I Want Realism!

It’s easy to get caught up in trying to find justification for every single minute detail of your favorite TV show--we all have an abundance of free time on our hands. Oh, what’s that, single-mom-of-ten-kids, you don’t have four hours to spare just so you can dissect the secular motive of every single character from LOST? Can’t spare a few hours to write an essay on how Walter White’s favorite color of Hanes underwear on Breaking Bad reflects his mood? Well, no wonder you've had such a hard time making any sense of everything always in your life. Yeah, The Others were ghosts, great theory. Don't let the stupid hit you on the way out.

Now...Seeing as though we’re free of all those suckers who have "priorities" and "electric bills to pay," let’s go to the local 'Bucks, crack open our new Mac L-tops, and have a little chat about The Walking Dead.

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Amazon Review: Lettuce Juice Powder

Click Here For My Review

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The Paradigms, Episode 4: The Wild Bunch

Remember in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure when Bill and Ted went back in time and end up in the Old West, and they fucking piss off everyone in like ten seconds because they are such bros and they try to be bros with all the old cranky dirty cowboys in the saloon? But instead of getting themselves shot to death, they escape by jumping in their telephone time machine with Billy the Kid? Of course you remember, because you own that shit on Laserdisc. Don't lie.

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THERE WILL BE PLENTY OF TIME TO ENJOY THE WEATHER

If you live in the New York metro area, yesterday and today are the first really nice weather days of 2012. And already, people are starting to bitch and moan about having to work inside. At lunch, I overheard two people complaining about being "stuck" inside on a day like today. That they would do "anything" to work "outside" so they can enjoy the nice weather all of the time. Well, I hate to break it to these dreamers, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that jobs that boast "working outside" as one of its perks aren't always the most desirable. In fact, if presented with the opportunity to transition to one of these jobs, I'm going to bet that when the men in black suits come to take away your precious blackberry and Outlook conference calls, you will run and hide in the supply closet and pray to Siri that they never find you. Because you are an tech ADDICT!

But hey, I like to play to whole, 'what if' game. I loved "Choose Your Own Adventure" books when I was kid, even if I always chose the adventure that led to my death by time traveling dinosaurs in an ancient Indian burial ground massacre. So let's run through those outside jobs and see which ones fit your profile best.

- Fisherman
You're too much of a baby to bait a hook, let alone have to brain a tiger shark with a wooden club as it tries to eat your friend Wayne, who fell overboard again (such a Wayne move!).

- Archeologist
I bet you couldn't even pass the archeologist exam. Remember when you failed the Biology Regents in 9th grade, and you had to go to summer school, and we used to ride our bikes to the school and wave at you through the window while you sat in the un-air-conditioned classroom and stared at that fat teacher and probably had to hold back tears because we were being such dicks? What an idiot you were.

- Sanitation Worker
Want to be a garbage man? Garbage men get to work outside. They also get to sift through feces and rotting vegetables. Does that sound better than sitting in your ergonomically-designed chair reading People.com?

Ohhhhhhh that's right, you want the outside job where you twirl around in circles and write sonnets about your Egyptian cotton sheets or whatever. Well, those jobs don't exist anywhere except inside your stupid brain. So stop complaining about your "inside" job and be happy you have a desk and a computer and the internet. The internet is better than outside, anyway. The internet has an unending amount of entertainment. All outside has is a bunch of trees and the sun. And all the sun is good for is giving you cancer and making you uncomfortable in your gabardine slacks.

Unfortunately, the whining only gets worse as the warm weather becomes more consistent. People literally spend nine hours a day on Facebook writing fake letters to the sky about how they wish they were enjoying what the sky was giving to the world that day.

Dear Spring,

I wish I were with you right now.

Love,

You

Hey, dummy, the sky doesn't have Facebook, so stop. Now. Stop writing letters to weather, it's insane. But hey, go on being jealous of all those lucky people sitting outside right now. I'm sure all homeless people without jobs or a roof spend their days soaking up the sun and playing flag football together in the park and not worrying about why the decisions they made early on in life afforded them so much free time outdoors. Yeah, I bet that's happening while you IM your friends and talk about how you can't wait for the weekend so you can stand in the sun and stare at the clouds with your magical make-believe boyfriend/girlfriend that nobody believes really exists, because who would date someone who can't stop bitching about the weather and writing letters to rain and sunshine?

But I have the perfect solution for everyone who feels like they just can't go on with their lives any longer unless they spend more time outdoors. Follow these three easy steps to instant and unlimited outside time:

Step 1: Quit your job
Step 2: Start doing heroin
Step 3: Go live under a highway overpass

VOILA! Now you have ample time to lay in a field and enjoy the nice weather. That is, until it gets cold again and you freeze to death in your highway overpass cardboard box duplex.

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The Paradigms, Episode 3: 28 Days Later

Whenever the zombie apocalypse finally happens due to a stash of secret chemical weapons being sabotaged in a lab by some stupid terrorist group comprised of a bunch of white guys/gals and definitely not Middle Easterners because that would be racist, I'd love to imagine that I will one of the lucky ones who survives the ensuing war. But c'mon, we all know that's bullshit. 99% of the world will perish, either by being bitten/eaten by the undead, or by blowing themselves up with homemade grenades and howitzers. And there's no doubt in my mind that I would be part of the latter group, because I would so goddamn excited and pants-shittingly-scared about everything going down that my first instinct would be to grab my stupid pry bar and baseball bat and head out into the unwinding of society looking to crack some skulls without having to worry about jail and the ensuing rape/gang-joining stuff that is customary. Then, when one of those bastards breaks into my living room, I cock back, swing, miss wildly, fall down, split my pants, and am quickly and painfully devoured sitting there like an asshole wearing a pair of ripped pants. Running a close second to this scenario is the one where I escape the city and head to some remote location only to starve to death because I forgot to pack pop tarts and water, and instead of gathering necessities, I spent most of my prep time looting gun stores and hammering nails through the head of my Louisville Slugger.

And all of this ranting is testament as to why I love 28 Days Later so so much. It just makes you think. Not in the way that The Pianist makes you think, like the whole, "Ehhh, mankind is sooooo fucked up how could people do this shit to one another..." Fuck no. The Pianist was a great movie but it also made me want to drink a bottle of Drano. 28 Days Later is thought-provoking in a more fun and exciting way, as in: "Just what in the fuck would I do if that weird guy across the street who wears girls snow boots suddenly turned into a brains-eating zombie? I'd have to bash in his head him with my police baton, no?"

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Hate Parade - Tapas & Other Consorts

I never wanted to eat anything when I was growing up. Come meal time, I wasn't eating a damn thing, and I was going to make sure the whole room knew about my unhappiness by whining until my father would make me go upstairs and sit in the dark. And rightfully so - if I ever have a kid who pulls shit like that, he's sitting outside during dinner, no bargaining. Obviously I ate some things, but they were all terrible. For example, I used to to eat plain hamburgers from McDonald's. What? Who does this to their body voluntarily? You're better off eating from the dumpster out back. I bet homeless people would turn away a plain hamburger from McDonald's because it's so repulsive that starving and dying under an overpass is a better option. Have you ever seen a plain hamburger from McDonald's? It's so gross. Also, I used to eat spaghetti with nothing but melted butter on top. Another exciting night for me, just some good old-fashioned linguini with a pile of Land-O-Lakes on top. I should have been forced to live in a war-torn Sudanese village for a year with nothing to eat but rice while guerrillas aimed machine guns at my face, just so I could come back to the States and appreciate all of the deliciousness that I had right at my stupid little fingertips.

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Hate Parade - Vanity License Plates are Terrible

When I think of vanity, I think of the movie Se7en. Yeah, I know, Capt. Obvious, I'm not great at word associations. When someone says "pupil," I think of an eyeball, and then I get really grossed out and lose focus for a minimum of forty minutes while picturing a microscopic photo of some weirdo's eyeball. Because really, what kind of normal person would say, "Oh, you want to use a microscopic camera to take photographs of my eyeball? Hmm, that doesn't seem weird at all. What time do you want to come over and do that? 8p? Sure. 8p is fine. I should be done skinning the captured drifters I have in my basement by 8p. See you then."

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