A "Personal Jesus" Mashup

Your own personal jesus
Someone to hear your prayers

Fade in - a ringing telephone. CASEY "Hello."

MAN'S VOICE (from phone) "Hello."

Someone who cares
Your own personal jesus

CASEY "Yes."

MAN "Who is this?"

CASEY "Who are you trying to reach?"

MAN "What number is this?"

CASEY "What number are you trying to reach?"

Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who’s there

The phone RINGS again.

CASEY "Hello."

MAN "I'm sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number."

CASEY "So why did you dial it again?"

MAN "To apologize."

Feeling unknown
And you’re all alone
Flesh and bone
By the telephone

CASEY "What?"

MAN "I want to talk to you for a second."

CASEY "They've got 900 numbers for that. Seeya."

Lift up the receiver
I’ll make you a believer

The phone RINGS again.

CASEY "Hello. Who is this?"

MAN "You tell me your name, I'll tell you mine."

CASEY "I don't think so."

Take second best
Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess

MAN "You never told me your name."

CASEY "Why do you want to know my name?"

MAN "Because I want to know who I'm looking at."

I will deliver
You know I’m a forgiver
Reach out and touch faith
Reach out and touch faith

CASEY "What did you say?"

MAN "I want to now who I'm talking to."

CASEY "That's not what you said."

Your own personal jesus...

CASEY "I have to go now." CLICK.

Feeling unknown
And you’re all alone
Flesh and bone
By the telephone

THE PHONE RINGS.

CASEY "Yes? What do you want?"

MAN "To talk." CLICK.

Lift up the receiver
I’ll make you a believer

THE PHONE RINGS.

CASEY "What do you want?"

MAN "To talk."

CASEY "Listen, asshole..."

I will deliver
You know I’m a forgiver

MAN "NO, YOU LISTEN, YOU LITTLE BITCH. IF YOU HANG UP ON ME AGAIN I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH. UNDERSTAND?"

Reach out and touch faith

Your own personal jesus

Reach out and touch faith

Somebody Get Nick Van Eede a Cialis, Stat!

Perhaps it's because I'm starting to get a little older now, but I wonder what the Cutting Crew was really trying to tell us in their hit single (I Just) Died In Your Arms. You make the call...

"I keep looking for something I can't get
Broken hearts lie all around me"

Honey, I don't know ... this has never happened to me before ...

"And I don't see an easy way to get out of this"

I'm sorry, I just can't!

"Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been something you said"

I must have been distracted...

"It was a long hot night
She made it easy, she made it feel right"

No, no it's not you. I think it's me...

"But now it's over the moment has gone
I followed my hands not my head, I knew I was wrong"

I think I'm just tired from work dear. I just need a good night's sleep, that's all.

Naked Boobies Are Distracting!

According to the BBC, researchers at the University of Leuven recently tested (straight) men's decision-making skills after seeing sexual cues of various sorts. The article goes on to relate:

"The men's performance in the tests showed those who had been exposed to the "sexual cues" were more likely to accept an unfair offer than those who were not." They must not have been focused on the tests.

Ok, let me say it first: bullshit!

This study reminds me of the CIA 'studies' back in the '40s and '50s when agents would sneak LSD into each other's coffee and filming the results. My guess is that these folks (they're probably behavioral economists - those bastards'll claim paint drying is a study) really need some distractions of their own.

New Palestinian Security Force

Well, this should end the argument around whether Hamas would be 'normalized' by participating in the Palestinian Authority. Apparently when terrorist take over a government, they do not stop being terrorists.

The saddest irony in the whole affair is that "the new Hamas Interior Minister Said Siyam said the force would help the police enforce law and order." Considering that the majority of these 'soldiers' are being drawn from the groups getting into gun battles with Palestinian security forces, I have to wonder how well they are going to shoulder to shoulder with the police.

Comparing State-Sponsored Executions

According to the DOJ the United States executed 60 people in 2005. In comparison, Iran (wellspring of hardline Shia Islam) and Saudi Arabia (birthplace and cradle of the Wahabi sect of Islam) executed 94 and 86 people respectively. (Officially of course; this doesn't include the actions of paramilitary death squads.)

Execution frequency (per 10,000,000 population):
USA: 2.0
Iran: 13.8
Saudi Arabia: 32.6

And the Survey Says...

The Washington Post reported today that "only 39 percent of Americans say they greatly enjoy eating -- a drop from the 48 percent who felt that way in a Gallup survey in 1989."

Meanwhile the New York Times reported that McDonald's is touting 36 consecutive months of sales growth at stores open at least a year, driven mainly by "the enormous success of the Dollar Menu..."

Now, I'm not a smart man (just ask my parents) but I'm smart enough to put two and two together.

On the Elements of Being Out of Style

I was cleaning out my closet yesterday when I realized how out of fashion I am. Thank heavens that the building blocks of men's fashion change only slowly because I really have no compulsion to buy new clothes until the shirts and pants that I currently have wear out. The more I thought about it, the further I think I am from "it". In fact, not only will the light from "it" take several years to reach me, I can't even be sure I'm looking at the light or the shadows on Plato's cavern wall.

This state of unfashionableness (stylelessness? unfashionitude? gauche-ocity?) extends to other areas too. I am so out of style that I'm not proud to be either a metrosexual or against metrosexuality. In fact, I'm vauely embarrassed that I know what a metroxsexual is. I'm so out of fashion that I wish people would stop obsessing about labelling what people do and pay more attention to who they are.

I'm so out of style that I don't even have a gym to go to see or be seen. I do have a set of free weights and a pair of running shoes, both of which see regular use, that I bought on discount at Kmart.

Come to think of it, I'm so out of fashion that I actually shopped at KMart when KMart was around (encomium Blue Light Special!).

I'm so unfashionable that I wish city blocks were still laid out in nice regular rectilinear shapes so that you could actually find the house you're looking for, not these damned organic-looking cloverleaves designed so that John Q. Developer can squeeze one more McMansion in on the corner.

I'm so out of style that I really really hate those answering machine messages that aren't messages but cute little songs or, worse yet, actual songs that some moron recorded off the radio. I really don't need 50-Cent's advice on clubbing just to let a buddy know when to come in to work.

I'm so out of style that this whole reality tv craze has simply passed me by. I can't remember the last time I danced with the stars, tricycled across the saharan or had to ginsu fugu with a dull butterknife. Mostly I think it's stupid. Occasionally I think "this too shall pass". More to the point, I despise this fascination with personal degradation and humiliation.

I mean, the reality of "reality television" isn't about the contest or the characters; no, it's about the desire to see the worst types of petty human behavior imaginible. We don't really thrill to listen to Clay Aiken or Carrie Underwood but to see and hear the legions of talentless bellowing harpies. 'Skating with Celebreties' is at least as much about seeing stars hit the ice as watching them soar above it. I mean really - why did you watch 'The Simple Life'? Was it to see a diverse and fascinating cross section of middle america...or to see two rich bitches slumming through hicktown humiliating themselves and everyone they met?

Oh well. Style has a way of coming around. Bell bottoms are back in. We're 'keeping all options on the table' to prevent a middle east country from getting WMD. David Hasselhoff will once more star on Baywatch. Maybe, just maybe, if I wait long enough things'll come back my way and the things I like will be back in style again.

On the other hand, 'dead as Dillinger' has a certain truth too.

Honestly I think the Times is Just Going Through the Motions

Ever get the feeling that a reporter is trying to stretch a story a little to make their wordcount?

See the following quote:

"Mr. Koester's special interest is biomedical engineering, which combines engineering and biology..."

All's Well That Ends Well

For those of you who know me, dear readers, I wanted to inform you all that I am alive and well. Well, more alive than not. For those of you who haven't read the story, we had a bit of excitement at my place of employment today. For me, it didn't mean much danger; no, rather it was a field trip to a nice, sunny parking lot. Followed, of course, by the bone-crushing struggle to re-start an entire manufacturing facility.

As a final note, apparently - and I hadn't realized this myself - dock mats are a flammable substance when hit with an arc welder. Ah, the joyous and momentus things we learn!

The Tyranny of Desire

I recently read an article that, in a nutshell, said that the more we have, the more we want. I don't disagree with that essential point - it's been proved in case studies, surveys and in common experience. Part of the human condition is wanting just a little more than we have.

Actually, that's why I wouldn't want to win the lottery. I do enjoy having money, but I have realized that I enjoy saving money even more. I don't see money for the things I can do with it; rather, money is the way I keep score. I enjoy seeing my net worth climb because it's a function of a thousand clever little ways to either earn more or spend less. To see the inspiration, planning and dedication of years dwarfed by simple dumb luck... well, I think it would be rather depressing actually.

That's why I think that lotteries tend to ruin people's lives. Joe Sixpack suddenly comes into more wealth than he ever thought he'd need to be happy and ... suddenly realizes that he's the same schmuck as before. Except that now every friend and family member wants a piece of him. No wonder they turn to risky sexual practices, booze and drugs. As Robin Williams said, 'cocaine is God's way of telling you that you have too much money'.

Envy is an inborn trait. It must be; entire religions revolve around the quest to free people from the tyranny of desire. There are good darwinian reasons, I suppose. The hominids that said 'don't worry, Yorik -- your clan can have this one, we'll take the next mammoth that wanders by' probably didn't last too long. Perhaps we just have to remember that it's the chase that is satisfying - not the kill.

If Anything Could Get Me Interested in Tennis Again...

I think the picture really just says it all. Kudos to www.adrants.com.