I finally got up the energy to tear the last 60 pages from my desktop calendar (it's been September 15th for awhile now).
And.
Much to my horror and surprise, it turns out 2007 is nigh up! Not only that, but I haven't done any good at all this year.
That's when it hit me, flamethrowers are cool, and practical!
But more importantly, I should do something that will make me feel like I'm not the worst person in the world.
So here ya go folks. Give generously: Father Mark Saves!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
A Burst of Motivation
A guy at work coaches a soccer team. He asked me to write him a speech to deliver before their game tonight. His goal was to motivate and confuse them:
---------------------------------
Men. I am here today to tell you that this is your opportunity to be that bear. Tear through the lies with wings of steel! Brace yourself on the trees of hope! Dance the drunken dance of the Norwegians! And never look back.
Did you hear me? Never look back.
And when the day is about to end, and you feel like you can't go on. Remember to go on instead.
One sock.
One shoe.
Amen.
---------------------------------
There comes a time in every man's life, where the inevitable rises to the challenge, and everyone must choose whether to meet it or turn away.
Men. I am here today to tell you that this is your opportunity to be that bear. Tear through the lies with wings of steel! Brace yourself on the trees of hope! Dance the drunken dance of the Norwegians! And never look back.
Did you hear me? Never look back.
And when the day is about to end, and you feel like you can't go on. Remember to go on instead.
One sock.
One shoe.
Amen.
---------------------------------
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Footnotes
So here's the thing:
For an angry guy who leans Jewish, I don't hate Christmastime as much as you would expect. I just put up the tree at work (1) and I find Christmas lights hypnotizing (2). I also don't mind not going to work on Jesus' fake birthday.
I enjoy the music too... the excessive sappiness, the nostalgia for times that never existed, and the way radio stations have to pretend they aren't actually playing the same eight songs over and over again.
But here's the thing:
After years of careful observation, note-taking, and unnecessary crouching (3), I'm ready to put the final touches on my masterpiece theory.
Ready?
No really, are you ready?
I'm fairly certain that Jingle Bell Rock and Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree are the same song.
Now, before you dredge up the same old hackneyed and stale arguments (4), listen to what I've found:
Nothing.
Yep, nothing. Nothing but a hunch. But it's a strong hunch. And a hunch that I'll defend until I forget about it.
Nonetheless, this year I will, for the first time ever, keep track of the number of times I hear JBR and RATCT. The way I figure it, whichever one wins will be the winner. And the other will be dead to me (5).
Let the battle for the rocking-est Christmas song begin!
Sham-on!
1. While I was doing it, the only other Jew in the office jokingly told me I wasn't allowed to put it up. She said she would tell my parents and that I should be ashamed of myself. Calmly and rationally, though, and in a tone befitting the work environment, I explained to her that it was the least I could do; after what we did to their god.
2. They tell me to stop touching myself. Or at least to get back in the car.
3. Crouching Mark, Hidden Outdated Reference.
4. Number one most over-used argument: They're different songs.
5. It's very hard to enforce some 'dead to me' rules. Especially without making things actually dead.
For an angry guy who leans Jewish, I don't hate Christmastime as much as you would expect. I just put up the tree at work (1) and I find Christmas lights hypnotizing (2). I also don't mind not going to work on Jesus' fake birthday.
I enjoy the music too... the excessive sappiness, the nostalgia for times that never existed, and the way radio stations have to pretend they aren't actually playing the same eight songs over and over again.
But here's the thing:
After years of careful observation, note-taking, and unnecessary crouching (3), I'm ready to put the final touches on my masterpiece theory.
Ready?
No really, are you ready?
I'm fairly certain that Jingle Bell Rock and Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree are the same song.
Now, before you dredge up the same old hackneyed and stale arguments (4), listen to what I've found:
Nothing.
Yep, nothing. Nothing but a hunch. But it's a strong hunch. And a hunch that I'll defend until I forget about it.
Nonetheless, this year I will, for the first time ever, keep track of the number of times I hear JBR and RATCT. The way I figure it, whichever one wins will be the winner. And the other will be dead to me (5).
Let the battle for the rocking-est Christmas song begin!
Sham-on!
1. While I was doing it, the only other Jew in the office jokingly told me I wasn't allowed to put it up. She said she would tell my parents and that I should be ashamed of myself. Calmly and rationally, though, and in a tone befitting the work environment, I explained to her that it was the least I could do; after what we did to their god.
2. They tell me to stop touching myself. Or at least to get back in the car.
3. Crouching Mark, Hidden Outdated Reference.
4. Number one most over-used argument: They're different songs.
5. It's very hard to enforce some 'dead to me' rules. Especially without making things actually dead.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
The First Blog
Dear Kitty:
I hear footsteps above me.
Nobody lives above me, I'm on the top floor. I don't know what's going on.
But there's definately some kind of cuh-thumping a-happenin'.
If I had the energy, or the pants-on, I would totally investigate the hell out of it.
I'd walk outside, down the stairs, and I would stand in the parking lot and look around. Then I'd get distracted--
--there are cat prints on my car's back window. Hmm. Interesting. Also there are like 25 Indians in the apartment below mine. It's like a magic trick, except instead of smelling like a fog machine it smells like curry.
Is that racism?
Because it does smell like curry. I'm pretty sure that makes it 'reporting.'
More importantly, this whole blogging thing is scary and new to me. I've looked at other blogs for guidance. I think I'm supposed to use sporatic pictures.
So here's the logo for my Fantasy Football Team :
Anyway, I'm gonna take a break now. I'm overstimulated by the entire experience
But I'll be back, I swear.
I hear footsteps above me.
Nobody lives above me, I'm on the top floor. I don't know what's going on.
But there's definately some kind of cuh-thumping a-happenin'.
If I had the energy, or the pants-on, I would totally investigate the hell out of it.
I'd walk outside, down the stairs, and I would stand in the parking lot and look around. Then I'd get distracted--
--there are cat prints on my car's back window. Hmm. Interesting. Also there are like 25 Indians in the apartment below mine. It's like a magic trick, except instead of smelling like a fog machine it smells like curry.
Is that racism?
Because it does smell like curry. I'm pretty sure that makes it 'reporting.'
More importantly, this whole blogging thing is scary and new to me. I've looked at other blogs for guidance. I think I'm supposed to use sporatic pictures.
So here's the logo for my Fantasy Football Team :
Team name: The Sleepy Popes.
So far we're in first place (http://www.peopleuselinksinblogsright/?.com). Take that!
Anyway, I'm gonna take a break now. I'm overstimulated by the entire experience
But I'll be back, I swear.
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