Mind Boggling

Most of you...ok well mostly me, live pretty uninteresting lives. Most of the banalities of our everyday adventures aren't anything too humorous. (Except for Satan's, his are hilarious) But every once in a while we are treated to little nuggets interesting things. As December 25th approaches at an ever increasing rate (so fast that I'm not really ready for it to be Christmas yet) people start to lose their minds and do stupid things. My firts example is as follows...

The other night at Joe's two people came in for some slices. No big deal right? Well there is a catch to it: They don't look like they belong together. No, it wasn't an interracial couple, but an interweight-class couple. See, the chick was this fine ass little honey. Well, actually she was kinda tall, but she was just smokin'. Many shallow men would start a relationship with her based entirely on looks alone and totally disregard the fact that she may be a total bitch. And the dude she was with was absolutely gigantic. Not in the sense that like Shaquille O'Neil is huge, but more like Ralphie May gigantic.

Supperman's fat ass is here to save the freakin' day

In fact, he even had the same kind of face as Ralphie. And the thing that really got us at work was the fact that this girl was absolutely fawning over Tons of Fun in the dining room. All sorts of petting and cute little kisses, except they weren't cute, it was more like visual ipecac. I swear, this guy couldn't even see his own penis, I don't know how he expects her to find it in between the mountains of gelatinous skin and flesh. We at Joe's pizza, being as vapid and shallow as we are were still talking about it the next day. Just typing this I threw up in my mouth a little bit so I'm going to move on...

The other mind boggling thing I saw recently happened while I was out one day in Portsmouth. Every year around the holidays the city graciously stops charging for parking downtown. All the meters are covered up with little red baggies that say something along the lines of "Free Parking! Season Greetings!" But some people look at this and they get a little thought running around their heads. And since this is the only thought in their head because the rest is just empty space, this rogue thought starts running around like a little madman screaming. This confuses the person and instead of thinking "How nice, I can park for free at designated parking areas around town," they think "I can park wherever the fuck I want because I rock!" So they do things like this:

As you can clearly see, there are white lines under the van in question denoting that this is NOT a parking space. But Mr. Mysterious Van Driver felt compelled to park here. The man in the yellow jacket is the lone meter maid out on this day, and he found the only jackass in the city who flagrantly disobeyed the parking laws. Now I parked in this very lot that day and there were plenty of free spots when I got there, and the Van was not there when I arrived. It was however there when I left, but so were a bunch of other empty spots. So either this guy is a total jackass, or a total idiot. And if he has the audacity to do this when there is plentiful free parking, I'm sure he's a repeat offender and his bitch ass ugly van is soooooooo going to get booted.

And that isn't enough for you, here is some more flagrant malparkage. And this one is even worse. I mean, how lazy and afraid of the rain can you be so you'd pull off this. Link courtesy of wwtdd.com.

Birthday Blues

Yesterday, December 13th, was my birthday. And as it has been for the past 4 years, it was incredibly depressing. See the past four years, I've had absolutely miserable birthdays. And actually, my 18th, 17th, and 16th birthdays weren't anything to get all excited about either. Most people outside of my family forget my birthday, because its obviously not memorable. For my 19th and 20th birthdays I was stressing out for finals, and finished just before the 13th hit. But I ended up having to spend about 12 hours in a car riding from JMU to New Hampshire. Then the past two instances, the big 21 included, I spent the whole time just studying. My nose in a stupid book all day and night. And then when I actually got to go out for my birthday last year I threw up like 8 times....including once on my brand new leather jacket, and once on the side of Tricia's brand new car while I leaned out the window. No puking this year though....although after the massive amounts of food I ate this evening I wouldn't totally rule it out. To help myself feel better I'm going to take a trip down memory lane at highlight all the best stuff about birthdays from the first to the present. And then steer you down your future birthdays so you all get as depressed as me.

1 year old: Well isn't it obvious? You didn't die in your first year of existence so you don't suck at life that hard!! I also remember on my brothers first birthday he didn't quite understand you were supposed to blow the candles out. So he put the flame out with his little baby hand. I laughed for hours. Even at 4 1/2 years old I was still a jackass.

2 years old: Holy Crap! Your age doubles at this point, relative to years that is. Good thing that trend didn't keep up or I'd actually be 2,097,152 years old....which would make me about as old as the human race.

7 years old: I don't know about anyone else, but this is when I really started getting cool presents and having fun parties. Sweet ninja turtles, maybe a new video game if I was lucky, and for me, it was birthday parties at The Dream Machine, a crappy little arcade at the mall.

10 years old: double digits, and always a new pair of basketball kicks. Life was good. I remember on this birthday we had a massive snowstorm and it knocked the power out at my house. We were supposed to make ninja turtle pizzas, but instead we had to go to pizza hut. and then to the dream machine. again.

13 years old: In some circles, mostly jewish ones, you are considered a man at this point. Some even more bizarre circles arrange marriages for the kids at this point. But in the good old US of A it simply marks the time when you become a teenager. Now you think you hot shit, but you're not. You are still a fucking kid. Only now you can't go to the dream machine for your parties anymore. This one was special to me because I turned 13 on Friday the 13th. Fortunately nobody died.

16 years old: Awwww...the sweet 16. Well, actually if you are a guy, 16 just means its time to get your drivers license. And maybe you can almost look old enough to buy cigarettes without needing to show ID. Not me though. I decided I didn't want my license until about 8 months later because I didn't want to get a job, and the stipulation was get a job, get a license. I was being kinda lazy back then. Come to think of it...I'm still kinda lazy...

18 years old: Lotto tickets!! Cigarettes!! PORN!!! w00t! You are now officially a man in the eyes of the government. You can pick which candidate you think is least likely to screw up the country as president and die at his command overseas. But you can't be trusted with beer yet. You only need to be 18 to shoot up Iraqis, but 21 to take shots from the Iraqi bartender.

21 years old: Ok, now you can legally ruin your liver. Often times people have already partied out by the time they are 21, and now that the allure of drinking illegally is passed, excessive binge drinking is a thing of a past. For most anyways. Well...for me anyways. Theres only one more real privilage you get as you get older....

25 years old: Now you are wicked responsible!! You can rent cars and your car insurance goes down because you are no longer in that "high risk" group of 16-24 year old males. I'll drink to that!!

40 years old: Time for a midlife crisis. If you are married, get a divorce, buy a convertible, and runaway with a girl half your age and use her for sex like she uses you for money. If you aren't married, start freakin out because you have yet to leave your legacy to the world behind. And if you haven't gotten married by this point, you are never going to meet anyone, because if you were perceived as women to be creepy by women leading up to this point, you just get creepier as you get older.

65 years old: Its time to retire and collect that social security check you've been paying the government for your whole life. Now you can move down to Hell's waiting room and buy a nice little condo in Del Boca Vista condos, Phase III, become condo president, then get impeached because your well-to-do child bought you a new cadillac and community gets suspicious. If you are in my generation and you didn't invest your money wisely, which most of you wont....but I will, you aren't allowed to retire yet. Sorry.

75 years old: Ok, now my contemporaries can retire. You just better hope you don't have to suffer through the humiliation of crapping yourself at work and asking one of your younger, better looking coworkers to change your adult diapers at the Koala Kare changing station.

85 years old: I AIN'T DEAD YET MOTHERFUCKERS!! Now you are just a curmudgeonly old man, and nobody likes you. You retell old war stories from wars you never served in...because every old man is a war hero.

100 years old: This may be a common occurance once I reach this age, but its still so old. I probably wouldn't be able to move around on my own. Hopefully I will have become president of Cheif Justice of the Supreme Court during my life making assisted suicide legal, because existence as a 100 year old smelly waste of space is the last thing I want to do.

Internet Soapbox

I know that for the most part this has been a "humorous" blog. That is, I write what I may think is funny and then you guys read it and mildly chuckle at something, while every once in a while a gem like The Tiny Man comes about. But I feel as though it is my civic duty to help improve this country, as well as make it laugh. Today, I'm going to get up on my Internet Soapbox and put forth a radical new idea that may very well improve the nation. More than likely it will be completely ignored by anyone with any real power. But I can pretend that what I have to say is a good idea and important right?

My idea today concerns the Federal Budget...somewhat anyways. I've obtained a copy of the Mid-Session Review of the Federal Budget, available here. Now, Its about 46 pages of tables, balance sheets, and accounting jargon that most of you are probably not trained in at all, and some of you only minimally. I personally can only scratch the surface. But a-scratched' I will go.

First off, for all you economic naysayers. Look at pages 11 and 12. These are the economic assumptions made by the Federal Government, Federal Reserve, and leading national economists. Gross domestic product has in fact grown by a robust 3.4% from last year, based on year 2000 dollars. That's a very healthy clip. And although that may lead to a higher inflation rate, the Fed Reserve is going to do everything within their power to curb that. Which basically means they will raise interest rates. The economy is good. Quit your bitching.

Now the budget on a whole is at 2.472 trillion dollars. That's an astronomical number. That is a number comparable to the number of stars in the milky way galaxy. But it still only represents about 20.1% of our 12.271 trillion dollar GDP. The net deficit runs at about $333 billion in the red, or about 2.7% of GDP. While that may seem like an impressive number, its really not. The government projects to be at a 1.1% deficit by 2008, so once again, things aren't as bad as they seem.

But there does seem to be a big stink raised lately of the "inflating" government budget. Mind you, its only inflating in inflationary terms, at a pace slower than GDP.

But everybody loves it when there are surpluses...or at least less negative defects. And I have an idea that might help reduce the deficit. You see, the government is notorious for approving Pork barrel Projects, projects that require huge sums of money to be given out to various states for things they may or may not need. These projects are usually championed by Senators and representatives as something that will provide an economic boon to the state, which means more tax dollars to the federal government as a whole. One that many people don't know about is how the US Government keeps the price of corn, milk, and other agricultural products artificially high by buying up huge surpluses left behind by the free market. If they didn't do that, then the market clearing price of such farm commodities would be much lower to your average consumer, AND our tax dollars wouldn't be wasted on buying up unsold milk so it can be destroyed. But the most famous of these projects is the fabled Bridge to Nowhere.

Visualize a double span, rising to 200 feet above ocean level, going from Ketchikan, Alaska (pop. 14,500) to Gravina Island (pop. 50 on a good day). The only thing of note on the island is Ketchikan's airport, which has six passenger flights most days. Maybe a few more during the summer. The ferries between Ketchikan and the airport run half-filled. And Ketchikan isn't even connected to the North American road system; if you go more than 10 miles from town, you run out of road.

This bridge, was earmarked for federal funds. A project that was estimated to be between 200 and 300 million dollars. Thats a lot of money for just 50 people to get to the mainland and not have any road access to the rest of the state. That's about $4-6 million per person. Now the only place in the country where you can find 50 people worth more than $6 million dollars on one small island is Manhattan. And they have several bridges that cost considerably less to build. Now recently the government, probably out of embarrassment, dropped the Bridge from its budget, but allowed Alaska to keep the money they got for it and spend it as they wished. And the Alaskan Governor is deciding to keep the bridge going. This got me thinking. Alaska only has a population of 626,932 people. And they get large sums of money for those people. Now I bet a state like California: pop 33,871,648, gets a lot of money. Probably more than Alaska. But I bet per person, Alaska actually gets more. And it probably gets more money per person than either New York or Texas too. And that is where the problem lies.

My proposition is to rework how the government gives the states money. No longer should the government earmark funds from its own federal budget for state projects just so Senators can serve another 6 years. I believe that the total amount of money that is doled out to states should be examined, and several of these pork projects cut. Then take the remaining total dollar value and divide it by the total population. Each state would then get a certain amount of money per person that they have living there. A sort of per-capita distribution of the money. It is then up to the states to judiciously decide how to responsibly manage their monies. And unlike the social security debacle that we've had, where its only slightly been adjusted for inflation every so often, these funds would be adjusted for each successive budget. Say inflation ran at about 2% from 2005 to 2006. Then the states as a whole would about 2% more nominal dollars per person. And since a census is done every 10 years, it wouldn't be any more of a cost burden to collect population data than it already is.

Of course, this plan would never pass. There are too many special interest groups who help put the congressmen and women in office and expect those government kickbacks in return. And then there are the people of the states who get more than their fair share, they will be upset too. But maybe some of that 200 million that is being spent on a bridge for 50 people and the money spent on a few million gallons of unsold milk could have been earmarked for something like....I don't know, DISASTER RELIEF?

If you think this is a good idea, then write to your local congressperson or senator, or at the very least leave me a nice comment to make me feel like I'm not a total crackpot for thinkin up this harebrained scheme.

Project Snowblind

12/9/05 - 8:15 AM -- The alarm goes off. It sounds like a perverted beep hellbent on ruining your slumber. I slap at it a few times and it shuts off. In 15 minutes I'll be shocked out of bed by Mozart's Symphony No. 40. Knowing that this is not the way I want to kick off the last day of classes I hurriedly find the cell phone and disable its alarm. I then realize that there was the acute possibility of snow for early in the morning and during the day. After a few minutes of holding the phone and collecting my drowsy thoughts (there were only two of them), I make a phone call.

8:18 AM -- 862-0000. The UNH Storm line. I dial and wait for the automated voice....because it costs too much money to pay someone to pick up the phone. (They really should adopt what JMU does, and put the announcment on their homepage). "There are no scheduled curtailed operations at this time." So the snow isn't that bad. I get out of bed and proceed with normal morning protocol.

9:05 AM -- I pull out of the driveway. I have to make it to UNH in time for a 10:10 class, and seeing that there are questionable road conditions, I decide it wouldn't be prudent to stop off for coffee and bagels on my way in. My neighborhood isn't plowed yet, though it rarely is at this juncture of a storm.

9:06 AM -- I reach the end of Glendale Ave, where it connects to Lafayette Road (US Rte. 1). Lafayette is plowed either, and there is a steady stream of snow coming down, with no signs of letting up. But surely UNH wouldn't put me, along with the couple other thousand commuters (both faculty, staff, and students) in any sort of real peril just so we could go to school today. But wait, Winnacunnet (my local school district) along with Portsmouth, Dover, Newmarket, Exeter, and Oyster River (Durham) are all cancelled for the day, along with UNH-Manchvegas. They must have over reacted right? I mean there is barely 2 or 3 inches on the ground, and they were saying all week, they being those asshole weathermen that I have such high esteem for, were telling us that we were going to get 3-5 inches max. The storm is almost over and I can finish my learning for the semester!!

9:30 AM -- I reach the Portsmouth Traffic Circle. Still a good 15-20 minutes away from UNH on a clear day. I took Route 1 because I figured there was no way in hell Route 108 (the alternate UNH route) would have been cleared. Well, Route 1, and the subsequent roads Spaulding Turnpike and Route 4 weren't cleared either. And the snow has actually INTENSIFIED at this point. But no, I have infallable believe that my higher learning institution wouldn't try and kill me. Otherwise, how would they collect those large sums of money from me if I was dead.

9:55 AM -- I reach A lot. Usually A-lot is full by this time, and I have to park at East Bumfuck lot and ride a bus to campus. But it looks like most weren't as foolish as me. They didn't trust President Anne Weaver Hart like I did. It is at this point that I remember a similar style of snowstorm occuring last school year, in which UNH did not cancel class. And a professor died on her way to work. Let me repeat that for you all. A PROFESSOR DIED ON HER WAY TO WORK. AND THE UNIVERSITY ADMINISTRATION DIDN'T EVEN FLINCH. Such is the way of living in New England I suppose...

"Oh I'm Anne Weaver Hart! I don't care I risked hundreds of lives today by not cancelling school. I'm a super ice bitch!!"

10:10 AM -- Chemistry....i'll spare you those hideous details...

11:10 AM -- Managerial Accounting....I don't want to put you guys to sleep. At this point I didn't realize that the snowfall rate was increasing while I listened to Meng Yuan stammer her way through the last part of Chapter 13.

12:30 PM -- After taking a pretty long shit, I make the looooooooooong hike back to A lot. (At this point I would have rather taken the bus to nowhere) Might I add, Durham is a mess. There was no reason for anybody to be out at all today...walking or driving.

12:50 PM -- I've left downtown Durham, and I'm driving along Route 4 in WHITEOUT conditions. I can't see more than 50 feet in front of me. My Chevy Blazer, which really sucks, sucks even worse in the snow. I'm fishtailin' left and right, chuggin along at about 25 mph. When I reach the Spaulding Turnpike, I have massive ice buildup on my wipers so they aren't clearing anything off the windshield. Its pretty scary now as cars are disappearing a mere 20 feet ahead of me. This is scary shit.

1:30 PM -- I finally get home, and I can't even make it up the driveway. I turn on the assholes at the weather channel. Oops, they got it wrong. They said, for apparently the 3rd or 4th time today, that they were going to have to upgrade their snowfall totals to a whopping 12"+. More than a foot of snow. Wow. Thats at least twice as much snow as you said we were originally going to get. Thanks for lying to me. Again.

As I was shoveling my very large driveway, the snow continues to fall. It ends...eventually, and by my best estimates, we got about 15 or 16 inches of snow at my house. Thats a lot more than a foot of snow even. Yup...

So basically what it boils down to is this.
1) Do not trust The Weather Channel. They are asshole douchebag losers. They lie to you all the time. And when the shit really hits the fan, all they can tell you is what you can already figure out by looking out your window. Fuck you Weather Channel.

And then one of two things: either...
a. UNH watches the weather channel. If so, then their actions today were somewhat understandable, as TWC tried to fool all of us into thinking it wouldn't be so bad. But UNH should be slapped in the head and reprimanded. No More Weather Channel for you.

or

b. UNH Wants To Kill Its Constituents. This is what I'm leaning towards. They probably already knew it was going to be a large storm, and didn't care. So what if it's the last day of classes. We need to put as many people at risk as humanly possible. Those fuckers couldn't give two shits if I slid off the bridge and into Great Bay today. But they might give two shits when my family sues them for gross negligence, or negligent homocide, or something. Fuck you too UNH, I hope you and the Weather Channel both just burn in hell someday.

An Open Letter to Saginaw

Dear Loyal Reader(s) in Saginaw,

I greatly appreciate your enthusiastic following of my infantile blog. And though it may be in its infancy, it already has a few fans, you being among them. But one thing sets You apart from the rest of my readers.

Ah, beautiful Saginaw, MI, where the Saginaw River cuts through its heart

I can't quite put my finger on it. There's just something different about you that makes you special. Now, I may or may not personally know you. Regardless of this, I would like to know you're identity. You see, I have approximately 19 hits from you over the past 19 days. Some days You actually hit The Party twice. I can't blame you, its a pretty chill party. I have a few friends stop by for a little bit and enjoy themselves. My brother has a few friends over, they chill and have a bit of a laugh. Even a few people randomly off the internet street stop by, from as far away as The UK, Germany, France and Argentina. (I'm an international sensation) For the most part, I can discern from the stats I collect who or what is reading my material. Virginia? I have an idea of who it might be. New Hampshire? Its where the majority of my hits come from (via UNH). Delaware? I got a few peeps holdin' it down in the 302. NYC? Yes, I am pretty sure I know who you are and what you are doing, as you are really the only person that I know in NYC.

I admit, I've gotten a few random hits I didn't expect, like Los Angeles, Dallas, Pennsylvania....and for the most part, Saginaw, MI. It was only until recently that I realized that I had at least one hit a day from this town, specifically one IP address. I don't know who it is, who it might be, if I know this person, or whether or not this is some sort of fluke. (It happens sometimes, as my own IP address shows up as Boston, not North Hampton) What it all boils down to is, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Is it you Mayor Caroll Cottrell? Are you my secret admirer?

I don't mean to be so rude, but I'm really just curious as to who you might be. I'd really appreciate an answer. You can contact me by leaving a comment down below. Or you can email me at bjd3@cisunix.unh.edu, or you can hit me up on AIM at Bronx Bomberz 41. Anyway you contact me, just do it, because I want to find out who you are. And I also want to know what the hell this might be...

I mean seriously, is that some sort of weird church? Who's designing your city anyways, 12th century Russian Architects?


Sincerely,

Brian Harvey,
Enchanted Party Thrower