Thursday, September 29, 2011

Debates for the Universe

Is there a God? Why is it that when you slice a seashell in half, you find math inside? Why can't I start working at noon as I am not a farmer? Does a man really want a woman with a sense of humor, or does he just want a woman who laughs at his jokes? Who is the sadist that keeps on airing those ASPCA commercials?

When did irony stop functioning as a rhetorical device and become a cultural slogan for sloppy contrast? Who steals my pens when I'm not at my desk? Are dragons real? Chickens and eggs, which came first? Who is the most important musical figure since the inception of Rock and Roll: Elvis, Les Paul, or the Beatles as a cheeky whole? Why does everyone buy Puffs and still call it Kleenex?

Who coined the phrase "throw you under the bus"?  Where do they live?  Is it near a bus stop?  Why do people repeat that phrase when it makes no sense and sounds fucking idiotic?  Why are potato stems useless? How many apple seeds can you eat before you feel the effects of the cyanide? How is it statistically possible that I am undefeated in air hockey (Holla)?

Does anyone ever enjoy a Hollywood reboot? When did rope become irrelevant? How did Mrs. Grass chicken noodle soup become a proven placebo cure-all for everything bad ever ever?  How did I get so close to one set of grandparents and retain such antipathy for the other? Fucking magnets, how do they work?  Which is better: quality or nostalgia; sub-question: So which is the best Weezer album?

My grandpa died last night.  This one.   I am sad.  My grandmother, from the other side of the family, passed away about a month and a half ago.  I was not nearly as sad.  Oh, I really want to get drunk. 



Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry Rassles *hugs*

Jacob said...

Sorry about your loss.

If it makes you feel better, there is an answer to the chicken and the egg thing. The answer is the egg because at some point some chicken-like-pheasant laid an egg with enough genetic mutations to hatch the first chicken. Narrowing that down to which egg is the real question since it would have been a very gradual process and it'd be tough to decide which chicken was the first chicken.

Or, if you prefer the creationist version, it'd be the chicken. I'm betting on the egg.

Meagan said...

Maybe, but religion doesn't have a clue. Something in the world has to make sense. The people who run businesses think the rest of us are cattle. Men want women who won't play head games, unfortunately they don't have the first clue what they ought to look for. The same people that run two "Animal Cops" back to back on discovery.

I blame Alannis Morissett. Could be anyone, but it's probably one person who's made a habit out of it. Eggs. Beatles based on sheer volume. Because puffs sounds like an improvised narcotic.

Someone who got thrown under a bus. They're probably dead. More likely they live near a bus that didn't stop. Because it's a fairly good description of how easily you can flatten a coworker/friend if you're an asshole. Because nature is not designed. You would probably get ill from eating something inedible before enough cyanide could collect in your system to harm you. Air hockey is a game of skill.

No matter how bad a movie is, someone thinks it's the best thing ever made. When corsets went out of fashion. Because chicken broth is cheaper than beef broth? Blood only gets you so far. Mormon mind control. Whichever it is, Weezer is NOT the answer.

I'm really sorry about your grandpa.

Jane said...

I don't have nearly the succinct and pithy answers which Meagan provided you with, but I'm glad someone did.

I'm sorry about your grandfather.

Diary of Why said...

So sorry, Rass.

daisyfae said...

so very sorry about your grandfather.

don't beat yourself up about liking one set better than the other. i think it's natural. the heart wants what it wants. (that was the "Woody Allen Defense", by the way).

and how, and when, did facial hair become ironic? i think it can only be ironic on a fucking woman. this woman is growing pork chops and a handlebar mustache, damn it.