Thursday, February 18, 2010

Ruminating Once Again


Back by popular demand, even more daily ruminations (also known as mental vomit) to satiate you while I assemble a real post:


• Look, without those good folks collecting their uniformity-disbursements (what you refer to as “welfare”), then all of the wealth and power generated by your labor cannot be equally distributed among the masses and the system would fail. Is that what you want? Do you want the system to fail? I didn’t think so. Now back to work, you.

• Speaking of young love: I had a crush on one of my teachers - this was WAY back in the 70’s, of course. She had abundant brunette hair (ala Stephanie Powers) and a raspy Kate Jackson voice, she was captivating – and single too (that’s right, even back then I was paying attention). I ran into her years later and she didn’t even recognize me. THAT’S when I knew I should stop sending her Valentine cards.

• Well, actually it was sort of a mix up in the delivery room. Y’see, we’d decided to wait until you were born before naming you, thinking the moment would inspire us. But with your mother heavily drugged and myself so caught up in the excitement, I just repeated whatever the doctor said . . . and that’s how you got your name, Placenta. Why do you ask?

• Toyota, in an attempt to resolve a braking issue, has asked all Prius owners to bring their cars in for modification. “We’re concerned the braking system may fail unexpectantly, THAT’S why we’re removing the floorboard and providing each customer with a coupon for a free pair of shoes. It’s our way of saying, we Yabba-Dabba care!”

• Though considered a poignant depiction of a drunken rampage, The Saturday Evening Post opted against running Norman Rockwell’s painting of my family on their cover. A decision which ultimately served the best interest of all parties involved.

• Ankle deep in the pristine Ohio snow, my estranged father pressed his hands deeper into the pockets of his Harley jacket as the icy winds threatened to obscure his parting words. “Son,” he said, “What doesn’t kill you. . .” the cliché hung unfinished as he waited out another frigid gust, “. . .only makes you a carrier.”

• Not once have I been mistaken for myself.

• I upped my meds today! Up yours!

• I have a dream that someday computers will function in a nation where they will not be judged by their operating system, but by the content of their programming. . . and postal workers and bank tellers will rejoice, for they shall be given a day each year to reflect upon their ever-diminishing roles in society.

• I am having a momentary lapse of reason (and by “momentary” I mean “constant”).

"Yeah, I’ve had 3 near-death experiences; I’m lucky to be alive. Well, the first one I slipped on a wet floor in Wal*Mart. The second time I got caught in a revolving door at the bus terminal, and the third time was just a couple of months ago when I peed on a ‘lectric fence. I saw a bright light that time, but I didn’t go into it."

• For sports fanatics, the practicality of the DVR was immediately clear the moment it was introduced. For casual TV viewers, however, the DVR’s significance wasn’t realized till their schedules conflicted with an episode of American Idol.

• I’d always imagined that someday someone would write a story about my abnormally normal life. . . what I didn’t figure was my reluctancy to divulge the sordid details, especially since I’m the author.

"Cold out today. Cold yesterday. Even colder today." [Hillbilly small talk.]

• My New Year's resolution is to rely less on this stupid Magic 8 Ball and more on the remarkably accurate Farmers' Almanac.

• Possibly due to exposure to lead paint (and/or experimental bouts with recreational drugs), my imagination is now limited to two backdrops: perverted and disturbed, and only a handful of seedy characters remain to take the stage. This is why I snicker every time I hear the line, “Y’see little fellow, every year I shine up my jingle bells for eight lucky reindeer.”

• Warm holiday memories (circa 1970): My father was known as the kind of man who, "never showed his liquor" (to anyone that might drink it) and THAT, my friends, explains why we kept unwrapping empty beer bottles. What's in your eggnog?

• Despite my best efforts, I failed to convince my son's class that I was a Scottish bagpiper; they just saw me as the tawdry vacuum cleaner wrestler I was. (Somehow I knew wearing a kilt in December wasn’t going to work out well.)

Spirogaph, Spirograph, does whatever a spiro-thingy does. Twirly cirlces with plastic gears, makes me drunk just like beer. Hey there! There goes the Spirograph!

• If it weren’t for the things I said I’d do, then it wouldn’t appear I’d gotten anything done. (Just so y’know.)

• I've been banned in three states from playing Truth or Dare. . . and two countries. (For reasons I wouldn't dare disclose.)

• Holiday Tip #138: A burned out bulb can ruin any strand of lights. To make the strand uniform once again, simply unplug and enjoy some more spiked egg nog. Cheers!

• After hours of backbreaking work, stapling and re-stapling strands of lights on the roof and trying desperately (for the most part) not to step on those brittle little light bulbs, I was somewhat surprised to discover, as I wearily assessed my work from the curb, I’d inadvertently spelled ‘SEASON CRETIN’.

“Keep smiling,” my father once told me, “they’ll never know what you’re thinking.”

• Who put the 'me' back in 'mental'?

• The problem with elders trying to be hip is that they may break one in the process.

• I stepped in something; I think it's Monday.

• Mayan officials admit blunder in 2012 apocalyptic prediction, “Seems our calendar mason left a crucial portion of his calculation at the base of the temple’s 365 steps. By that, I mean, he failed to carry the one.”

• If it weren’t for rumors and innuendo, I wouldn’t appear to have a life at all.

• If you don’t get me, please contact your local cable or satellite provider.

• Someday I just may live up to all the hype, THEN I'll break out the fog machine.

• I can’t meet your expectations, but I’ll certainly distort them.

• Just because I agree with everything I say, doesn't exactly make me the first to disagree with myself.

• In 2012, a Barcelona-based company plans to open a hotel in space. Yep, an orbiting La Quinta Inn. They say a three-night stay will set patrons back about $4.4 million dollars. And here I didn’t think the hotel industry was listening when I said I’d pay anything to silence those damn ice machines.

• Thanks to decongestant medication, I’m adrift between the shores of lucidity and madness. So, for those who wish to engage in a profound discussion (on most anything), now’s your chance.

• I’m no longer contagious; pass it on.

• C'mon people, we've got to work together here. There's no "i" in sarcasm.

• For those women in my past who might've wondered if they let a good thing slip away, well rest assured, my shabby investment portfolio says otherwise.

• No, no, it's not a kid's menu; it's my investment portfolio.

• A lot of new faces at the homeowner’s meeting last night and just as it was about to conclude, they had us introduce ourselves. Like roll call, each homeowner stated their name and address; I was last and said, “Hi, I’m Rick. I don’t live in your neighborhood; I thought this was the AA meeting.”

• At times, eloquence can be less of a dance partner and more of a toe masher-er.

• Some things just go better with banjo.

• Your thick head is hindering my super-mind-reading powers, thereby negating your assumptions.

• I remember NOTHING. Thanks malt liquor!

• There I was, amidst a number of Nobel Prize winners, each of us grappling with the realization of a lifelong dream and the almost unlikely swiftness in which it was obtained. But as the hotel lobby continued to fill with other winners, I began to reassess the significance of an award given to me by a bathroom attendant.

• Ever notice how “futuristic design” really means, “we’re bringing back the 60’s”?

• You can mend crooked feet with corrective shoes, you can fix crooked teeth with braces, so. . . shouldn’t you be able to heal an idiot by having his baseball hat straightened?

• I didn’t escape, it’s a work release program.

• Modern day pied piper Mokhairul Islam (pronounced “Mo”) mitigated over 83,000 rats from Dhaka (the capitol of Bangladesh, of course). His government rewarded his services by presenting him with a 14” color TV. “Only a million more rats,” cried Mo, “till I earn the blessed digital converter box!”

• To hear these options in Spanish, press the “Call End” button now. . .

• I'm no doctor, but I've seen one on TV.

• HEADLINE: “Uninsured are 40 percent more likely to die.” Huh, and I thought you had to become a crazed, skin-bleached, pedophilic pop-star to achieve immortality; now all I have to do is get insured. THIS changes everything.

• HEADLINE: “British Catholics urge prayer before sex.” Can you imagine what kind of prayers one might hear over there? “Dear Lord, I beseech thee, please, please, *please* make THIS my final week as an altar boy.”

• Utilizing gene therapy on a couple of once color-blind monkeys, scientists believe they’ve triggered the primate’s ability to see red. “Big deal,” says local buffoon Rick Rantamaki, “You could’ve given them the lab bill and got the same results.”

• C’mon, is it really fair to permit an androgynous athlete to compete against women? (e.g. Caster Semenya, the South African “female” track star) It’s like comparing apples to Adam’s apples.

• Though I know it’s Wednesday, today feels like a Tuesday – since Monday was a holiday, which actually felt like a second Sunday and Sunday really felt more like an extension of Saturday. So later this week, when a co-worker begins his usual spiel over how he wishes it was Friday, I can tell him to, “Shut up, it's not really Thursday.”

• Sending me home early is NOT fair; just because I play lawn darts. . . overhand.

• Times are SO tight, I’ve resorted to using my fake ID again – ‘cause those senior citizen discounts are killer.

• At 25, China’s table tennis champion Wang Hao has finally been deemed by officials as “old enough” to have a girlfriend. Wang’s manager and close friend told local reporters, “It’s high time they let my Wang hang out with the ladies.”

• I got drunk; woke up here. End of story.

• I have ALL the answers (just not in the correct order).

• Is it illegal to harvest tapeworms and sell them as a dietary solution?

• You can take a girl out of the trailer, but you can’t take the “in” out of “bred”.

• Welcome to my life; at least you're free to leave anytime.

© Copywrite 2010 Rick Rantamaki

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