The Held Hand

Dogs! Dogs!Dogs!

2008-03-17T14:58:00.000-07:00

Irony

2006-08-27T22:23:00.000-07:00

Main Entry: iro·ny. Etymology: Latin ironia, from Greek eirOnia, from eirOn dissembler
1 : a pretense of ignorance and of willingness to learn from another assumed in order to make the other's false conceptions conspicuous by adroit questioning -- called also Socratic irony
2 a : the use of words to express something other than and especially the opposite of the literal meaning
b : a usually humorous or sardonic literary style or form characterized by irony
c : an ironic expression or utterance
3 a (1) : incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result (2) : an event or result marked by such incongruity
b : incongruity between a situation developed in a drama and the accompanying words or actions that is understood by the audience but not by the characters in the play -- called also dramatic irony, tragic irony
(Miriam webster)

Irony appears to be the mot en vogue. Everyone says it. Even my grandmother says it. In a 24 hour period I heard her say it three times. She never once used it correctly. I know that people abuse words hither and thither (can you say irregardless? Well, don’t!) but I can still be pissed about it. The third definition listed above is in recognition that people use the word ironic instead of the word incongruous. Allegedly, incongruous is not a commonly used word. It means, unsurprisingly, not congruous, unharmonious, and not conforming. It suggests that when a logical series of events results in an unexpected result it is ironic. So it would be ironic for 2 plus 2 to equal something other than 4. It would be ironic for a dropped ball not to fall to the ground. But it is an unexpected result, not a rare (or scarce) one. It is not ironic if I eat a mushroom; it is just really really unlikely. However, the mistreatment of the word extends far past incongruity.

A local news broadcaster used it last night. The broadcaster stated, in paraphrase: that it was ironic that a man, charged with abusing a child, had been convicted of abusing a child years before. Well it’s not ironic. It might be ironic when a priest abuses a child because we do not expect a priest to do such things (at least we didn’t used to). But it is not ironic when a criminal gets caught a second time for a similar crime. Maybe it’s “Not surprisingly”... But it’s not ironic. It is, in fact, an expected outcome.

I overheard a lady say it on the bus the other day. She declared it was “so ironic” that she had bumped into her former neighbor on the bus. They women were delighted to see each other after several years, but it wasn’t ironic. It was fortuitous that they happened to get on the same bus. But luck doesn’t have anything to do with irony. It was a nice coincidence, but not ironic.

It isn’t ironic that a missionary worker dies in Afghanistan, it’s tragic. It might be ironic if the same missionary went on a violent killing spree. But death is a predictable result for working in a war zone. The vulgus calls it Cosmic Irony. They say it is ironic that Beethoven was deaf. But isn’t more remarkable than ironic? Let’s not even talk about any song. In fact, the American Heritage Dictionary cites that song as an example of something that is not ironic.

It’s not ironic that dozens of others have ranted about this before me. It makes this unoriginal, but not ironic. It wouldn’t be ironic if someone who hates the misuse of the word misuses it: that’s hypocrisy. Irregardless, of all of this please stick to correct uses of the word (now, that might be irony?).

Things that are ironic:
A surgeon asking a nurse, “Now, where do I start?”
A person who burns their mouth on a hot piece of pizza declaring, “Wow, that pizza is really cold.”
A man jumping off a building to commit suicide is shot dead when a person on the third floor fires his shotgun and misses, striking the falling man instead of his intended victim.

Golden child

2006-07-26T00:28:00.000-07:00

In my family favor is bestowed (in a tongue in cheek manner) upon the children by calling them "the golden child". Displeasure can be expressed by demotion to bronze or tin status. It is a coveted position but can be held by anyone - not just a member of the family. Smarts just a little when your father calls your little sister's friend "golden child". But - for good or bad - it is what it is. This system of ranking did not evolve until I was in grad school, so I hope it did not damage my psyche too much.

Golden child status aside. There were favorites in our family. Our parents vehemantly deny this, of course; but it was true. My father sidestepped any questions about favored status by telling me I was his favorite second daughter. I wasn't too old when I realized I was his ONLY second daughter.

For a giggle ask someone who has siblings who the favorite child in their family was. It is especially fun to pose this question in a group. The unfavored (that seems so harsh) can always identify one sibling who was given special treatment. It gets really funny when someone claims, "Oh, my parents didn't have a favorite." The person who makes this claim WAS the favorite. Ask their siblings they won't claim their parents were unbiased.

Obviously you shouldn't ask only children this question - what if they answered? They could say (honestly we hope) that they were the favorite. Or they could say (and we pray it is not so) that the dog was the favorite.

I go to bed each night satisfied that I am my father's favorite daughter who goes fishing with him; and I am my mother's favorite daughter who is also handy with a glue gun. In life, if I can maintain these two illusions I think I've got it made.

RIP

2006-03-29T18:39:00.000-08:00

Resquiescat in Pacem Madison Kilber.

You had the most amazing eyelashes.

Braggy McBraggerson

2006-03-23T15:56:00.000-08:00

www.wetwebmedia.com/ca/CaHompage.htm
www.wetwebmedia.com/ca/volume_3/cav3i2/Snorkeling/Snorkeling_Culebra.htm

And I got PAID

Rear View Carlos

2006-03-21T11:39:00.000-08:00

Copyright 2006 LFWADE

Cars shout loud and clear facts about their drivers. Bumper stickers make literal statements of politics, humor, or lifestyle. Even drivers who go to great lengths to not make a statement with their car are, in fact, making a statement.

You know the type: they drive maroon Honda Accords that only have a parking sticker on the glass and don’t even have spare change in the console. I generally fall in this category though I often wish I had witty or esoteric bumper stickers. I really like one that says “if this bumper sticker turns blue you are going too fast” – ask a physicist. Though I am a fan of “Republicans for Voldemort”.

Dashboard knick-knacks primarily make religious statements; but sometimes are collected to spoof gluing religious icons to the dash board. I have seen some impressive collections of happy meal toys riding the front dash of disenfranchised 20-somethings (natch). A rear dash full of trucker caps screams a male over 55 years old. Contrastingly a rear dash full of stuffed animals could be a teenage girl or a retired couple (or the driver could be suicidally wishing that an item might become a death missile during a sudden stop).

But what I am really interested in are rear view mirrors. I have nothing hanging from my rearview mirror. Maybe I don’t have anything hanging in my line of site because I am safety conscious; or maybe it’s because I don’t possess the requisite items to hang. The items hanging from a rear view mirror fall into four categories; Symbolic: indicating to the others a point of view; Decorative: being pretty to look at; Functional: serving some function real (or imagined); and Ironic: conveying something other than, and especially the opposite of the literal meaning.

Smokers go for function and hang air fresheners. I think I would be partial to the classic pine-tree; but I am not a smoker. Invariably the smell of cigarette smoke mingles with whatever cloying scent that was cheapest at walmart last month; creating an aroma that you only find in the cars of smokers. Some argue that the suspended CD is a functional accessory that diverts police radar beams (I have never been given any other reason for hanging old CDs.). But a driver who asserts that an old CD will trick the cops is fooling himself. I am still willing to call the suspended CD functional, if it makes the driver feel better about speeding.

Symbolic accessories; unlike functional accessories are not subject to being used or used up, they exist to make a statement for the driver. These items tell the world who you are and where you’ve been. There are plenty of patriots who like to hang flags from their nation of origin – I would have to hang about six flags so I am avoiding them – I would never be able to see out the back of my car. Symbolic accessories tend to fall into two subcategories (1) life achievements and (2) religion. Life achievements are symbolized by school graduation tassels, mardi gras beads, or a garter. The tassel tells the world that you managed to attend enough US history classes to graduate from high school. The mardi gras beads tell the world you showed some guy your tits. The garter tells the world that at least at one point you got to feel up some woman’s leg. Religion generally shows up as prayer beads. Religious drivers might argue that their rosaries are functional; do they pray when traffic is bad? Or when they get in a crash? I think they are hung as tickets to heaven in case of an accident – better than an airbag if you are a believer.

Decorative options are anything that is pretty but not functional, symbolic, or ironic. Prisms are the archetype for this category. But anything lovingly hung for its beauty falls in this category. People hang seasonal decorations – but only people with WAY more time and energy than I have. I can’t even imagine that mistletoe hanging from the rear view mirror could be functional… but some people are more flexible than I am.

Ironic options include fuzzy dice and their close cousin the fuzzy eight ball. Irony is generated by the synthesis of the item hanging from the rearview mirror and the car itself. A pair of fuzzy dice in a 1970 Cadillac coupe might be a decorative statement; but in a beat up 1986 Yugo they take on their own whimsy. Some items that are otherwise functional become ironic by application. For example a driver who hangs a multitude of air fresheners makes a self deprecating statement about how much his car stinks.

The mirror, in and of itself, originated as a statement. It happened to be a statement that in 1911 a racecar driver named, Ray Harroun, couldn’t find a co-driver to spot other racers during the inaugural Indy 500! So, I don’t really need anything hanging from my mirror. I’m going to think of it as my co-driver from now on. Maybe it needs a name. I think I’m gonna call it Carlos for reasons that will remain mine.

Television Hypnosis

2006-03-07T18:56:00.000-08:00

Copyright 2006 LFWADE

If you take a two year old and show them minimal television (let’s say less than one hour a week) then you expose them to TV; they get hypnotized. I am not talking David Blaine, act like a chicken, hypnotized. I am talking night of the living dead, practically catatonic, hypnotized. Even if I reduce my television exposure to nil for a long period of time; I do not drool on myself when sesame street is on TV (well, I don’t drool too much).

I would say I am a high TV user, but a low TV watcher. I have it on, often, sometimes as much as four to six hours a night. But it is more about keeping me company than watching the content. I regularly watch only one show in prime time (Frontline) and that is only if I remember to turn it on. Mostly, I require another activity to occupy myself if I am sitting in front of the TV. Sometimes I crochet. Sometimes I sew or mend. I do the crossword almost every night, and by the end of the week that can take me all night. When I am really behaving I run on the treadmill*.

However, there are three things that induce the sort of mind sucking hypnosis that the “deprived” two year old will suffer from. They are surf movies, footage of volcanoes, and televised Texas Hold’em Poker. I can relate the first two to each other, but I have no idea where the poker fascination comes from. They are the only things on TV that I can wait out commercials for. Otherwise I am a chronic ‘flipper’. But if any of the above dance across my TV screen I am enraptured.

Surf movies entirely capture my attention. I don’t watch them like a fan. I can’t tell you who made The Endless Summer nor can I tell you who surfed the biggest wave ever in Step Into Liquid. But I can tell you that I have stood, mouth open, in the middle of a Sears watching some surfing footage until my dear husband rescued me from my stupor.

I have never surfed, never so much as gotten a knee up. I don’t really know any surfers. I don’t secretly harbor surfing fantasies. In fact, I always say, “I could never do that” when I see them. Not because of the amazing skills or athleticism required, but because I could never sit on a surf board with my legs dangling unprotected in the sea. Hello, Mr. Shark, why don’t you come and eat my feet? For that reason alone, I think surfers are nuts.

I think that my fascination centers on an appreciation or envy of such risk taking individuals (I am so risk averse I stop at all stop signs, even in empty parking lots). Also, I try to comprehend the power involved with surfing. By power, I really mean force in an F = MA way. The force of a large wave is monstrous; I am obviously attracted to the act of balancing on the precipice of disaster on a six foot long board. There must be something more to it than the risk taking. I am almost just as happy watching the waves alone, as those crowned by surfers.

Nature also rules my second televised heroin. Shows about volcanoes often show hot lava flowing down the sides of a mountain. I can watch that forever. My attraction to volcanoes is more aesthetic than the surf movies. I can’t even begin to comprehend the temperatures and extremes involved in hot lava. I don’t look at it at all on an intellectual level; I can’t. Who can understand what it means to be more than 1000 degrees Celsius? You might as well ask me to understand what a billion means.

I am deeply drawn to the contrast of the luminescent hot rock and the dark skies it is often filmed against. The constant motion of flowing lava (like the motion of the sea) is highlighted by changes in color, pattern, and texture. Even once the rock has ceased moving it has the fascinating characteristic of leaving behind exotic and beautiful formations. It is hypnotic and I can never pass it up.

The last of my trio is televised Texas Hold’em Poker. This is perhaps the most bizarre. I can’t relate to it intellectually – I only kind of know what beats what. I don’t play poker myself, I have NO poker face; you can read me like a book. And I don’t really approve of gambling (tax on stupidity if you ask me).

Unlike the surf or lava there is nothing aesthetically pleasing about televised poker. It is usually filmed in some dingy casino with bad lighting and worse décor. The players are a strange mix of people with poor grooming and worse social skills. On top of that there are very few I would classify as attractive; so I am not watching it for the scenery either.

Once I stopped to think about it I was puzzled. Why do I like watching it at all? The only thing I can come up with is that there is a thrill in the anticipation of the flop (the revelation of the ‘shared’ cards). Games can change radically with the flip of each card. I might be just as entranced by watching televised games of War or Go Fish. Maybe I should check out what’s on the Ocho.

I don’t indulge in my television weaknesses often. I don’t have any surf movies on tape or dvds (I might have one or two about volcanoes). Televised Poker usually comes on late at night. Maybe their rarity adds to some of their power. Just like the ‘deprived’ two year old, I don’t get exposed to my favorites often, so when they are on I stand hypnotized.

* I find it is physically impossible to watch my favorite junk TV show, America’s Funniest Home Videos (with Tom Bergeron, NOT that other guy) and run at the same time – can’t laugh and exercise at the same time. It doesn’t work.

Thinner and Prettier

2006-02-28T12:11:00.000-08:00

Copyright 2006 LFWADE
Body Dysmorphic Disorder

People who have Body Dysmorphic Disorder become obsessive about some aspect of their looks; in the US this is commonly used to refer to people who are anorexic but cannot see that they are too thin (Hello, Lindsey Lohan? Nicole Richie?). However, it can refer to any physical attribute that a person might obsess over. Apparently, it is most common to be some item of the head – hair (or lack thereof), nose (size and shape), and symmetry of the face. People with BDD obsessively check out their perceived problem in the mirror and despite the fact that they might have a perfectly normal looking nose they perceive that it is hideously deformed.

I have the inverse problem. I will call it Body Abnegation Disorder – that way I get the acronym BAD – commonly known as denial. In my own head I am a thinner, prettier woman. I do not obsessively check my appearance in mirrors; instead I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflection and think, “Damn, who is that unkempt fat girl.” It’s not a derogatory or self deprecating comment. I am honestly surprised at my appearance some times. It doesn’t just apply to my weight. Sometimes it’s how long I’ve let my roots grow out, or the stunning realization that I have a large tattoo on my back.

However, this is undoubtedly the problem that allows me to get overweight. I don’t notice that I am getting fatter. Because I carry my weight pretty well other people don’t tend to notice either. I, like many women, keep a variety of sizes in my closet, so when my weight slides up or down I merely adjust my wardrobe to fit. This complicates dieting because; I don’t think I am fat. Why diet if you don’t need to?

Clearly* the problem is that I am too comfortable with myself and was taught too much self acceptance as a child. I cannot remedy this problem with the common cures: hypercritical parents, school yard taunting, or name calling, as they must be applied during the formative childhood years. So I will have to take dramatic self measures to fight my battle with BAD.

1. All mirrors will be re-installed to reflect not just my neck and head, but also my torso and ass.
2. I will force myself to really look at my reflection on a daily basis.
3. When I am done with one size of clothes I will get rid of it, rather than holding it in reserve, in case I need it again.

Some people with BAD have to take more severe measures including such shame inducing behaviors as: streaking, bikini wearing, VPL’s, and VBL’s.

I will stop short of any mantras – no good can come of chanting “I am fat”. And I will not form a support group (Hello, my name is Leah, and I don’t think these jeans make my ass look big.) I will ask for honest opinions from my spouse and not pout when he tells me that those jeans “aren’t my favorite.” (Which is as close to telling me that I look bad in them as he will ever get).

I know that some self awareness is in order here and I am definitely trying to achieve a healthy body rather than a thinner size. The sad part of all of this is that when I do reach my goals of size and shape I don’t benefit from a positive self esteem change. After all, I have always been thinner and prettier.

Unnecessary Disclaimer: People that have BDD suffer from a clinical disease and require help and support to fight massive internal demons. For a good reference about BDD see: http://www.btinternet.com/~david.veale/bddinfo.html. All this being said, I am NOT MAKING FUN OF Body Dysmorphic Disorder, I am making fun of myself.

*Clearly: a word meaning, the following statement is full of crap and has no tangible or empirical evidence of any kind to back it up. Used to imply sarcasm.

You'd think I'd know by now...

2006-02-26T17:40:00.000-08:00

Copyright 2006 LFWADE

To make a mental note re: the following:

- No matter how hard I want it to, the dryer will not dry clothes until I turn it on. Nor will the oven cook anything unless it is turned on.
- There is no way I will win the lottery without buying a ticket.
- Smell the milk before you pour it.
- It is not a good thing when the dogs get really quiet.
- The time to check for your house keys is before you pull the locked door securely shut.
- If I put celery or potato peelings down our garbage disposal it will get clogged; and I will have to put my hand in it to fish it all out. YUCK.
- The cell phone will run out of battery if you do not plug it in at least occasionally.
- The day I decide to make a big meal without planning it with my spouse will be the night he wants to treat me to dinner.
- If I put food in the trashcan in the den the dog WILL turn it over and root through it.
- If I stir-fry I will put on the exhaust fan or the smoke detector will go off.
- I don’t have to answer the phone every time it rings.
- The plants will not thrive unless I water them every now and then.
- The one load of laundry I choose not to do will contain the precise item of clothes that I really want to wear.
- The only way to loose weight is to diet and exercise.
- Claim your own successes even if it is hanging nine picture frames exactly plumb and level.
- The world will not end if I do not read the funnies every day.
- I do not need to monitor the contents of the kitchen cabinets at all times; it is permissible to close them.
- When I wake up five minutes before my alarm is supposed to get up I could just get up then.
- If you use the last of the toilet paper and fail to replenish it you may be the person stuck on the john without any.
- Picking at acne does not help it get better.

Found Food

2006-02-22T20:03:00.000-08:00

I just returned home from a ten day long trip. After I unpacked the luggage and collected the dogs, I settled back into daily life. Two days after my return I opened up my freezer to discover that the woman who volunteered to feed our fish and water our plants had stocked our freezer with our favorite Indian treat, Samosas. This touched me in a deep way. She not only took the time and effort to make these delectable treats for us, but that she left them as a surprise. Once before, I was treated to accidental or surprise food from a house sitter.
We returned home late one evening last winter to find freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the counter left by an enterprising friend who used our oven. Close your eyes and imagine the scent of freshly baked cookies when you open the door, tired from a long trip. There is nothing short of bliss in that experience. These unexpected gifts of food led me to think about found food.
There are the little immediate satisfaction surprises: the escapee fries that jump out of their packaging into the fast food bag. They are quickly eaten if found hot; otherwise discarded once cold. Also there is the “last piece” of anything. It is a naughty joy to discover that you are the only person with the guts (courage or room therein) enough to claim the last piece of pizza, pie, or chicken.
There is also the Gilligan’s Island of food: the castaways. Voted off the island as leftovers these can be the bitter disappointments of the accidental food world. Sometimes only CSI-style investigation can determine there original contents. Sometimes they are found a day too late and are accompanied by the exclamation, “Damn, if I known there was another rib left I would have eaten it!”
I try to remember not to send my doggie bag off on a three hour tour unless I have a contingency plan for rescuing it. My husband’s favorite spin-off of the castaway is food Booty. Booty is when my castaways are surreptitiously eaten before they can be rescued. The true food pirate will not be stopped by such feeble attempts to protect a castaway as brown paper bags labeled “Mine” or being buried deep in the crisper drawer. The food pirate is usually protected by an unbreakable alibi, “I had to eat it before it went bad.”
My favorite are the King Tut Treats. These are the true treasure in the forgotten food world. Tut Treats were long ago buried, but due to their packaging or preservatives survive long periods of time unfound. These include sealed bags of chips, Halloween candy (as long as its not Easter), and speaking of Easter Peeps fall into this category too. A long lost chocolate bar is worth its weight in gold when found unexpectedly. Along with the Tut Treats are Encino food.
Encino food was buried in the freezer to be thawed later. Finding a forgotten bag of Christmas cookies in January is a great surprise. For those who often freeze food the last container of turkey soup is a true treat. This is potentially dangerous territory if freezer burn has set in; but can be a real lifesaver.
Mostly found food arises out of neglect or forgetfulness. But when food is not found unexpectedly, but left intentionally, it feels like little packages of love.

I couldn’t close this discussion without saying, “Look Homie, someone left a turkey behind the bed.”

I am not funny...

2006-02-06T21:22:00.000-08:00

I have always longed to be funny. I should be clear; I do not want to be a clown. I do not want people to laugh at me, but laugh with me. I am insanely and unforgivably jealous of funny people. We all know them – witty and clever - they always know what to say to lighten a mood. We all seem smarter when we are around them and we leave their presence energized and aglow. I decided about nine years ago that if I studied enough funny people I would be able to emulate their actions and become funny myself. It hasn’t worked; and I have wasted the last decade being terminally unfunny. But I have developed a hypothesis of humor and will keep trying.

There are three tenants of humor and three corollaries.

THE FIRST RULE OF FUNNY: the human body is funny. Body parts are funny. Bodily functions are funny. Unexpected bodily noises are really funny. We learn potty humor as ankle biters and our fascination with it rarely wanes through life (I would say it escalates dramatically when we learn the rudimentary elements of sex). To this day the word ‘poo’ (always lowercase) never fails to make me smile if not provoking outright laughter. Physical comedy falls into this category: President Ford falling down, George Bush senior vomiting on foreigners (see rule two), and the ubiquitous ball in the crotch gag are all funny.

THE SECOND RULE OF FUNNY: people who are different than you and your audience are funny. This is the most controversial of the rules of funny. It is most commonly used when lampooning a group that is not likely to be offended – this is the its-funny-cause-its-true category and results in some hard and fast results. The image of a white man attempting to dance will ALWAYS make people laugh (sorry guys). The native American Eskimo is funny to 99% of Americans under the ‘I’m so politically correct that I will make sure to include every group in my attempt at humor’ theorem. This also trickles down to the Amish. Please remember to use RULE TWO for good and not for evil. Bigotry is NEVER funny. Jokes meant to harm or hurt are never funny – unless it is a fat white man dancing.

THE THIRD RULE OF FUNNY: gender bending is funny. This is not necessarily a gay thing or a sexual thing. It has much more to do with challenging the common perception of gender roles. Monty Python made careers out of cross-dressing. Metrosexuals are funny in and of themselves. Show a pretty lady with a deep voice or put a guy in women’s under ware and you have a recipe for hilarity.

COROLLARY NUMBER ONE: add the word ‘Monkey’ to anything and it is funny. The word Monkey is full of the power of funny because of its sound and imagery . Monkeys, an imperfect mirror of humans, make a great humor tool. Monkeys acting like people are simply funny. Plus just saying the word tends to make me happy. Say it with me: Mon-KEY. Combine the First Rule of Funny with Corollary one and you get a sure fire comedy tool, e.g. Monkey Butt. Plus no other creature can do justice to a reliable comedy favorite: flinging poo.

COROLLARY NUMBER TWO: when you rhyme its humor time. Ask any linguist and you will find that rhyming is an established technique for diminishing the seriousness of a situation or poking fun at it. When I tease my friend for being ‘fancy-dancy’ I am not trying to recapture my role as the queen of the school yard limerick but to poke fun at her attempt to be sophisticated by pairing the word fancy with a rhyming word. This is often used dismissively, as in ‘God-Shmod’. We can thank the Jewish for this Yiddish language tool (thanks to my literary sister for bringing me that revelation). Even the potential rhyme has humor power. All I have to do is write, ‘There once was a guy from Nantucket’ and humor ensues.

COROLLARY NUMBER THREE: Three Second Rule: Any one thing, sustained without changing (noise, pun, punch line, movement, or visual) is only funny for three seconds. Combine this with any of the rules or corollaries for maximum effect.

Unfortunately for me my home study of humor has not made me a funny person. I lack an essential ingredient: timing. Watch any of the greats, the Marx Brothers, Bill Murry, Richard Pryor, Phyllis Diller, Ellen Degeneres, or Tina Fey, they all have GREAT timing. I am sure that this can be learned in some formulaic way: tie an early joke back in later in your material or don’t rush the punch-line. But I have yet to master any of these skills and must rely on my Rules of Funny and my scant abilities.

There is hope for those of us who lack humor. Our saving grace is available to everyone above the age four: the JOKE. Prepared and practiced by thousands before us; they are time tested smile inducers that rarely fail to please. Even a four year old knows the power of ‘knock-knock’ or ‘why did the chicken cross the road’. Everyone should know at least one ‘clean’ joke. It should have no bad words, no sexual double entendre, and no racism/sexism/or ageism. My philosophy 101 teacher said this all the time. It was even the last question on our midterm exam: ‘Question 50. Tell your favorite (CLEAN) joke.’ I got full points for this gem: What is white and yellow and green and blue and pink and purple and green and white? Crayon sandwich. Everyone needs a joke to call their own, to tell in mixed company or to amuse those you seek to impress. I have a really funny one but it involves calling Superman an a-hole so it doesn’t really count as ‘Clean’.

So until that day that I can fully channel Gilda Radner I am forced to wallow in a sea of unfunny. But I will keep working on my rules and collecting more jokes. I have been working on a new technique common to the funny – self-depreciation (see title) and will see where that takes me. I am forced to admit that the answer may be, ‘yes, you are not funny’. But that’s where the self-depreciation comes in.

Copyright Leah France Wade February 2005.

The three second rule

2006-02-01T14:39:00.000-08:00

I am always thinking about what is funny. I really have studied funny to enhance my own funniness - but that's another post...

I am constantly puzzled why my dear husband laughs his ass off while we watch Family Guy and all I can manage is a smile. Last night I figured it out. They hold beats WAY too long. Saturday Night Live had this same problem in the late 1990s. A guy stubbing his toe is funny. Him holding and moaning "OWWW" is funny; but it is not funny for 15 seconds.

This thought crystallized in my mind when my husband was making a funny noise last night - but he wouldn't stop. At first it was funny but then it became seriously annoying. Same thing with Family Guy. Maybe its because I am so ADD but I can't pay attention to the same concept that long and think it is funny. Change it up - I'll stick with it, but I am not one to tolerate 'milking it for all its worth'. Arrested Development clings tightly to this idea - they don't need a laugh track to let us know its funny. The jokes come rolling down the mountain without a seconds pause.

So, I came up with the three second rule. Its a corollary to the rules of funny. Any one thing, sustained without changing (noise, pun, punch line, movement, or visual) is only funny for three seconds.

Bodily noises easily fit into this category. Anything longer is the equivalent of saying "d'you get it? d'you get it? d'you get it?" So, no longer will I laugh at the prolonged burp. Time yourself, you don't need more than 3 seconds to fart. No longer will I laugh at high pitched voice that drones on after a ball-in-the-crotch shot. Unite with me and ignore all attempts to drag comedy out past the three second mark where all it does is annoy.
I think this rule may only apply to women - men seem to like the prolonged pain of listening to terrible noises go on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on.

How to really take over the world

2006-01-28T23:10:00.000-08:00

This has been done many times before, but I think it is a fun exercise. Remember, NO CAPES.
- Never, ever, build a self destruct device into your secret lair. For that matter your space ship/getaway car/speed boat should not have one either. If you absolutely, positively, HAVE to have one then the button should not be large, bright red, or labeled ‘self destruct’. The villain should never have one item that would destroy your entire empire – engineers call that single point failure – this goes for self destruct buttons, rings of power, and super-viruses. Don’t ever make the password or lock code that protects your empire your childhood pet, favorite color, or well known catch phrase. And never give it to a subservient. The only person you can trust to be wholly ruthless is yourself. You never know when your second in command will fall in love with the hero.
- On this issue of love, never, ever, fall in love (or covet) the hero’s girl, mother, sister, niece, or best female friend. A smart villain will not kidnap her because the hero will always do anything to get his girl back. The average evil genius should have enough money and resources to score his own girl. If you have been disfigured or are a total freak you can always pay for some booty. Just leave the hero’s gal alone.
- Once your plan to take over the world is initiated do not taunt the hero through the local media. If you want to be on TV take a broadcasting class or make a career on public access. Any threatening telecast will provide ammunition for comedians and emphasis for your not-so-ready-for-tv physique. It is understandable that you might want to prevent some second rate villain from claiming your glory, but the smart villain uses a ‘calling card’ rather than interrupting the ten o’clock news with a poorly acted announcement of doom.
- Never tie the hero up, confine him in a room, or attach him to a complicated machine. If you are ever fortunate enough to capture the hero KILL him (or her). If you cannot follow through on this you should get out of the villain business. Saving the murder for later is recipe for disaster and will certainly result in the deaths of some of your employees (if not yourself). Why put off till tomorrow what you can do today? The corollary to this advice is to not torture the hero. All you do is make him or her really angry and give them nothing to loose. Stick with homicide and work your sadistic issues elsewhere.
- Never monolog. When following the always-kill-your-enemy rule never, ever, stop to explain to the hero what your motivation is. A villain should never explain his own personal demons to the hero; that’s what a therapist is for. Along with this rule if you ever are escaping from the hero do not pause to tell the him that you will be back. If you do then you can be assured that you will not. If you are so compelled to make your message known try a manifesto or blog. You do not need a catch phrase.
- If you train or breed an army of henchman treat them well. Consider investing in pension plans and good health insurance. Talk with your local union rep to determine what today’s evil sidekicks want from their employer. A disenchanted underling can bring down your entire organization lickety-split so treat them with the golden rule or stick to the ‘lone wolf’ model of villainy.
- Beware of villain costumes. Sure a costume or outfit gives you brand recognition, but you are not trying to sell yourself to your victims you are trying to steal millions/take over the world/destroy all fuzzy animals. You might really love your trademark black hat but consider something a little less identifiable. A flexible appearance makes villainy easier. Secondly, having no outfit prevents any possible wardrobe malfunctions – sure its clichéd, but no villain wants to be foiled because someone grabbed their patented bad guy tie, or because their super-power-pants fell down while trying to escape. Need it be said? No Capes.
- Multitask. Instead of plotting the downfall of one government try ten. Don’t just attempt to steal the world’s largest diamond steal the second largest too. That way if you fail at one of your goals you have a fall back. Failing at a primary goal can be a huge blow to a villain ego, having another option can help prevent depression. Plus, having multiple targets makes the hero spread his resources to fight you. Don’t expand your reach further than you can grasp, but always consider a plan B.
- If you ego can handle it operate anonymously. The most successful villains are the ones we never know exist. Better yet, establish yourself publicly in an innocuous seeming role (teacher, grocery clerk, city commissioner, or social worker) then use your acquired powers to wreak havoc. Think puppet master, think the man-behind-the-curtain, think about not getting caught. If you must establish an identity keep it mysterious. The devil has been so successful because no one knows who he really is.

L-A-Z-Y, you ain't got no alibi

2006-01-27T16:39:00.000-08:00

I went today to help a friend with a project. Her theater group is setting up for a big show on Sunday. I was a hired (make that volunteer) hand to help them set up risers, the set, and move furniture. In the two hours I was there I did maybe 20 minutes worth of work.

How many people does it take to set up a riser. Lets count: one to stand around and dab paint on his painting while looking REALY artistic, one to sit and watch and complain about everyone else, and three to stand around doing the work one person should do.

These people were so disorganized and lazy it was all I could do not to start issuing orders to get things done. It would have been easy enough to get all the work done in less than one hour - but instead they are still working. Thank god I felt no obligation to be there. It was EASY work, not hard or demanding - all you had to do was do what you were told. There was one guy there who knew what he was doing, but he was a failure at deligating his work. I am a hard worker and I was a GIFT to them; I would have stayed much longer to help if they could have managed to get their shit together. It's their loss.

And all the while the "artist" dabbed his paint. ARGGGG!

At least I know that there is no way on earth that I am as lazy as any of those people.

A dog named Prozac

2006-01-25T16:38:00.000-08:00

Removed by author

Kidney Boy

2006-01-24T21:29:00.000-08:00

Yoda has "renal failure". This means that 75% of his "renal function" is gone. In plainer terms he only has 1/4 of a Kidney working right now. He has been with us for 7 years - not nearly enough time for me.

He gets an expensive renal dog food - which, of course, both dogs eat ravenously. I guess its because it has less protein in it.

He is supposed to get injected fluids once a week. We have only managed to do it twice. How can a 15 pound dog manage to out muscle me? Easy. He cries and whimpers and struggles against me while I hold him. I want to cry and whimper too. He is the focus of an essay I wrote: A dog named prozac.

Kidney boy died before the prom (two points for the reference) I am hoping Yoda will make it long past May.