Photo of the Week -- The Origin of Fear? 21 Feb 2011

We're all familiar with my well-documented fear of clowns. The dudes just creep me out. I have accepted the fact, gone through therapy, and tried to not let it control my life. That's why, as I was digging through photos of my childhood I was initially surprised to find this gem from a long time ago:

That's right. I dressed as a clown -- the very thing I still wet my pants about upon even hearing the mention of -- for Halloween one year. Which leads me to asking: I wonder what the origins of my fear of clowns were, and when it started? Obviously it was after the day this picture was taken... otherwise my chubby little Japanese face would have been twisted in an expression of inconsolable fear immediately upon seeing my own reflection. Perhaps I don't want to delve into this. It could turn into a Bourne-like scenario where I find out crazy things about my past that were better left buried.


And of all coincidences, I was studying GRE vocabulary words yesterday and here is the example sentence for the word "engender". THIS IS VERBATIM: "His fear and hatred of clowns was engendered when he witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a clown."

I realize children aren't studying for these standardized tests, but this is a demented example sentence. Is this a sign I should just forget about some sort of further education? I mean, am I going to be physically assaulted by a clown whilst taking the GRE? Help?

Happy Monday. I'll be busy quelling paranoia about a clown attack.

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Of Sickness and Death

It has been an interesting three weeks featuring all kinds of run-ins with sickness and death.

So there I was a few weeks ago, racked with unrelenting stomach pain for three hours straight, essentially dying of death. This landed me in the ER for a late night visit and a groundbreaking diagnosis: "stomach pain." Thank you, modern medicine. That would have been an informative diagnosis had it not been the exact thing I told you I had when I checked in. A parrot -- or my nieces, when they get in one of those moods where they repeat everything I say -- could have properly diagnosed me under those terms.

I suppose the one positive outcome of going to the ER was that I did get a nice, healthy dose of morphine, which I'm pretty sure is the greatest invention since the printing press (replacing the Snuggie, of course. Coincidentally, both Snuggies and morphine make you all warm). By the next morning, the mystery illness was gone, and I triumphantly declared in an opiate-hazed delirium something along the lines of "Death wanted to play chicken with me, and Death blinked."

Mrs. RoSA: "Yes, dear. Death came knocking at your door, and you slammed the door right in his face."

(These metaphors portraying my active and aggressive triumph over the Grim Reaper are actually to cover up what really took place that night: Me passively and resignedly doubled-over in the fetal position, body spasming, pleading for the sweet, sweet relief of painkillers or the surgical removal of my stomach and both sets of intestines)

I recovered within a few days. As my immune system limped its way to my sister's house for Christmas, however, neither I nor my family had any idea what lay ahead of us. The scariest incident was a grandchild having a finger almost severed in a slammed door, which required attachment at the hospital. But that wasn't the end of it... no, perhaps it was merely an omen of the coming doom that awaited us...

A plague that I can only surmise was the 5th Horseman of the Apocalypse, or some manifestation of the angel of death (perhaps we forgot to put that lamb's blood above the doorpost?), smote the household over the Christmas holiday, leading my brother-in-law Ben to declare 2010 to be "the Christmas of Vomit."

The plague waged war by first manifesting itself via the oldest grandchild, who woke up in the middle of the night (perfectly normal -- I do it all the time to pee), crawled into bed with grandpa and grandma (tender), and proceeded to vomit on the latter (perhaps not so normal). This was merely the first volley fired by the illness. Eventually, we were pretty much all toppled by the disease throughout the week, one by one -- pick your domino effect/chain reaction analogy, really, and it illustrates what happened. I'm personally going to go with the Pie-eating contest scene in Stand By Me, where the first contestant vomits, which causes another contestant to vomit, and then the audience to vomit, etc -- Only time-lapse the scene so it lasts over four or five days. This is basically what happened.

By day two most of us knew, deep down, the undeniable and inescapable truth: It was just a matter of time before we were sick. The resignation in the air was palpable. It felled most of the grandchildren with vomiting and most of the adults with flu aches and lack of appetite.

But we all survived. And aside from the whole health thing, it was a great holiday. Family time. Kids opening presents. Kids running around and sassing adults. Good food. True Grit. Ben trapping five mice in a single night (It was like watching some combination of the Predator and Bear Grylls practice their trade. Awe-inspiring). Some Call of Duty on PS3.

Mrs. RoSA (walking into the TV room and seeing me playing Call of Duty): "Oh-- well isn't it encouraging to find my husband engaged in bloodsport once again."

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Weekly Selects #21

-Via Email from J2K:

Rotten Tomatoes just released the worst movies of the 2000’s, Battlefield Earth got 27th. Personally I think it deserved a single digit place.

Agreed. The only thing Battlefield Earth has done is give me some great material to write about and serve as a standard for how to make the WORST MOVIE EVER.

-Via Email from a coworker, Danni, from here; I know Halloween is past, but whatever:

something to make your inner geek laugh hysterically...You have to love when you have less than $10 to spend on a Halloween costume

Well, you also have to admire the umm...resourcefulness of this family. Economical, really -- because did you see this Jabba the Hut costume? $60!

OK. Enough with outdated holiday-related stuff.

-Via Email from AM:

SUBJECT: i am an addict

I find myself ending all my stressed-out exclamations with this phrase: "I need sushi."  For example: "This is a mess.  I don't even know where to start.  I need sushi."
"I have 22 missed calls.  I need sushi."
"I missed another typo.  I need sushi."
"What a disaster.  I need sushi."

For someone who, no more than two months ago, would recoil and curl up like a frightened pillbug at the mere mention of sushi, the pendulum seems to have swung the other way with AM. Addiction takes many forms -- this one has come in the form of vinegared rice, dried seaweed, and the occasional piece of raw fish. Well, I couldn't be prouder.

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New Years' Snowshoeing -- Photo of the Week 4 Jan 2010

No better way to celebrate a new year than getting your snowshoeing ON, and that's exactly what our road trip to West Virginia provided for us. Sure, West Virginia's MOs are usually missing teeth, alleged inbreeding, and overall backwards-ness, but it is a state with some amazing natural beauty. It was a great way to spend the 1st of the new year -- how did you celebrate?

As always, road tripping with friends is fun. The game providing the most entertainment was 6 Degrees of Actor Separation, where you connect two actors by movies that they have been in with other actors.**  The most challenging connection to make was Pauly Shore and Jean Claude Van Damme -- partly because none of us could name more than one movie of their's.... but mostly because the mere mention of either actors' name was enough to produce uncontrollable laughter. Why was it so funny? I still don't know, and likely will go to my grave not knowing.

Either way, I challenge you to find a solution that takes less than 9 degrees of separation for those two, because that was the best we could come up with.

Also thanks to 6 Degrees, I found out that Jean Claude's nickname is "The Muscles from Brussels." I feel stupid for having gone through 20+ years of life and having not known this. Shame on me. And shame on my entire educational system and my friends and family for having never taught me this.


Anyway. Happy first Monday of the year, all.

**For example, if you wanted to connect Matt Damon and Christian Bale, you would say that Matt Damon was in Invictus with Morgan Freeman, and Morgan Freeman was in the Batman's with Christian Bale. Just two degrees of separation.

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Weekly Selects #18

-Via TXT from Josh M:

This dude next to me at the bank just withdrew a hundred ones no joke

Uh, well, let's see...you can buy tons of different things for $100, so I'm not judging -- but the possible list of purchases that require 100 separate one-dollar bills is pretty short. So now I'm judging.

-Via IM from White Josh, completely out of the blue:

have you ever been sitting down somwhere and had to ask yourself if you are wearing any underwear? Just had a drafty moment and had to think about getting dressed this morning

Uh, maybe? I have had mornings where I get so little sleep I accidentally put my facewash in my hair and my shampoo in my washcloth, but I'm pretty sure I have not left the house without underwear.


-Via Email from my sister Jen, who actually sent this years ago, but 'tis the Christmas season:



Unfortunately, listening to this has become an annual holiday tradition for me.

I would like to enlist this man to sing a few hand-picked classics, such as: Any Mariah Carey song, just for more kicks and giggles; "The Star-Spangled Banner," because let's be honest, it's time to replace Carl Lewis's straight murdering of the national anthem with a newer rendition, and he would do Mr. Key proud, I'm sure; and last but not least, "Nuthin' But a G Thang." Why Snoop and Dre, you ask? Because the song is generationally-defining, son, and I want to see if this dude's rhythm is as impressive as both his vocal range and command of pitch when he delivers lyrics like "Fallin' back on that ass with a hellified gangsta' lean / Gettin' funky on the mic like a' old batch o' collard greens."

Instant classics. All of them.

Let's end on a good holiday note, shall we?

-Via Facebook from sister Juju, about her daughter, Elise:

I found Elise this morning in front of the Christmas tree. She'd pulled a chair right up to it and was just staring at it and when she saw me said, "Isn't it so beautiful?"

Ah. That's the Christmas season I know and love. And I love my nieces and nephew, because they always help me relive a little bit of childhood.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, all.

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Redneck Santa -- Photo of the Week 14 Dec 09

Your PotW, courtesy of Rye:

I could never remember all of the reindeer's names, but I guess it doesn't matter since they're ALL DEAD -- systematically killed, taxydermied, and decorporealized (real word. Trust me). Floating reindeer heads will now likely haunt me in my dreams. And PETA will proceed to file a suit against Santa Claus. Ah, the Christmas season.



Happy Monday. Christmas approaches; as does your deadline to get your shopping done.

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Weekly Selects #17

A little long this week, but got some good content from friends. Thanks to the submitters. Enjoy:

-Via email from Taylor C:

My favorite is the guy in the middle, the guy furthest to the right, and the guy third from the right.

For me, picking a favorite was difficult. It's the same as deciding which Travolta movie from the last decade was the worst: It is subjective and completely impossible; they are all so bad.

In fairness, the US trainers should have been issued some clear and specific instructions on activities that would likely be too taxing on the recruits' amply impaired coordination. Something along the lines of:

1. Brushing teeth: ALLOWED, so long as recruits maintain a safe distance of 20 feet from others
   
2. Walking up/down stairs: ALLOWED UNDER TRAINER SUPERVISION ONLY
   
3. Tying shoes: ALLOWED, but waiver form must be signed first
   
4. Anything remotely resembling athletics and requiring corresponding skills: STRONGLY DISCOURAGED, injury to individual and anyone nearby HIGHLY LIKELY
   
5. Rubbing stomach and patting head, or vice versa: STRICTLY FORBIDDEN; trainees will experience aneurysm-induced full body convulsions, eyeballs will be liquefied, and teeth will shatter.

I mean, really. It's a simple list to put together.

-Via Google Reader share from Rijen, who, knowing my frustrations with the Swedes and their damn IKEA, sent me an article about Swedish-Israeli tensions, as Sweden issued a proposal calling for the EU to recognize East Jerusalem as the capital of a Palestinian state. The Israeli response?

"The peace process in the Middle East is not like IKEA furniture," one official said, making a reference to the do-it-yourself Swedish furniture chain. "It takes more than a screw and a hammer, it takes a true understanding of the constraints and sensitivities of both sides, and in that Sweden failed miserably."

Sure, the Israeli official is right that it's a sensitive issue, but his statement is off because HE doesn't have a true understanding of how difficult it is to assemble IKEA furniture (I do believe I'm operating on some meta-level of argument now). It takes the ability to decipher and understand cryptic drawings and translate them into actionable movements. Much harder than you give it credit for Mr. Israeli official, sir, so be careful with your comparisons.

(Unnecessary endnote: An interesting experiment would be to get the above Iraqi soldiers to assemble an IKEA chest-of-drawers. Did I just blow your mind?!? THAT. JUST. HAPPENED.)

-Via Gchat from the Boiler (from FAIL Blog, titled "EPIC DATE FAIL"):

you need to talk to some people
you can't let that stuff get out on the internet

I...I...have...no words...

But really, I watched Hancock yesterday and Hancock was an a-hole superhero who needed a PR guy to revamp his image. I think Japan needs that -- it is a technologically advanced democracy of intelligent individuals that continues to confound the world with its unparalleled "social weirdo"-to-"normal person" ratio (now easily at a strong 3-to-1) -- and I think I am the one to do it. First order of business: Re-instituting the use of the pillory in public spaces, and making an example of these two and the guy who married the video game character. Even Human Rights' groups would KNOW that I was justified.

-Via email from Rye, with the accompanying explanatory background from the originator:

Good news is that I truly out did myself this year with my Christmas decorations.  The bad news is that I had to take him down after two days.  I had more people come screaming up to my house than ever.  Two things made me take it down.

First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic accidents as they almost wrecked when they drove by.

Second, a 55 year old lady grabbed the 75 pound ladder almost killed herself putting it against my house and didn’t realize that the body was fake until she climbed to the top (she was not happy).  By the way, she was one of the many people who attempted to do that.  My yard couldn’t take it either.  I have more than a few tire tracks where people literally drove up my yard.”

I don't know whether or not to applaud the man.

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Weekly Selects #15

Thanksgiving Edition...Here we go:

-Via Email from M, since football is part of the Thanksgiving tradition. Check out this six-year old!



I hope he follows up any and all tackles with a WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD JACKASS

-Via Email from JoshM, an article presenting "research" on "The 10 Most Obscene Cities in America":

Herndon, Va. is a suburb of Washington, D.C., in the heart of the area's tech corridor and right next to Dulles Airport.

It's also the most obscene city in America, as determined by analyzing data from Google.

I lived in Herndon for two years; on top of that, #5 on this list is Reston, VA, where I currently reside. I take umbrage with this research and the methodologies used to draw such conclusions. Would the study results hold up to any sort of academic or empirical rigor? 

This study is bull*&%#.

-Via Chat with a friend who asked to remain Anonymous:

don't judge me for what i'm about to say

One sec. I'm just going to get out my powdered wig and gavel... Ok, continue:

but i think i saw the coach for Team Ugly at the gym last night. seriously josh, this guy was like stop-you-in-your-tracks ugly. i don't know if he plays basketball or not...and i know you have been lobbying for an NBA player to take the position

Anonymous Mean Face proceeded to try and rationalize her lack of human compassion by saying that if I, JD, can get away with trying to compile an All Ugly NBA Team, why can't she say things like this? The reason: The NBA team is full of dudes who are STACKING MORE SCRILLA THEN WE WILL MAKE IN OUR LIFETIMES. Ergo, if I want to call them goofy-looking bastards because deep down I'm actually jealous, then yes -- yes, I am justified. Now, Joe Schmoe at your local gym...? I dunno...

-Via Google Reader, a Parenting FAIL from Craigslist:

SINGLE MOM OF 7 SEEKING BON JOVI PIT TICKETS AT GILLETTE STADIUM. DON'T HAVE MUCH (ANY) MONEY, BUT CAN TRADE THE SWINE FLU VACCINE FOR 6 OF THE KIDS.

Now, the thing that I'm interested in finding out here is the Chicken or the Egg: Does Bon Jovi turn his fans into idiots, or are idiots inextricably drawn to Bon Jovi? This question may forever confound scholars and the educated -- much as the beginnings of the universe, the construction of Stonehenge, and the unremitting tabloid coverage of Jon and Kate Gosslin will continue to puzzle us.

I have no friends that like the man or his music; the closest I have is Casey, who enjoys playing the drum part on Guitar Hero for "Living on a Prayer." His knack for things like common sense and caring for his family don't make him a good case study for the effects/causes of Bon Jovi, though.

-Via Email from JoJo, for your Thanksgiving viewing pleasure:



YOU'RE WELCOME. Happy Turkey Day. Be thankful.

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A Clash of Cultures?

Halloween has come and gone. And while as an adult I may not always be ecstatic about the holiday, I'm at least fascinated by it. It's the holiday that offers us the chance to NOT be ourselves. So really, if you're already having some sort of identity crisis; or delusional visions of your own grandeur; or are just generally confused about your place in this world, here is the opportunity to exacerbate the problem and further separate yourself from reality! You know, really mess with your own head. It's good for the mental health.

There are always interesting costumes, and even more interesting couples:

Mary Poppins from the magical world of Disney paired with a cold, heartless, "cut first, let God sort them out later" samurai from a feudalistic island-nation. How do you describe that combination? The most fitting parallel I can think of comes from Seinfeld stand-up: "To me, it's like combining swimming and strangling a guy. That makes just as much sense to me."

So maybe we were an odd couple. But I think Halloween would be more fun if couples -- instead of coordinating their outfits to be matching (lame) -- went for costumes that were the most dissimilar. It would make things a lot of interesting, and avoid the cutesy lameness I just mentioned..

It's alright. Maybe I should have listened to the pleadings for me to stick with my group's Disney theme and been Mowgli from The Jungle Book, but for some reason, walking around in a loincloth all night just didn't appeal to me. At least my ancestors were happy with the decision.

And how 'bout this combination of friends?

The Boy Who Never Ages, a samurai, and the World's Most Wanted Terrorist? A bit of a culture clash -- but damn, we looked good doing it.

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