This Week in Rage – 10/4/13
This Week in Rage, a blog about the top three things that pissed me off this week:
Bears: All the time on the news you’ll see there’s a bear that’s wandered out of the woods into a suburban neighborhood. Eventually they get shot by animal control, or worse, they climb up a tree and the firemen hold out the mini-tramp to catch them after they get darted. They land right in the middle of it but then bounce out ten feet away on the pavement. You’d think the firemen would work this out the 2500th time it happened. Either way I realized that bears have no compass. They do more rambling and meandering than any other animal. You don’t see zebras and hippos doing that kind of thing. If I were speaking at the bear convention I’d say “if you feel asphalt under your paws, turn around until you feel dirt.” The second thing I would say is that if you come across a hiker on the trail and he does that thing where he puffs himself up and tries to make himself bigger than he is to scare you off, eat him. But not if he plays dead, there’s a different response to that. (By the way, that’s a lot of range in bear attack prevention technique. You can shout and flap your arms and try to scare it away, or collapse and remain motionless on the ground. Either way. That’s not the difference between sprinting and jogging, that’s sprinting and in a coma.) Anyway, the guy flapping and puffing himself up – eat him. But if he plays dead have sex with him. That’s the move. That would do away with the play dead technique pretty quick. He’d come home and his wife would ask him, “How was the camping trip?” He’d snap, “NOTHING HAPPENED! I DIDN’T GET RAPED BY A BEAR. JUST DROP IT.”
Ceiling Fan Noise Withdrawal: It’s that time of year again. I’ve gotten used to sleeping with the ceiling fan on but when I come home at night my wife is asleep without it going. So I turn it on I hear the faint noise coming from beneath the down comforter. It’s Lynette letting out an exasperated “uaaahhhhh.” I say to her that I need the ceiling fan on and ask what does she care? She’s under the blanket. She replies, “my forehead is cold.” I’m skeptical of this. You could put a cigarette out of my forehead, there’s no nerve endings up there. So what the fuck is she talking about? I tell her I can’t help it. It’s not about the cool air, it’s about the sound of the fan. I’m a junkie. I’m hooked on the sound. All those white noise makers they have a Brookstone don’t have the right noises. They have the sound of waves crashing on rocks, which I guess is good if you’re Tom Hanks in Castaway and you can sleep on the beach. Or they have the babbling brook or rainforest. I rarely sleep next to a babbling brook or in a rain forest. I need more realistic sounds, the one’s I’m used to, that I fall asleep to. We need the ceiling fan sound. It would save millions of kilowatts, because I don’t need the cool air, I just need the sound. And by the way, get rid of the phrase white noise. I don’t even know what that is. I just assume it’s attorneys repeating the phrase “at the end of the day.”
Halloween Rule: This one might be a little premature but it feels like Halloween is already here. My daughter already has two costumes. She has the primary costume and a back up one. It’s like she’s hosting the goddamn Emmys. But anyway, on to the new Halloween rule. In my neighborhood I’ll see the minivan pull up and all the kids from the crappy neighborhood pile out. They take the Reese’s from my kids hands, then scramble back into the minivan and head down the hill to their hood. This is how you keep a crappy neighborhood crappy. It may sound cruel but you should be forced to trick-or-treat in your own piece of shit neighborhood so you can see just how bad it is. You should have to step over a dog’s corpse to get to the toothless pedophile handing out candy-corn from 1969. I bet your neighborhood would get a lot better real quick. There’d be a neighborhood council meeting the day after every Halloween to address the issue. That’s right, every October 32nd at 10am a meeting would be held to talk about how much nicer my neighborhood is than their combat zone.