Blunt Wit

So many years ago I was doing my best not learn Chinese while studying in Beijing. This was before China had opened up and become the economic juggernaut that it is today: pre Olympics. pre-Tiananmen, hell, it felt Pre-Cambian.

Anyway, as a student we had to wash our clothes on a washboard, there was no hot water in the shower, and we were watched closely by our communist handlers. We compared our living conditions to that of being on an extended camping trip in prison.

There were no 7-11’s, no slurpees, no Coca Cola, nothing to quench your thirst on a hot day. We bought fake antique Chinese vases and created a miniature water factory filling them with scalding water and letting them cool before pouring them into our canteens.

We took these water vessels with us on our various excursions. One was to the Great Wall of China, a couple of hours drive north of Beijing. Maybe you’ve heard the canard that “the Great Wall is the only man-made structure that is viewable on earth from the moon.”

Anyway, we got up there on a crisp summer morning. It had been boiling hot in Beijing with the hot sands whipping across the city from the Gobi desert and into our eyes. Thus we were woefully unprepared for the surprisingly cold, freezing wind up on the wall, dressed in our shorts and t-shirts. So we bought Russian fur caps and extra layers of clothes for spare change from the hawkers milling around.

Being stupid kids we hiked away from the crowds further and further along the wall. I half expected to come across Mongol hordes filing in through the various cracks we surveyed. At one point my roommate and good friend Andy gave me his camera and said wait until I say go. He climbed to the highest point on the wall, lowered his pants and flashed his plaster white butt in my general direction and yelled “Go.”

Later he developed the picture and added this caption … “The only man-made moon to be seen from the Great Wall of China.”

No I am not asking, faux gansta, what kind of car your drive or how you view the world at large. My question is more specific to your gender. How do you put the roll of toilet paper on the roller-thingy?
Do you put it on over …

Or under …

Apparently 98% of men ‘roll under’ or put the TP on such that you draw it out from underneath whereas 97% of women ‘roll over’ or put it on such that you yank it up and over the top.
So why do I bring up this weird bathroom detail?

Well in writing a story, an author builds up the characters by showing you, the reader, a string of seemingly inconsequential details that when taken together paint a portrait. Each action is like a brushstroke to a painting; every choice a character makes brings a scene on the canvas to life.

So I started to search for other telltale signs of gender and character and my highly empirical inquiry lead to the following discoveries
1. While in the laundry room the vast majority of males wash in only cold water, whereas the females will adjust the water temperature based on their mood.
2. In the kitchen most girls will follow the recipe as written, while most boys will just ‘wing it’.
3. In the bedroom the majority of women struggle unclasping their bra, whereas countless scientific studies have shown that men will get that same bra off in a fraction of the time.
4. And in the Den/TV room, men click on the remote ten times more than women.

So sometime I wonder if art really imitates life or if life itself follows from art. Who sees reality more clearly, those of who live life or those who interpret it through words, pictures or music?

So how do you roll (your toilet paper)?

Today I am unveiling a new classification system for individuals based on rigorous scientific study, deep spiritual contemplation and keen social observation. Everyone, and I mean everyone, falls into one of these two camps: Shirt People or Sock People.

This is serious, just hear me out. Sock people are one of a pair. They must find their match and be worn together. Shirt people, on the other hand, can easily go solo although they don’t mind being on top or bottom with another shirt as the case may be.

Sock people go their whole lives with a bad case of static cling. They find their match and, come hell or high water, stick to him or her. If they don’t wash after a couple of days they start to smell. On rare occasions, they come out of the dryer without their matching pair. It is one of those grand mysteries of life … where the other sock disappears off to. In fact there has been speculation of a mystical sock graveyard – akin to the mythical great elephant graveyard – where single socks go to die alone. They can be loud and garish, especially during holiday seasons, but are more naturally toned-down mono-chrome.

Shirt people are more solitary by nature. Give them an undershirt and they’re happy because the undershirt gets dirtier. They also don’t mind being covered by a jacket if it’s sexy or cool. But their natural state is just hanging out, chillin with their friends. They can be garish and loud or quiet and subdued. They can be pull-overs or all buttoned up. Oh, and they love to be ripped off if physical contact is involved.

So which are you … a sock person or a shirt person?

This idea came to me the other night as I was serving Cheerios to my kids for dinner. You see being a blogger and an entrepreneur setting out to change the world you sometimes miss those simple pleasures in your life. Like food. Thereupon it hit me. Why not blog for food.

Don’t dismiss my idea out of hand. First hear me out.

Let’s say you’ve wracked your brain and can’t think of that just-so gift for your daughter’s (posit wife, husband or significant other as the case may be) impending birthday. Why not give her a personalized Blog? Just send me her vital stats: is she fat or thin, neurotic or normal, blonde or brunette, cat or dog person, etc.? And I will then write the best damn Blog about (or for) her. Think of what this will do for her self-esteem. I bet she’ll be the talk of the town and even more popular amongst her friends.

Or, let’s say you’re fed up with your ex and you want a scathing expose of all his or her faults. Just send me the laundry list and I’ll concoct a lethal mix of half truths and innuendo that would make our erstwhile, randy former President Clinton or even Lindsay Lohan blush.

And if you just happen to be a corporate bigwig reading this, well, I can help you too! I personally believe one can never have too many ring-tones, washing machines or whatever the heck you’re peddling. You just tell me what product you’re foisting onto the unsuspecting public and I will plug it shamelessly.

The quo to my quid is quite simple. I will send you the logon info for my Safeway.com* account. Then, much like a bridal registry you go in and select the quantities of the food I have pre-selected as my favorites and have them delivered to my home. Kind of like dropping a few coins into an indigent pan handler’s cup. Except with the added benefit that you never have to look into my eyes. Easy peasy.

What do you think?

*The local supermarket akin to Krogers, A&P, Piggly Wiggly, Tom Thumb, Star Market, etc.

Well, for one, artists, comedians, politicians and crazy people all view the world a little differently than most of us. They start on common ground – the stuff of everyday life – and then they veer catawampus into virginal territory and drag us along for the joyride. They view the world cock-eyed. They twist reality into strange shapes like a clown does oblong balloons for kids. They view the world askew and corrupt us with their oblique observations. They seduce us with our own sense of wonder, amazement and suspension of disbelief.
But then that’s why we love’em. We love perky perspective. We put a shine on for fresh ideas. We bend over backwards for a tantalizing touch of something other than what we are accustomed to.
Artists, just like their politician/comedian/insane brethren, come in all shapes and sizes: visual, musical, crafty, verbal, you name it. Being enamored with the written word I tend to truck with writers. But I have seen a quilt that’ll knock your socks off and a ceramic bowl that’ll glaze your eyes over. Not to mention songs that put the dance in your soul and pictures that transport you to a different plane.
And comedians are as close to crazy people as they come. I think it takes a full blown untreated neurosis to find laughter in the utter absurdity of our collective existences.
Ah, but I reserve my warmest-hearted opprobrium for politicians. They forever vacillate between pandering sycophant and enlightened leader. Always reading our fickle moods and saying what we want to hear. Then on some capricious whim, they inject their own twisted logic into the mix and lead us off to some silly war here or convoluted trade deal there.
I guess our world would be a whole lot duller without them.

Tell me – who is your favorite comedian/politician/artist/crazy person of all time??? (Note I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours)

So the other day I went to see the movie Ironman at the Mountain View theater. After the show as often is the case my spouse had to scamper to the ladies room, post movie Starbucks and all. And as I waited with the other patrons a thickset man in jeans and a food stained checkered shirt cornered me and said,
“Didya see Ironman,” in a nasally voice while looking past me at the snack counter.
“Ummm, yes I did.”
“That arc reactor was something else, wasn’t it.”
I glanced over my shoulder only to settle into the fact that he was indeed addressing me and he must simply be the type of person to talk around people without making eye contact.

“Ummmm, yes it was.”

“The two nested torodial surfaces gave it away.”
“Huh.”
“Well, it was obviously fashioned after a Tokamak.”
“A what???”
“A Tokamak fusion reactor.”
“Yes, definitely.”
His eyes lit up.
“Yes it was clearly a plasma containment field similar to the original Tamm/Sahkarov model …”
Just then my wife sauntered out. I had never been so happy to see her in my life.
“Sorry I’ve got to go. I left my supercomputer at home on calculating PIE.”
And I took her arm and bee-lined for the exit before he could begin reciting PI to me.
Have you ever noticed how we often come to think those around us just as smart (or dumb) as us? I guess it makes us feel more comfortable to view the world through a lens of familiarity. I often find a little passion lights up the world and gets under peoples skin. I know that for a few seconds under the indirect heated gaze of the “scientist” in Silicon Valley I felt like a nuclear engineer.

Ah, and some Onion Ironman humor to go along with my persistent silly musings …