Oh No He Didn’t!

I was trying to come up with something new to write about. Something amusing, maybe a little funny. Ideally, I would like to offend certain sections of the populace if I could. It’s been awhile and I wanted to write the perfect post that hit all the right chords.

As I thought about it, something became immediately clear – this world is ready for another Lenny Kravitz album. I was going to write about Lenny reappearing on the music scene with his long hair and shirtless aura. I was going to talk about the ladies letting their eyes wander towards Lenny’s groin cleavage as his pants were always sitting a little below his waist. What better way to celebrate the new year than with a guitar wielding, radio-friendly Lenny Kravitz just doing his thing.

In order to have a fully engaging “Web log” entry, I did my research as to when ole Lenny last released an album.

1998?

2002?

I turned to my trusty discography to see when Mr. American Woman himself last had an album out. I wasn’t sure the exact date, but it felt like its been a long time. As it turns out, that son of a bitch released an album last year.

On February 5, 2008, the world was introduced to “Its Time For a Love Revolution” and so ended my dream of having a smorgasbord of “Fly Away” puns. Here am I, getting ready to make a plea for the return of Lenny Kravitz only to find out that he not only made an appearance, but also released a halfway decent album from what I could gather from the reviews.

The intended post would have had a healthy dose of nostalgia with a smattering of sarcasm. I was also planning to use some nifty adverbs too. Unfortunately, you’ll never get to experience them thanks to a bad decision made by the 2001 Blockbuster Entertainment Award winner.

You may have been America’s favorite male artist back then Lenny, but because of your actions on 2/5/2008, you just disappointed an avid music lover. Now, when “Are You Gonna Go My Way” comes on the radio, I press the mute button, turn my back to the speaker and walk the other way.

Now What?

There are a wide range of charities out there, with each one possessing a unique mission and purpose in life. During the Christmas season, these charities come to the forefront of our minds as our hearts and prayers go out to the unfortunate. When we think of charities helping people, our thoughts go to the organizations that make it their goal to feed the homeless. Helping the homeless – whether it be by clothing them or feeding them – is perhaps your quintessential charitable organization.

However, some go beyond the financially unfortunate and focus their efforts on raising funds for research to cure various diseases in various parts of the world. From the most common of illnesses to the obscure viral infections ravaging third world countries, there is always someone sick and a group trying to cure them.

Then, of course, there are organizations that don’t really “do” anything specific. They merely exist to make others aware of what is going on. These awareness charities want to inform people of a problem. To help their cause, they will usually name a whole month as their own.

Breast Cancer Awareness.

AIDS Awareness.

HIV Awareness, which is kind of like AIDS Awareness, only it usually occurs the month before.

They don’t necessarily want to cure the disease (they prefer to have others do it); instead, they want you to sport a colored ribbon that lets others know you are aware that there is a problem and this is what you are going to do about it. Namely, you are going to wear the ribbon and occasionally walk with a large group of people wearing the same white t-shirt. Some will even sport fanny packs to help fight the fight.

In my spare time, I have discovered a fight out there that has so far gone unfought.

I feel there is an infestation in this world that people may not be aware of. I don’t have the money to go about ridding the world of this problem, let alone the actual time and effort needed to eradicate it. So I’m doing the next best thing and have decided to use this platform to launch my foundation to make others aware of what is going on.

Today, I would like to announce the formation of the Now Awareness Foundation.

The Now (that’s what I call music!) CD collections are still being released today with the 29^th edition hitting store shelves everywhere.

The 29^th edition!!!

The original Now (that’s what I call music!) was released back in October 1998 and featured such classic tunes as “MMMBop,” “Zoot Suit Riot,” and the venerable “Flagpole Sitta” by Harvey Danger.

Over the years, the Now brand expanded into Teen music, Latin music, Christmas music, Country music, 80s music, Classic Rock music, and a lot of other stuff they’re playing now-a-days. Throughout the years, Now has continued to grow as it reaches its 29^th edition. I must have blacked out for editions 9^th through 28^th. If it weren’t for a late night infomercial, I would have never realized that Now has made it to the teens, let alone is now pushing 30.

I was unaware of what was going on.

As I dwelled on this confounding release, I quickly realized that the only reason they are still releasing Now is because people are still buying these compilations.

Now got its start by offering the most popular singles of the year and offering them in one convenient package. While most normal people just started to download the songs that they wanted, others were compelled to get them all on one CD and to go get them right now!

Need “Wat Da Hook Gon Be” by Murphy Lee coupled with Stacie Orrico’s “(There’s Gotta Be) More to Life?” Scoop up Now 14.

Are you concerned that “Raise Up (All Cities Remix)” by Petey Pablo would look ridiculous next to Adema’s “Giving In” in your iTunes playlist? Well Now 9 managed to successfully pair the odd couple.

And if it weren’t for Now 21, we would be living in a world void of the musical pairing of Dem Franchize Boys and Kelly Clarkson along with their seemingly separated-at-birth musical compatriot – T-Pain. Consider yourself aware that such a grouping is in existence and that it could be bumping in your Sony Walkman.

As you scan the track list on the back of the CDs, you can’t help but notice that these collections of singles are so eclectic they are created by essentially burning a radio station on a disk and shrink wrapping it. Despite iTunes and the Amazon MP3 store and other alternative means, Now is still somehow in business releasing what they call music (it says so in the title).

It could be that moms looking to buy their kids some music will dole out the cash for Now. Perhaps Now has reached the level of “classic gag gift.”

I’ve been more of a stair-man recently, but are building managers turning to Now for their elevator music?

I sincerely doubt people are voluntarily purchasing these CDs. As I thought about launching my Now Awareness Foundation, I was unaware of any other reason why someone would buy Now now or later.

After 29 editions of different songs but the same in-your-face font on all of the CD covers, the Now brand has managed to survive the wave towards digital music and satellite radio. The purpose of the Now Awareness Foundation is to spread the word that after 10 years, there is still Now. A decade of musical mishmashes has gone by without most even blinking an eye.

But my Now Awareness Foundation will look to change all of that.

With this posting, we are off to a roaring start! Thousands and thousands of eyeballs will scan the words on this page. Some will turn to flabbergast others will fall back in a stupor over the revelations that my foundation is bringing forth.

My Now Awareness Foundation has laid the foundation for others who are now aware to go out in the world and do something about this musical sacrilege.

People, you are aware of what is going on. The ball is in your court.

Now what?

Check My Name Tag, Baby

When it comes right down to it, you can’t rely on others to give you a nickname. That’s how big guys become Tiny. Fat guys get named Fatty. Because of people handing out nicknames, we are forced to deal with an inordinate amount of Butches, Scooters, and Hotties. If people were in charge of their own nicknames, the letter O would be rendered useless. No more Jimbo’s. Goodbye Bob-o’s and Tim-bo’s.

The only way to get a good nickname in this world is to give one to yourself.

This trend has been steadily growing over the years. Kobe Bryant decided to call himself the Black Mamba. John McCain had a penchant for referring himself Maverick.

Tired with herself, Beyonce Knowles recently released an album proclaiming herself to be… Sasha Fierce. Beyonce is a lovely name, but if you go to a concert headlined by someone named Beyonce, you can expect to be inundated with a diverse vocal range and jiggly dance moves. It’s a safe experience in a clean environment.

However, a concert with Sasha Fierce is a different experience. The name alone signifies an increased likelihood of being stabbed. In this cut-throat recording industry, stabbing sells records.

Beyonce doesn’t even carry a butter knife; Sasha Fierce is wielding a machete.

Physically, it’s the same person. But a new name brings with it a new personality and a different mentality all together. Sasha Fierce adds an element of feistiness that the bootylicious pop queen has been lacking so far in her young career. But all of that is about to change.

Before Beyonce changed her namesake, Puff Daddy has had a notoriously long career of changing his nickname. He started off as Puff Daddy then P. Diddy then just Diddy then Sean Combs. At one point, Puff Daddy tried to become Bo Diddy, but Bo Diddley went all diddy-wa-diddy on Diddy’s ass and now he’s just Sean Jean.

As I look at more and more people coming up with nicknames, I can’t help but feel left out. Perhaps I have gotten as far as I can go with my birth name. I need something that contrast nicely with my lovable persona. Something that gives me an edge. A tough guy aura. Something new and exciting. Something that people can relate to, that they see every day.

With great deliberation and careful consideration, I have decided to move forward with my new nickname – Contains Phenylalanine.

People encounter this name everyday on their favorite soda cans – Coke, Pepsi, and the underrated RC Cola – in the form of a warning message to phenylketonurics about how this refreshing beverage contains phenylalanine.

Phenylalanine is also found in many legumes, so I have that going for me now too.

The beauty of this nickname is the flexibility that exists when it comes to spelling. I can detach the S and give me a middle initial and become… Contain S. Phenylalanine.

Phenylketonuria is a genetic disorder where the person has a deficiency in the enzyme phenylalanine hydroxylase. Why is this a big deal? Because this enzyme is necessary to metabolize the amino acid phenylalanine to the amino acid tyrosine. And why is this important?

Two reason.

First, Amino Acid would be a cool nickname for my sidekick.

Secondly, when Contain S. Phenylalanine walks through the door, any phenylketonurics better get the F out of the way because they can’t properly process me. I’m deadly to them. My amino acid collects in their urine and causes mental retardation and other brain damage, what what.

For too long, people have never looked at me as being a threat. Sure, I was no push over before, but no one felt threatened by my mere presence. But as Contain S. Phenylalanine, I pose a serious risk to only a select few in the room. I don’t want to keep everyone away; the purpose of a new nickname is not to create a world of isolation. Rather, a new crowd to associate with. A new audience for me to reach that otherwise would not have taken me seriously. Sorry phenylketonurics, but you better keep away. It’s nothing personal.

Things are going to be different for now on.

While my former self would politely close the lid of the ketchup bottle and return it to the refrigerator, Contain S. Phenylalanine is going to leave the lid open so that the juicy, ketchup remnants will harden around the nozzle, slightly inconveniencing the next ketchup consumer. That’s the new me; that’s how I’m going to roll for now on. Watch world, for you will never know when crusty ketchup is lingering around the lid.

In fact, I may take this one step further and instead of using ketchup, I may resort to catsup.

I feel totally liberated with my new persona. But that doesn’t mean everything will change. Rest assured world, Contain S. Phenylalanine believes in maintaining an empty urinal between him and the next occupant. Somethings are just too important to ignore and urinal buffer zone is one of those things.

Contain S. Phenylalanine is a name that rolls of the tongue. It has a Y, which is nice. It also has some lovely alliteration in the middle, with the la-la. And it’s long too. You know what they say about people with long names, wink wink.

To be fully committed to my new persona, I may also have to change my laundry detergent of choice. I guess that means no more Tide. Perhaps there’s an exception here. Did Sasha Fierce start using different detergent? You know what, she probably hired different people to do her laundry for her. This part of the change was never really in consideration for her.

Maybe I’ll just stick with the Tide for now and see where the ‘tide’ takes me (just because I’m now Contain S. Phenylalanine doesn’t mean I don’t like a good pun).

Peace and love always,

Contain S. Phenylalanine

Treasure? Really???

Tuesday night is trash night. It’s when all the garbage we’ve collected during the past week – all of the things that no longer work or are no longer needed – gets taken out and placed on the side of the road. The next morning, people in yellow vests and green boots come by and throw all of these items into the back of a giant green truck.

The stuff is never seen from again.

However, last trash night, some of our garbage didn’t make it to see the men in yellow vests. A couple of strangers in a pickup truck stopped by to see what we were throwing out, looking at things we no longer need or are no longer functional.

This wasn’t a couple of hobos looking for food scraps either. This looked like a professional operation where two partners case the neighborhood, looking for households that have more than just a traditional garbage can stationed at the end of the driveway.

With one guy keeping his hands on the wheel, the partner steps out, armed with a flash light, and looks around. He finds what he wants, throws it in the back of his truck. He doesn’t get back in the truck to leave until he takes one last look around.

After investigating the remains, I concluded that this scavenger took some metal pipes. But to go through someone’s trash, you can’t help but wonder where the line is. What would happen if I throw away a chair with no bottom? This guy would probably take a long-sleeve shirt with no sleeves (in this scenario, would I be throwing away a perfectly fine tank top?).

Last week’s newspapers, a refrigerator without a door, an umbrella with a hole in it. If his flash light could reach it, this man would take it all in his truck with three tires that some fool was trying to discard.

If one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, I really have to question this man’s sense of self-worth. While the empty cardboard boxes could have some uses, the rusted out lawnmower missing the engine has very limited uses and next to no intrinsic value. If one were to take this beat up lawnmower to the open market, you wouldn’t be able to convince the buyers that this lawnmower had any financial worth, let alone convince these people that you were a landscaper.

This lawnmower was useless.

This man was trying to fit it in the back of his truck.

When someone goes against the grain like this, a need arises to do something. While not really a blatant invasion of privacy – after all, we did purposely throw the stuff out there for people to take – I feel compelled to fight back. Although, I’m not sure who I’m fighting or what I’m fighting for.

I could always resort to the coiled snake contraption. This classic prank involves a tightly wound spring held in place by a lid. Once the trash scavenger removes the lid, the spring releases, scaring the crap out of the victim.

If the spring is not the best option, then I can always throw away some rotten eggs. While some people may think that’s too cruel, to those people I ask, “What do you do with rotten eggs?”

You put them in the trash!

However, this could backfire and I would be forced to suffer the consequences of rotten eggs emitting an offensive odor onto the premises.

The best I could come up with would be to get a fart machine and plant it in the trash. I would hate to buy something, only to throw it away, but that might be my best option. Maybe I can bury it underground next to the garbage cans and create a nice baritone blast.

In order for this to work, I would have to get a flatulence machine with decent distance. I bet they go by meters too. You can get a 20 meter fart machine. I’m not sure if that’s enough distance. How long is a meter? My trash scavenger would hear the deep squeak and think it’s a deranged raccoon with a bowel obstruction. While this may not prevent these dudes from returning next trash night, you cannot deny the juvenile delight that will result from this prank.

Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t be spending my nights looking for ways to terrorize this trash tandem. Instead of harassing this guy, maybe I should congratulate him. Get to know him better. Here, standing at the end of my driveway, holding a flashlight, is a man living ten years behind the times. Perhaps he found the fountain of youth. Long after everyone else dies, this man will still be wearing bell bottoms while adjusting the bunny ears on top of his analog television set.

Hold the Oak

The doorbell rang during dinner. The man standing at our door had a long beard – a beginner’s level ZZ Top style – and was holding a clipboard.  It was a lovely clipboard.

He had a worn-down green backpack draped over his shoulders. He was also wearing a dark trench coat that didn’t give off a warm, fuzzy feeling.

I moved my hand towards my pocket to check if I had 84 cents on me, just in case.

It turns out, he was from Penn Environmental. Evidently, on his trek up to the door he ignored the 16 MPG Mustang parked on the driveway. Perhaps he didn’t even notice it because if he did, he would have realized that the environment was not particularly high on my list.

Against my better judgement, I decided to let him have his say.

He asked me, hypothetically, if the election were held tomorrow, who would I vote for?

Whoa!

We just met. I didn’t even catch his name and he wants to talk politics with me? This relationship was moving way too fast. I politely told him that now was not a good time and I closed the door before he could say anything else. If I would have let him go on, the next thing you know, he would be telling me that global warming is a real problem.

What a loon!