Yes, you may call me an idealist, but when I set my mind to it, I expect something to get done. When I stare point-blank at a wall, I expect it to get painted. I expect grass to grow, pensioners to shrink, and tectonic plates to make with the bust-a-move. So you can imagine how upset I was to hear that, despite my best efforts, a watched pot did (most emphatically) not boil. This was heart-wrenching and heart-retching, and I admit that while I don't always make sure my convection range is spotless, it has always been functional. The chefs on TV make it seem so easy, with their pre-boiled water, but in real life, the boiling point of water is hard to pin down.

Speaking of moving targets, the International Statistical Association just released some troubling figures the other week. Did you know that 35% of all fibrophages are Canadian in origin? Or that 18% of school children think boats are wingless airplanes? Everyone knows that boats are wheel-less trains. Call me crazy, but should our tax dollars really be spent convincing children that boats can fly? That rarely happens. I'd rather they be taught how to deal with a Canadian fibrophage monopoly.

A little bit off-topic, but have any of you seen my dog? It's a couple of feet long, or shorter than that. It's either a beagle or a great Dane, I forget which, and I might be thinking of a monitor lizard. It answers only to its own name, which I have been unable to learn. In the span of my life, I've owned seven dogs, sixteen cats, thirty-seven parrots, one hyperactive pig, and the Montauk Monster. On the whole, the Monster was the most well-behaved, though it ate a villager. Fortunately, there are, like, soooo many other villagers. So if you see either a stray dog, or a Monster, call me. My phone number is the same as your local city council, except you have to scream as loud as you can when they pick up; that transfers you to my line. You need to believe me, because nobody else will.

It’s still March. That was the joke, in case you were wondering.

Now, I’ve heard that there are some members of the audience who were born on the first of April. Is Lenny Greene here? Lenny? Yes, you! Stand up, m’boy! Take some pride in yourself, you’re an old man now! How old are you, bud? 37? Time flies, doesn’t it? Hey, you don’t have to tell me. It seems like just yesterday that I was an apple-cheeked lad tossing newspapers onto lawns. They called us “tossers”, which I’ve heard doesn’t translate very well across the pond.

Stay where you are. I did not tell you to come up to the stage. Were you raised in a barn? Was your father a... okay, you were raised on a farm. I sincerely apologize, I didn’t know. I was raised... well, near a farm. Couple of farms, actually. Apple farms, they grew nothing but apples. Then every autumn, before the equinox, the neighborhood children would sacrifice one of the pesky deer that trespassed through their family’s orchards. The carcass served as a warning to the others, and its lifeblood ensured that the next year’s harvest would be as red as sin. Have you ever had an apple pie that tasted like venison? They even stuck a little Santa Claus sticker on the label. I thought it was sick, but it’s just so good that you’d be crazy to take it up with management. It’s not that I’m pro- or anti-animal sacrifice, I just think more scientific study is needed.

Now who else just had a birthday? Vlad somebody? I can’t read this, it’s either in Cyrillic, or just too long for my mouth to make sense of it. You’re actually younger than me, so I can mangle your name however I want, FYI. Is that your girlfriend? You tell her to SIT DOWN. This isn’t some game show. And from now on, stick to either caps or italics, don’t ever mix them. That’s a direct quote from Mark Twain, FYI.

Forget Vlad, young lady, you can come up here. Don’t be shy, come on up, take a bow, then get back in your seat. I find that it helps me reach my audience better if they’re running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Old Tibetan technique, I picked it up on my last excursion to the Jambalaya Mountains. You haven’t truly lived until you’ve had McDonald’s at 20,000 feet above sea level, and from what the guy at the register/Sherpa told me, a lot of fat people are willing to make the trek. I found that surprising, but I really oughtn’t. Human nature demands we move ever upwards — excelsior! — and if your goal in life is to be at such high altitude that a McRib Shake sublimates in your stomach, that’s admirable.

I’d like to get a little serious, though, if I may. Obesity is a serious epidemic and can lead to a multitude of health problems, such as various and miscellaneous maladies. I’ve proposed a ton of solutions, such as community marathons, reduction of unhealthy adverts, and electrifying our nation’s gum supply. Chewing gum is a gateway drug to obesity, that encourages us to chew. Kids get their hands on gum and think it’s “cool” to chew, and that chewing doesn’t lead to weight gain. El wrongo. When I was six years old, I got my hands on a pack of gum. Five weeks later, I gained fifty pounds and developed a peanut allergy. It’s 100% true; why on God’s green Earth would anyone make this up?

And our final birthday today... is unreadable. My assistant, who already turned in her two week notice twelve days ago, just wrote a scribble. This is why I’m “grumpy”. This is why I’m a “FREQUENT YELLER”. This is why I THREW A STOOL AND BROKE THE WALL. But it’s cool. I’m cool now, I’m calm, I’m collected, I’m not the angry man I used to be. I’ve worked through my issues, and I’m no longer prone to the kind of fits that got me barred from the Wal Mart near my cousin’s house. Though, in my defense, my request at the time was reasonable, and the greeter should have backed down when he was clearly in the wrong. I can’t be held responsible for the irresponsibility of others, and if the judge was competent, he would have recognized that basic fact. It’s natural law. I guess being a 90-year-old war veteran means you can be wrong and still... you know, I’m past that. I don’t “dwell”, like some people incorrectly claim.

Well, that takes care of the birthdays! We’ve had a lot of fun here today, and I’d really like to stay on, but there’s going to be a great musical number coming up after the break. Stay tuned — and kids, remember to visit our web site and write down the mailing address you see on the main page. Then, go into your mommy and daddy’s wallets, take out the little pieces of green paper, and send them to that address! If you can send us the ones with pictures of President Jackson on them, you get a special bonus prize! And remember not to ask your parents for help — that’s cheating!

God wants you to buy a bigger television.

—The Book of Genesis

This is basically how the bible starts. Some may criticize me for paraphrasing and simplifying, but it’s 100% true; at least for the Abrahamic faiths, which include Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

Did you ever wonder why movies and television stations and high definition DVDs use a 16:9 aspect ratio? What? You’ve never heard of aspect ratios? Let me break it down for you!

Those black bars at the top and bottom of the screen you see on your wittle-bitty TV set? The ones you get from widescreen DVDs? Aren’t they annoying? That’s because you’re using them wrong. Those are the result of progress.

For decades, visual media was produced in a more square format, the exact shape of your pathetic little TV box. It had to change, because SCIENTISTS proved through their EXPERIMENTATION (on TV-watching animals) that the human field of vision is horizontally rectangular and that a more horizontally rectangular shape would be more pleasing to look at. Widescreen expands the total field of vision that you get from the olde-tyme standard definition.

Meaning, the whole time you’ve been watching television — oh, God, say it isn’t so — you’ve been effectively wearing blinders. You’ve been staring at walls when you could’ve seen more scenery. You’ve let gaudy wallpaper distract you from crucial televised content.

Still not convinced? Observe the following two images — please.

Image 1:


Image 2:


Which one appears more innocuous? If you believe the second one to be “safer” or “calmer,” you’re in good company. The second image is presented in a 16:9 aspect ratio.

The quantifiable benefits of widescreen are therefore obvious to anyone with a rudimentary understanding of human vision. NOTE: this does not imply that the visually impaired are incapable of grasping the importance of widescreen ratios, but rather that the concepts may not pertain to them. It is unreasonable to expect that a person blind from birth would replace their current television based on the quality of an imperceptible metric.

What is NOT unreasonable is to expect people already stretched beyond their financial means to pony up the money for a sweet widesreen. Everyone who is capable of enjoying widescreen has a religious obligation to do so.

“Are you crazy?” you ask me incredulously, “All major religions were created thousands of years ago. How dare you make this blasphemous claim.”

Spoken like someone who knows squat about their own faith. I’m following a very basic syllogism:

1. Genesis 1:27 states that God created humans in his image (i.e. humans resemble God).
2. Widescreen is the optimal aspect ratio for human vision.
3. Widescreen must therefore be the optimal aspect ratio for God’s vision.

Ascetics may argue that we mere mortals have no right to aspire to the ergonomics of the divine; a pox on thee! What better way to honor God than watching His many creatures duke it out on Animal Planet in hi-def?

I say the man who sits on his couch all day eating chips and watching TV is holier than any priest. Blessed is the couch potato.

Thank you for taking the time to read my carefully thought-out post. The opinions expressed here are my own, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Roboshrub Inc. although they almost certainly do.

You know the pen I’m talking about.

The one I borrowed from you about a month ago? The blue one with black ink, the fountain pen you got as a graduation present from your grandpa? With your initials embossed on the cap?

The one you’ve been searching furiously for since last Monday?

That pen is mine now. I’ve got it in a coffee cup with about twenty or thirty others. Not just pens, either. Some are pencils (both mechanical and No. 2) that I’ve collected from other people, much like this delightful new pen. Some have never even been sharpened.

Your pen, though... it’s unlike any other piece in my collection. When I write with it, I feel inspired. I feel as though I could write something on par with Shakespeare, or at least sitcom-worthy. Do you ever get that feeling?

I ask that rhetorically, of course. How could you, without this pen?

Don’t bother printing this post tomorrow and waving it in my face; I’ll deny ever writing it, blaming “old unreliable Google” for mucking up my blog feed and inserting someone else’s post. And while you scream until your face turns purple, your pen will be rusting into crusty dust.

By the way... I really like that new stapler you got last week at the supply store down the street. I have a drawer full of staplers just like it.

And they’re lonely.