Friday, November 27, 2015

The Issue the Mainstream Media Wants You to Ignore

I like filling my mind with "thrash."
I'm sure you've seen memes like these before.


"Oh no!  Someone paid more attention to things I don't care about than things I really care about!"  Can you feel the righteous indignation?  Can you feel the sanctimonious bullshit?


By the way, I'm using these images without permission or attribution because fuck these guys.  Fuck these guys who think you're stupid for caring about what you care about.  Fuck these people who call you "sheeple" for enjoying life.

You want to know about what really matters?  You want to know the issue you should really care about?
This is a rock.
BAM! Up yours, stupid meme guys!
What, you don't get it?

This rock is just like an uncountable number of other rocks, perhaps trillions.  You could count rocks all day, program satellites to circle the Earth, counting them, but you'd likely never find them all.  Even if you did, it would take decades.

BAM! Up yo-
Still don't get it?

This is an asteroid, a rock floating in space.
BAM!
No?

There are about 150 million asteroids in our solar system.  Up to a million of those asteroids are one to two kilometers long.
BA-
Still don't get it?  Really?  Wake up!  Stop filling your mind with "thrash!"

Of those millions of asteroids, there are some (we aren't sure how many, but certainly thousands) over sixty kilometers across.  Sixty kilometers is big enough to wipe out all life on Earth.

BAM!  Literally.
If we were to have advanced warning, we could do something about it.  We could build and send up a rocket to push the asteroid out of the way.  You wouldn't even need to push it that far.  A one degree change in direction would make it miss the Earth.

Of course, you'd need a lot of advanced warning.  The farther away the asteroid is, the less you'd have to push it.

Advanced warning requires a system to find the big asteroids heading towards us.

We don't have an advanced warning system.  We barely even started one.  We're behind our goal of tracking 10% of a third of all the asteroids by 2020 because of budget cutbacks.

Budget cutbacks.  We haven't found even 10% of a third of the dangers to all life on Earth and our government is more worried about everything else.

Does that scare you?  No?  Here's an asteroid that nearly hit us this year that's big enough to have its own moon.


Here's an asteroid that nearly hit us we didn't see coming.

Here's a tiny one we weren't aware of until it blew up a piece of Russia and injured 1,500 people.



So, go ahead.  Get pissed off that the stupid people around you don't seem to care about the environment, or healthcare, or the plight of homeless veterans.  But imagine this, first:

We've solved every problem.  Every endangered animal is saved.  Global warming is over.  Every poor child has enough food and healthcare and opportunities.  Our veterans are cared for.  We're just signing a pact that will guarantee world peace...

But just as it's signed, before the ink is dry, just as the last signature is signed and the pen is about to leave the page...

An asteroid hits the Earth.

An asteroid bigger than the one that wiped out the dinosaurs.

The atmosphere ignites.  Everyone dies in a few minutes.  Every animal dies.  Every microbe dies.  Every trace of human civilization is blasted into dust.

We were so caught up in fixing Earth's problems, we didn't see it coming.  All those problems we fixed?  None of it mattered.  None of it.  We're all gone.  Everything we ever did was gone.  The only memory of humanity are a few satellites and probes and ancient television signals radiating out into space.

The real problem you aren't paying attention to?

Please.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

The War on Christmas in November

Here, a turkey begs to be killed on time.

I think we're all clear on the whole "Matthew hates Christmas" thing.  I've discussed it at length.


I realize the rest of you love Christmas sales, Christmas parties, Christmas displays, Christmas sales at Thanksgiving, Christmas Music, Christmas sales at Halloween, Christmas music in September...

Oh, wait, what's that?  Is that a grumble of discontent?

My people!  You have not forsaken me.  After all these years of waiting, plotting, and explaining my activities to the Department of Homeland Security, I can reveal my plans.  We can begin the real war on Christmas.  The War to Keep Christmas in December.

The key to our success is to fight with music.  Christmas songs are humanity's vilest creations (unless you count the mullet).  Some of you will claim to like Christmas songs, but the third time you hear Paul McCartney's "A Wonderful Christmas Time" in a row, you'll be ready to join the army.
The soundtrack in Hell
How do we counter Christmas music? Thanksgiving Music.  Someone needs to create enough catchy Thanksgiving music to keep Christmas at bay.  That's the problem, though.  Everybody wants to make a Christmas song; Christmas is about families and togetherness and about the birth of Christianity's savior.  Nobody wants to write a Thanksgiving song; Thanksgiving is about gluttony and the Native American genocide.

The easy answer is to re-purpose existing holiday songs.  Some examples:

Channukah (or however we're spelling that holiday this year)
Turkey, turkey, turkey, I made you out of meat.
And when you're cold and yucky, I will go reheat.

Fourth of July
Oh say, can you see, by the kitchen timer's light
What so proudly we hail as the turkey's last gleaming?

Christmas
I'm dreaming of a dead turkey, just like the ones I used to roast
Where there is no worry and children don't hurry to watch their marshmallows toast.

Halloween
I was working in the kitchen, late one night, when my eyes beheld an awesome sight
My turkey from its pan began to rise, and suddenly (to my surprise) it did the mash
It did the potato mash...


Okay, so music isn't my strong suit.  One of you will have to do some minor work in fleshing those out into billboard-topping songs.  If you don't, it's your fault if you'll be hearing Paul McCartney singing about Christmas in August next year.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Email Time Capsule



I received the strangest email last week:

In the fall of 2005, you sent a letter to the future via an "Email Time Capsule" created by Forbes.com. Ten years later, we're happy to deliver the message. For more information, please visit http://www.forbes.com/sites/davidewalt/2015/10/26/forbes-email-time-capsule-future

I sent myself an email just to say "hi!"  I'm so considerate.

Yes.  Yes you are.

Why thank you, me!

No, thank you.

I decided I'd email back (as soon as Forbes creates a reverse time capsule).  Here's my email with my responses.

Your son is on the floor playing with the headphones from your wife's iPOD.
Oh, yeah.  iPods.  I remember those!  I thought people would get bored of them and feel stupid for wasting their money.  Then Apple invented iPhones, and I thought people would get bored of them and feel stupid for wasting their money.  Then they invented iPads, and I thought people would get bored of them and feel stupid for wasting their money.

Now they have the iWatch.  People will get bored with them.  They'll feel stupid for spending their

You should buy Apple stock.

You have to poop.
That's amazing!  Me too!  Some things never change.

Nancy should be here in an hour and a half, and you've just finished cleaning up a little.
Our first babysitter!  She was a pastry chef.  I liked her.  We've had several sitters:
  • Viviana, who also worked for Sheryl Sandberg along with three other nannies.  Seems Sandberg doesn't like being around her kids.
  • Jackie, who always dressed well.
  • Colleen, who (on her last day) bought your kids giant boxes of Whoppers and helped hide them.
  • Danuta, your real estate agent.
  • Marcellina who brought her daughter with her.

Perhaps Calvin could stop by and distract him for a while.
We still see them.

I wish you could reply to this message and send it back in time.  Wouldn't that be cool?
Me too!  I'd tell you to buy Apple stock.

While you're at it, tell Steve Jobs you can't cure cancer with vitamins and meditation.

Not sure what to say.
That's changed.  Now the opposite is true.

Are you moving to Chicago?
Yeah, we did that.  Lasted under a year.  Winter came and your wife stepped outside for three minutes and screamed "Wow!  I didn't expect that!"  Then you spent an hour chipping the ice off her face with an awl.

Will your career ever start up again?
Nope.

Will anything come of your playing with Flash?
Even more nope.  Flash was killed by Steve Jobs.  Seems Flash returned the favor.

Learning French?
Even more even more nope.  Those five years of your life were wasted, much like your first marriage.

Writing?
Writing!  Yeah!  You published a novel. Well, you self-published a novel. Well, you electronically self-publish a novel, which means you clicked a button labelled "upload."

Short answer: not much.

Screenwriting?
Aaaaand we're back in Nopeland.

Drawing?
You know that sketchbook you started in 2001?  You haven't filled it.

Does Nip/Tuck get any better?
Yes.  No. Yes.  Yes.  No.  Depends on the season.  Basically, the ones with Rosie O'Donnell in them are good.

Oh!  Rosie marries her girlfriend!  Homosexuals can legally marry each other and everyone's okay with it.  Well, everyone but the occasional whackjob clerk in Podunk Nowhere.

Cool, no?  Weird, but cool.

Hope things are well.

You too.  Catch you later, bro.  Er, me-o?  Moe?

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

There's a Hole in the Bucket...


My blog is unpopular
dear Liza, dear Liza.
So not liked.

Do memes
dear Henry, dear Henry.
So quick.

But my art software's ancient
dear Liza, dear Liza.
Bought it '01.

Then upgrade
dear Henry, dear Henry.
Buy new.

I'd need a new laptop
dear Liza, dear Liza. 
Maybe Ultrabook.

Then buy one
dear Henry, dear Henry.
It's cheap.

I'd have to upgrade Flash
dear Liza, dear Liza. 
And I'm too cheap.

No one uses Flash
dear Henry, dear Henry.
Obsolete.

But my Flash game's not done
dear Liza, dear Liza. 
Pre-alpha.

Then finish it
dear Henry, dear Henry.
Get it done.

But my novel comes first
dear Liza, dear Liza. 
Pulitzer.

Then finish it
dear Henry, dear Henry.
Bargain bin.

But my blog takes my time
dear Liza, dear Liza. 
Once a week.

I mentioned memes
dear Henry, dear Henry.
Stupid memes.

You are no help
dear Liza, dear Liza. 
None at all.

Because you're a moron
dear Henry, dear Henry.
Shoulda married the banker.