Shawn Johnson is My Favorite Chipmunk

Watching adorable chipmunk person Shawn Johnson win the gold tonight warmed my little grinch heart to its core. Seeing her eyes light up when she realized she had won made me want to have children and then shower them in Christmas presents. As she made her little Charlie Chaplin waddle up to the podium, I took joy knowing that she’d still have the same big smile if she had won silver or gold. What a good little representative of America. I hope they make a little porcelain angel version of her to put up on my mantle during the winter.

Only because I’m bored

Here’s what I’ve been bumping lately:

Kings of Leon - Sex On Fire

Ryan Adams - Cherry Lane

The Frames - Locusts

Phish - 10/31/98 in Vegas, the entire show has like nine plays on my iTunes this week

Randy Newman - Burn On

Steve Earle - Warrior

Ghostface - Big Girl

Leo Kottke - Rings

Terence Blanchard - Levees

Rufus Wainwright - Little Sister

Anthony Hamilton - I’m a Mess

Least Effective Facebook Ad of 2008

Thanks for the heads up, Thrillist.

Holy MacDonald!!!

If you didn’t watch the roast of Bob Saget tonight, you missed some serious funnies. Maybe this says something about my sense of humor, or my friends, I don’t know, but Norm MacDonald’s bit was unequivocally the funniest thing I had seen in months. I was beside myself, laughing so hard my brain was numb. So well executed, so original. Will post the video as soon as someone gets it to youtube.

Update: Enjoy!

Space: The Irrelevant Frontier

NASA’s 2008 budget is well over 17 billion dollars. Wow. Like many others, I find myself asking if it is necessary, or even beneficial, for that matter, to use taxpayer money to fly around in spaceships. Is the information pertinent to our future survival? Or is NASA just the governmental equivalent of checking for monsters in the closet before going to bed?

This depends. Renowned astrophysicist Stephen Hawking once said, “It is important for the human race to spread out into space for the survival of the species.  Life on Earth is at the ever-increasing risk of being wiped out by a disaster, such as sudden global warming, nuclear war, a genetically engineered virus or other dangers we have not yet thought of.”

In response to that, I ask, is life on Mars or the moon really a better alternative? I think that it’s fair to note that YOU CAN’T BREATHE IN SPACE! There’s no water or anything else necessary for survival, and I imagine that interplanetary jetlag is just a nightmare. I’m going to take a stab in the dark, but maybe outer space wasn’t designed with humans in mind.

With all due respect to Mr. Hawking, the last thing I’m thinking of at the end of the world is taking up a duplex with Marvin the Martian. It is beyond depressing thinking about a typical morning on Mars: Oh, what a beautiful day—oh wait, it’s not beautiful, because I’m wearing a glass helmet and it is dark. And here comes another awe-inspiring dust storm to frustrate my allergies and wreak havoc on my vegetable garden—not that anything grows here, because there is ice in the soil.

Keep in mind the harrowing journey, too, that is required to travel to Mars. To escape Earth’s gravity, one must travel at seven miles per second. Don’t bother doing your hair that morning. Furthermore, a journey to Mars would take eight months. I’ve never been stuck in a room with someone for more than a couple of hours, but even then my stories get repetitive. Eight months? Fuh-getta-boutit.

So maybe it isn’t necessary or safe to explore Mars, but can we really put a dollar value on the human desire for knowledge and exploration? Yes, four dollars. Because if someone approaches me and asks, “Would you like to see something that has never seen before by human eyes?” in reference to some newly discovered Martian germ, I would pay no more than four dollars. When it comes down to it, a germ is a germ, and I am more than satisfied with what has been given to me on this planet.

No Match for Beijing Smog

Why the US Women’s Gymnastics Wins Gold Over China

There’s something disenchanting and creepy about the Chinese women’s gymnastics team. Sure, their performance was outstanding, but it’s hard to feel anything but pity for them. All I’ve heard is how these girls were plucked from the cradle and thrown into this gymnastics machine, where they no longer had rights to see their families, where every waking moment was devoted to learning and perfecting gymnastics. Whether or not they’re all sixteen (there’s no way), all these girls have been denied what should be a very basic right, and that is to live. To lose all that is important and to substitute it with, well, something that is only important once every four years (and to very few people), you know that in the end they’ve lost. Is a gold medal even worth a fraction of that cost? No way. I couldn’t wish a life like that on my worst enemy.

*End Sappiness*

Let’s not forget to mention how…weird the Chinese girls look. They look like mutated sewer monsters. America has these adorable cartoon chipmunk people like Alicia Sacramone and Shawn Johnson, but the Chinese girls look like evolutionary stragglers. The only normal-ish looking one—don’t know any of their names—is the one who is missing a couple of teeth on the left side of her mouth. I’m guessing they’re baby teeth, and that the tooth fairy definitely did not visit her. Either way, for a country that clearly cherishes appearances over endearment (see news story about girl that sang in opening ceremony) you think they could spring for a couple of lookers. Sorry, glitter can’t cover ugly.

PS: It’s totally uncharacteristic of me to go for something like the Olympics, but I can’t help it. I’ve gone crazy! I go back to school in less than a week, and I’m turning down hanging out with my friends to watch the Olympics. Everything is interesting to me. I need help. My eyes hurt from watching.

This made my night

This was a search term that directed someone to my blog:

“Is there a special or polite way to eat corn on the cob so that you dont squirt people”

The Truth Behind Montauk

“Yesterday, Gawker ran what appeared to be a photo of a bloated, leathery animal corpse — only it was like no animal anyone had seen before. A stout, hairless creature with a beak, claws, and the almond-shaped eyes familiar from renderings of space aliens, it looked, in short, like a monster. Hence the headline: ‘Dead Monster Washes Ashore in Montauk.’”- New York Magazine

Minion: Your Disgracefulness, I have some alarming news.

Satan: Not now, can’t you see I’m getting my tail sharpened?

Minion: It’s Oliver, he got left behind in the human world.

Satan: Get outta town! You’re yanking my chain, aren’t you? If you’re messing with me, I’ll stick you on Chris Farley sponge bath detail.

Minion: No sir, this is no joke. He washed ashore in Montauk.

Satan: What was he doing in Montauk?

Minion: Just making his rounds. Messing with brakes, readjusting magazines in gas stations so the more provocative ones are visible to children, confusing the elderly. The usual.

Satan: Well, is he dead?

Minion: We think so. A picture of him is circling the internet and he’s not looking very lively.

Satan: A picture? Is it at least inspiring fear and terror into the hearts of all those who gaze upon it? Can they feel my wrath tingling at the back of their necks? Do the people feel Hell’s flames biting at their heels?

Minion: Um, not quite, Your Disgracefulness. Most people who saw the picture just assumed it was another Britney Spears crotch shot.

Satan: But Oliver was one of my most wretched and appalling creations! I spent days defining his beak, coloring his rump, and sculpting his bulges. Surely someone was terrified.

Minion: I suppose it’s a possibility…I think people are more entertained, if anything. Like there’s this one website where his image circles around and around with Whitney Houston playing in the back—

Satan: ENOUGH! I’m off to my lab to come up with something really, really scary. What are humans most afraid of?

Minion: Um according to Google, spiders, commitment, and the dark.

Satan: Then I shall create an enormous wedding ring-wearing arachnid with Al Sharpton’s head!

Being Chris Hansen’s Daughter

Katie: Dad, I’m home.

Chris Hansen: Katie, why don’t you take a seat, right over there.

Katie: Okay.

Chris Hansen: Katie, according to a report I get sent to my email, you were instant messaging last night with Karen5059.

Katie: Yeah, that’s Mom.

Chris Hansen: Is it?

Katie: Yeah.

Chris Hansen: Is it?

Katie: Yeah.

Chris Hansen: It’s not.

Katie: Dad, what are you talking about?

Chris Hansen: That was me pretending to be your mother.

Katie: Are you serious?

Chris Hansen: You should be grateful, too, it could’ve been a bad guy. A predator.

Katie: Dad, please, not now. This is so stupid.

Chris Hansen: He could’ve done bad things to you, Katie. He could’ve taken you up to your room and gone potty on you.

Katie: Ew, Dad, stop it. I’ve been through sex ed, you don’t have to talk to me like I’m a little kid.

Chris Hansen: You gave me—or the bad guy, rather—six dangerous pieces of information. One, you said where you were going to be after school. Two, you said that you enjoy playing soccer. Three, you said we needed more Coke for the garage fridge, and he could’ve have brought you Coke…laced with poison.

Katie: Okay Dad, really, this is enough.

Chris Hansen: He could’ve tied your mother up in the coat closet and shoved her mouth full of dynamite. Predators do these things. They don’t feel like we do. And another thing, I’ve noticed on the cell phone bill that you texted someone named Lucas eleven times this month.

Katie: Yeah, so?

Chris Hansen: How old is Lucas?

Katie: Fourteen.

Chris Hansen: Did you know that in the state of New York, fourteen is considered a legal minor?

Katie: Dad, I am a minor.

Chris Hansen: Or so you think.

Katie: No, I know my own age.

Chris Hansen: Life throws surprises. For example, I’m not even your dad.

Katie: …

Chris Hansen: I’m Ken Griffey Jr..

Katie: …

Chris Hansen: And just like that, I kill you. And go potty on you. I hope you’ve learned a lesson.

Katie: Anything else?

Chris Hansen: Yeah, I sewed dime-sized trackers into all of your underwear, so make sure you don’t fart, otherwise you might dust up the circuitry. I’m Chris Hansen.