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Herein I continue my conversation with Courtney the Marxist Revolutionary, who responded to me after I responded to her, all of which you can read in the past few posts beginning with the one about Barack Obama being black.
Fair warning: it's very long and very dry and I wouldn't encourage anybody to read it who isn't Courtney or me.
There was a time when Doritos made one product – Nacho Cheese Doritos. This was a revolutionary chip. Even their shape was revolutionary. A triangle shaped chip? Fuck yes. Nacho Cheese flavored? Hell to the fuck yes. They came out in 1966. Nobody else was mass-marketing tortilla chips back then, let alone flavoring the shit out of them. Doritos was the Google of its time, so far superior to any other chip out there that to put it in the same snack food category as, say, Lays Potato Chips, would be an insult to the term “snack food category.”
Then they upped their game. When I was seven or eight, Doritos took it to the next level. How? By creating the “Taco Flavored Dorito.” How much did the Taco Dorito taste like an actual taco? Zero. It tasted zero much like a regular taco. Instead, it tasted better. Somehow Doritos managed to perfect the perfect food. Regular readers may or may not be aware of my fondness for all things taco related. Why? Because tacos are taco-riffic. And yet somehow the good people – nay, great people – at Doritos managed to create a taste so distinctive, it trumped even the good taste of tacos. And in doing so, they even managed to somehow made me dislike Mexicans less.
The Taco Dorito was spicier than the original Nacho Cheese Dorito, and miraculously seemed to contain more sodium than a chip that size should be able to handle. In chemistry, I remember learning about saturation and super-saturation. Somehow, perhaps using advanced 25th century magical powers of nanotechnology, the Doritos people super-saturated the Taco Dorito with delciousness. That is to say they put so much deliciousness in that product it threatened the very stability of matter itself. How did they do it? I don’t know and frankly, I don’t want to know. Even the Keebler elves never had that kind of power.
WARNING: THIS IS A LONG, BORING POST! For those readers who do not want serious political discourse on what is usually a blog about aluminum foil underpants and my robot plans, I would suggest skipping this post. For those of you with nothing better to do, proceed.
In a couple recent posts, I have outed myself as a political observer. I don’t lay claim to any special insights or knowledge about politics, and what little I do know is self-taught. Were I to go to college again, I might rethink the following decision: “theater major.”
Anyway, my last post was about Barack Obama, and I received some great comments about it. I decided to write a follow-up responding to one of them because I think it’s illustrative of a kind of “woe is me, nothing ever changes” mentality that so many people have. I also think the author, Courtney Smith, raises some legitimate points and I would like to give my take.
To reiterate my warning: what follows might not be funny in any way, shape, or form, although I will try to include at least one reference to golf shirts just to keep things spicy.
“Presumptive” is a word that rolls around every four years to fill out the gawky space between presidential primary and convention/coronation. Personally, I find it to be a prissy, legalistic word. We know he’s not officially the nominee because we haven’t had the convention blah blah blah. But it’s kind of like getting on an airplane and hearing the guy flying it describe himself as the “presumptive pilot” because it hasn’t taken off yet. (On a separate note, I imagine my fictional pilot’s name to be Chuck Majors because that seems like an excellent name for a fake pilot.)
I would prefer that, instead of “presumptive,” the news media adopt the sexier word “alleged.” It’s a little more edgy with its connotations of criminal behavior, and it just sounds a lot cooler to be an “alleged nominee” versus a “presumptive nominee.”
Last night, the Democrats finally got their shit together and pushed Barack Obama over the top. He is now the alleged Democratic nominee for President of the United States. As I was watching CNN with the sound off while playing poker at three in the morning last night, I kept being reminded of Geraldine Ferraro’s ugly remark a few months ago. This is what she said:
“If Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position. And if he was a woman (of any color) he would not be in this position. He happens to be very lucky to be who he is. And the country is caught up in the concept.”
In other words, if he weren’t black, he’d be nobody.
At the time, those comments provoked the expected and deserved outrage because she appeared to be denigrating whatever accomplishments and qualifications Obama the person has, and saying instead that he is just Obama, the Negro straw man.
1. Cute.
2. Furry.
3. Adorable mewing sounds.
4. Helpful with “last bit of milk in container.”
5. Rarely complain about my robot plans being left out.
6. De-clawing them allows me to pretend I am doing the old “Bamboo shoots under the fingernails” gag.
7. Photos of them make great covers for Trapper Keepers.
8. Never ask what I do for a living.
9. Do not mind being called “King Wiggle Pickle.”
10. Are not guilty of destroying the Amazon.
11. Sneaky but not maliciously so.
12. Never look down on me for not having read “The Brothers Karamazov.”
13. Do not object when I torture mice for “science.”
14. Make funny scampering motions when sprayed with water or Windex.
15. Activate my allergies in a way that maximizes sneezing, which is kind of like having an orgasm.
16. Always seem to like whatever music I choose to play.
17. Don’t get defensive when called fat.
18. Love “little cardboard thingy on a wire” game as much as I do.
19. Make great subjects for the viral videos I am forever posting on Funny or Die.
20. Cannot load or fire a gun.
21. Agree with everything I say as long as I say it in a high voice.
22. Never say “Can I come?” when I mention that I am going to spend the day riding the Log Flume.
23. Look funny in specially designed motorcycle jackets.
24. Omnivores.
25. Legitimate descendents of saber-toothed tigers (awesome).
26. Convenient for eating after nuclear war.
I am seeking somebody who can help me put shit up on my blog. I have a difficult time figuring out how to do certain things. As a result, my site, while awesome, is less awesome than it could be. If there is somebody out there who wants to volunteer, please leave a comment here and I will respond. Candidates should have exceptional blog-making skills and no desire/need to actually hang out.
I have a second job. Regular readers to this blog know that this second job is playing poker at the fantastic Commerce Casino in the great city of Los Angeles (“fantastic” and “great,” of course, both being highly subjective terms). While in Los Angeles for the month, I have been spending inordinate amounts of time at my second job. Last night, I got into a conversation with a fellow at my table, a man notable for his friendly demeanor, beady eyes, and ability to drink fourteen Bud Lights without pause. He was also a conservative.
Like most gay-seeming Jewish showbiz types, I place myself firmly on the opposite side of the political spectrum than this, although I certainly hold many conservative positions (which I will not get into now because they are irrelevant to the body of this post, but one of which is that I think we should go back to the gold standard because gold is pretty). As we were talking, though, I found myself saying, “I think you could strong case that George W. Bush is guilty of treason.” He disagreed.
And then I kind of doubted it myself. I remember thinking, “That sounds kind of extreme, even from a pinko lefty like me.” But then I thought, “Could I?” meaning could I make that argument? I decided to try because, among other reasons, I am going to play Rock Band with my friend David Wain in about an hour and I had some time kill.
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