Geez, I’m so damned anal I cringe every time I read the sentence fragment in my last post.
What’s it like for people who just don’t care? Is it a bad thing because then there would be no motivation to do anything? Or is it a good thing because then there would be no pressure, no worries? Sometimes, I wish I could just not care. If I never cared about anything I’d never be sad, right? But does that also mean I’d never be happy? I couldn’t bear to give that up. That’s what I live for. The people and things that make me happy. And I guess if I didn’t care there’d be nothing and no one to randomly smile about in the middle of the day. Dammit, why can’t I selectively not care? I’d like to care a lot on happy days and not at all on sad days. But then I guess if I were never sad I wouldn’t know what happy was. But sad sucks. Sad really sucks.
My punching bag rocks. I can hit it until I can’t even lift my arms and it doesn’t feel a thing. I can hit it with all my might and I know it doesn’t mind. I can hit and kick and tackle it and not hurt its feelings. It just goes back to its original position and lets me hit it some more. And when I get so tired that I can’t hit anymore all I can do is sit there and stare at it and watch it as it stands there looking back at me. It’s not mad at me for hitting it — it just stands there and looks at me and understands. And then I want to get up and give it a big hug and say “thank you for understanding”. But even though I’m too tired to do that it’s okay because it understands that, too. What a good punching bag. What would I do without it?
Wow, so many leany italic words in my last post.
Speed Limit, Right?
I was driving to work today and I realized that the slowest car on the freeway drives at the speed limit. Everyone else drives above it. So then I thought “hrmm… they don’t always specify whether it’s a maximum or minimum limit”. They might mean it to be a maximum limit, but really it’s a lower limit baseline. The real upper limit is X mphs above the posted number, yes?
Okay, so I was being a bit sales-ey when I said that bit about no deer poop. There is always the possibility that the surveillance deer would attract real live deer. In that case, you would definitely have deer poop on your lawn. But hey, think of it as free environmentally friendly fertilizer. You wouldn’t have to worry about the runoff getting into the bay and killing the fishies. Plus, you wouldn’t have to stick those unsightly little yellow signs all over your lawn warning people not to touch, lick, or eat the grass. A little deer poop never killed anyone.
There I go again, with the surveillance deer sales pitch. Okay, here’s one that should get ya: What if your surveillance deer attracted a real live deer that then proceeded to try to mate with your dear deer? The one with the camera in its head. Can we say Discovery Channel?
Yeah, I know you’re ready to buy. Please remember to include your credit card number and expiration date.
So I was walking through this ritzy neighborhood a couple weeks back and there was a deer just standing there in someone’s front yard. It looked really darned lifelike, but it was standing really darned still. Was it a real live deer? Was it a real live deer statue? Then I thought I saw its head move. Indeed, it did. But it was just turning at the neck. The rest of it was, well, still really darned still. Was it a real live deer? Or… was it a surveillance deer? You know, a fake deer that looks really darned real with a camera in its head. Instead of having ugly cameras all over your property, why not put a family of deer on your front lawn? Much more natural that way. I think it’d bring the property value up. Your neighbors would appreciate it too. In fact, they might decide to get surveillance deer of their own. Pretty soon you’d have a whole neighborhood filled with surveillance deer. It’d be like living in the forest, but without the danger of stepping in deer poop when you go out to mow your lawn. Hrmm…
If I started making surveillance deer, would you buy one?
Notice the guy in the blue shirt just to the right of the plant. I think he’s trying to talk to it or something. “Me, greenhouse director. You, Big Bucky.” Yeah, they named it Big Bucky. I guess since it’s a penis plant they couldn’t name it Big Bertha.
So where’s the worship I speak of in the title? It’s here.
If you go to the webcam at night you can watch Big Bucky sleep. It’s cute in a strange kind of way.
Could it be? Is this page now AvantGo enabled? AvantGo subscribers, you tell me. Yes, that would be all one of you. And me. So that’s two of us. And anyone else who has a PDA I don’t know about. And anyone I don’t know about who has a PDA. Whoever you are, click on the above link and let me know if it really works!
This is what happens to birds that don’t play nice. Word has it this bird was running around attacking young girls and flirting with neighborhood pets. No, wait, that was the monkey from last week. This poor sap got lassoed and pepper sprayed by the pO-lice. But not before he dragged a couple of them down the street. Whoo Mr. Emu! Check out that thing’s feet. I think that’s what’s sticking out from under the officer’s arm.