Five Unrelated Paragraphs

I have five little thoughts that aren’t blog-worthy on their own. Thus I bring you five unconnected paragraphs:

Recently XM Radio introduced a new strategy to make sure that even with 170 plus “commercial-free” channels that the listening public still hears the same songs over and over again. The strategy entails having XM Radio Channel 51 dedicated to an entire artist. Last month Channel 51 featured nothing but Coldplay. This allowed me to come to a full appreciation of the fact every Coldplay songs sounds exactly the same and also that the lead singer of Coldplay, Chris Martin, Father of Apple, Sexer of Gwyneth, will be the next Bono. The next Bono means he’ll become a celebrity anyone with taste wants to stab thrice. This month Channel 51 features Metallica. Evidently Metallica has a new album coming out soon. I know this because Channel 51 makes sure to build up for about thirty seconds every time it is playing, “unheard, never released, Metallica…Metallica…Metallica.” The voice that builds that up for thirty seconds is angry and synthetic sounding…then it fades to black. Pun intended. I’m listening to Metallica right now as I type. They used to be really good. Then the album St. Anger came out and their lead singer kept talking about wanting to wear St. Anger around his neck. His lyrics didn’t sound like the epic metal opuses they once were. The lyrics sounded like a pre-pubescent child stormed off to his room after arguing with his parents, found a pencil, and started writing. They then took some time off so the public would forgive and love them again. Then they worked on a new album. They called the new album, “Death Magnetic,” because that makes sense. Then they got exclusive broadcast rights to XM Channel 51. Then Channel 51 played an “unheard, never released, Metallica…Metallica…Metallica song,” called Cyanide. The song’s hook: “Suicide - I've already died.” I realize it doesn’t sound as dumb typing it as it does when you hear a grown man shouting it like he’s an emo kid wanting a hug, but still, this paragraph is already written. I can’t very well delete it now.

Aside from being too old to effectively run a country, I had nothing against John McCain until the Olympics started. However, If he listens to as much bad advice from his eventual cabinet as he has from his campaign manager, our country will probably enter a poorly planned war with Iraq, never take blame for anything, and become universally loathed by every other country. Why do I feel this way? Have you watched the Olympics? You know, the worldwide sporting event filled with inspiration and emotion? The one where every advertiser does their best to create an incredibly inspiring ad that makes you not only want their product but makes you feel like a winner for wanting it? Take McDonalds: their new chicken sandwich is evidently so good it’s the only thing Olympic athletes want to eat. That’s cool. I want to eat that sandwich too. What does McCain do? He airs your typical negatively themed political ads claiming, “Barack Obama: Celebrity…not ready to lead.” This is completely non-partisan as I can never vote Democratic again, but here’s an emotional rollercoaster I never want to ride again…Phelps wins the gold! McDonalds chicken makes you a winner! Drink Coke and be popular! Go anonymous computer product that brings families together! I’m elated. I’m happy. Then, bass beat…”Did you know Barack Obama and George Clooney are friends? Do you think someone who played Booker on Roseanne should realistically be friends with anyone who might be President? Barack Obama...not ready to lead.” That’s his campaign? Really? The guy who is too old to be President of Go America is trying to claim the other guy is too young? Does he realize just about Everyone at every age hates to be looked down upon by People older than them simply because Everyone is younger than People?

Recently, I started taking guitar lessons. I’ve already broken a string on my guitar. Surprisingly, it was not because I rocked real hard. It was because I sucked real bad. Let’s review the basics without knowing the proper terminology. On a six-string guitar, there are six strings. These six strings are attached to two different parts of the guitar, the long part and the pear-shaped part. The strings on the long skinny part are connected to six little doo-hickeys that are themselves connected to little pieces that turn. I’ll call the things that turn ‘Winders’ because turn and wind are synonyms sometimes. Now, even though science can supposedly put someone on a moon, create lifelike hobbits on the tv, and clone sheep, it’s yet to effectively invent a guitar that stays in tune for any given amount of time. Unfortunately for me, I have no idea how to tune a guitar. This leads to me sounding even worse than I am, even though I’m really really bad, because the guitar itself sounds terrible. Transition to tonight when I was tuning my guitar. My fourth string, or third depending on how you are supposed to count the strings, sounded awful. I kept turning the Winder that was supposed to help tune it, but it wouldn’t change the sound at all. I ignored the fact the Winder was getting difficult to turn and kept turning it. What I didn’t realize was I was actually turning the Winder for the sixth string (or first) and it snapped on me. It also scared the bejeezus out of me. My wuss dog jumped off the couch and ran upstairs. I tore my family apart. It was rough.

I recently watched the movie 10,000 BC. It’s one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen. The costumes looked phony and the story made me want to shoot myself. If you feel like you must watch it, I would recommend being in a good mood, drunk, and with friends willing to make fun of it. I also watched the John Adams HBO mini-series after I finished reading the book. The book is excellent, albeit a slow read. The mini-series is terrible and leaves out the raw emotion the book had. While none of you will ever read the book, I’d avoid the mini-series. You’ll walk away from the mini-series thinking, “John Adams, what an idiot,” which is both sad and wrong.

If my time machine worked, I think I’d use it to go one year into the future. I’d then find the one year from now me and ask him how everything was going. Unfortunately he would be very annoyed because he knows the only reason I’m there is to steal his new flying car. He knows this because he was me one year ago. He would then throw soda in my face. Since it is well documented that people from the past cannot withstand the torture of sodas created in the future, I would scream in agony. He would laugh. I would hit me from one year from now square in the jaw and then throw him down a flight of stairs. I’d then steal the keys to his flying car. I’d walk to the driveway only to realize his flying car is just my current Altima only one year older. It’s starting to squeak real loud and has an incorrectly colored tire. Also, my house is gone and has been replaced by a floating yellow orb. I’d then notice the newspaper I now evidently subscribe to says, 8/21/10. I’ve gone two years into the future! I’ve ruined everything! I would turn to get back into my time machine but the me from two years from now had already walked back up the stairs and sabotaged the time machine’s control panel with a future product known as smucknuck. He would grin at me. He would not break the vow of silence he started the day his wife left him for a mime. He took out a knife. I took out the same knife, only two years newer. He lunged at me and missed. I ran into the house. My key still worked on the door of the floating yellow orb. I barged in and locked the me from two years from now outside. His keys were on the nightstand, so he could not get inside. My dog from two years from now will have grown to the size of a bear but will otherwise just assume the current me is the real me from two years from now. The dog will try to lick my nose. I will be mad that I still hadn’t been able to stop her from doing this. I am thirsty. I run to kitchen. I open the freezer to get some ice. There is no ice. All that lies before me is Dippin’ Dots…the Ice Cream of the Future. I scream.