and complain all to Hell, because maybe it will change something.
Just maybe.
It reminds me of the day I was born.
The day I was born was the worst day in two people's live – me and my mom's.
Well, also for JFK, because that was around the time he had to decide if he was going to nuke Russia over storing some missiles at various all-inclusive Cuban resorts.
I'm sure JFK wished for something far less dangerous to handle, like getting Marilyn Monroe pregnant.
Nope. He got my mom pregnant. Obviously that's not true. If I were JFK's son, I wouldn't be able to count the number of women I parlayed into my lair on one finger.
My birth resulted in all kinds of emotional and mental damage. I call it the afterbirth. As I was exiting the canal – sounds so romantic, canal, like you're riding a gondola through the watery streets of Venice, sipping olive oil and play-acting the romantic scenes from The Godfather –
As I was exiting the slippery tube-like structure, my mom exhorted, "send him back."
I am in complete agreement. I had a good thing going in the womb. Being on complete life support is a good deal. I can't wait to be on it again.
I blew it. While I was in the womb, I should have drawn up a "do not suscitate" order and pinned it on my mom's vagina, just like the "do not resuscitate" order I'm working on now.
I never actually heard my mom say "send him back", but in later years she told me she said that. I'm glad she was so honest because I felt badly it was just me who was a little let down by the bright lights, screaming, scissors, having to chew my food, losing the automatic climate control, cigarette smoke in the delivery room, getting places and raising myself.
Nevertheless, here I am. I sustain myself with wisdom that I've gained over the years.
Forget about the past, because you can't change it.
Forget about the future, because it's not here yet.
Focus on the present, and bitch and complain all to Hell, because maybe it will change something.
Just maybe.
Saturday, 3 October 2015
Helloooo Newman: Team Evolution
Helloooo Newman: Team Evolution: I view the whole evolution/anti-evolution debate as a bowling match between two teams. This is an apt comparison. The modern day bowling b...
Team Evolution
I view the whole evolution/anti-evolution debate as a bowling match between two teams.
This is an apt comparison. The modern day bowling ball, carefully crafted out of stone, jives with the activities of the common early man, who shaped stone into weapons. Early man was way too hungry to bowl, of course, and probably would have turned down an offer of a meal from your average Bowlerama.
Knocking down pins. And then setting them up again. Over and over. This kind of futile activity fits nicely with the silly thinking creationists, et al, engage in.
Well, team evolution just scored a point.
A cave, with thousands of human-like bones, was recently discovered in South Africa. These bones add up to a brand new subset of Homo, never before seen.
They call him, and her, and the children they found, Homo Neliba. This discovery is so recent, you can't even search it on Google. I guess I'll give up the idea that if you can't Google it, it doesn't exist.
Homo Neliba will satisfy those anti-evolutionites who constantly insist that they would love to accept the evidence, but they need the missing link? These people have studied evolution in such fine detail, read all the books, viewed all the bones, and have concluded that the only thing missing is that link.
You might as well be looking for cuff links. The idea of a "missing link" in evolution that must be "found" is a simplistic fantasy. Evolution, nature, the entire universe, and my bedroom, are messy and do not fit into human-centred categories.
This is the central dichotomy between humans and the world. Our brains desperately need to organize and categorize, and nature does not oblige us.
Homo Neliba combines features of both pre-Homo and Homo. He had the arms of an ape and the hands of a human. The anthropologist who found Neliba thinks the sub-species would have made great hand models, probably even better than George Costanza. His brain was smaller than ours, but it appears he buried his dead. This makes him dumber than the average human, but vastly smarter than the average neo-con.
I feel sorry for people like Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee. Nice guy but, despite any evidence, he clings to his world view like a newborn baby. A newborn he saved from an abortion, of course. Pre-life is invaluable. Once you're born, well, stop asking the government for stuff, you…baby.
Imagine if women gave birth to guns. The neo-con would do everything to make sure that gun found a good home, had plenty of bullets to eat, and was able to freely express itself in society.
In Britain somewhere there is a place where two continents meet. The gap between these two continents increases about one inch a year.
What does this tell us? That stuff in nature happens very, very slowly for the most part.
What does it tell Mike Huckabee? More people need to hurry up to church.
Poor Mr. Huckabee. Scientists keep chiseling away (get it? chiseling? that's great writing, people) at his belief system.
Soon enough, the anti-evolutonites will be forced into one explanation for what we observe in nature – God is tricking us. To test our faith. And our I.Q.
I thought it was only the Devil who tricks Man. Someone said the best trick the Devil ever carried out was convincing Man that he doesn't exist.
Do God and the Devil play on the same bowling team? I think they're throwing more and more gutter balls.
This is an apt comparison. The modern day bowling ball, carefully crafted out of stone, jives with the activities of the common early man, who shaped stone into weapons. Early man was way too hungry to bowl, of course, and probably would have turned down an offer of a meal from your average Bowlerama.
Knocking down pins. And then setting them up again. Over and over. This kind of futile activity fits nicely with the silly thinking creationists, et al, engage in.
Well, team evolution just scored a point.
A cave, with thousands of human-like bones, was recently discovered in South Africa. These bones add up to a brand new subset of Homo, never before seen.
They call him, and her, and the children they found, Homo Neliba. This discovery is so recent, you can't even search it on Google. I guess I'll give up the idea that if you can't Google it, it doesn't exist.
Homo Neliba will satisfy those anti-evolutionites who constantly insist that they would love to accept the evidence, but they need the missing link? These people have studied evolution in such fine detail, read all the books, viewed all the bones, and have concluded that the only thing missing is that link.
You might as well be looking for cuff links. The idea of a "missing link" in evolution that must be "found" is a simplistic fantasy. Evolution, nature, the entire universe, and my bedroom, are messy and do not fit into human-centred categories.
This is the central dichotomy between humans and the world. Our brains desperately need to organize and categorize, and nature does not oblige us.
Homo Neliba combines features of both pre-Homo and Homo. He had the arms of an ape and the hands of a human. The anthropologist who found Neliba thinks the sub-species would have made great hand models, probably even better than George Costanza. His brain was smaller than ours, but it appears he buried his dead. This makes him dumber than the average human, but vastly smarter than the average neo-con.
I feel sorry for people like Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee. Nice guy but, despite any evidence, he clings to his world view like a newborn baby. A newborn he saved from an abortion, of course. Pre-life is invaluable. Once you're born, well, stop asking the government for stuff, you…baby.
Imagine if women gave birth to guns. The neo-con would do everything to make sure that gun found a good home, had plenty of bullets to eat, and was able to freely express itself in society.
In Britain somewhere there is a place where two continents meet. The gap between these two continents increases about one inch a year.
What does this tell us? That stuff in nature happens very, very slowly for the most part.
What does it tell Mike Huckabee? More people need to hurry up to church.
Poor Mr. Huckabee. Scientists keep chiseling away (get it? chiseling? that's great writing, people) at his belief system.
Soon enough, the anti-evolutonites will be forced into one explanation for what we observe in nature – God is tricking us. To test our faith. And our I.Q.
I thought it was only the Devil who tricks Man. Someone said the best trick the Devil ever carried out was convincing Man that he doesn't exist.
Do God and the Devil play on the same bowling team? I think they're throwing more and more gutter balls.
Sunday, 27 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: I'm in a Newman State of Mind
Helloooo Newman: I'm in a Newman State of Mind: Production is fast and furious on Newman's new vlog, coming to Youtube very soon. There have been some budgeting hurdles, but nothing ...
I'm in a Newman State of Mind
Production is fast and furious on Newman's new vlog, coming to Youtube very soon.
There have been some budgeting hurdles, but nothing we can't handle. The bar bills have been completely out of control and WTF, the production company, refused to believe we employ a man named Mr. Crantini.
We at Helloooo Newman realized something very important – we need a theme song.
And so was born "I'm in a Newman State of Mind".
This is based on the melody of Billy Joel's "I'm in a New York State of Mind". Okay, we stole it.
Please don't tell Mr. Joel about this. He wouldn't return our phone calls.
Newman's lyrics are as follows (to the tune of "I'm in a New York State of Mind")
Some dads like to get away
Take a holiday from the wife and kid
Hop a bus to the downtown core
Or just take a shit
But I'm eating some mouldy bread and a chicken's spine
I'm in a Newman State of Mind
Just log onto Youtube for the tune and replace Mr. Joel's lyrics with these much better lyrics.
Please also memorize this tune as we can't afford to pay anyone to play it at the beginning of each episode.
There have been some budgeting hurdles, but nothing we can't handle. The bar bills have been completely out of control and WTF, the production company, refused to believe we employ a man named Mr. Crantini.
We at Helloooo Newman realized something very important – we need a theme song.
And so was born "I'm in a Newman State of Mind".
This is based on the melody of Billy Joel's "I'm in a New York State of Mind". Okay, we stole it.
Please don't tell Mr. Joel about this. He wouldn't return our phone calls.
Newman's lyrics are as follows (to the tune of "I'm in a New York State of Mind")
Some dads like to get away
Take a holiday from the wife and kid
Hop a bus to the downtown core
Or just take a shit
But I'm eating some mouldy bread and a chicken's spine
I'm in a Newman State of Mind
Just log onto Youtube for the tune and replace Mr. Joel's lyrics with these much better lyrics.
Please also memorize this tune as we can't afford to pay anyone to play it at the beginning of each episode.
Friday, 25 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: Forrest trump
Helloooo Newman: Forrest trump: Wisdom from Forrest Trump: Mama always said life is like a box car full of Mexicans. You never know which one you'll squeeze and sen...
Forrest trump
Wisdom from Forrest Trump:
Mama always said life is like a box car full of Mexicans.
You never know which one you'll squeeze and send back.
Mama always said life is like a box car full of Mexicans.
You never know which one you'll squeeze and send back.
Thursday, 24 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: In Poor Taste
Helloooo Newman: In Poor Taste: TRIGGER WARNING: IF YOU THINK THE POPE HAS THE DOPE ON GOOD LIVING, I SUGGEST READING ONE OF THE OTHER 500 TRILLION ARTICLES ON THE WEB. ...
In Poor Taste
TRIGGER WARNING: IF YOU THINK THE POPE HAS THE DOPE ON GOOD LIVING, I SUGGEST READING ONE OF THE OTHER 500 TRILLION ARTICLES ON THE WEB.
A new Pope is on a new world tour.
No one is bigger than the Pope. Not even the Beatles. The Pope is bigger than Jesus, but only because Jesus is a constant no show.
I was struck by one of the Pope's many pithy sayings.
"Let poverty be your mother."
Really? Do we get to eat food, or is it just breast milk every day? Breast milk is too sweet for me, although I sure like the "bottle" it comes in.
Lord knows my mom (dad too) wasn't perfect, but she decided we should live in a house, go to school and get a job. All things said, wise choices.
I don't know. I think I'd rather have Mommy Dearest's Joan Crawford as a mom.
The Pope has a taste for being poor. Tastes kind of bland to me.
It's curious that this advice was only given to Cubans. I hope he doesn't mind if I aspire to be dirt poor as well.
"May the Lord give us these graces: poverty and mercy…*"
Yup, that's the Pope speaking again.
I added the asterix.
Don't worry, everyone can still be poor. The Pope just forgot to mention the $50 million spent to keep him safe.
Hmmm, what kind of cookie goes with breast milk?
A new Pope is on a new world tour.
No one is bigger than the Pope. Not even the Beatles. The Pope is bigger than Jesus, but only because Jesus is a constant no show.
I was struck by one of the Pope's many pithy sayings.
"Let poverty be your mother."
Really? Do we get to eat food, or is it just breast milk every day? Breast milk is too sweet for me, although I sure like the "bottle" it comes in.
Lord knows my mom (dad too) wasn't perfect, but she decided we should live in a house, go to school and get a job. All things said, wise choices.
I don't know. I think I'd rather have Mommy Dearest's Joan Crawford as a mom.
The Pope has a taste for being poor. Tastes kind of bland to me.
It's curious that this advice was only given to Cubans. I hope he doesn't mind if I aspire to be dirt poor as well.
"May the Lord give us these graces: poverty and mercy…*"
Yup, that's the Pope speaking again.
I added the asterix.
Don't worry, everyone can still be poor. The Pope just forgot to mention the $50 million spent to keep him safe.
Hmmm, what kind of cookie goes with breast milk?
Tuesday, 22 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: Modern Male
Helloooo Newman: Modern Male: Men often come up to me on the street and ask, "Hey Paul, what's your secret?" I'd love to be able to tell them, but the...
Modern Male
Men often come up to me on the street and ask, "Hey Paul, what's your secret?"
I'd love to be able to tell them, but then I wouldn't be superior to them anymore.
A lot of men try to imitate me. I would say Ryan Gosling does the best job, although he lacks many of the subtleties that make me so awesome. Like my ability to fight off bears at the cottage with my bear hands.
I have to admit, though, that Ryan does have that sweet mix of macho, dangerous strength along with a gentle and nurturing demeanour. He can stomp someone's face in and deliver a newborn baby in the same afternoon. For me, The strengthy part always beats up the caring part when it's not looking and leaves it lying in its own tears.
Oh, alright. My secret isn't really that unique. My wife installed the latest male operating system in me and now I'm a smooth running man who behaves perfectly.
There are so many behavioural software modifications today's male has to make to be considered a proper "feminist" man that you have an upgrade to install every week. At $29.99 a pop I can't afford anymore upgrades.
And still, no app that will remove hair from my chest.
This week I just uploaded the Ryan Gosling "brooding" app and it's done wonders.
Women stop me on the street and ask me why I look so upset. "It's just not fair that women are paid 73% of a man's salary in the corporate workplace, and yet the escorts I use are so well compensated", the app answers for me.
I guess we can't go back to the pre-computer age. The "me Tarzan, you Jane" days.
Nowadays, my wife and I split everything. Even our pain. That's why I have a splitting headache all the time.
There are still bugs in my software. For some reason my laundry upgrade doesn't support colours, so everything comes out dishcloth grey. Now I've lost the privilege of doing laundry.
I'd love to be able to tell them, but then I wouldn't be superior to them anymore.
A lot of men try to imitate me. I would say Ryan Gosling does the best job, although he lacks many of the subtleties that make me so awesome. Like my ability to fight off bears at the cottage with my bear hands.
I have to admit, though, that Ryan does have that sweet mix of macho, dangerous strength along with a gentle and nurturing demeanour. He can stomp someone's face in and deliver a newborn baby in the same afternoon. For me, The strengthy part always beats up the caring part when it's not looking and leaves it lying in its own tears.
Oh, alright. My secret isn't really that unique. My wife installed the latest male operating system in me and now I'm a smooth running man who behaves perfectly.
There are so many behavioural software modifications today's male has to make to be considered a proper "feminist" man that you have an upgrade to install every week. At $29.99 a pop I can't afford anymore upgrades.
And still, no app that will remove hair from my chest.
This week I just uploaded the Ryan Gosling "brooding" app and it's done wonders.
Women stop me on the street and ask me why I look so upset. "It's just not fair that women are paid 73% of a man's salary in the corporate workplace, and yet the escorts I use are so well compensated", the app answers for me.
I guess we can't go back to the pre-computer age. The "me Tarzan, you Jane" days.
Nowadays, my wife and I split everything. Even our pain. That's why I have a splitting headache all the time.
There are still bugs in my software. For some reason my laundry upgrade doesn't support colours, so everything comes out dishcloth grey. Now I've lost the privilege of doing laundry.
Monday, 21 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: Things Ultra-Lazy People Do Differently
Helloooo Newman: Things Ultra-Lazy People Do Differently: When it comes to laziness, we all face the same challenge – why are there so many hours in a day? Yet some lazy people find themselves wit...
Things Ultra-Lazy People Do Differently
When it comes to laziness, we all face the same challenge – why are there so many hours in a day?
Yet some lazy people find themselves with extra time in the day to get stuff done, even after napping, talking, caffinating, bitching, yawning, urinating and eating.
Many amateur lazy people are actually faced with huge tasks on a daily basis, like putting their pants on.
Try these 10 tips from the experts at laziness so you too can stop accomplishing things.
1. They never touch things: Lazy people will look at a project, start sweating and hyperventilating at the enormity of it, and put it off for a better time, like on their 121st birthday. They lock the project in a file cabinet drawer and ignore the project's screams and pleas to GET IT DONE.
2. They ignore tomorrow: These people will ignore tomorrow until sometime next month. They end the current day depressed and are never really convinced that tomorrow will actually come. A truly lazy person's calendar is very confusing.
3. They hate eating frogs: Productive people eat frogs, or, do the least appetizing chore first. Lazy people hate frogs legs, even in a nice garlic butter sauce. They look for the most rewarding activity of the day first, like applying duct tape to the snooze button.
4. They submit to the tyranny of the urgent: "Lazies" hate important things, or the "big picture". They focus on immediate urges that get in the way of productivity, like eating a cruller, gossiping or massaging the back of their knees.
5. They deviate from all schedules: Forget about schedules with these people. They will fuck you up, especially in meetings. They take notes on their thighs because it distracts everyone and slows things down.
6. They say yes: These people don't really want to do anything, but will say yes to everything. That's because they want you to like them, and they have lots of room in the cabinet to lock that task up.
7. They check emails all day: Even the spam. They build up all kinds of email attachments. Very dependent, insecure people.
8. They multitask: Focussing on one thing means it might get done. Lazies don't risk that. Then they'll have to start something else. It all snowballs and soon they are actually working and have a life. Multitasking is the ticket to failure, and avoiding work.
9. They stay on the grid: There's nothing like watching a good episode of Naked and Afraid while running around the house turning on anything electrical. If they didn't tune in, a lot of naked people would be unemployed.
10. They hate delegating: Lazies don't accept that you might be smart enough to help them. They are perfectly capable of completing the job, if they weren't so good at being lazy.
Many of us are searching for ways to be lazier. I hope these strategies help you to eliminate any extra impulse you have to get anything done.
Yet some lazy people find themselves with extra time in the day to get stuff done, even after napping, talking, caffinating, bitching, yawning, urinating and eating.
Many amateur lazy people are actually faced with huge tasks on a daily basis, like putting their pants on.
Try these 10 tips from the experts at laziness so you too can stop accomplishing things.
1. They never touch things: Lazy people will look at a project, start sweating and hyperventilating at the enormity of it, and put it off for a better time, like on their 121st birthday. They lock the project in a file cabinet drawer and ignore the project's screams and pleas to GET IT DONE.
2. They ignore tomorrow: These people will ignore tomorrow until sometime next month. They end the current day depressed and are never really convinced that tomorrow will actually come. A truly lazy person's calendar is very confusing.
3. They hate eating frogs: Productive people eat frogs, or, do the least appetizing chore first. Lazy people hate frogs legs, even in a nice garlic butter sauce. They look for the most rewarding activity of the day first, like applying duct tape to the snooze button.
4. They submit to the tyranny of the urgent: "Lazies" hate important things, or the "big picture". They focus on immediate urges that get in the way of productivity, like eating a cruller, gossiping or massaging the back of their knees.
5. They deviate from all schedules: Forget about schedules with these people. They will fuck you up, especially in meetings. They take notes on their thighs because it distracts everyone and slows things down.
6. They say yes: These people don't really want to do anything, but will say yes to everything. That's because they want you to like them, and they have lots of room in the cabinet to lock that task up.
7. They check emails all day: Even the spam. They build up all kinds of email attachments. Very dependent, insecure people.
8. They multitask: Focussing on one thing means it might get done. Lazies don't risk that. Then they'll have to start something else. It all snowballs and soon they are actually working and have a life. Multitasking is the ticket to failure, and avoiding work.
9. They stay on the grid: There's nothing like watching a good episode of Naked and Afraid while running around the house turning on anything electrical. If they didn't tune in, a lot of naked people would be unemployed.
10. They hate delegating: Lazies don't accept that you might be smart enough to help them. They are perfectly capable of completing the job, if they weren't so good at being lazy.
Many of us are searching for ways to be lazier. I hope these strategies help you to eliminate any extra impulse you have to get anything done.
Sunday, 20 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: A Less Than Interstellar Performance
Helloooo Newman: A Less Than Interstellar Performance: I watched the movie Interstellar last night. It's about a band of astronauts poking through a wormhole seeking a new planet to colonize...
A Less Than Interstellar Performance
I watched the movie Interstellar last night. It's about a band of astronauts poking through a wormhole seeking a new planet to colonize.
I'm a big fan of Sci-fi, mostly because I wish aliens would take me to another planet where I can be more of a success than I am here – I'm thinking a planet of very slowly developing arthropods that I can rule over with my above average I.Q.
I like some of Matthew McConaughey's past performances. Hell, I'm often mistaken for him by women on the street, especially when the wind from a subway tunnel grate blows my shirt off. Still, it seems like more and more of his acting is preceded by a pitcher of Tom Collins laced with Nyquil.
One of the themes of this movie bothered me. It suggested that the one feature of human behaviour that would save the species is the emotion love.
I completely disagree. The biggest problem humans have is emotions. They are everywhere all the time and it really pisses me off. Emotionally speaking.
Think of the last time you had an argument with someone. It was 95% emotion, wasn't it? I'm convinced the more humans argue over things, the more we keep arguing just to "feel" like we won the argument.
I don't think we're getting anywhere with emotions around. They cloud and obfuscate.
Take my dating life. Nothing but emotion. And a complete failure.
On one of my first dates ever, a very cute girl said to me, "Paul, there's something I need to get off my chest."
Silly me. I thought it was her bra. Finally, I get to play titty-winks.
She said I need to stop pretending she's my girlfriend.
"What? I don't believe you. I'd like to speak to your chest directly, please. I want to hear what it has to say about all this."
My right cheek is still slightly swollen to this day.
God, give me a wormhole to crawl through.
I'm a big fan of Sci-fi, mostly because I wish aliens would take me to another planet where I can be more of a success than I am here – I'm thinking a planet of very slowly developing arthropods that I can rule over with my above average I.Q.
I like some of Matthew McConaughey's past performances. Hell, I'm often mistaken for him by women on the street, especially when the wind from a subway tunnel grate blows my shirt off. Still, it seems like more and more of his acting is preceded by a pitcher of Tom Collins laced with Nyquil.
One of the themes of this movie bothered me. It suggested that the one feature of human behaviour that would save the species is the emotion love.
I completely disagree. The biggest problem humans have is emotions. They are everywhere all the time and it really pisses me off. Emotionally speaking.
Think of the last time you had an argument with someone. It was 95% emotion, wasn't it? I'm convinced the more humans argue over things, the more we keep arguing just to "feel" like we won the argument.
I don't think we're getting anywhere with emotions around. They cloud and obfuscate.
Take my dating life. Nothing but emotion. And a complete failure.
On one of my first dates ever, a very cute girl said to me, "Paul, there's something I need to get off my chest."
Silly me. I thought it was her bra. Finally, I get to play titty-winks.
She said I need to stop pretending she's my girlfriend.
"What? I don't believe you. I'd like to speak to your chest directly, please. I want to hear what it has to say about all this."
My right cheek is still slightly swollen to this day.
God, give me a wormhole to crawl through.
Helloooo Newman: Gaining Wait
Helloooo Newman: Gaining Wait: Wait times are going up and up in this world. It's an international crisis, all this wait people are putting on. Where is the U.N. o...
Gaining Wait
Wait times are going up and up in this world.
It's an international crisis, all this wait people are putting on.
Where is the U.N. on this issue? We're still waiting. But these are "waity" issues!
MRIs, that first call from a potential girlfriend, getting your "no smiling" passport photo, end-of-the-world scenarios, all taking longer than ever.
The other day I read Waiting for Godot again. I haven't looked at it since high school. I swear all the characters were waiting much longer for this Godot fella then when I read it so long ago.
What's the key word in Godot? GO, obviously. So where the hell is he? I think he's already gone. Gonedot.
These end-of-the-world cults keep delaying things. I had all my affairs in order for the last deadline, and then they just go and cancel it. No apology. DISAPPOINTED. I can't stand being made to wait like that. Next time I think I'll have to help things along by creating a world incident that triggers a nuclear war. I've had it with delay, delay, delay.
Did you know that in the U.S. the average wait time to be executed on death row is now 21 years. That's up 11 years since the 50s. Scandalous!
To "execute" means to "carry out, accomplish." Not on death row. Wait times for MRIs or crucial surgeries pale in comparison to the "broken" institution of capital punishment.
You know what takes so long? All this fuss about how to execute someone. Make their last meal a KFC Double Down. Problem solved.
The next time a doctor is reassembling your hemispheres to save you life, be thankful you're not a mass murderer, waiting so long for what the government promised you.
Speaking of doctors, people are living longer than ever. That means an even longer wait to die. How depressing.
And the most important wait time of all? JESUS. Up and up it goes.
Theories abound as to why it's taking him so long.
Stuck in traffic near the Big Dipper. He and God are arguing over what to wear. He can't show up in the same clothes. That's just gross. Plus he should coordinate with the season of his arrival. Will pastels be trendy? If he wears white after Labour Day, I'm gonna puke.
Clearly, when Jesus took off after the resurrection, someone should have had him fill out an appointment card. Your next app't is ??????? Pick a time, dude.
Then when he shows up late, we can do what my dentists did to me. Embarrassed me in front of all the other patients, charged me for the app't and forgot the anesthetic on my next root canal.
I think it's been so long that Jesus has developed a fear of public speaking. People fear public speaking more than death. Wait a minute. Jesus has already been dead. That's a good introduction to speaking in front of 7 billion people.
Maybe he doesn't know what to say. Maybe he needs a good speech writer.
Ya, well I'm busy. Wait your turn.
It's an international crisis, all this wait people are putting on.
Where is the U.N. on this issue? We're still waiting. But these are "waity" issues!
MRIs, that first call from a potential girlfriend, getting your "no smiling" passport photo, end-of-the-world scenarios, all taking longer than ever.
The other day I read Waiting for Godot again. I haven't looked at it since high school. I swear all the characters were waiting much longer for this Godot fella then when I read it so long ago.
What's the key word in Godot? GO, obviously. So where the hell is he? I think he's already gone. Gonedot.
These end-of-the-world cults keep delaying things. I had all my affairs in order for the last deadline, and then they just go and cancel it. No apology. DISAPPOINTED. I can't stand being made to wait like that. Next time I think I'll have to help things along by creating a world incident that triggers a nuclear war. I've had it with delay, delay, delay.
Did you know that in the U.S. the average wait time to be executed on death row is now 21 years. That's up 11 years since the 50s. Scandalous!
To "execute" means to "carry out, accomplish." Not on death row. Wait times for MRIs or crucial surgeries pale in comparison to the "broken" institution of capital punishment.
You know what takes so long? All this fuss about how to execute someone. Make their last meal a KFC Double Down. Problem solved.
The next time a doctor is reassembling your hemispheres to save you life, be thankful you're not a mass murderer, waiting so long for what the government promised you.
Speaking of doctors, people are living longer than ever. That means an even longer wait to die. How depressing.
And the most important wait time of all? JESUS. Up and up it goes.
Theories abound as to why it's taking him so long.
Stuck in traffic near the Big Dipper. He and God are arguing over what to wear. He can't show up in the same clothes. That's just gross. Plus he should coordinate with the season of his arrival. Will pastels be trendy? If he wears white after Labour Day, I'm gonna puke.
Clearly, when Jesus took off after the resurrection, someone should have had him fill out an appointment card. Your next app't is ??????? Pick a time, dude.
Then when he shows up late, we can do what my dentists did to me. Embarrassed me in front of all the other patients, charged me for the app't and forgot the anesthetic on my next root canal.
I think it's been so long that Jesus has developed a fear of public speaking. People fear public speaking more than death. Wait a minute. Jesus has already been dead. That's a good introduction to speaking in front of 7 billion people.
Maybe he doesn't know what to say. Maybe he needs a good speech writer.
Ya, well I'm busy. Wait your turn.
Friday, 18 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: The Matryoshka Sleep
Helloooo Newman: The Matryoshka Sleep: The Dalai Lama once said, "Sleep is the best meditation." I got this tidbit from the internet, so I have no idea if he actually ...
The Matryoshka Sleep
The Dalai Lama once said, "Sleep is the best meditation."
I got this tidbit from the internet, so I have no idea if he actually said it. But I'm saying it, so you can quote me if you like.
The best thing about sleep is you don't have to think while it's going on. Even in traditional meditation, you have to think. You have to think about not thinking, which is really annoying. Meditation is one big struggle to convince yourself, OKAY, I'M NOT THINKING ABOUT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW. NOPE, I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT BIG BOOBIES AT THIS MOMENT. THAT IMAGE THAT JUST FLASHED BY IN MY MIND WAS NOT A NICE PAIR OF LEGS AROUND MY WAIST. I'M AS CLEAR AND CALM AS HELL.
With meditation, you're lying to yourself, and I'm a guy who deals in truth.
Dreaming is not thinking. Dreaming is like being entranced by a great movie, and in my case they are mostly porn movies. The great thing is this is not my fault. I didn't click "porn dreams" among a choice of dreams on a big dream screen list that pops up in my head. First of all, they are way too expensive. And my wife will see the bill.
These dreams were chosen for me. By some really nice dream theatre owner.
Is it possible to nap while you sleep? This is what I'm studying these days.
Like the Russian dolls, one nested in another. A nap, nested in a dream, nested in another nap, and so on…
This can get confusing. What if I wake up from sleep #7, but nap #6 and #4 are still going on? I think some days I wake up from all my sleeps but there are still several naps going on in the background. Like apps that are running behind everything else.
That explains a lot.
I'm not getting old.
I'm napping.
I got this tidbit from the internet, so I have no idea if he actually said it. But I'm saying it, so you can quote me if you like.
The best thing about sleep is you don't have to think while it's going on. Even in traditional meditation, you have to think. You have to think about not thinking, which is really annoying. Meditation is one big struggle to convince yourself, OKAY, I'M NOT THINKING ABOUT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW. NOPE, I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT BIG BOOBIES AT THIS MOMENT. THAT IMAGE THAT JUST FLASHED BY IN MY MIND WAS NOT A NICE PAIR OF LEGS AROUND MY WAIST. I'M AS CLEAR AND CALM AS HELL.
With meditation, you're lying to yourself, and I'm a guy who deals in truth.
Dreaming is not thinking. Dreaming is like being entranced by a great movie, and in my case they are mostly porn movies. The great thing is this is not my fault. I didn't click "porn dreams" among a choice of dreams on a big dream screen list that pops up in my head. First of all, they are way too expensive. And my wife will see the bill.
These dreams were chosen for me. By some really nice dream theatre owner.
Is it possible to nap while you sleep? This is what I'm studying these days.
Like the Russian dolls, one nested in another. A nap, nested in a dream, nested in another nap, and so on…
This can get confusing. What if I wake up from sleep #7, but nap #6 and #4 are still going on? I think some days I wake up from all my sleeps but there are still several naps going on in the background. Like apps that are running behind everything else.
That explains a lot.
I'm not getting old.
I'm napping.
Monday, 14 September 2015
Helloooo Newman: The Woman Who Shouldn't be There
Helloooo Newman: The Woman Who Shouldn't be There: I sincerely hope you've never heard of Kim Davis, which could possibly negate the usefulness of this article. Kim Davis is the Kentuck...
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