I've been sitting here with an open text editor thing with the flashing cursor for the past hour because I want to write something but I don't know what I want to write.  Should I write about my love life?  That would probably bore you to tears but then some aspects of my love life still bring me to tears and not just because I'm alone but because have you ever watched a fiance die?  That really does make you tear up even worse than cutting onions. 

I read poetry and fiction on Xanga and I feel mentally incompetent.  I usually send emails to the poets and authors and explain that I am such a slack-jawed yokel that all I can muster when reading their writing is a "good job" or "great work".  I feel so stupid at times.  I think it has something to do with all the concussions I've suffered over the course of my life.  I sometimes think I get a monthly concussion and then I think that Justin Morneau is a huge pussy for sitting out half a season because he has one concussion.  I rode my tricycle down three flights of stairs and you don't hear me bitching about paying taxes.  What was I talking about again?  Oh yeah, I wanted to write a post.

I wanted to write a post about the recall election in Wisconsin but I can't get over the fact that there is a guy running against Scott Walker in the Republican primary that is an Abraham Lincoln impersonator.  Abraham Lincoln was in Monroe, Maryland a month before he was shot and John F. Kennedy couldn't have been in Marilyn Monroe a month before he was shot because she had died the previous year but I suppose that could've happened had she faked her death or if JFK was into necrophilia.  The news agencies didn't really cover the sex lives of the presidents much like they do today.  Could you imagine if CNN covered my sex life.  The headlines would be about a guy who had a near-exclusive sexual relationship with a girl in his high school years decided to stop having sex with her so they could be friends only and she ends up getting pregnant by a guy and she then says that it's her friend's baby.  I should totally write about that but I don't really want to.

I was thinking of writing about this married couple from Boston that decided to move out west to Arizona and settle down somewhere in the desert. As they were traveling across country to their new home they realized that the spark was no longer there and they decided to become swingers. I'm sure most of us have come to that point in a relationship. I know plenty of people here that are at that point.  Hell, I can name one guy in my house that is at that point. But the guy in the story was freaked out by seeing his wife in the arms of another man although most swingers are totally into seeing their significant other in the throes of passion with another. Well our couple, the poor wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer the day after the botched attempt at swinging. Divine retribution? Well it probably was if they were dancing.  My second high school didn't have its first sponsored dance until my sophomore year which was my first year there.  Apparently the reason why school board and the teachers didn't want the dances was because they feared that dancing would lead to kids doing naughty things after the dance.  I went to a Lutheran school.  Why don't Lutherans have sex standing up?  It may lead to dancing.  Hey, only I can say that joke because I am Lutheran, that is my joke, you aren't allowed to tell it unless you are Lutheran.  Well that isn't what I wanted to write about.

Did you know that up until a few years ago it was common practice amongst Jews in Europe that when they had their sons circumcised the mohel would come in and snip the baby boy. He would then fill his mouth with some nice sacred Jewish wine, possibly Manishevitz. He then takes his mouth full of wine and inserts the baby boy's penis in his mouth to sterilize the circumcision. You know what I find ironic? Jewish girls wearing keffiyehs. But I digress.  That's not as low as walking into a sex shop and stealing a bottle of lube and a blow-up doll.  The guy that did that felt pretty bad but not as bad as the people in Berlin when the first bomb dropped on Berlin in World War II killed the only elephant in the Berlin Zoo. 

The number 172 appears at the bottom of the Lincoln Memorial on the five dollar bill.  What is the significance of this number?  I'll be damned if I know but on June 11th of the year 172 A.D. the Roman army had surrounded their enemies in Moravia but the heat was so intense that soldiers were being burned by their armor.  Their defense was killing them but then a thunderstorm came through and poured on the Romans and they were no longer frying or parched.  This is not why the number 172 is on the bottom of the Lincoln Memorial in the five dollar bill.  I am convinced the number 172 refers to the 172 hits Babe Ruth hit in his first season with the New York Yankees.  Because I hate the Yankees the number 172 actually refers to the number of episodes in the greatest television comedy of all time, Three's Company.  Hot Stuff is the 172nd short film produced by the Three Stooges and it's also what I like to think my stripper name would be if I wasn't fat and ugly with a small penis.  And yet this is not what my blog is all about.

What I wanted to talk about are my plans for death. I want to be cremated. Yes, I want to actually go dust to dust at a much faster and hotter pace. My joking nature comes into play. Surgical screws don't melt at the temperature used for cremation so it may give my children Seldom Seen and Bonita quite a shock. What also may shock them is that before I die I plan on eating a handful of screws and quarters, a bike chain, and one of those metallic spring door stop thingies. Seldom Seen will ask Bonita, "Do you think Dad was really a robot?" Then they will scatter my ashes at a robotics plant.  Do you even understand why the metallic spring door stop thingie is humorous?  I do.

Another thing I find humorus is the mosh pit I once started at a Garrison Keillor show.  I got so mad and had to smash into someone when he started talking about Lake Woebegone.  "Well it was a mild spring day in Lake Woebegone when Ole Bjornsen decided to buy a ham at Adolf Fleischer's meat shop."  And then I broke in with "ALL HAIL SATAN!" and then I slammed into an 87 year old lady.  She hit me with her cane so it got pretty wild.  I didn't even mosh when he did the musical portion of his show.  That's some wild stuff but not what I wanted to write about.  I was thinking of watching the musical Sweeney Todd which was directed by Tim Burton.  I find it funny that Kevin Smith's first movie outside of the ViewAskew-niverse was a movie in which Ben Affleck's character performs a song from Sweeney Todd with his daughter.  The movie bombed at the box office but it gets a lot of playtime on TBS.  Well Tim Burton comes around with his version of Sweeney Todd and I can't help but think it was done to spite Kevin Smith because Kevin Smith has said disparaging things about Tim Burton in the past as have I.  I don't like how Tim Burton shits all over things I hold near and dear to my heart but then why not since my heart sucks and I have high blood pressure.  I look for irony and iron pills where there is none.

Now as you read this you need to imagine that I have The Office playing on my television and Michael Scott is playing basketball.  It's a laugh riot much like my reaction to every time I see a nutshot or injury on SportsCenter.

My semi-non-fictional autobiography will be coming soon to a Dollar Store near you.

I wrote an entry. Did you notice? Did you care?

metallic spring door stop thingy