Bomb Throwing Pacifist

In case you were doubting the imminent arrival of the apocalypse, you need look no further than this add for lowermybills.com. You lose a little something due to the lack of animation my humble image provides, but you get the idea. A future where monkeys wearing labcoats turn crank on what appears to be a meatgrinder all day long is not a future I want to be a part of. Unless of course it happens to be part of a Francis Bacon exhibition at the National Gallery of Art. By God, Madness takes its toll. However, when properly applied it can, apparently, lower your bills.

At long last, the International Astronomical Union (an auspicious name if ever there was one) has decided to bite the bullet and kick Pluto out of the realm of "real" planets and into some new subcategory with the label of "dwarf" or "minor" planets. I don't know if they realize what they've done.


For years Pluto has put up with the humiliation of being laughed at while out of earshot during the remoter parts of its its 248 Earth-year orbit around the sun. Not to mention the added insults of being called "stunty" or "methuselath" whenever cooler, more popular planets are around. I'm just not sure how much more Pluto can take. At this point, I'd say it's only a matter of time before the formerly docile, good-natured planet suddenly and decides to make the 11-year trip to earth to kick some serious astronomer ass and extract bloody, bloody vengeance. That is, if anyone can actually be bothered to travel all the way out there to inform it. For your sake-and mine- I hope not.

Terribly sorry for my long absence my friends, but there is no need to worry. Despite the long hours, countless near-death escapes and thrilling adventures over the course of my vacation in Western Pennsylvania an undisclosed location, I am happy to say that I was successful in my mission and coincidentally had a lot of fun in the bargain. Regular posting will resume shortly (or, at least, as often as "regular" really is around here). And now for an observation.

On my way to the work secret resistance headquarters this morning, I came across a bus bearing a rather peculiar advertisement. Now normally I do not spend too too much time dwelling on the innane scribblings of corporate powerhouses or the sniveling public transportation groups that allow themselves to be so defaced with Cheaper by the Dozen II posters for a filthy advertising fee. However, today I make an exception to the rule and actually bothered to read the advertisement.

Apparently, various entities within the Pentagon do not believe that the morale of the American public with regards to the war is quite high enough, and that this might in fact cause the troops to feel a little miffed. After all, while the true believers in the cause might never allow their terrific lack of popularity to affect their attitude towards the mission, even the staunchest supporter of the war effort must admit that suddenly it becomes much harder to keep the rank and file motivated at times. Especially when the once-cool and happening war on Terror/Iraq has suffered a catastrophic decline in popularity and now finds itself sitting alone in the lunch hall, far from the laughter, paper footballs, and bloody knuckles of the other, more popular kids.

As such, the pentagon has decided to hold a series of "America Supports You" rallies around the country to bolster the morale of the troops bogged down in a wasteful, expensive, never-ending abortion of a geopolitical powergame based off of a simplistic, totalitarian, and thoroughly discredited ideological dogma in Iraq. However, while this is all well and good, it was not exactly enough to divert my attention away from the other mundane trivialities of life such as crossing the street and trying to find my office keys. No, my friends. This is what caught my attention: their logo.

Silly media, getting their knickers all in a twist over Mel Gibson's recent drunken unpleasantness. While many people fear that he may never be able to work in Hollywood ever again, Gibson fans need not be dismayed! Never fear, we have an answer to Mr. Gibson's employment woes. Behold, the world-renowned Nanjing Rising Sun Anger Release Bar- the only bar where customers are heartily encouraged to beat their servers for whatever reason they wish. At about $6.00 a pop, it's a deal that can't be beat. While the article does mention that the majority of patrons tend to be women who work in massage parlours and karaoke bars, there is no mention of a Jewish presence. I blame the bar menu's conspicuous lack of Menischewitz for this disparity.

It is with a considerable amount of regret that I must inform you all that my alarm clock seems to have died prematurely. Considering the scant amount of attention I paid to its incessant yammering in the mornings, I can only conclude that the cheeky little goblin decided to die from embarrassment rather than continue (albeit ineffectually) in my service. Interestingly enough, while the alarm portion of the alarm/clock coupling seems to have given up the ghost, its Siamese twin, the timepiece, continues to hammer on along as effective as ever. Which is to say provided I only estimate time to the nearest quarter hour, I will be mostly on schedule.

I would like to say that I was kind and merciful to my alarm, but I am not habitually a liar. As such, I will fully admit that I was a cruel and thankless taskmaster, but no more so than is common in the awaker/awakee relationship. I can with all honesty say that I will miss it about as much as I miss the horsefly bite I received on my hand several weeks ago and is just beginning to fade. While it stung like the devil and the welt is only just receding, I am sure I will eventually forget how painful it was and in time perhaps even venture to get a new one.

Rest assured, my next alarm clock will be of a heartier and more self-confident nature. I suspect I may have to purchase a Chinese one. The Chinese, unlike their Western counterparts, are not afraid to make massive sacrifices in the pursuit of a seemingly trivial goal. That they were willing to take nigh infinite casualties in human-wave charges during the Korean War or slave away for generations building railroads across Death Valley in the 1800s is proof of their tenacity. I only hope such national character is reflected in the quality of their mass-produced chronometers.