Category Archives: Humor

Wit Contra Sarcasm (Contra Douchebaggery)

Wit is hard to get.  Just as you think you get wit, they’ll come around and change what wit is.  Suddenly, what you thought was wit, is no longer it, and what is wit, will sound to you like a pile of shit!

Fortunately, wit has an easier to attain co-traveler in the world of rhetoric named sarcasm, which is much, much easier to pull off.  Much like pineapple on one’s pizza, people either love sarcasm or they don’t.  And for those who love it, they really freaking love it.  I find it to be especially true of women, as you are setting out in the initial courting process, because the women who appreciate a good sarcastic banter will respond very favorable to any guy able to keep up with their own sarcastic quips, while the women who are turned off by sarcastic jokes will very quickly show you how they are not amused by your highbrow wit-lite ramblings.

Let me say from the onset that I’m not bashing sarcasm here—sarcasm is great people in my book (I can attest that some of my best friends are practically verbally drenched in nothing but sarcasm…also desperation and self-loathing, but sarcasm is a large ingredient in their person-stew, too).  My main problem with it is that a lot of people seem to think that simply saying something in a sarcastic tone ought to be treated on par with making a witty comment, seemingly unaware that it is not the sarcasm that makes a comment witty; it’s how clever and salient said comment is to the situation it is speaking on.

I’m sure we all know at least one person who has unwittingly fallen into this trapping, but for a notoriously bad offender think no farther than Dennis Miller’s stand-up routines in the 90s, where in addition to pointlessly disjointed similes, a la “Man this whole impeachment issue is becoming a sticker mess for Bill Clinton than Rutherford B. Hayes’ sauna sessions, daddio!  Amirite folks? Har har har” [note: not real Dennis Miller quote, but can you honestly tell the difference?], he often relied on simply saying something in a sarcastic tone to give the implication that a witty comment had been made, hoping it could carry the point home for him.  It hadn’t, and it couldn’t.  As is the case for all things sarcasm-sans-wit related (and all things Dennis Miller related, for that matter), it’s essentially where the desperate nugget of any relevant point goes to die.

On a related note, think about all the times you have been in a situation where you made a suggestion regarding a course of action, only to get a response of, “Oh yeah, that’ll work reeeeeeal great, I’m sure of it.”  Accompanied with an eye-roll, and a few air-quotes thrown in to truly carry the point home.  While we all can recognize this as being far from anything resembling wit, I would even hesitate to deem it worthy enough of being called mere sarcasm.  It much closer to what I would refer to as “Douchebag Cynicism”.  Which is academically defined as, any and every action or comment made to identify and amplify one’s irredeemable douchebaggery poorly masquerading for cleverness.  It’s a noun.

Really, my only point in this whole rant of a post is that if you feel the urge to be sarcastic, put a bit more thought into it besides just adding a mocking inflection to your voice—try to actually have something noteworthy and clever to contribute to the conversation.  Also, always strive not to be a douchebag cynic.  Though that last bit is wisdom that can probably apply to most areas of one’s life.

Modern Dating in a Nutshell…

We meet before seeing each other.

We talk before speaking a word.

We keep it casual, lest we look desperate.

We get desperate, signaling the end.

We value communication, but mind what we say.

To call is too forward, best not try it too soon.

Can’t text too often; don’t text too seldom.

Experience matters, but don’t shame aloud.

We complain about all the rules, but we judge if they’re not followed.

We lose interest and blame the other, before blaming ourselves.

We complain some more, lamenting our follies.

We go repeat the steps, knowing it will be different every time.

 

The Cynic’s Political Dictionary

  • Centrist: adj. the act of claiming to not care about identity politics in order to feed one’s own already narcissistic self-value.
  • Communism: adj. crippled by Progress (see Progress).
  • Conservative: adj. a desire to recapture an imaginary Golden Age, and cease caring.
  • Corporation: adj. the benchmark of personhood for Conservatives; n. the Great Satan of Liberals.
  • Economics: v. the act of attempting to predict the future, through a broken crystal ball.
  • Elections: n. the greatest theater production money can buy.
  • Family Values: absolute control of the person (see Person), and her/his genitalia.
  • Fascism: v. the act of feigning fear.
  • Free-market: n. the omniscient, omnibenevolent, omnipotent God of Libertarianism (see Libertarianism).
  • Independent Voter: n. a disgruntled Conservative/Liberal; n. a committed Moderate (see Moderate).
  • Labo(u)r: n. an archaic animal of antiquity that invokes nostalgia in Liberals (see Liberal), and disdain in Conservatives (see Conservative).
  • Liberal: v. a state of perpetual inability to cease seeing faults everywhere in society.
  • Libertarianism: n. the completely rational belief that faceless, easily corruptible conglomerates are more honest and trustworthy than faceless, easily corruptible governments.
  • Middle-class: n. a mythical being with no clear definition; adj. a rhetorical token point.
  • Moderate: n. white bread.
  • Person: adj. act of being valued by your monetary and/or societal contribution; n. a corporation (see Corporation).
  • Politics: adj. the art of self-interest.
  • Progress: v. the infantilization of humanity; adj. hope for change with no plan to act.
  • Religion: adj. a source of false humility for the socially powerful, and a source of false power for the socially humiliated.
  • Socialism: n. the elder brother of Communism (see Communism); adj. being beyond redemption.
  • The People: n. a device that creates the impression of human compassion.
  • Voting: v. a dramatic tragedy.

Sane vs. Insane

Sane:  “Morning.”

Insane:  “Morning.”

Sane:  “How are you feeling?”

Insane:  “Good.”

Sane:  “Good.  Sleep well?”

Insane:  “Always.”

Sane:  “Excellent.  Do you know who and where you are.”

Insane:  “Yes.”

Sane:  “Who are you?  Where are you?”

Insane:  “I’m a patient at a psychiatric facility for the mentally disturbed.”

Sane:  “Do you know why you’re here?”

Insane:  “If I was to take a wild guess, I’d assume it’s because you think I’m mentally disturbed.”

Sane:  “Do you disagree?”

Insane:  “I wasn’t aware I had a vote in the matter.”

Sane:  “Why do you think you’re here?”

Insane:  “Because you think I’m dangerous.”

Sane:  “Dangerous in what way?”

Insane:  “Don’t know.  I’m not the one who thinks this, you are.”

Sane:  “If you had to, how would you prefer to describe yourself then?”

Insane:  “Aware.”

Sane:  “Aware?”

Insane:  “Yes.”

Sane:  “Of…”

Insane:  “Everything.  Everything that matters.”

Sane:  “Everything?  Like secret plots and conspiracies, things of that nature?”

Insane:   “Amongst other things.”

Sane:  “I see. What about other people?  Are they as aware as you are?”

Insane:  “No, it doesn’t look like they are.  I suppose if you all were, you wouldn’t have put me in here.”

Sane:  “Makes sense.  Can you tell me any specific things or details you are aware of which others aren’t?”

Insane:  “No, I can’t.  You’re already convinced I’m crazy and everything I say will just further validate this belief.”

Sane:  “And you don’t think that you’re crazy?”

Insane:  “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”

Sane:  “Why not?”

Insane:  “I can’t prove a negative.  Tell me why you think I’m crazy and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

Sane:  “Okay.  You admit to being aware of things that other people aren’t, correct?”

Insane:  “Yes.”

Sane:  “And you are convinced that this awareness gives you insights to details that go by unnoticed to the rest of us?”

Insane:  “Yes.”

Sane:  “And, since only you can notice these details, your testimony is the only source you have to validate any of it, since (by your own admission) the rest of us lack the awareness to attest to anything that you’re saying.  Correct?”

Insane:  “You’re making it sound a bit more simplistic than I would.  But sure, that’s essentially right.”

Sane:  “So, what does it tell you when you have a piece of information that only you have the awareness to notice, whose validity cannot be deduced by anyone else’s perception but your own?  Would you agree that, given all this, you ought to exercise a bit of caution about how much trust you can place in this awareness of yours, and the validity of these various plots and conspiracies it’s helped you uncover?  Perhaps consider the alternative that all you think is so right and real, is possibly just the result of possessing a very confused mental state?”

(In)sane:  “Perhaps.  But, by that same token, how can I be sure that, what you perceive to be a healthy state of mind, isn’t simply a failure on your part to connect all the relevant dots?”

 

Excerpt from The Insomniac Manifesto, available for free here.

Lies We Tell Teenagers…and Ourselves

I spend a lot of time with teenagers.  Wait, that sounds possibly incriminating.  What I mean is, I spent a lot of time watching teenagers…Damn it!  That sounds much worse.  Okay, my time spent volunteering as a tutor with struggling middle school students places me in a position from wherein I can observe the day-to-day behavior of a large group of teenagers better than most adults.  (Yeah, that sounds sufficiently neutral and creepy-free).

And in my time with the up-and-coming minds of tomorrow, I have noticed that a lot of teens easily buy into a lot of fabrications we adults tell them to ease their pubescent angst; with some lies being more innocent than others.

Lie:  Acne clears up on its own with time.

  • HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!…No, just no.  Now, if you have like one or two zits on your face all throughout your adolescents, then sure, it’ll probably clear up.  But if you have a face with a noticeable amount of acne, getting some Neutrogena products now would be a wise investment for the future.

Lie:  Bullies will get what’s coming to them once they enter the real world.

  • Although it would make us all feel great to know how the asshole who used to tease us relentlessly in gym class is doomed to spent a lifetime performing degrading tasks in low-paying jobs, the truth is that in a lot of situations today’s bullies end up being tomorrow’s corporate leaders.  The reason being that the job sector often equates aggressive personalities with competence, so there is a reasonable chance that the sort of guy who used to bully you, will be the sort of guy who will be your boss one day (which goes to explain why so many of our employers come across as such douchebags all the time).

Lie:  To achieve, you just need to believe.

  • Believe what, exactly?  That you have the talent to make it in your chosen interests?  Sure, I can see that as an important factor, but it’s hardly ever the definitive ingredient to get you to your goal.  More than believing in yourself, you will need to know people.  Without proper connections you won’t go far in what ever it is you’re aiming to do.  But with the need to acquire connections, also comes the need to flatter said important connections.  In short, you have to be a bit of a kiss-ass politician, ready to adjust your views and positions to endear your possible contributors to your side.  Which also refutes another popular fib claiming that a person “must always stay true to her/himself”, with the missing qualifier being: except if you want to climb as high as possible on that social ladder).

Lie:  Wisdom comes with age.

  • Absolutely.  But so does senility, dementia, and an over-hyped feeling of self-righteousness.  Yes, I know a great deal of elderly people who are brilliant, knowledgeable, and insightful.  But by all accounts I have been given, they appear to have possessed all of those positive qualities as much in their 30s, as they do in their 60s, and 70s.  On the flip side, I have also known (as I’m sure all of you reading have, too) quite a lot of elderly people who were racist, ignorant, and hysterically paranoid about the world.  And, yes, I imagine they were all these things in their youths as well, but age hasn’t made them any wiser, it just seems to have amplified all of their bad personality quirks.  The simple truth is that organs decay with time; your brain being an organ, will eventually start decaying, taking your mind with it.  Age, by definition, is not a remedy to this dilemma.

I’m sure there are plenty of more examples of lies we tell teenagers out there (and if you have any good ones I would be more that happy to read them), but I think that I made my point.  And to any teenagers reading this, let me just say–in the spirit of honestly–that we adults lie to ourselves when we say that the reason we deceive you is to ease the social pressures you’re going through.  The greater reason is that we lie as a means of getting you to shut up about your problems (because shit if we know how you’re supposed to solve any of them).  But to make it up to you, hear is a picture of a cute koala bear.

Why I Don’t Fear the Zombie Apocalypse

Ever since The Walking Dead has made zombies a marketable cash cow  for a new generation of consumers, there have been many commentators (some more serious than others) talking about all the possible “what-if” scenarios, if (in purview of some hypothetical reality) zombies were actually to rise from their graves to feed on our delicious human flesh.  It’s a thought I, too, had many years ago when I first saw Night of the Living Dead as a kid, and since then my worry on possible zombie apocalypses has remained unchanged; in that, if it were to happen, I see no personal reason to worry about it at all.  Allow me to explain this in blog digestible form, by composing a short list of three reasons why a zombie outbreak gives me no viable concern.

1.  Zombies are slow and extremely stupid.  Even as an easily fooled youngster who was prone to believing that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were a real thing living somewhere in the sewers of New York City (let’s be honest, it would be the less surprising find, compared to what is probably really crawling around down there), I still could not believe the premise of any zombie movie where these slow-moving, completely brain-dead things take over the world; dragging one foot at a time, as we sprint ahead at full speed.  I think I could probably lightly skip my way passed a traditional zombie movie monster (at a relatively casual pace), and still be so far ahead of it that I could take a brief nap on a tree branch, wake-up refreshed, and continue on thereafter without losing an inch of my head start.

I don’t understand how these things could manage to outmaneuver anybody, they’re joints barely bend for crying out loud.  If you don’t have the speed or flexibility to get passed a zombie, you probably got other (far more pressing) health issues you should be more worried about than a zombie attack.  Another thing, since these things are really, really, really stupid, and we have a whole functioning arsenal of fleets stocked with weapons strong enough to wipe out all of civilization several times over, why on earth couldn’t we figure out a way to lure them into a giant hole somewhere [the Grand Canyon would work just fine], seal it off, and take them out from there in one big swoop?  Or, at the very least, why can’t we put up a large array of treadmills all around the outskirts of the country, so that those dumb things can just walk in place as we take them out from above.

Which brings me to my second reason for not fearing a zombie outbreak.

2.  I live in the South.  Some people are under the impression that Jesus is Lord in the American South, but those people are a little misinformed.  For many Southerners, Samuel Colt is the true messiah by which we are all made equal around here, and the 2nd Amendment is the Divine scripture through which His will be done on earth (can I get a hallelujah, brothers and sisters?).  In the South, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear if we really did have more bullets then there are actual people in all of North America, not to mention, a helluva lot of trigger-happy folks itching for some (un)life target practice.  If zombies start scavenging around the United States, I don’t see them getting very far past the Mason-Dixon line.  Which means that, even though I don’t personally own a gun, and wouldn’t be good at firing one if I did [poor eyesight and all], I’ll still be the safest SOB in the country on account of all the brave yokels ready to face the swarm of slow-moving dead guys.  And, if we’re being honest, many of them will probably take out a good number of zombies before they even realize that they were in fact shooting at zombies–‘cuz, son, trespassin’ is a mortal sin ’round these here woods.  That goes for the living and the dead.

And, finally,

3.  What’s the worst that can happen, really?  Let’s say I’m bitten by a zombie, and I become a zombie, then what?  Nothing, because I’ll lack the cognitive capabilities to even so much as give a shit about my new undead state.  It’s not like I’m going to be bummed out about it, contemplating the depressing existence I’m now forced to endure for the remainder of time.  I’m a freaking zombie!  I won’t (I can’t) care.  I won’t care about anything except getting a bite of some of that savory, mouthwatering, “save-the-taters-and-just-pass-the-gravy,” delicious human flesh.  I’ll tell you what else I’m not going to care about: bills, mortgage payments, debts, my income, that stupid “check engine” light that keeps coming on in my car [no matter how much I check that stupid engine and find nothing there].  Because I’m a zombie, I’ll have no cares; so what’s there to worry about even in the worst case scenario of a zombie apocalypse?  Come to think of it, it kind of sounds rather relaxing.

With werewolves, on the other hand, there is no point in even contemplating the outcome.  Because I’ll be one of the first people those quick and agile motherfuckers eat and digest.

Sober Without a Cause: The Perils of Remaining Social, Sans Booze

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, yes.  Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sure.  I can see your glass is almost empty, do you want me to refill it for you?”

“Yeah, sure.  Thanks.”

“Cool.  What would you like?  Beer?  Wine?  Maybe some gin, if you’re feeling spirited?”

“[Laughs] No thanks.  Just some more ginger ale would be fine.”

“Ginger ale?  Are you sure?  We’ve got plenty of great wine to go around.”

“Well, the thing is, I don’t drink.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, don’t drink, huh?  To be honest, I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Well, it’s not much of a situation.  It’s no big deal, really.”

“Is it like a religious thing?  Are you a Mormon, or something?”

“Um…I actually don’t…”

“Not that there is anything wrong with being Mormon, of course.”

“No, of course not.  But…”

“I’m completely respectful of all people, from all backgrounds, and I want you to feel welcome in my home to express yourself and your beliefs.”

“No, I’m sure you are.  I feel very welcome to express myself, but I’m not…”

“Great.  Now, I’ll go get your ginger ale, while you mingle with the other guest.  And don’t you let them banter you for your beliefs.”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“Hi there, haven’t met you yet.  How you doing?  Great party, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“I see you don’t have a drink.  What happened?  The other guest clear the bar already?  [Laughs]”

“Funny, but actually, I don’t drink.”

“Ah, I see, say no more.  I myself have been down that road, the important thing is that you are taking the steps to recovery, and that’s something to be proud of.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Look, I know being a recovering alcoholic is hard.  But it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“No, don’t you worry a thing about it.  In fact, you’re better of for it.  You have tasted the highs and lows that come along with booze, and now that you’ve had your fill, you can happily move on to a life of sobriety.  And, hey, at least you’re not like one of those freaks who has never enjoyed the nectar of a good brandy, right?  Can you imagine how boring those guys end up?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“My friend, what we got is experience in the real world.  Tell me, what good do you think a life is free of feeling oneself hitting rock bottom, several times over.  It’s like never knowing what it’s like falling off your bike.  Or being picked on by the other kids.  Or…”

“Getting repeatedly drawn into awkward conversations.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Where people, who don’t know you, keep making unfounded generalizations about you, based on the one trivial piece of information that you passingly mentioned.  All because it might be something irrelevantly dissimilar to what they have come to expect.  I mean, why bother asking for clarification when you can just fill in the blanks on a whim.  Heck, let’s forgo conversation entirely, because what anybody really wants is a sounding board to echo back all of their preconceived notions about people.  Right?”

“Yeah, I guess.  To be honest, I’m kind of buzzed here.”

 

“There you are.  I got your ginger ale for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I wasn’t sure if there is any sort of special way, or ritual, you need your drink prepared.”

“Well, aren’t you considerate of other people’s thoughts.”

“Thanks.  Now, you’re also welcome to say a prayer if you like.  I promise not to judge.”

“Thanks, and thanks for the ale, but how about you just go fuck yourself now.  Bye.”