The Dangers of Rae Dawn Chong

What will it take to warn you about the dangers of Rae Dawn Chong?

The EPA has concluded numerous times that there is a definite link between lung cancer and Rae Dawn. She's a threat in three out of every ten homes. About 20,000 lung cancer deaths each year in the U.S. are Rae Dawn-related. Exposure to Rae Dawn is the second leading cause of lung cancer after smoking. She's also been linked to sudden mood swings in pregnant women, sore throat, brain-freeze, stabbings, ringworm, explosive flatulence, meningitis, and in some cases premature death from unknown causes. She can also cause children under 12 to bleed profusely from all of their pores.

Rae Dawn is ubiquitous. She can be found in most homes in trace amounts, usually when a person unintentionally switches to Cinemax when The Principal in on. However, some homes have deadly levels of Rae Dawn, ranging from one or more of her films on VHS or DVD, all the way to a physical incarnation of her stalking in the shadows with glowing eyes and a large knife. You can't see her, smell her, or taste her. Therefore, many lung cancer victims never knew of the dangers of their extremely high levels of Rae Dawn.

Rae Dawn can enter the home many ways, normally through an open door or window, although she can also phase through solid walls if the conditions are just right, and has been known to crawl out of television sets, like that little ghost girl in The Ring. Also be aware of cracks in the floor or walls: She's very thin.

AHHH! She's a known carcinogen! Run, bitch, run!

Rae Dawn is very easy to check for. One must look for corpses lying randomly in the floor, as well as the site of her lurking about and staring like a hungry wild dog. Be also aware of her droppings: They are invisible and have no scent, but are very slippery, much like a banana peel. Other warning signs could include post-apocalyptic plotlines, excessive monster make-up, and James Belushi.

Once it has been established that the home contains dangerous levels of Rae Dawn, one must be careful never to attempt exterminating her through the use of force. Not only is she bad as hell and could probably kill you with two or three of her fingers, but she is also an entity that can jump from the body of one person to another, causing a physical metamorphosis of her host body into that of a skinny, ethnically mixed middle-aged woman.

The proper way to exterminate Rae Dawn is to pray to the wood nymphs (be sure they are EPA-certified wood nymphs, however) and brush some sage against your right elbow, while chanting "I'll be your number one with a bullet...doodlebop, soda pop, grab it and pull it".

WARNING: UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU BRUSH THE SAGE AGAINST YOUR LEFT ELBOW. THIS CAN CAUSE A SUBATOMIC REACTION THAT COULD CAUSE CATASTROPHIC SUBATOMIC FAILURE ON THE SUBATOMIC LEVEL, AND CAN CAUSE YOUR NOSE TO FALL OFF.

After these steps are complete, Rae Dawn should let out a piercing scream that can be heard throughout the entire region of the country you live in, which will shatter all glass and burst all car tires within a five mile radius. She will then explode into a shower of sparks and rose petals. Your home should now be Rae-Dawn free.

For further information, please refer to the Internet Movie Database at www.imdb.com.

Remember, only you can prevent Rae Dawn Chong.

Stay Away From My Funges!

Yeah, I haven't updated in a while. I try to update at the very least once a month, but I haven't had much to complain or even ponder lately. But now I do. And I'll try my damnedest to have something next month, too.

Let me start this entry by giving a tidbit of personal information: I work as a master control operator for a local TV station. I mainly work the sign on shifts (ie, early morning to noon or so) on Saturday and Sunday. My station - an NBC affiliate - plays the "Discovery Kids" block on Saturday morning. Rather than show cartoons like the other networks, NBC stations show this educational programming, which consists of safari shows or scripted kiddie sitcoms that just happen to take place in Africa or on a farm. The Discovery Kids programming block is fairly tolerable compared to the crap that my station usually plays (Ambush Makeover...ugh), but the commercials aren't.

Not only are commercials for the same four or five snack foods played randomly throughout the three hours of programming, but they're usually annoying. And the worst is...the dreaded Pringles commercial.

If you haven't seen the commercial, first of all be glad. Second, allow me to paint the picture:

The ad starts with your typical "TV mom" opening a cabinet. The camera was in the cabinet in total darkness, then she opens the door and all you see is her goofy fucking face. I'm immediately reminded of the car trunk scenes so prevalent in Quentin Tarantino films, but without all the cool. She reaches for a single Pringles Snack Stack...those cursed little things they put in lunches that comes in either ketchup red (for plain) or failed scientific experiment green (for sour cream and onion). This one is red. She grabs it and closes the cabinet.

The camera cuts outside to a clinically clean kitchen in a typical suburban house, that is, if your typical suburban family makes a total of $250,000 a year. Seated at the counter behind their mother is the (on the left) a typical dipshit 7-10 year old son: Bowl cut, a long sleeved shirt that is very obviously not a part of a uniform yet inexplicably has a number on the front of it, and an excitable demeanor. Next to him (on the right) is the typical dipshit 7-10 year old daughter: long hair, plain white long sleeved shirt, and a smartassed demeanor. The mother turns to them.

"There's one Snack Stacks left. Who wants it?" she asks them in a fairly bored voice. One Snack Stacks? Isn't "Snack Stacks" plural? They put the "s" on the end because they're sold in bulk, but singularly, it's "one Snack Stack". We'll just assume that she's retarded, and he new name is Retard Mom. Hi, Retard Mom.

Both children (we'll call them Buttsqueeze and Squeezette) immediately respond with "I do!". Then we have a sort of quasi-auction to see who gets the "Snack Stacks" - all one of them. Paraphrased below:

Buttsqueeze: "I'll clean my room for it!"
Squeezette: "Shampoo the carpet."
Buttsqueeze: "Change the oil!"
Retard Mom: "Car's oil needs changing, oil going once..."
Squeezette: "Wash the cat."
Buttsqueeze: "Clean out the gutters!"
Retard Mom: "Gutters going once, gutters going twice..."

Just when Retard Mom is about to give her son the last of the damn potato chips, Squeezette comes up with this gem: "Balance the checkbook and water the fungus". Except the way she says it, it comes out sounding like "funges", or phonetically, "fun-jess". Retard Mom replies, "Sold to the lady with the fungus" (ewwwwww) and Squeezette gives Buttsqueeze a smug look that makes me want to snatch all the ugly off of her dorky prepubescent ass. After the announcer gets through reminding us what this is a commercial for, it cuts to the last scene: Buttsqueeze asks "What's a fungus?", and Squeezette gives him the typical "I'm not related to you" look. Fade to black.

Apart from the annoyance of the cross-eyed little drooler mispronouncing "fungus" (and her mother and brother miraculously understanding her), I can only think of one thing: What the hell does "water the fungus" mean? What fungus? Do they have a shroom garden? Are they going to go piss on some lichen somewhere? Whatever it means, it must be important, because it takes precedence over cleaning the gutters and changing the oil, and is at least on the same level as balancing the checkbook (which by itself shouldn't even be a higher priority than shampooing the carpet, so watering this fungus must be REALLY important). I mean, do people in suburbia keep some sort of nondescript pet fungus in their house that they have to water regularly? It truly blows my mind.

For the past three weeks or so they haven't been playing the ad, so maybe the bastard thing has been retired. Maybe they were playing it even before I started the job and normally phased it out of rotation, or maybe they just finally realized what an awful ad it is and yanked it, casting it away into the Pit of Horrid Advertisements with its housemates-in-hell, the MCI "I Believe I Can Call" spot featuring singing Looney Tunes characters, and every O.B. tampon commercial EVER.

Now if they would just stop playing those Chucky Cheese commercials featuring that speech-impaired mouse dressed like a skateboarder from 1989...

Pugnacious Kerfuffle With a Vengeance

--What is the deal with Stargate SG-1? The Sci-Fi channel shows like seven hours of this damn show every Monday night, then continues showing it throughout the week. Playing any show on a schedule like that is downright bizarre, but this show as a bonus completely sucks. At least 45 minutes is spent in each hour long show showing a bunch of military guys running around in the woods shooting a lot of fake ass lasers at everything. And wait a second...the woods? If I remember the movie correctly, the alternate dimension was a DESERT. I know the show is filmed in Vancouver, but hell, so were first few seasons of The X-Files, and they had desert scenes in some episodes. Just dump some red food coloring into a rock quarry. Instant desert. But no...just just shift it to the woods instead, because we're lazy.

It also makes the same old mistakes Star Trek did, such as alien beings not really being alien, just being black guys wearing a lot of makeup. You know this guy is an alien, BECAUSE HE'S BLACK AND HAS SOME SORT OF SPIRAL PATTERN IN HIS FOREHEAD! DUDE, THAT'S LIKE, SO CRAZY AND ALIEN AND STUFF!

Oh well, at least they took Tremors: The Series off the air.


--People mispronounce everything:

You look in the mirror, not the "meer".
You drink milk, not "melk".
Mischievous is pronounced "mischief-vus", not "mis-chee-vee-us".
Porsche is pronounced "Porsha", not just "Porsh".
On a similar note, Audi is "Ow-dee", not "Aw-dee".
When you buy a bedroom suite, that's a "sweet", not a "suit".
En route is pronounced "on root" or "on rout", not "in root" or "in rout".
Haute is pronounced "oat", not "hawt".

Learn this shit, folks, I'm tired of correcting you.


--I'm getting tired of people misusing the word "ego". The word is supposed to refer to one's self esteem, but is also defined as an inappropriate love for oneself. Any time someone stands up for himself for any reason or actually sticks to his principles, people say he has a big ego. Like the only reason he doesn't accept what's handed to him is because he thinks he's better. No, he doesn't have principles and a strong sense of character and honor, he's just conceited and stubborn.

People (women are especially bad about this, but you hear it from men a lot too) will often get some sort of penis comment in there, too. Oh yeah. If someone doesn't allow himself to be pushed around, he must have a small penis. Am I the only one who doesn't see a connection there? You might as well conclude that his thumbs aren't the same length. So by this logic, Cool Hand Luke and Vanishing Point were about self-important stubborn assholes with small penises. Yeah. Now it all makes sense.

Everyone today has this weird concept of "I'll accept any degree of disgrace, as long as I'm safe", and will attack anyone who doesn't subscribe to the same point of view. These people often wallow around in the shallow cesspool of modern life, perfectly content to walk around in the mall yacking on mobile phones buying (imitation) high-end merchandise and pursuing their own selfish goals, since they have their entire lives planned out ahead of time and don't think that anything could ever possibly get in the way of their all-important plans.

That, dear readers, is ego.

Smack, Shit, and Yay: A Dialogue

If you've watched television in that last five years or so, you've surely seen those spots from the Partnership for a Drug-Free America about talking to kids about drug use. They show a parent and child doing sundry things in silence - eating breakfast, riding in the car, or whatever - in total silence. This is followed by the text "Another missed opportunity to talk to your child about drugs". These ads kill me...it's as if every moment of precious silence between parents and their kids should be spent with the parent preaching at the kid about not using drugs. But instead of ranting at length about this topic, I've decided to write a short dialogue, in a vague screenplay format.

Smack, Shit, and Yay

Setting: The front seat of a car driving down a stereotypical upper-middle class suburban road.

M - A mother
S - Her son
IJ - Indiana Jones, world famous adventurer and archaeologist

(Fade in. A gold Toyota Camry with a stick on Jesus fish on the trunk lid and a lot of beads and fake flowers hanging from the mirror is driving down a tree-lined road through the suburbs. All houses are two-story, all lawns are a perfect emerald color with every blade of grass the exact same length. A mother is driving. She is a typical television housewife: Blonde, 35 years old, wearing clothes from J.C. Penny, and completely devoid of any sexuality. Her son is next to her. He has a large white guy 'fro that makes his hair look vaguely like a huge brown brain. His clothes are from Old Navy. He's a stereotypical "teen slouch" in the passenger's seat, and is staring absently out the passenger's window.

M: So...how's school?
S: It sucks.
M: (laughing) Of course.
S: My first period teacher is a dick.
M: Don't use that word.
S: Sorry, ma.
(There is a long pause.)
M: You know...you shouldn't use drugs.
(He looks over at her, dumbfounded. She's still staring at the road ahead.)
S: ...huh?
M: You shouldn't use drugs.
S: I don't. Except that ritalin you've had me on since I was eight.
M: Ritalin isn't a drug.
S: It isn't?
M: No. It's legal. Drugs are illegal. And bad.
S: Well in that case, I don't use any drugs.
M: That's not the issue.
S: Then why'd you bring it up?
M: Because I'm supposed to.
S: Because you saw it in a commercial?
M: (defensively) It was from the Partnership for a Drug-Free America.
S: Exactly. Ma, you are aware that that organization is just a political lobbying arm of the American pharmaceutical industry, right? And that they only exist to keep illegal drugs illegal because they're more effective than the swill that Pfizer and GlaxoSmithKline unloads on an unsuspecting public every day? Come on, do you seriously think anyone would take Prozac is marijuana was legal?
M: (looking surprised, then upset) You've been reading Newsweek again, haven't you?
S: (sighs and rolls eyes) No...
M: Yes you have. Kids your age are too stupid to think up things like that on your own. And you know I've warned you about the liberal media...
S: Christ, Ma...
M: Don't take the Lord's name in vain.
S: Jesus...
M: I mean it. Stop it!
S: Damn Ma, you pull this shit all the time. I know you think you're doing this for my own good, but stop taking parenting lessons from TV ads. I understand the effects of illegal substances thanks to the holdover Reagan-era preaching against them in the public schools, and even more so I know of the legal ramifications of taking, selling, or just carrying contraband. All I have to do is flip on the news and hear about the next celebrity getting 300 years in jail for having a bong.
(During this whole speech, his mother has been looking shocked. She finally clears her throat and speaks.)
M: You said "shit"...
S: (staring at her incredulously) You didn't hear a word I said, did you?
M: Oh yes I did, mister! I heard "shit"! That's it! No X-BOX for a week!
S: (quietly, while looking out the window again) Okay.
M: Oh, that's not enough, huh? No TV for a month!
S: I don't live off TV the way you do.
M: No cell phone for a month, either, Mr. Back-Talk!
S: I don't have a cell-phone. I'm not into mindless fads.
M: You're confined to your room for the next year!
S: (Looks back at her as if hit by an epiphany) You're waiting for it, aren't you?
M: Waiting for what?
S: Waiting for me to say "That's not fair".
(Mother still stares straight ahead at the road, but her expression reads that he's just figured her out.)
S: ...because, you know, that's what they always say on TV...
M: Well you just think you know it all, don't you?
S: So just because I've butted heads with you on this issue, the assumption is that I think I'm smarter than you?
M: Well you do. All you teens are the same. Well, it doesn't matter. We're here.
(Mother makes a right turn. Son is looking out the windows, confused.)
S: Um...where are we, anyway?
M: This is Narconon Arrowhead.
S: (eyes grow wide) Narc....you're sending me to rehab!?!?
M: That's right. Be strong.
S: Christ Ma, I already told you I don't even use drugs!
M: You all do. You teens with your "smack" and your "shit" and your "yay". And stop taking the Lord's name in vain. I'll have to send you to church after you're cured to break you of that habit.
(Men in white coats open the passenger's door and start to drag the son out. He's screaming and fighting them the whole time.)
S: N0, YOU CAN'T! MA, I SWEAR I DON'T DO DRUGS!
M: If you say that when you come back, I'll believe you. And you're still grounded. Bye.
(Panning overhead shot. Car tires screech as the mother rapidly accelerates out of the parking lot. Three white-coated men are dragging the still screaming teenager into a large white building. Fade out.

THE END

Production Note: Indiana Jones could not appear in this production as previously scheduled. Harrison Ford has come down with the flu, and Tom Selleck can't play him now because no one remembers who he is anymore.

Grease Pit of Despair

Do you ever see middle-aged people working in fast food restaurants? Does it make you sad? It does me. I'm much more comfortable seeing a homeless middle-aged person than one working in fast food.

Mostly younger people work in fast food joints. Guys still in high school, or perhaps working their way through college. And there's nothing really wrong with that. It's just a temporary thing. Maybe college money, maybe spending money, maybe work experience. They'll be there a few months before they get canned by the faceless bureaucracy of managers, heads, and the store owner. And they'll probably get canned for something normal, like taking a sick day when they're sick, or get caught sitting down after they've been standing for four hours. Big deal. It's fast food. They pride themselves on a high employee turnout rate, and some of those kids have their whole lives ahead of them. Some are destined to be losers, but not all. One of them might even own the store one day.

Likewise, it doesn't bother me much to see older people in the industry either. They're probably retirees making ends meet. They've already lived, now it's time for them to settle for what little social security they have left after the guys in Washington are finished fiddle-fucking around with it. And in order to afford things that old people buy, like diapers and cat food and eggs and 19 large bottles of prune juice (I still mad at that old bastard), they have to take up a job that pays a little money for them to do a job that a monkey could do, provided it's a monkey with sufficient training. Hello Burger King.

But people between 30 and 50...that bothers me. These are the people who can actually feel their lives slipping away from them, but can't do anything about it. They have to kiss ass and try desperately not to offend their "superiors" by leaving grease on the fry hopper. After all, if they lose their job, they'll have to spend 6 months or more attempting to find a new job. Who wants to hire a 40 year old with no education, fresh from Steak & Shake?

I spend a few months in high school working at a fast food joint (I won't name it, but it rhymes with "WcZonald's"), and found the whole thing to be a negative yet worthwhile experience. It taught me valuable life experience, and proved to be a metaphor for the passing of time. No, really.

Birth is the moment of hiring. You're brought forth into a brave new world, slapped on the ass, and given a ball cap. You immediately go to school, also known as one night of on-the-job training, where you are repeatedly told how the Steak Dildofucker Lobster wrap is prepared. Try not to wince when that fat woman comes in and orders 20 of them.

Marriage is your ten minute break. You don't really want to do it, but it's expected of you. After a while you come to terms with it and even come to appreciate it, but you have another one every day and all of them are too short.

What is product of marriage? Children, usually. What is the product of your ten minute break? Trash, usually. Trash from all the free food you consume waiting for the ten minutes to be up. Therefore, when you have to take the trash out, you're driving your children to school. You don't want to, but no one else will. Buncha lazy deadbeats.

Any unexpected yet benign turn of events is the announcement of a new sandwhich. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but you'll have to learn to deal with it. Likewise any breakdowns in communication between you and those you depend on is the Coke machine on the fritz. That'll happen pretty often, trust me.

All the negative things in your life is the Grease Pit. Now, depending on where you work, that could be an actual pit in the ground, or it could be a big watertight above-ground container which looks not unlike a dumpster. You walk out into the bitter, probably rainy night and wheel along with a little container full of grease and old eggs that were stuck in the grill's grease channels all day, and then open up that pit and start pumping the grease in with the big handle, trying the whole time not to vomit at the sickeningly vile stench of the old grease rising from the murky depth (I just referenced my own blog - go me!). Taxes, dead-end jobs, and your own impending death can be likened to draining the grease. It's awful, but it must be. It will be.

Finally, there's your inevitable death. That's when they suddenly stop scheduling you to come in, then tell you a week later when you pick up your latest paycheck: "Oh, by the way, you're dead".

.......

You know what? Maybe all this is a bad analogy. More likely, this was just a sucky job that I did and lots of other people do. And it depresses me that people who aren't old yet aren't young either are often stuck doing it.

That's all. See you next entry.