Everybody Should Be Allowed One Stabbing Per Day

Everybody should be allowed one stabbing per day. This would be great for our culture as a whole for a number of reasons. But before we get into those, I though I would lay down some ground rules and a little clarification. Just because you are allowed to stab somebody once a day doesn’t mean you are required to. There might be many days when you don’t stab anybody at all. In fact, most people might go weeks at a time without stabbing anybody. But there are times when stabbing somebody is the appropriate response to a given situation and this is what the new rule is for.

The stabbings do not “roll over” like phone minutes. If you don’t stab anybody one day, you don’t get two stabbings the next. It’s definitely a “use it or lose it” type deal. But if you stab somebody at exactly 11:59:59 pm, you can stab that person again one second later.

Also, children still aren’t allowed to stab anybody. Nor are they allowed to be stabbed. As far as this stabbing thing goes, children are off-limits, unless they’re really shitty kids.

Finally, you can’t stab anybody who’s sleeping or unconscious. Because that’s not sportsmanlike. Obviously there might be a fine line here because I imagine a lot of married people will be in bed next to their spouses with a knife. They’ll go “wake up!” and then as soon as their husband or wife opens their eyes – BAM! Is it fair? No. So don’t be an asshole to your spouse. 

Those are pretty much the only rules. You can stab whoever you want anytime you want, in any part of the body you want, however severely you want, with whatever kind of knife you want, as long as that person is awake and it’s only once a day. But keep in mind, whoever you stab also has the same stabbing rights as you. This will hopefully prevent people from stabbing each other willy-nilly, or too early in the day.

What’s good about stabbings is that they are not usually fatal. Sure, getting knifed can kill you. So can slipping on ice. The point is not to necessarily eviscerate people, but just to let them know that if they piss you off, they could find a knife in their eye. I think everybody would be a lot nicer to each other that way, particularly the people who have already lost one eye.

Will there be some hotheads who abuse the privilege? Sure. But guess what will happen to those people? They’ll get fucking stabbed. All the assholes will weed themselves out, leaving behind only the people who mostly do not want to stab each other.

Yes, there will be times when we will stab people for questionable reasons – maybe they screwed up our coffee order, maybe they took our parking space. Some of those people will probably die. Hey that sucks, but I think it’s a small price to pay for the right to stab somebody once a day.

Think about how prompt the guys who fix the cable TV will become. Waiters and waitresses will be much friendlier. Doctors will be more sensitive. Your boss.

In the end, this new rule comes down to a basic truth: everybody wants to stab somebody once in a while. So why not let them? Sure the beginning might be a little rough as people stab each other just for the hell of it. But after a few months, I think everybody will settle down and stab each other in moderation. It’s a good rule and if you disagree with me, guess what I will do? If you guessed “stab me” you’re wrong. I will shoot you.

 

 

                             (Good for society)

 

 

World's Most Popular Male Australian? Me.

Now that Mel Gibson has imploded and Heath Ledger isn’t around to take the crown, I would like to throw my hat in the ring for new “World’s Most Popular Male Australian.” I first floated this idea on the “Late, Late Show” a couple nights ago and since then it has really taken hold in my mind. Do I think I have a legitimate shot? I do.

 

Yes, I have a few things working against me. The first and most obvious is the fact that I am not Australian. But I think this can probably be overcome with a little vocal training and the occasional reference to Canberra, which Wikipedia informs me is the capital of Australia. (Until this moment, I thought the capital was either Sydney or Ottawa.)

 

The second is that I am not (currently) popular. This need not be an impediment. After all, lots of people aren’t currently popular, and one of them will eventually become the world’s most popular male Australian. I have an advantage over all of those guys in that I have already begun pursuing this goal with the single-minded intensity of Gary Ablett. (Who? Former Australian rugby player, who I know about because I am Australian.)

 

When I first brought up this idea, Craig Ferguson, the host of “The Late, Late Show” (who may or may not be Australian himself) mentioned that he believes Hugh Jackman is now poised to capture the title. If actual popularity and actual nationality are to be the only factors taken into consideration, then it’s hard to disagree with his assessment. But here’s the thing: I want this more than he does. So here’s my proposal to Hugh. Rather than have us fight it out, I will take the title of “World’s Most Popular Male Australian,” and you can be “World’s Most Beloved Male Australian.” That way we both win, and we can high five each other when we’re tag teaming Nicole Kidman.

 

Think about it world. I’m here, I’m available, and I’m ready to be popular. So, until next time, as we say in Australia: good day, friend. 

(Me on Ferguson - not sure where I talk about being Australian, but you can watch if you want.Also, I know the shirt is too tight. It wasn't the shirt I wanted to wear, but the wardrobe guy told me the other shirt would be bad for TV. So I wore this one instead. I had no idea it would look so awful. Please stop yelling at me about it. I will never wear that shirt again or at least until I lose thirty pounds or two stone, as we say in Australia)

 

 

My Super Fun Summer Vay-Cay!

My family summer vacation is rapidly coming to an end. Today we met our friends for breakfast (they paid), then went on a little daytrip (only cost was some smoothies and parking), and ended the day with some different friends at a mid-priced Cuban restaurant (they paid). Afterwards, I ended up shelling out some money for ritzy cupcakes at a hoity-toity bakery (almost TWENTY BUCKS!!!) All in all, I feel like I ended the day up about a hundred bucks.

Normally I don’t worry about money,* but this vacation was really expensive. We didn’t even go that far! Just across the country to a terrible city called Los Angeles. Why go to a terrible city for a vacation? Because we have terrible friends who live here and the only way to see them is to visit their terrible city. (I was kidding about my friends being terrible. Most of them are not terrible at all. One exception: Ken Marino.)

My wife wanted to come out here to see people and I wanted to stay home and not see people, so we compromised and came out here to see people. Man oh man, by the time you add the cost of the airline tickets, the car, the house we rented, groceries, restaurants, the Thai boy (extra for hairless), tickets to the La Brea tar pits, and everything else, we ended up spending a Jew’s fortune!

(I recognize that throwing the word “Jew” in there was gratuitous and I apologize.**)

There was a time, not so long ago, when I used to have so much money I couldn’t spend it fast enough. “You want the twelve pack of Bounty paper towels, honey? Go ahead and buy it. Don’t even worry about the coupon!” That used to be my attitude regarding paper towels back when I had a job. These days, though, it’s a different story. The paper towels are generic and the coupons all get used. (For toilet paper, not for shopping because I still have my pride.)

Maybe some of you are wondering how I can afford to take my family on any vacation at all when I claim I cannot even afford name brand paper towels. It’s a good question and one whose answer will be revealed when my lawyer says it’s okay. But for now, content yourself with knowing that when it came time to order the large English Breakfast latte over ice at the Coffee Bean, I told them I would take a medium because “all that caffeine gives me the jitters.” Friends, caffeine doesn’t give me the jitters, but the extra thirty-five cents did.

So I leave Los Angeles a poorer man. But a man rich with the knowledge that I gave my family a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, whose memories they will cling to long after I am dead. Because I am now worth far more dead than alive.***

 

 

 

* Not true. I constantly worry about money.

** I further recognize that if I really felt like I shouldn’t gratuitously throw the word “Jew” in there I would have simply omitted it rather than apologizing for it after the fact.

*** Not true unless my song catalog becomes a lot more valuable after my death. I probably do not need to add the fact that I do not have a song catalog but I will anyway just in case there is any confusion.

 

 

My Vacation

Feeling kind of lousy today, my first day of vacation with the family. Do I blame the intercontinental travel or the amount of time spent with my loved ones? I am not going to speculate. I would tell you where I am, but it’s kind of a cheesy place and I don’t want you to think I’m cheesy. Alright I’ll tell you if you won’t think I’m cheesy. I rented out Jon Bon Jovi’s house. IT’S NOT AS CHEESY AS IT SOUNDS!!!

 

First of all, JBJ has really good taste. The house is decorated in late 19^th century English and French antiques. The carpets are all Persian (pre-revolution), and the football jerseys on display are all from REALLY GOOD players (John Elway, LaDamian Somebody). If there is one cheesy element, it is the swimming pool shaped like a giant guitar. But it’s a Gibson guitar and everybody knows they make the best guitars in the world. Also, I’m not really renting Jon Bon Jovi’s house. I don’t have that kind of money and I doubt JBJ needs rental income. But if I were going to rent it, I bet it would look like that. (If anybody has photos of Jon Bon Jovi’s house, please email them to me.)

 

I am not somebody who spends a lot of time pining for vacations. They stress me out. Mostly when I am on holliday what I want to do is the same thing I do at home, just someplace else. Those things include: bicker with my family, surf the internet, and try to convince myself that I look good despite growing evidence to the contrary. I think my physical looks peaked in 1997 and since then it’s been a long slow slide to decrepitude. I know this because now when I refer to myself as a “middle-aged man” nobody laughs or even smiles. Their silence is their agreement. I am middle-aged and finally developing the paunch I’ve read so much about. It’s not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be when I was twenty-one.

 

But of course all of that gets set aside when I am on vacation. When I am on vacation, my main concern is where am I going to eat and how much am I going to sleep and do I have enough books? That’s pretty much it. The rest of it: the socializing, the catching up with old friends, the sniffing of various cheeses and sampling of various soft drinks, none of that stuff matters. When I am looking for in a vacation is a lull from my normally frenetic life. I define “frenetic” as not having a job and sitting home every day doing nothing.

 

So yes, I am on vacation in a sunny clime with people I love and eating foods that, to this point, have produced a mild headache and severe shakes. This is because all I’ve eaten is sugar and caffeine. Because I am vacationing at Starbucks. Because it’s all I can afford. And because that’s where I’m working now. If Jon Bon Jovi comes in, I am going to be so stoked.