Tag Archives: humor

Spam: A Good Idea–Click!

Why does e-mail spam continue?  Who is clicking on this crap thinking in their head, “Well now that is a bargain for me!” or “This will make my life easier!” or even “Yeah, I really do wish mine was bigger.”

The following is a rundown of only a small portion of the spam that is currently trapped in my spam folder.  It sits there patiently waiting for me to push the “select all” button followed by the “delete permanently” button.  I wish there was a “find the people who put me on this list and hang them from the ceiling fan by their toenails” button.  Which could be followed by the “and then turn it on high” button.

Subsidized Solar Power:  Apparently the government of the United States of America wants me to convert to solar power.  So much so that they are willing to subsidize the entire project—costing me absolutely nothing!  I think this explains the van with dark windows parked at my curb for the last couple of weeks.  Clearly I’m under surveillance.  I can sometimes actually hear them when I get home.  “The buzzard has landed, the juice is flowing, and the sun has not risen.”  I believe this is government spy talk:  I have arrived home, turned on my lights, and not yet installed my 100% absolutely free solar panel package.

Learn a New Language in 10 Days or Enhance Your Career with a Second Language:  In just ten days?  That is awesome.  I’m clicking it.  And in just ten days I should be appointed to the position CEO.  Can you imagine all of the La Benefitios that will be presented to El Meo?  I’m getting started right awayo.

Rich Prince Needs Your Help:  There is a certain rich prince out there in our big world who apparently is attempting to launder his money into my country.  His goal for the money is noble.  He wants to fund an orphanage where years earlier he sent his children to in order to protect them from the evils of his own country.  I can personally help him by providing him my checking account number so that he can deposit millions of dollars in my account.  I have been instructed to then write a check back to his charity and keep whatever amount I see fit to pay for the service I am providing.

I’m in!  And with the money I earn from my provided services I going to install solar panels on my neighbor’s houses too!  And then I’m going to learn his language in a very short period of time so that I can thank him in his native tongue.  Oh rich prince, thank goodness you haven’t hear of Western Union.  I’m here for you.

Meet Lonely Wives: There are apparently a zillion lonely housewives out there desperately seeking the companionship of me.  Yeah, that’s right, me!  You see, their husbands are off traveling the world of business in order to provide a decent income for their household.  Although this leaves these women reasonably comfortable in their lifestyles, it does very little to provide for their personal needs.  The spam e-mail explains that these lonely souls are extremely abundant across the country and with just a click of the mouse, I can be connected to hundreds of them right in my local area!  There is a real website dedicated to “hooking us up”.

How long has this loneliness been going on?  It’s a travesty; although, I think I can fix this!  I’m going to present this to my beautiful wife of almost seventeen years.  Clearly she will understand the plight of these women and together we will visit each and every one of them.  As a team, we will be there for them.  I can’t wait to connect with them over a nice lunch, and just simply be there for them, listen to their problems, perhaps watch their children for the day so they can relax.  I know some of them aren’t as comfortable in their money as they claim.  It’s so obvious to me because some of them couldn’t even afford shirts before they got their picture taken for the web site.  I’ll be sure to donate some clothing to them in order to save them the embarrassment before my wife and I meet them for lunch.

Christian Singles:  How do I get on these spam lists?  There is only so much time in the day.  But, after my wife and I tackle the growing problem of lonely wives, we will begin a journey to meet each one of these Christian singles.  Clearly they can learn a great deal from the experiences of our long-lasting wonderful marriage.

Hook up with my books.

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Tom Petty Lyrics

I was listening to Tom Petty on the radio.  I was cruising down the highway heading home from a long day at work.  The song “I Won’t Back Down” fires up on the radio.  It brings back memories of a time long ago: my college years.  I was probably a freshman or a sophomore at Ohio University.  I don’t remember the exact year the song was released and I’m not going to Google it for you.  Man, are you lazy—wanting me to Google something for you.

For those of you who may not know this classic song, it’s an inspirational song sung in an upbeat tempo.  A song about standing your ground regardless of what the world throws at you.  The opening verse is made up of the following lyrics.

Well I won’t back down, no I won’t back down
You could stand me up at the gates of hell
But I won’t back down

So I’m singing along with Tom using my voice at top volume.  I sing pretty awesome in my car, with the windows up, and when I’m alone.  You’d be impressed.  But then the voices in my head started thinking a bit too much about the lyrics.

That first line: “Well I won’t back down, no I won’t back down

Ok Tom.  You’ve started off by really stressing your point.  Twice.  I get it.  Obviously it’s important to you.  You sir, are not about to back down.  But, do you really talk that way in real life?

“Tom, you want something to drink?”

“Well I’ll have a cup of coffee, yes I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

“Ya, alright Tom.  You seem to be repeating yourself.  Do you want one or two cups?  Because I’m a little confused.”

The next line is really odd when you think about it:  “You could stand me up at the gates of hell

Tom.  Tom.  Tom.  Do you always arrange meetings in such horrible places?

“Say Tom, where do you want to meet for coffee?”

“How about the gate of hell?  I know of this little shop near there.  The coffee is always piping hot.  You’re going to love it.”

“There is a very strong possibility of me standing you up.”

Seriously, why does Tom think that anyone would want to meet him at the gates of hell?  He hit the nail on the head when he was speculating that his friend may be standing him up.  Who’s going there willingly?  Maybe he could have changed it up a little bit.

“You can stand my up at the DMV.”

I guess that’s not really any different: the Department of Motor Vehicles and the Gates of Hell.  Yeah, same thing.

He continues, “But I won’t back down.”

So Tom, just to be clear.  You’re going to be hanging out at the gates of hell long after your friends have stood you up.  And yet, you’re not about to back down.  No sir.  You have stamina.  You will hang out at the gates of hell as long as it takes, desperately clinging to the hope that your friend will change his or her mind and meet you at the fiery gates.  You know, maybe this is one of those times where throwing in the towel isn’t such a bad thing.  Relax Tom.  Back down just a little bit.  Maybe you should walk back down a block or two and turn a corner—somewhere so the gates of hell aren’t in your direct line of sight.  I strongly suspect that more of your friends will reach out to you if you start hanging out in safer neighborhoods.

Fine.  Don’t back down.  Keep arranging your little meetings any way you see fit.

Buy my books, yes buy my books.

Lawn Maintenance

Spring is finally in the air.  Spring has sprung and perhaps this time for good.  This year it has falsely sprung about three times already and then fell back into freezing.  The flowers are actually on their third attempt at growing through the unexpected frosty mornings.  During this time of year in Cincinnati, you turn your heat on at night and the air conditioner in the afternoon.  The plants in our yard have that I’m-green-but-a-little-pissed-off look to them.

All the natural signs of Spring are here.  I can tell its Spring because there are flyers on my door from companies that want to cut and trim my lawn.  There are neighborhood children that think they can do a better job than the professionals using their parent’s mower.  There is junk mail filling my mailbox from companies that want to treat my lawn for a “thicker greener look”.  And there are signs posted at the end of every street enticing you to invest in their aerating business.

To those neighborhood children that want to cut my lawn:  I have two fresh teenage boys (13 and 14) that live in my house.  They provide no income and honestly put a serious drain on my financial bottom line.  No thank you, but I have my own grass cutters here.

This morning I drove by a sign that stated:

“Aerate your lawn!  $60 to $80!  Call us at 555-9296.”

I don’t actually remember the phone number, so for this story I went with the Hollywood phone number thing.  Three fives are never a real number.  Hollywood is so kind like that.  “I don’t want to cause the torment of some random dude by accidentally picking his phone number and using it in our script, but I do want to act like it’s a real phone number when I deliver my line.  I want to be convincing.  Like Hamlet.”

“The number you have reach 5 5 5 (pause) 8 4 8 2 is not a real number.  Who do you think you are, Shakespeare?”

So back to the company with the sign for aeration states a range of $60 to $80.  How does that pricing work?  If they like you and think you’re a nice person, its $60.  If not, its $80?  Maybe you get to pick your price after they finish.

“You know I was going to be all cheap about it and only pay you $60, but you surprised me by not skipping that area in the back behind my trees and you actually made two passes in the front.  I’m paying you $72 dollars today.  Good work.  Oh wait, that’s $72 dollars after taxes and you have to do the math.”

I’d pay them more, but now my yard looks as though there was a wild geese convention in full swing last night.

My favorite mail flyer comes from the company which calls itself “ChemLawn”.  I think they are in the process of trying to change their name to “TruGreen”, but it still says ChemLawn.  I think it’s a riot that the company choose its name long before the “green” bandwagon started rolling through town.  The name ChemLawn is a made up of two parts.  The first part “Chem” is short for Chemical.  The second part “Lawn” is short for Lawnical.  I think.

Here is a slogan that you won’t see them using:  “We treat your lawn organically.  We are ChemLawn!  Not.  Just joking!”

Can you picture back to the original board meetings held when the company was just starting out?

“Yeah, and we’ll dump so much chemical in their yards that there grass will glow green at night time.  Dude, people are going to love this!”

Now, in more recent greener times.

“No man, Chem isn’t short for Chemical.  It’s short for, um let me think here, oh yeah, it’s short for Chemo.  Yeah, like chemotherapy.  We are trying to eradicate the dandelion-cancers in your yard.”

“Hey Marcus, an attempt at cancer humor probably is not a funny thing.  You’re a bad person”, said everyone.

Good luck ChemLawn, or I mean, TruGreen.

Buy my “green” book.  Actually the cover is blue, but the electronic version uses no paper!

Blog Info

In our last episode, we were left hanging on the edge of our seats watching Marcus as he plummeted off the edge of creativity and was cascading viciously toward a rock solid enormous chunk of writer’s block.  Totally out of control, today’s episode begins with Marcus throwing in the towel, and summarizing some of his blog statistics—a feat that he swore to himself that he would never result in doing.

“Crap, I’m really going to do it”, said Marcus with a completely defeated look on his face.

My blog passed by the ten thousand hit mark recently.  Impressive?  Yes, it is very impressive that I managed to visit my own page about five thousand times.

The most visits in a one day period totaled 230 visitors.  And I was only one of them!

Alright, maybe I was thirty of them.

Or forty.

To date, my blog has been viewed in 82 countries.  The top three being: the USA, the United Kingdom, and Canada.  Far down the list is Morocco.  Proving once again that Moroccoians love Marcus.

To date I have had 1171 comments left by people reading my blog entries.  And I thank each and every one of you for ensuring me that I’m not just blogging to myself.  Thanks!  Since I strive to always respond to each comment left by all you awesome blog readers , it means that I’ve only actually had 585.5 comments from actual readers.  The other half of the count comes from my own response comments.  This leaves me wondering, who left me the half of comment?  Or perhaps someone left me a quarter of a comment and I responded with a quarter of a response.  I don’t remember doing that.  I can’t image myself not finishing my complete train of

WordPress, the host of my blog, provides statistics on what search engine terms people have used that led them to my blog.  By far (like by a whole bunch), the term “crossing the street” is the most frequent search term.  A good long while ago, I wrote a piece about geese crossing the street.  It was amusing I thought.  Then, later, I wrote a follow on piece detailing the anonymous nasty-gram I got for being “cruel to animals”.  My point being, I understand how the search for “crossing the street” might lead you to my blog, however, I can’t understand the train of thought that possesses someone to ask Google for information pertaining to the task of crossing the street.  And it’s not just one person, in fact, its many people.  To date, there have been over sixty-five variations of “crossing the street” searches that resulted in people visiting my blog.  For example, “crossing the street”, “cross the street”, “crossing the road”, and my personal favorite “crossing the street without looking”.  What information are these people trying to coax out of Google that they couldn’t figure out on their own?  Basically you need to look both ways and then proceed when there appears to be the lowest possibility of bodily harm.

Is there the possibility of the existence of groups of people out there trapped on their property because they don’t own a computer?  These tormented people having no access to Google in order to assist them with the daunting task of street crossing.  There must be people who walk down their driveways, get to the end, become confused with the change from sideway to roadway, stare mystified into the void of the car dwelling space, throw their hands up, and run back in the house in an absolute dumfounded stupor.

They’re out there.

Buy my book from the same side of the street that you’re on.

Sleeping In

Sound asleep.  That was me until my alarm started beeping and bonking.  My first emotion of the day was disappointment.  Here’s why.

It was Saturday.  A day to actually sleep in.  Nothing to do.  Sleep until your body says done.  These days, my Saturday-sleep-in is usually cancelled because I’m a professional chauffeur.  My teenage boys need to be at the school for something or on the fields for something else.  And I am the driver.

I guess I’m not really a professional.  That would imply that I’m getting paid for my services.  How many professional chauffeurs drop their clients off and then have to fork over five bucks so that their clients can buy a drink and a hot dog?  I’m guessing “none” is the answer.  But how awesome would that be?  A stupid chauffeur that pays you.

“Sir, we have reached your destination.  Let me get the door for you.  And sir, here is your tip.”  The driver hands you a five-spot.

“Shouldn’t I be tipping you?”

“Oh, is that how it should work?”

“No, your way is good.  But now I can’t believe that you actually got us here safely.”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Sort of.”

“Oh.  Alright, here is five more dollars.”

Back on track.  This Saturday I had nothing planned.  No morning events at all.  Boys sleeping in like the good little teenage slugs that they should be.  But there was my alarm—yelling at me like the angry little chunk of electronics that it is.  Rude really.  I rolled over to shut it off, cursing it the whole time.  Bad electronics.  Stupid electronics.  If I had any water left in my nightstand glass you would become smoking electronics.  Who makes the mistake of setting the alarm on a Saturday?  People with evil electronics, that’s who.

With the disappointed emotion in full swing, I turned off the alarm.  Silence again.  Relax.  I can get over this situation.  I can find sleep once again.  And just as I was returning to the dream world, it occurred to me.  It hit me like a ton of bricks—which is a really odd figure of speech.  How unfortunate do you have to be to get hit with a ton of bricks?  Where do you need to be standing to have this happen?  They probably don’t come flying in from the left or right.  They most likely would have to fall from above your head.  My recommendation is to avoid placing yourself just below any apparatus that is holding a ton of bricks—regardless of how stable it looks.  Do not stand below any congregation of a ton of bricks—ever.

So yeah, it hit me.  Today isn’t Saturday, its Friday.  A ton of bricks, landing on my face!  I have to get up for work!  Crap, this is far worse than I originally imagined.  Oh electronics, you are way smarter than I give you credit for.

Hey wait a minute!  Did I really just shut off the alarm?  I should have pushed snooze!  Oh electronics, please magically reset your alarm.  I didn’t mean to shut you off.  I’m sorry I called you names.  You’re awesome electronics, really.  I’m way too groggy to fiddle with your buttons right now.

Now I have to get out of bed without taking my first-thing-in-the-morning-nine-minute-nap.  Now I have to pretend that I have the ability to snooze and wake up after nine minutes automatically—all by myself.  But I don’t have the skills!  This is horrible.

And then I found myself standing on my feet.  I have only the electronics to blame.  Idiot electronics.

Buy my silent book.  It’ll let you sleep in.

Biblical Voices

Genesis Voices 1

In the beginning due to an extreme boredom resulting from existing since forever, God decided to create the heavens and the earth.  Now the earth was formless and empty and yet had a pleasant smell similar to a chocolate fountain, except that He hadn’t created chocolate yet.  Darkness was over the surface of the deep (as well as the bottom too—I mean, hey, it was way down there).  The Spirit of God was hovering over the waters thinking about His big plan, waterskiing, and Spring Break.

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.  But first, he shaded His eyes to avoid that brain burning sensation that you can get when walking outdoors from the inside of a dark building.  God saw that the light was good, and He tirelessly separated the light from the darkness—energy waves in one pile, and lack of energy waves in a second pile.  God called the light “day,” the darkness he called “night”, and the mixture of the two “shade.”  And there was evening, and there was morning, and there was five o’clock quitting time—the first day.

And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water.”   And then he thought, “Why am I talking to myself?  Odd.”  So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it—which was exactly what He said He would do out loud just moments ago.  And it was so.  God called the vault “sky”, cleverly avoiding that pesky little word “the”.  Not “the sky” but simply just “sky.”  And there was evening, and there was morning, and there was quarter to five quitting time (no one was watching)—the second day.

And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.  Huh, talking to Myself again.”  And it was so.  After putting away His shop-vac, God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters He called “seas” and the smaller ones “puddles.”  And God saw that it was good.  He would have seen that it was great, but some of the land had cracks.  He let the waters fill these cracks and He called them “rivers”.  “That’s better than good and only slightly below great,” said God to Himself once again.

Then God quietly said as He began to think that talking to Himself might be frowned upon by those who read this story thousands of years from now, “Let the land produce vegetation: apple trees, dandelions, kiwi plants, and maybe a banana or two.  And let there be vegetables as well.  And make the vegetables less tasty but more healthy.”  And it was so.  The land produced vegetation and soon thereafter God realized that weeding the entire earth was back breaking difficult work.  But when the gardens began to flourish, God saw that it was good.  All good, except for the amazing amount of dirt under His fingernails—the third day.

And God said (completely resigned to talking aloud to himself), “The lighting around here is terrible.  Let there be lights in the sky so that I can actually see what I am doing here.  And hey, let them blink off and on repeatedly so that there will be day and night.”  And it was so.  And for too long of a time, God was playing around with the strobe light effect that He created.  Far later, after the initial amusement faded, He slowed the strobe light down to one blink every twenty-four hours.

He also made the stars.  He did this using a cheap dart board set that He picked up at a garage sale.  He probably should have put a large piece of wood or a spare sheet of dry wall behind the dart board to protect the sky.  “Well at least these holes of light make the night sky beautiful to gaze at.  Maybe darts are not My thing.”  And God decided that His lack of dart skills was just fine (not good or great, just fine).  And there was evening, and there was a late night snack, and there was morning—the fourth day.

And God shouted (completely giving into His curious habit of talking to Himself), “I want an aquarium!  Put fish in the water and a cute little treasure chest that will open and close with bubbles.”  And God saw that it was way cool.  “Let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky, but not above My car.  Never above My car.”  So God created all sorts of sea creatures and every winged bird according to its kind.  He even made some birds with wings that could not fly because He thought that was funny.  And God saw that it was good until some of the birds started get too close to His car.  He then decided that this was just a hint shy of good.  God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and let birds increase on the earth.  And I will make a garage for my car.”  And there was evening, and a flat screen television in His garage, and there was morning—the fifth day.

And God said aloud and to Himself with a new found sense of confidence, “Talking to Myself is not a bad thing.  Let the land produce living creatures like chickens, cows and a seven hundred pound dog.  Let these creatures move along the ground.”  And it was so.  That is, it was so, until He stepped in a seventeen pound pile of dog droppings.  “On second thought, make the typical dog average about fifty pounds in total weight,” said God while scraping at His sandals.  And God saw that it was wasn’t exactly good, but He ran with it anyway.

Then God said, “Let there be mankind so that I can talk aloud and not feel odd about talking to Myself anymore.  Make mankind so they can rule over the fish and the birds, over the livestock and other wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.  Including spiders.  Even the really big hairy looking ones.”

So God created mankind in his own image, because He didn’t want to be the only one with back-hair, a bald spot, and the occasional outbreak of acne.  God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number.  Rule over the fish, birds, chickens, and even that nasty looking centipede over there.”

Then God said for the first time with someone actually present to hear Him, “I give you all the plants on the face of the whole earth.  They will be yours for food.  Try not to choke on the cantaloupe.  First, cut them into small pieces.  And to all the beasts of the earth, I give every green plant for food.  I was going to go with blue plants, but it just looked weird.”  And it was so.  Food was green, food was not blue.

God saw all that he had made, and it was good.  In fact, very good.  And there was evening, morning, evening, morning, evening, morning, evening, morning because He started playing with the strobe light again.  And then He stopped and called it the end of the sixth day.

Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array.

Genesis Voices 2

By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing.  Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.  Seriously, He was exhausted.  Creating every single thing ever is tiring.  And then He remembered that He created the couch and the blanket.  And then He invented snoring.

Ok I’m done for now.  I’ll stop here.

So how offended are you?  My hope is not at all.  God’s presence in my life is growing everyday and He continues to put odd voices in my head.  My desire here was only to make you smile and to think about God for a moment in time when perhaps you weren’t planning to.  And if you have never read the Bible before, maybe you should crack it open and find out what voices you hear.

Shall I continue with more of the story?

Is it wrong to plug my books here?  Probably.

Diapers and Wipers

I think its time to give you another sample from my book.  A fellow blogger recently passed through this section.  She then repeated it to her mother and they both had a good laugh.  So in summary, my book has the ability to bring you and your mother to a new level in bonding–a real relationship builder.  No need to thank me, just buy the book.

As a father raising infants and then toddlers, I was always looking forward to the day I no longer had to change diapers. I can recall other parents mocking and laughing because their kid was just one stage ahead of mine. They were done with diapers. I was still doing the changing thing. And then when the day finally arrived and my boys were done with diapers, I realized that I was not done cleaning up turds after all. It’s a little secret that nobody wants to tell you in advance. After you’re done with diapers you still have a good year or two of a little voice yelling from behind the bathroom door, “daddy, wipe my butt!” My mother (the Grandma in the next status update) told me this story and I had to share it. Mainly because misery loves company—especially when wiping dirty little butts.

September 16, 2009 at 8:00 am

Marcus Matherne: My niece yells from the bathroom, “Grandma, wipe my butt!” Grandma says, “You’re old enough to do that yourself.” She yells back, “But if you do it, I don’t have to wash my hands.”

Absolutely brilliant.

Buy my book–and no I won’t wipe your butt.

Silly Rabbit

I have some really surprising news.  I’m not really sure how to properly convey this scenario to you, so I’ll just put it out there.  But first I have to ask.  Do you remember that commercial from long ago?  There were these two children keeping a poor desperate rabbit from eating their precious bowls of cereal.  All the while these nasty children would be taunting the rabbit with hurtful words, “Silly Rabbit, Trix are for kids!”  Mean little selfish brats.

I picked up a box of Trix the other day.  There was no rabbit in sight, although I probably would have given the pathetic little hare a handful of those colorful little cereal puffs just to make him go away.  I’m far more generous than those evil little punks.  I was actually pretty excited about my box of Trix because I haven’t had this particular junky cereal in a long time.

I love cereal.  If you’ve been hanging around this blog, you should have already known that.  Review Cereal Circles and/or Cereal Killers.  I recommend the “and” rather than the “or”.  I’m a 42 year old man, husband, father of two boys, and I can’t help the fact that the garbage cereals still taste delicious to me.  We currently have our pantry stocked with Reese’s Puffs, Lucky Charms, Coco-Puffs, Froot Loops, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Trix.  And that list is the list of opened boxes.

Here is the really surprising part.  I poured a bowl of Trix—still no rabbit in sight.  Filled my bowl with the proper amount of milk.  Got my spoon and dug in.

They taste like crap!  The fact this cereal is made up of round little balls exactly the same size as rabbit turds makes me think that maybe the rabbit was up to something devious—if you know what I mean.  Can you picture him working with his finger paints.  “I’ll make this one red.  This one green.  Ha!  Watch those kids try to keep this bowl from me!”

Actually, I guess that isn’t really fair.  They don’t exactly taste like crap.  More accurately, Trix taste like nothing.  As in no taste at all.  Is this because I’m getting close to an age where junky cereals are going to become unappealing?  I hope not.  I’m still coo-coo for Coco-Puffs.  I think Lucky Charms are magically delicious.  I still think Frosted Flakes taste great.  I’m mean really great, like with ten or so letter R’s.  But what happened to Trix?  They taste like little puffs of colored Styrofoam.  And it doesn’t matter what color of puff ball I try.  They all taste like nothing.  Red.  Nothing.  Orange.  Nothing.  Even the “all new” swirled colored puffs.  Nothing.

Someone stole my flavor!  Now I’m starting to think that maybe those mean-spirited kids were on to something.  Silly Marcus, Trix are for kids.  Do kids still think that this particular cereal is good?  I doubt it.

Hey silly rabbit, swing by my house and you can have the whole tasteless box of this bland garbage cereal all to yourself.  Is this really what you were scrambling for all these years?  It’s all yours.  I’ll even feed you the whole box right in front of those horrible, stingy little kids.  I’ll even force them to watch.

Buy my flavorful book.

Random Voices #3

I’m a little light on material these days.  Nothing wrong, really.  It’s simply that the voices in my head have only been bringing me small scenarios.  Nothing that I can use to write a longer drawn out story.  So here are a few random thoughts.

When someone says, “don’t hold your breath” as a means to convey the message, “it’s not going to happen!”  I always think to myself, “What if I was underwater to begin with?  Isn’t holding my breath something that would be in my best interest?”

This is the first blog that I titled “Random Voices”.  It would be foolish to begin a search for the first or second edition.

I think the Dark Forest (somewhere in Germany) was named during the night.  When the sun rose in the morning, the people who came up with the name were like, “Oh man!  Look how green this place is!  And look how much light is shining above it!  Maybe we should have named this place the Light Green Forest.”

When someone says, “I have to pee like a racehorse!”  I always picture them getting down on all four, peeing, and then entering the starting gates.  Put your money on these people.  They will probably win the race, but they probably aren’t winners.

When someone says, “I have to pee like you wouldn’t believe!”  I always picture them standing on their head first.  I seriously would not believe that.

I have to stop typing now because I have to use the bathroom.

Buy my book for the back of your toilet.

Ipad App Updates

My ipad is packed full of very important apps that I use daily to increase my productivity.  Yeah, there is an app for that.  For instance, there is the calendar app.  I have it sync’ed up with my Google calendar and now I never miss an appointment.  Except when I do.

And then there are the ever-so important mind strengthening games:  Temple Run, Cut the Rope, Where’s My Water, Bloons, etc.  If you don’t know what these games are, do not go looking for them.  I said, “NOT”.  Watch your step here.  If you find these games, your life will be ruined for the next three weeks—perhaps longer.  Friends and family will fall to the wayside.  You’ll be all too consumed with  those crazy little monkeys popping that one last balloon as if your life depended upon it.  “Yeah, son, that school project that you asked me to help with that’s due tomorrow… I’ll help you out first thing next Tuesday. ”

I guess the best app on my ipad is the online Bible that I downloaded.  That’s right, I have the Bible on my ipad just the way God intended his word to be read: scrolling with one finger, adjusting the font size on the fly, changing the screen brightness to benefit your eyes.  Yes God, you’ve come a long way since etching these good words on stone tablets.

So imagine my surprise as I was checking for “app updates”.

Hey, are you actually imagining it?  Or are you just reading lazy?  Come on, play along now.  You have to “bring it” when reading my blog.

The room was dark and the burning glow of the ipad screen shined upward on Marcus’s face.  In this dimly lit room, the shadows on his face twisted his facial expressions into an unnatural state.  He appeared haunted, somewhat crazed, as he worked the touch screen with an experts command.

No wait.  Image this instead.

The room was dark.   Only light from his ipad and fireplace shined across Marcus’s body.  He was lying on the floor in front of the warm fire, propped up on one elbow.  His torso was twisted to the right which allowed the light from the fireplace to highlight the hills and valleys of his six-pack abs.  

Whoa.  That was creepier than I thought.  You don’t have to “bring it” anymore.

So anyway… I was simply looking for ipad updates for possible fresh releases of new levels to all my awesome time-wasting games when I saw the following.

“Bible – update available”

What is this?  A Bible update!  God is updating the Bible and he is sending me the next installment!  How crazy awesome it that?  Thanks God.

With my mind jumping and my heart thumping I pushed the “update now” button.  I wondered what more God has to say.  Will this next book continue where the last one left off?  Is this a Hollywood style prequel explaining the time before the “In the beginning”?  Or better yet, what I was really hoping for:  Jesus, the Teenage Years.

Of course, as it turns out, the application itself needed the update and not the actual story and words.  Still, I was a little disappointed.  I would have liked to read about Jesus in high school and how he served and saved the children enslaved in after-school detention.

Buy my not quite divine book.