Rambling Rhodes

Why Caroline and I Are Bound For Hell

Caroline says: Every time I hear something about swine flu, I just think it's the past-tense version of that ol' saying "when pigs fly."

Ryan says: Media over-hype at its worst.

Caroline says: I'm wondering when we'll see: KILL ALL THE PIGS! THE PIGS MUST DIE!

Ryan says: Egypt already did that.

Caroline says: History repeats itself.

Ryan says: No. Seriously: http://www.smh.com.au/world/egypt-orders-national-pig-slaughter-20090430-aoew.html

Caroline says: I wasn't aware of that.

Ryan says: Slay all pigs as a precaution against a human-to-human transmitted disease. Reason #8,979 why the Middle East sucks.

Caroline says: Slay like an Egyptian ...

Ryan says: All the fops in the pig-killing shops Wayyyyy ohhhhh wayyyy ohhhhh. Wayyyyy ohhh wayyyy ohhhhh.

Ryan says: It's like a holocaust for pigs.

Ryan says: Swin-o-caust.

Caroline says: oinkocost

Ryan says: Brain waves = SO CLOSE.

Caroline says: Wicked close

Caroline says: I was going to do swinocost, but I thought that was too obv'

Ryan says: Oink-schwitz.

Caroline says: 8:36 a.m.: We've reached hell-worthy level.

Ryan says: Oink-schwitz sounds like a really nasty-tasting beer.

Ryan says: "Exterminate your liver with Oink-schwitz."

Caroline says: Swine Swill

Ryan says: "When you're out of good beer, make Oink-schwitz your Final Solution."

Ryan says: If I ever write under a pseudonym, it will be David Hannnardlers.

Ryan says: Or Thomas Hitler.

Caroline says: Tommy!

Ryan says: We kind of have a Nazi theme going to our convo today.

Caroline says: Must be Thursday.

Ryan says: We need to make a banner to hang downtown that says "Have a Happy Nazi Thursday!"

Ryan says: I'm thinking the skyway over Broadway.

Ryan says: Ooh, ooh, better yet. "Jew All Have a Happy Nazi Thursday!"

Caroline says: Nazi Thursday? I thought it was NAKED Thursday?

Ryan says: Why not combine them?

Caroline says: And offer free cotton candy and circumcisions.

Ryan says: Naked Nazi Thursday: When Being Naked and a Nazi Feels Just Reich.

Caroline says: That's bound to be only the best Thursday ever.

Ryan says: I wonder, if I post this convo to my blog, whether we'll be visited by homeland security.

Caroline says: I wonder what kind of house-warming gift homeland security brings when it visits.

Ryan says: A waterboard.

Caroline says: Practical and affordable. That homeland security is good.

Ryan says: They always know just what to get you.

Swine Flu Alert Level Raised to:

Today's Swine Flu Warning Level Is:

Now, if I could just get reparations

Okay, first, a little family background. My sister-in-law is a single mother with an adorable two-year-old daughter, who now qualifies as my niece. The two-year-old niece happens to be dark-skinned, owing to the fact my sister-in-law's choice of bedmate a few years ago happened to be of Dominican origin.

Okay, next, a little jiu-jitsu gym background. One of my fellow students is a very dedicated, nice individual who has an unfortunate pre-disposition to talk pretty much all the time. And I do mean ALL the time. I'm a pretty quiet guy in person, having adopted the philosophy many years ago of "it's better to be thought a fool than to speak up and erase all doubt." Therefore, conversations with my fellow student are largely a one-sided affair, with me nodding or saying "oh, really," from time to time.

Well, a couple weeks ago, my wife and I were babysitting our niece, and we were enjoying an outing at the local mall, where I happened to see and wave at my fellow jiu-jitsu student. I thought nothing of the chance encounter.

Now, a brief pause. For visual reference:

So, last week, I was at the gym, changing in the men's room, when my fellow student came by to chat. During the course of the one-sided chat, I got the feeling he really wanted to ask me something, but wasn't sure how best to approach the question. Finally, he just came out with it:

"How much black do you got in you?"

Now, in any other circumstance, this question would have left me completely at a loss. However, almost as soon as he asked the question, I remembered seeing him at the mall when my wife and I were babysitting our niece, so the pieces fell together in my mind with impressive rapidity, considering the obscurity of the question.

Bear in mind, I'm about 50 percent Irish, with sprinklings of Norwegian and French to round out my ancestry. In other words, I'm whiter than freshly blowing snow, and my wife is, if anything, even whiter (hell, her maiden name was "Whited," for crying out loud).

"Dude, that was my niece you saw me with last week," I quickly explained.

"Oh, well, I was just wondering," he said, and he could have let it be at that. Instead. . .

"Because you do have some black features."

Granted, I was changing in the men's room, so he may have been referencing. . . oh, who am I kidding? I have absolutely no idea which features he was referencing.

In the end, we established I'm pretty much a white guy, and he seemed satisfied with my explanation.

Jiu-jitsu can be wierd.

Today's Swine Flu Warning Level Is:

Shameless attempt to boost traffic

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Poop and Fart Content to Recommence

I recently came to the realization that this ThunderJournal is treading dangerously close to the pre-2005 sort of content I grew tired of back then.

I was working on a new cartoon last night that involved Autumn as an aspiring pornstar who was adamant about not doing anal scenes, but my Internet connectioin dropped and I lost what was most assuredly a masterpiece of modern "film." I may try again this weekend, time allowing.

Anyway, back to fart and poop blogging.

UPDATE:

Ryan says: I had a kick-ass cartoon made about you being an aspiring pornstar, but my Internet connection dropped before I could finish it.

Autumn says: OH NO!!!!!!!

Autumn says: LOL!

Autumn says: Nice!

Ryan says: Totally bummed me out.

Autumn says: that sucks

Autumn says: it will be okay

Ryan says: You refused to do anal scenes. It really was brilliant.

Autumn says: Nice!

Ryan says: You wouldn't appear in "Butt Pirates of the Carribean: At Autumn's End."

Autumn says: You will have to redo it!

Autumn says: LOL!

Ryan says: Or "Buttman: The Dark Tight."

Autumn says: OMG!

Autumn says: THAT'S GOOD!

Ryan says: I'm telling you, it was brilliant.

Ryan says: I'll try again this weekend.

Ryan says: Man, I was bummed.

Subtle

MSNBC.com: "The Mr. Cool presidency turns 100 (days)"

It's nice to see the media fully embracing their biases. I'm sure it must feel extremely liberating to not have to pretend to be objective any more.

Maybe I should think about going back into that line of writing. Oh, wait, the pay sucks. Never mind.

UPDATE: From the article: Bill Clinton loved the limelight, of course, but was conflicted about it and, sadly, needed his dark moments of private release.

Is THAT what we're calling it now?

Ewww, dog water

I just accidentally discovered Nick Coleman's Twitter account. Hard as it is to believe, the dour fuddy duddy can indeed infuse his rare brand of ignorant moping into Tweets of 140 characters or less. As an added bonus, he mentions David Hanners in somewhat glowing terms.

I'm holding out the possibility that it may be a fake Twitter account, but it seems legit.

UPDATE: Upon further thinking, I'm on the side of the fence that says this is a fantastic fake. The Obama-like avatar, plus the Web-text speak, is just a bit too much. If it is real, Coleman deserves props for being a literary caricature of himself.

Dinner Rage

Last night, the stars and planets aligned just right to prevent me from having a pleasant eating experience. First, my wife and I went to a local Chinese restaurant, where I ordered "hot and spicy beef." There was no indication in the dish description that sweet and sour sauce would be employed, but when I saw the cook add a half cup of sugar, my suspicions were raised.

Not that I have anything against sweet and sour sauce. I actually like it for dipping crab rangoon, but the key difference lies in the amount. When you dip items into sweet and sour sauce, you're calling the shots; you get just the amount you want. When the decision is left up to the discretion of the cook, on the other hand, you're almost guaranteed to get sweet and soured to death.

There is such a thing as too much sweet and sour, and last night there was just too much sweet and sour. So, I stepped away from the sweet and sour mass and went to Subway.

First, they were out of spinach. That was thing one.

Thing two was, the sandwich artist was new to his craft and ended up slicing the bread in such a way that it was A) sliced too thin and B) sliced all the way through. Those that know Subway know that the bread should be sliced but not bifurcated completely. The bread should be able to open and close, like Pac-Man's mouth. Unfortunately, I didn't realize the sandwich artist's error until I got home.

When I tried to eat the sandwich, it simply would not cooperate. The cloven, too-thinly-sliced bread insisted on falling open like the jaw of Marley's ghost in "A Christmas Carol," spewing the sandwich innards in a sad little pile on the table.

It was at this point that I experienced my first ever bout of "Dinner Rage." I'm not sure what happened, exactly, but all the unfairness that had transpired, from the overly sweet and soured Chinese failure, to the multiple Subway gaffes, boiled inside me and emerged in a forceful yell of "God fuckin' damn it!"

And then I did something purely animalistic. In my blinded state of Dinner Rage, I started eating the sandwich pile directly off the table like a dog eating from its bowl. I took mad, angry, forceful large bite after bite, foregoing any use of my hands, just diving in face first, attacking the pile like a T-Rex tearing flesh from a carcass. Thankfully, my wife was eating in another room, so she was spared the whole ghastly, frankly sad spectacle.

I came back to my senses once the sandwich was ingested, but for a while there I wondered if I'd be so inclined to use silverware ever again.

Dinner Rage, man. Where did THAT come from?

Pretty much

Sleep Humper Revisited

Ryan says: The baby is going with on vacation, correct?

Caroline says: As far as we know

Ryan says: Make sure the B-Man hasn't made other plans.

Caroline says: In our attempt to make sure we have everything for the trip, we neglected to check his sched'

Caroline says: I hope he's free

Ryan says: His sched' still mostly entails eating and pooping, so you should be safe.

Caroline says: Eating, pooping, crawling, sleeping on tummy.

Ryan says: I forgot sleeping.

Ryan says: How COULD I, OF ALL PEOPLE, FORGET SLEEPING?

Ryan says: I'm the Sleep Humper!

Caroline says: Dropped the ball there, you did.

Caroline says: One who humps the sleep.

Caroline says: The Sleep Humper sounds like a misguided super hero.

Ryan says:
You will hear nary a peep,
When I'm about to hump the sleep.

Caroline says: Hey, sleep. How YOU doin'?

Ryan says:
I will crawl, and I will creep,
In my quest to hump the sleep.

Ryan says:
And when the sleep, it has been humped,
The turd I'm formin' shall be dumped.

Caroline says: Or you could be like B and take a big pooper whilst sleeping.

Ryan says:
No sight is quite devoid of purdy,
As when I sit there, formin' turdy.

Ryan says:
If I should take a big pooper whilst sleeping,
Chances are the sheets aren't worth keeping.

Slit Wrists, Nice and Deep

If there's one thing the growing Tea Party movement has done so far, it's exposed how completely out-of-touch and vapid traditional media outlets have become.

And, with growing ranks of students going into the journalism field, it's only going to get worse, because if there's one thing I know from experience, freshly-graduated journalists are ambitious, loud and mind-numbingly stupid.

Ouch.

XKCD.com.

Ryan Responds to Autumn

The Growing World of Self-Tography

There is a disturbing photographic trend that has only become even more disturbing as digital cameras and cell phone cameras have become more advanced and provide more mega-pixels.

I'm referring, of course, to the millions and millions of people who take self-portrait pictures while holding up a cell phone or digital camera in front of a mirror. In my most humble opinion, there is no lazier way to take a self-portrait image.

There's really no excuse for the practice, either. Practically every digital camera and camera-equipped cell phone comes equipped with a time delay option, so it's a simple matter of setting the time delay, placing the camera on a stable surface, and posing in front of the camera. At the very least, you have five seconds to get in position before the picture clicks; you'd be amazed how much you can accomplish in five seconds.

But no, people continue to aim their cameras at mirrors for their self-portrait needs or, worse, they simply hold their cameras at arm's length and take a self-portrait from that unforgivable angle.

As an act of self-expression, I guess I can sort of understand the practice. People want to show how quirky and spontaneous they are at any given moment, although it seems a lot of people tend to be quirky and spontaneous while standing in front of a bathroom mirror, which really isn't a location where I, personally, feel all that quirky and spontaneous. Come to think of it, if you're feeling quirky and spontaneous in the bathroom, you may want to see a doctor.

From an artistic standpoint, arm-length and mirror self-portraits strike me as the equivalent of Michelangelo drawing stick figures. There's all this potential for good photography being squandered in the interest of immediacy and lazy vanity. And, speaking as a journalist, I think I know a thing or two about lazy vanity. We journalists are nothing if not lazy and vane, and yet even I recognize mirror and arm-length self-portrait photos represent a whole new level of lazy vanity. I should note, in passing, that a Lazy Vanity would be a great addition to any bathroom.

You know what? Rather than criticizing arm-length and mirror self-portrait photography, I probably should be embracing a photographic practice that is obviously immensely popular. In fact, there's probably some way to make money off this, if I just put a little thought into it.

First off, I need to figure a way to market "arm-length and mirror self-portrait photography." For example, the practice needs a hip and important sounding name, something like "Self-Tography" or "Me-Portrait." Once the naming convention catches on, I can start applying for state and federal dollars to help fund this fledgling modern art technique. I imagine a good start-up fund of $400,000 should be a good base from which to grow Self-Tography and inspire young and enthusiastic artists.

That initial art endowment should be re-infused annually with $250,000 more, which I assure you will only go towards refining Self-Tography techniques and maybe establishing an annual awards ceremony to honor those who have taken the best Me-Portraits over the preceding year.

Yes, rather than criticize the lazy act of taking your picture in front of a mirror or at arm's length, I should definitely look into ways to profit from it. After all, profiting off lazy and vane people has always proven to be a sound business practice.

Presidential Cartoon

Bringing my "A" Game

I have to say, I've been extremely impressed and amused by my ThunderJournaling over the past week. Lego cartoons have helped, of course, but Vince Shlomi giving the backhand of prostiteaux makes me laugh every time I see it. And, no, I don't care that I didn't create the Vince Photoshop, either.

Born to screw off

Ryan says: I've discovered how to make Web-based cartoons!

Autumn says: wow; just when you think you couldn't possibly screw off anymore...

Ryan says: Oh, I have an unlimited capability to screw off.

Ryan says: Never underestimate my ability to screw off.

Autumn says: I am aware of your diligence.

Ryan says: If you tell me to screw off, I won't get around to your request right away because I'll be busy screwing off.

Autumn says: lol-nice

Inside my head

For those interested in creating your own cartoons of awesomeness, go here.

UPDATE: And because I can't help myself, here's another one:

Another Fartoon

Fark Still Rulez

Obviously via Fark.

Fart Rooster Animation

Toilet Talk

Ryan says: You know, I'm just as tall as Ashton Kutcher.

Ryan says: Which should tell you how short all those other guys on "That 70s Show" actually are.

Autumn says: he could be 5'4" and still get more ass than a toliet seat

Ryan says: I really don't think anyone can actually get more ass than a toilet seat.

Autumn says: I bet he could

Ryan says: Because, quite frankly, a toilet seat is designed for getting ass.

Ryan says: It's the sole reason for a toilet seat to be.

Autumn says: well, I bet he gets more ass than a bear's toliet seat

Ryan says: And, really, if I was getting more ass than a toilet seat, I'm not sure that's the kind of thing I'd walk around bragging about.

Autumn says: I would

Ryan says: Not that's just silly. A bear's toilet seat is the "woods."

Autumn says: No, a bear doesn't have a toilet seat

Ryan says: Otherwise, we'd be saying things like "Does a bear shit in the toilet?"

Ryan says: No, a bear shits in the woods.

Autumn says: I got a post card from my brother, when he was in Alaska, of a bear sitting on a toilet

Ryan says: And post cards never lie.

Autumn says: so true!

Ryan says: It must have been a black bear. A grizzly could never fit on a toilet.