Deep Thoughts

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For a sociology experiment, I trekked over to Hollywood. That wasn’t the experiment silly, although it would have been enough. (Insert Cheap Audience Laughter)

I planted myself on the streets of Hollywood as one of the locals. No, not as Beyonce. Even though I have received that compliment many a time. I disguised myself as a dirty and poorly dressed homeless bum. From this perspective, I could study the true habitat of the Hollywood actor. How would they react as a normal human being and not a sitcom character? Although, I must admit, it would have been fun to see Yogi Bear’s reaction to see a sociology scientist dressed up as a bum. Oh my! (Insert More Audience Laughter)

So, there I sat, right on Hollywood row, where all the golden stars sit engraved in the pavement. I sat right next to Tom Cruise’s star. No reason. I was just dropped off closet to his. Funny thing though. You’ll never guess whose star was right next to his. No, not Oprah. No, not Celine Dion. Get ready. It was Binny Henn! Shocking, I know. Probably for his key role in Flicka: Return of the Black Stallion. Or he just paid off the local cement engravers. Either or. I’ll let you decide.

Sitting there, I soaked myself with store-bought sweat (thanks Sam’s Club). I think the scent was “Roofer Reek.” Half-price. Hopefully, the actor would trust the smell and identify me as a local bum. I could only hope. The sociology world depended on it!

Slowly, off in the distance, crept an actor. A fog had settled in the street, and I could barely make out the face. Is..is that Bob Saggett? You remember him, right? Father of the Olsen Twins in Full House and host of America’s Funniest Home Videos? Why was he hanging out here? He wasn’t even close to deserving a Hollywood star! His mullet was more famous!

He skipped onto my side of the sidewalk. I put on my best bum impression. He stopped and said, “Hey old fella, how about some money?” His voice rang rich with Full House quality. And with that, he dropped a couple of nickels into my cup and off he strode.

I sat Indian-style just dumb-founded. All Hollywood actors were cheerful givers willing to give everything they had. Just take Bob Saggett, a fellow bum, giving all his money right back to another bum. What an amazing world we live in…

“Meerkat Medicinal Secrets”

“Living in the Middle Ages during the 21^st Century”

“Circuses, Circuits, and Catheters”

“Dissecting the Cryoflorm from Dementia”

OR

“Living with Leeches”

I think “Living with Leeches” would bring most benefit to you. Face it; leeches are a very real and constant pressure in society today. The article takes the reader into the life of a slimy leech. What is the daily schedule of these phenomenal creatures? Luckily, I have obtained permission from Dr. Dobson & Analytics for the Aspiring Analyst to paste the data from the article right here on the blog.

--A LEECH’S NORMAL DAY--

by Dr. Dobson

They suck blood…a lot.

*Copyright 2008

Well, there you have it, the newest discovery that shocked the science world. I present the information to you now. My life has changed from this material. I trust you will apply the many principles presented here to your own life. There’s more to leeches than just sucking blood. It’s sad we overlook the many awesome characteristics of leeches. Shame on you America.

Ok. This post may blow your mind but stay with me. I need to lay some foundation before I go on. What exactly is socialization? According to the world renowned Dictionary I have written,

Socialization is the process whereby a person learns the norms, cultures, or ways of life of his social position.

To put it simply (because my dictionary is for intellectuals), it's the process that you learn to fit into this world. As a child, boys are taught to be boys, and girls are taught how to be girls. Girls like pink. Boys like blue. Girls like butterflies and ponies; boys like tanks and food. That's socialization. We are taught how we are supposed to act.

Ok. Step aside from the sociology lesson. Let's get to the meat of the blog post. Socialization flipped.

In addition to my schooling, I have also been running a research facility, and I'm ready to present my findings. Along with my colleague Dr. Kemper, we have quite an interesting experiment we would like to share with you.

We took 250 infants, 125 boys and 125 girls, and we socialized them opposite of their gender. Boys would be socialized as girls. And girls would be brought up as boys. We started this experiment back in 1996. I was a ripe age of 7. I understood much (10 seconds of silence).

Anyway, back to the findings.

The boys were taught to love pink, talk like girls, cry whenever possible, and cook. On the other side, girls were taught to hunt, make fires, and watch football. Typical guy actions.

To get consistent results, both boys and girls had robot parents. This way the kids wouldn't be confused about gender roles. And we had some robots who wanted to adopt. So we hit 2 birds with one stone. Pretty good I think.

Now, many people, literally 90% of Americans, questioned if this experiment was ethically correct. As of right now, the kids are 12 year old freaks, to be completely honest. What are we supposed to do with them? Our experiment is over, and we're ready to send them back to their families. The boys love to sew and take baths, and the girls smell really really bad.


What kind of psychologist am I? What have I done? Well, next time...I'll never do this experiment. Yeah, next time. Now...where did I point those Doritos? Biggest Loser is about to come on...

You've waited long enough! Here's the chapter. Don't forget, there are previous chapters. Don't just rush into this one. Get caught up if you need to. The chapters aren't that long...ENJOY!

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Untamed & Restless
Chapter 5

Blake, Benjie, and Mr. McConnell had been sitting around the table for 10 minutes waiting for mother McConnell to bring their dinner. No one talked. It’s a Jewish thing; you wouldn’t understand. You just stare at the other family member until a sound occurs, intentional or unintentional. Unbeknownst to the family, Mrs. McConnell had been sucked into another black hole just minutes before dinner. She currently was flying toward the Rings of Verbutem at 115 light-eons, pretty quick for a white girl.

The silence was broken by a knock at the front door. Benjie peered out the window and gasped. Could it be? How on earth did he find them?

On the front doorstep stood none other than grandfather McConnell. They hadn’t seen him for 20 years! Well, maybe 19 ¾ years, thanks to leap years. You see, 20 years ago something happened, something so horrible, grotesque, and vile that the family had to erase his memory entirely.

To put the situation simply, grandfather McConnell had become a hot-dog salesman who sold Baal idols. Wretched abomination. He also used his money unwisely. The latter statement threw the Jewish community into cahoots. Grandfather McConnell received immediate Jewish expulsion. This act brought a huge disgrace to the McConnell name.

So, there Benjie stood staring right at his grandfather. Grandfather half-stared at Benjie and half-stared at the brick wall; you see he had a laze eye. God’s punishment, I would assume.

“May I come in?” asked grandfather. The words rang sharply in the air. They floated upstairs and down. They took a quick stop in the bathroom, did their business, and then continued on. The words finally arrived in the dining room where Blake and his father sat.

Mr. McConnell recognized that voice. He rose from his chair and walked to the front door. Benjie was still staring. Technically, Benjie had no idea who this man was. He wasn’t even born at the time of grandfather’s debacle. But still he stared. Father came up behind him lightly putting his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“What brings you by dad?” asked Mr. McConnell coldly.

Grandfather opened his chapped lips to utter something but suddenly collapsed over the door threshold. The men stood in wonder. It was getting kind of late, and dinner was to be served soon. So, they slowly and awkwardly pushed grandpa’s body back outside leaving the body in a heap on the porch. They dusted off their hands and went back to the dining room. Where was mom? I mean, were they even going to get dinner? Sheesh.

They waited another 30 minutes in silence. No talking. Ahh, Jewish traditions.

Father McConnell couldn’t wait anymore. He ran to the freezer and grabbed his favorite TV dinner, Mutton with Barley loaves. And for dessert was a matzo ball brownie. Yummy. He plopped the plate into the microwave and waited. It finished seconds later. The stench filled the room.

Father brought the meal into the room and placed it on the table. They said grace…then, they actually prayed. Father blessed the mutton and barley loaves. He blessed his sons. He did not bless his wife. She had not prepared dinner. As they opened their eyes, there stood grandpa, lazy eye and all. Apparently in the process of closing the door, Mr. McConnell had shut the door on his grandfather arm.

Upon closer observation, it was the ulna that was severed. The bone shot outward the skin and pointed right at the family like a finger. He grimaced a little. Weird, blood was everywhere. Father motioned for grandfather McConnell to sit. He did so and set his arm on the table so all could see. He opened his mouth and began to tell his story. The table cloth faded from white to red...

Sock-sewing. Ahh, such a time of the past. Where are we now? All wrapped up with our fancy gizmos and gadgets. Iphones and toilets. Have we forgotten the ancient art of darning? Have we forgotten our heritage? I hope not. I look down at my sock right now, and a hole stares straight in my face. Defiant it is. This sock hole needs to be taught a lesson by Mother Needle.

So I decided to go on a quest. A quest to the South-American Andes...where darning began.

Rumor has it, a clan of middle-aged nuns inhabit a monastery atop the tallest peak. These nuns are no ordinary nuns. Besides wearing the typical black/white gowns and being excellent softball players, the nuns are darning masterminds! The great American darning ace, Jing-Lee Seung, was actually taught by the nuns (FYI Jing-Lee Seung has won 4 golden needles in past 2 Olympic games; just to let you know, I know you were dying to hear that).

So, I reached the monastery after a grueling 15-day hike. I walked up to the huge gopher wood door and knocked. My knocks echoed throughout the building. The door slowly creaked open, and an old lady appeared. I asked if this is where the expert darning nuns lived. She answered with a foreign sounding, "No you idiot, it's the monastery next door." I peered past the building I was at and saw the flashing lights of the "Incredible Darning Nuns of the Andes" blaring right back at me. Hmm, I must be the first foreigner to arrive. I'll make this quick. I don't to mess with their culture.

I walked up and paid my "tour fee," whatever that was. Gotta be something with their culture. Just do it.

Sitting in the dark sat all my idols. There was Rheja Sumada! She could cross-stitch a hole in 7 seconds flat! And there was Youhi Mefamo, she was the Queen's personal darner! I stood flabbergasted. Also, a little gassed. But that's besides the point. Those Andes enchiladas are deadly!

I mustered up the courage to ask a question. "Could I be your apprentice?" Seemed like a small request, right? Wait. Did she just nod her head?? I think she did. I jumped over the line ropes (another cultural thing). I started to darn.

And darn I did.

For the next 5 years, I learned. They taught me everything, and at the end of my tenure, I said my goodbyes. For some odd reason, they said nothing. Come to think about it, they hadn't said anything for 5 years (must be their culture).

I returned home and there sat my nemesis. The holey sock. Still defiant. Instantly, I sanctified that sock with a quick one two stitch and sat back. Victory....5 years of experience. Yeah! After a couple minutes, I looked down at the newspaper. Darning lessons for 5 bucks an hour. What?!?

The plot thickens! See what happens to the McConnell family in this turn of events...I present to you Chapter 4...haven't read the previous chapters. Take your time, catch up reading at your own pace...

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Untamed & Restless
Chapter 4

Blake reached the top of the stairs, and walked to his room. The door was closed. Blake just stood there staring at the wood frame. Giddy with excitement, Benjie perched himself on the staircase. Benjie didn't have a room, he likened himself to a modern day hawkman. He had a nest and everything. He had let his finger and toenails grow out to about 6 inches. He was a literal hawkman. He would also occasionally preen himself when need be.

For the next 3 hours, Blake just stood there at his bedroom door. Benjie was getting UNTAMED & RESTLESS. I mean, who wouldn't? He was crouching in his nest for 3 hours straight. Think of the pain in the knees.
Blake had a reason for his unmoving self. He was reconsidering his world view. Pretty deep. Was life all about being Jewish? Yes, whatever Jews touch, becomes blessed. Things instantly become gold. Everyone knew that. But was he supposed to be Jewish?

Blake spun around and marched downstairs.

Just as he left, another black hole appeared and out popped wide-eyed Mrs. McConnell. She had just been to the end of the universe and back. She danced with Kalapogans, and speared giant Groygalls with the Sryjan fisherman. In 15 minutes earth-time, she had explored the universe for 5 years.

Glad to be home, Jean McConnell decided to go to clean Blake's room. Mrs. McConnell slowly opened her son's door. Benjie's trap was set in motion. The back up plan of Benjie's consisted of another black hole (the McConnell's really shouldn't have let Benjie take those "Witchcraft for Beginners" classes). Mrs. McConnell was again sucked in and sent to Nubulon 5. Here we go again...

Blake raced over to the computer and started searching the internet for a new religion. Tons of religions popped up. So many choices, so little time. Well, better try them out one by one. Process of elimination, am I right? He clicked on the first link. Buddhism. That link turned out to download a virus on his computer. Poopie. Start Virus-Scan. Blake waited 30 minutes. Virus-Scan complete. Whew. That was close. Thanks Windows!

Blake clicked on the same link. Virus downloaded again. Poopie.

Upstairs, Benjie was devastated. Could his brother Blake be immortal? Every attempt to kill off his brother was met with an amazing escape. Oh well, it was suppertime. His plans would have to wait. Benjie's stomach was grumbling as well as Mr. McConnell and Blake. Sometimes mom was just so lazy. How hard is it just to make dinner? Women.

But Benjie's thoughts were interrupted with a knock at the door. He peered out the window. He couldn't believe who it was.

America has tons of debt. Tons is too nice. Let's be real. Trillions of debt. So much so, you could fill Pluto with dollar bills and still have some money left over to create a small village economy. So, as Americans, what are we to do? After going on a 12-day fast, I found an answer. I really need food. So I ate some. Then I looked up on the internet on how to fix national debt. I received the typical information...

Return to anarchy.
Bring Lenin back to life.
Sell our government control to China.
Takeover Britain. Use it as farmland. Sell corn to France.
Or...create a Ronald Reagan Robot to bring back economic relief.

Of course, these ideas are typical. But people you're missing a very obvious solution. You just need to use your brains. Here's your solution: sell off North Dakota to the highest bidder. Now don't argue with me saying that this idea isn't feasible. Technically, it could be possible. Technically.

Have Obama say we're giving away some valuable land. See if he can hype up that North Dakota would be a great place for a colony. Countries just love that. And no. It's not so "1600ish." I'm sure it's still "in." Colonies are all the fad.

North Dakota's estimated value is about $750,000. Not bad. It's not much, but it's a start. Soon, we'll be on our way to saying "I'm debt free!!" with Dave Ramsey. Of course, we might lose California in the process too.

The moment you have all been waiting for! Chapter 3 of my first novel has been released. I know you all have been pulling your hair out in anticipation. In case this is your first time hearing about the novel, don't rush. You can catch up by reading in chunks. Here are the links to chapters 1 & 2. It's a thrilling novel. Don't get hooked and read it all at once!

Chapter 1
Chapter 2


Untamed & Restless
Chapter 3

Thoughts raced through Blake's mind. What had just happened? Another failed attempt at a Bar Mitzvah? He had finished his Torah reading and was proud of his performance. But there were no girls wanting to peck kisses on his cheek. No praising from his parents. No friends to...well he had no friends, so forget that. No manhood awaiting him. He was trapped in the adolescence chamber, and the key lost in a haystack. And it was a golden key, so it would be pretty hard to find in the yellow hay.

The car turned into the driveway of the middle-class household. Benjie was antsy. Behind the front door awaited Blake's worst nightmare. This horror was Benjie's final touch to finish off Blake. Blake would be gone, and Benjie could take his rightful place as the only child. This dream had been around since his birth. Benjie had tried many different strategies of eliminating his brother: the "it's just a toy gun" approach, the "go into this mysterious gas chamber for me" approach, and even the "step in the fire and stay there to become a wizard" approach. All failed. Mom had always walked in at the wrong time. Bummer.

But this time nothing could go wrong. The family got out of the car, and as always, Blake would be first to enter the house. He was always first inside the house. For the past 25 years he had. Weird. But he had. It was "his thing." There was no reason behind this phenomenon.

But today...today was different. Blake stopped. Yes. In mid-walk. In mid-Jewish walk. And mother passed on the left! NASCAR fans would have been jealous. Father McConnell was a NASCAR fan. He cheered mostly for Jeff Gordon. Gordon recently announced his Jewish ties with Nicodemus the Pharisee. Many a Jew became a NASCAR fan that day.

So, Mrs. McConnell reached the door before Blake. Blake's attention had shifted toward the next door neighbor's house which was currently on fire. Oddly, no one paid any attention. Blake did for a few seconds then followed mom inside. I'm sure the fire department would be by.

Benjie's evil smile turned sideways into a face of horror as his mom opened the door. She took one step forward. Oh no! The trap was set for Blake, not mother! Mother fell into an a bottomless pit. And she was gone. Who would cook dinner?

Blake took another stop in mid-walk. And just stared. Where was mom? She was in front of him just two seconds ago. Maybe she went upstairs. Hmm. Well, better get working on next year's Torah reading.

The black hole sealed up, and Blake went upstairs. Benjie's mouth dropped. Another missed opportunity to get Blake. Luckily, he had a backup. And the backup would be unleashed as soon as Blake got in his room. Benjie slowly closed the door. Flames of the neighbor's house continued to burn in the distance as Benjie pondered his next move.

Mr. McConnell called for his wife to make dinner. He was looking forward to the matzo later that night.

I think the fountain pen is the next best thing to ever be invented. I will even argue that the writing instrument will be "hip" in the next 5 years. For the younger generation reading, hip is a word older people used to use to describe interesting products. The word has now been retired to history books along with bicycles and nutcrackers.

Anyway, junior highers all the way up to the highly paid executives will be sporting a new 150.00-5,200.00 pen. The Junior Highers will take out high-interest loans and grow up to be in-debt sweaty car salesman. And the executives will write the pens off as business expenses and continue to make millions. That's how society works.

Interestingly, the pen might equal the once favored palm pilot fascination. You remember those...not the iphone, not the ipod touch. I'm talking old school. The 3 inch-thick handheld cinder block we used to carry around. Yeah, the one that got the one hour battery life and then explodes. And we were suckers to fall for another poorly made American product. Palm, GM, what next? Not Microsoft....

Side note: you may argue that I pick on GM. I agree. I do. Ok, I addressed the issue. Let's move on from that topic forever.

GM can't build a reliable car for it's life. Ok. Forget that, I just said that to make you mad. We are talking about pens people! Pens! Highly priced pens that have no reason to be owned.

I saw in my favorite pen magazine called "Pen Magazine" that pen designers are releasing new pens that actually hold mini grappling hooks. Great. Now CEO's can make quick escapes from their offices when we try to catch them for committing fraud. While reading "Pen Magazine," I think I may have coveted. Yes, I know, it's a sin in 3 countries. I just saw a pen that could make McDonald's soft-serve ice cream. Amazing! You mean I can work on homework and ruin my cholesterol at the same time? Ah, America.

Literally, the pen will become the new pencil...people will flock. Pen's will be sold out everywhere you look. Willy Wonka will no longer use tickets, but Mont Blanc pens to invite children into his factory...

The moment you have all been waiting for!! The second chapter to my first novel Untamed & Restless. If this is your first time hearing about the novel, go back to the previous post of chapter 1 and catch up. I'm telling you, don't miss it! Get a comfortable place and enjoy. The drama and suspense is killing the readers and even me the writer...I make it up as I go. And plus, the chapters aren't long at all. So, here it is for your enjoyment...

Untamed & Restless
Chapter 2

"Blake’s eyes skimmed the audience. There sat his 3^rd grade teacher. She said he’d never become a man. Oh! And there was the local pharmacist smirking at him. And in the back row sat Judge Berman, Blake’s archrival ever since high school. Judge Berman got all the girls, convicted and innocent, literally, because he was a judge. He got all the girls.

All his enemies sat in one room rooting for him to fail. But unbeknownst to Blake, his biggest enemy was sitting right under his nose on the front row. Benjie’s smile was so big, it would have been awkward to look at him. He was not showing any teeth, so you know it was one of those weird smiles. He had been holding the smile for about 10 minutes straight. A record in Wisconsin, but the family lived in Delaware.

Blake opened his mouth to speak from the Torah. The words flowed eloquently from his lips. He danced with verbs and cradled nouns. No preposition could stand in opposition. An English teacher would have married him that second if he wasn’t still a boy.

Blake had been looking down during the entire reading. He glanced upwards. Faces of shock, awe, and disgust looked back. He ended the chapter with a final Amen and peered toward his father for approval. His father had his hand on his forehead and was looking down. Mother McConnell was crying. Benjie was wearing a golden crown. Where did he get that?

Benjie thought to himself. He had won. His brother was an utter failure. This crown represented his victory over his brother this Sunday morn. He stood and started the “slow clap.” The clapping echoed throughout the crowded synagogue. No one joined in. So Benjie stopped after about the sixth clap and sat back down. He was satisfied. Many people agreed this had been the oddest Bar Mitzvah.

Apparently before the whole Bar Mitzvah had taken place, Benjie rewrote the whole Torah. Since Hebrew was Benjie’s forte, he matched the Torah’s flavor of writing precisely. Blake had obliviously read about prancing unicorns, the color purple, rainbows, and everything feminine. He even had a lisp out of nowhere. Everything would have been fine since it was in Hebrew, but this year Rabbi McConnell decided to have the translated words put up on screen so the audience could enjoy the reading as well.

As the crowd exited the building, Mr. McConnell came up to Blake. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder. But no words came out. He just continued to look down. Recently, the dad received neck surgery. He couldn’t lift his head any higher to look you in the face. It was sad, because he always look dismayed. Even when he won the lottery back in April, he hung his head.

Dad just patted Blake’s shoulder and headed to the car. Mom McConnell didn’t even make eye contact; she just kept crying. As with Mr. McConnell, Jean McConnell had gotten surgery performed as well. To save both eyes, the doctor’s removed the muscle to control her tear ducts. Now, Jean would cry at the most improper times. While entered in the “How long can you go without crying” contest, Jean lost within the first minute.

Both parents weren’t sad at all. Remember, they had been going to Bar Mitzvahs for the past 33 years. The McConnell's were used to Blake’s failings. They just had physical deformities. They wanted to get home quickly so they could catch the tail end of “The Matzo Ball.” The annual Jewish dance show rivaled to compete with “So You Think You Can Dance.” They just danced to Jewish sounding music.

Everyone piled in the car. As the Lincoln cruised at a comfortable 65 mph, Benjie’s evil smile returned. He wasn’t finished with Blake. This first act was just the icing on the cake; and the cake was a wedding cake with layers, so you know there was more to come. Phase two of Benjie’s plan went into place as soon as they stepped foot in the McConnell home. Benjie was acting UNTAMED AND RESTLESS, and only he knew why."

Come back in about 2 weeks for chapter 3!!

In honor of "Save our Trees Awareness Month," I have decided to come up with many practical ways to cut down more trees. Hold on all you "I was born from a tree, and I like it" people. Let me explain. That way, when we realize how many different ways we can destroy trees...we can...umm, prevent people from doing all those malicious acts to trees! Yeah. That's right...cause...those people are bad...um people...umm, GLOBAL WARMING!!

Let's move on.

Suggestions on how You can destroy trees:
1. Arson. But hold your horses! I never "said" it. Wink wink. The late Smokey the Bear voice whispers in your ear, "Only you can prevent forest fires..."
2. Inject the rare drug "Hypogiamic Glotical" into all beavers. Beavers will then have a strange urge to make very very large dams. Odd side effect, I know, but they start to use trees instead of sticks. It's perfect.
3. Instead of going tailgating to the next football game, how about taking the guys out for a wild axe adventure of "Whoever cuts down the most trees, doesn't lose another limb" contest.
4. Give axes as gifts at parties & Christmas!
5. Join a large mob of political protesters and direct them to the nearest forest. Let them take out their anger on the trees. Any form of cutlery is fine. Forks? Yep, that'll work.
6. Recreate a John Henry versus "the machine" story. And see who wins. Try to get a crowd, it makes John Henry cut faster.
7. Tell the government that Taliban terrorists are hiding in America's forest. Bomb those puppies. Maybe use Napalm.
8. Have tons of Samurais fight in the forest. Have them miss a lot.

So, in honor of "Save of Trees Awareness Month," I hope all of you will do your part. And you should probably get looked at. If you're hearing bear voices, that's not a good thing.

After reading all my fan mail, I have seen a reoccurring theme. “Write a Novel! Write a Novel! Please I need more time to waste!” I hear your pleas, and I couldn’t agree more. The time has come to do what all men dream of. Write an overly thought-out book that no one will buy. So, over the upcoming months, I will publish a chapter a week from my thrilling novel. As of right now, I have no idea what genre the book will fall into. It could be horror. It could be comedy. It could be women’s fitness. Who knows? But hears the first chapter…

Untamed & Restless

Chapter One

The morning sun grazed the top of the horizon, gently kissing the edge before plopping itself in the sky. The sky said good morning, and the sun nodded back. This morning felt fresh. So fresh, it seemed odd.

Blake stepped onto his stoop and gave a long stretch. He had been awaiting this day since his birth. Bar Mitzvah! Blake was to become a man. For the past 22 years, Blake had failed his Bar Mitzvah test. He could read Spanish, Latin, German, and Hindi. But Hebrew was his burden to bear. For two decades, Blake had remained a boy. A hairy boy, but a boy nonetheless. Now at 34, overweight, and balding, Blake was excited to become a man, a man that had a life, a man with no parents in the next room.

His father, the synagogue Rabbi, sat at the dining room table reading his Torah. Sadly, his father had Tourettes. Every time a “twitch” came, he jolted his arm. Coffee spilled everywhere. This scene happened every morning. Then, Mrs. McConnell would wipe the priest’s shirt off and chuckle. Oh how she loved that man. She married him for his religion, nothing else. She was very Jewish, so the marriage was sweet for both.

There was a failure in the family though. His name started with a B and ended with E. Yep, the other son Benjie. What? No. Not Blake. Blake was bad. Overweight and bald. But not as bad as Benjie. Benjie was UNTAMED & RESTLESS. Insert overused dramatic music.

The family jumped in the car for the long ride to the synagogue. Dad pressed play on the CD player. Gentle piano music played in the background as the family zoomed down the highway. The family car was acquired through a business deal done by the father. He had traded his Star of David diamond necklace passed down through generations to the sweaty car salesman. It was quite a controversy within the Jewish community, but it seems the McConnell clan was on top.

The car turned into the synagogue parking lot. The place was packed. This day was Blake’s big moment. He was to become a man at age 34. And no one was going to get in his way. Or were they? Benjie wore an evil grin upon his face. He had been a man for 10 years now and proud of it. He was UNTAMED & RESTLESS. The family scooted into the pew. Blake took center stage. He opened his Torah. Benjie’s smile slowly started to grow.

Chapter 2 will be coming in a week. Come back to find out what happens to Blake! I don’t even know! It’s that suspenseful!

Some may wonder what goes on in my head. Many accuse my blog posts of being random or even aimless. I know. It's not you. It's those other people. The ones that smoke a lot and buy lift chairs. The ones that support all the companies on My Top 10 Companies to Boycott.

So here's a list of 25 things that are flying through my mind. These ideas are where YOUR blog posts are made. The deep, cavernous brain of yours truly...

1. Flying Geese
2. Kitchen Appliances (Inherently Evil?)
3. Hopskotch for Guys
4. Healthy Hotdogs
5. What if Lilypads could hold people?
6. Things I would say to the President of Mexico
7. Perfumes that sting when you put them on
8. Harry Potter at age 45
9. Elephants the size of mice, and mice the size of elephants (would the elephant still be afraid, would the mouse now be?)
10. If women were onions, men would be...
11. Killer bees Diplomacy
12. Sleeping (this would be nice, right now)
13. Shutting down Facebook forever
14. Putting Facebook back on the web after shutting it down forever
15. Having a worldwide seminar teaching everyone the benefits of golf
16. Illogical Schematics
17. Tina Turner Bloopers
18. Dreams of Six Flags providing good service
19. Bundt Cake
20. 3 Stooges hitting one another, me laughing
21. Bach with an Afro
22. Mozart with an Afro
23. A black man with an Afro...oh wait
24. Young Whales
25. The number pi

Boycotting is such a beautiful right. It's just so nice when we can refuse good hard American work just because the item costs 10 cents too much. Or just because the product broke after we dropped it from a 20-story building. Instantly, we must sue, boycott, and set aflame all of the company products. This is our duty as Americans. Technically, the board of directors wants this to happen. So hey, I will burn down the Chrysler building if I see crummy cars.

--NEWS FLASH--The Chrysler Building has burned down. There are no suspects. Kia is using the rubble to make cars.

So, on to the list of companies I am going to boycott. I suggest that you, as a faithful American, do the same.

#1: Geico-As much as I love the theme music for their commercials, I inspected their financial statements. Seems as if 3 billion dollars has been going straight to terrorist organizations for the past 5 years. My answer to that? Boycott. Try to sell that to a terrorist, Geico.

#2: Williams-Sonoma-I bought a soup ladle from them about 2 years ago. It didn't hold as much soup as I wanted it to. STAMP BOYCOTT.

#3: La-Z-Boy-New production is being made for the release of a dog-hide leather couch. Every time you shift position, it barks, or yelps depending on position. La-Z-Boy claims they're controlling the pet population. Recycle to the max. Recycle this...Boycott.

#4: Dippin Dots-They are just too innovative. Obesity is getting so bad, you no longer have to chew your ice cream. Chewing was the only exercise the fat folk could do! Thanks alot Dippin Dots for keeping America fat...ugh.

#5: Sherwin-Williams-Recently, the company came out with a paint named, "Rainbow." I have to paint my house, that's bad enough. Now I have a paint that changes color in different lighting. One minute I have a decadent chocolate coat, the next pee-green...Is that even a color??

#6: United Airlines-Ho hum. We should boycott all the airlines; I know. But United Airlines doesn't serve peanuts anymore. Just coke. Argh, what's next? No life preservers? Oh wait, costs are high, so they can only manufacture mini-vests. United Airlines and Dippin Dots are in a heated battle...

#7: Disney-Have you heard about the new movie Disney has come out with? Yes, G-Force. The one about hamsters. I'm boycotting immediately. Next, there going to be making movies about talking Chihuahuas. Oh wait...they did? NOOOO!!!

#8: Google-It's weird. Americans love Google. We've verberized the word. Verberized-to make a noun into a verb. Good work Google. But there's more to this company this just it's name. Recently google bought the country of Madagascar. I don't like companies owning countries. Boycott.

#9: Yonex-I don't like the name. Don't know what they make? Look it up on Google....Oh wait! Google strikes again! Get a yellow book. Forget google.

#10: Holiday Inn-Their cinnamon buns now contain high amounts of cholesterol. Don't tell me that! I enjoyed eating those. Well, might as well feed me Dippin Dots while I'm googling something. Holiday Inn is "inn"to keeping America fat. I'm not. Here's a boycott, guaranteed to lower your cholesterol.

Join me faithful Americans and keep my country safe from these monsters. I'm doing my part, are you? Grab a torch, let's arson together.

I just recently participated in an online class: Debate 101. You may think I'm kidding. I literally spent American dollars on online classes. Ok, not me particularly, but I know a guy. That's all you need to know. It's whatever. So anyway, I was taking this course. Finished top of the class. It was all women! OH WOMEN JOKE! [insert drum roll followed by cymbal] Oh smack! Anyways. Where was I?

It was the weirdest thing. The online class actually met in a classroom at a university. Everyone went to the classroom but then communicated over chat rooms. We never made eye contact. Well, I did once. I was shunned by the group for a week. Also, I received life-threatening messages via a brick through my front window. Using clipped-out letters from magazines...Oh how technology has changed our lives.

Finished my final exam though! It said. You are a Socrates. You love to take long walks on the beach, stay up late, and party whenever there's people. Your debate power is arguing. Stay away from Gemini. A Taurus may turn out to be helpful this week. I was so glad to find out that I passed! Well, I think I did. For 75 bucks a class. I better have passed. I mean I'm equal to Socrates!

So, 45 classes later, I walk out with a degree from XiangWang University confirming I had passed Debate 101. I think it was a deal! Thank you Internet. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you for sharing your knowledge to me at a low price of 3,375.00 (tax not included). Thank you XiangWang University for changing a middle-class citizens life.

So, I'm challenging the world. What questions do you have? I am a contemporary Socrates here to solve all of life's answers. What? What's your question? How do you change your oil? I don't know that...NOOOO!!! Curse you XiangWang University!!

All you have to do is press play. Sit back, relax, and laugh. Mrs. Franklin is at the Bingo table, pull up a chair, let's get this party started...ignore the Southern accent at the beginning. Something was in my throat...right...

When I look at my history book for school, all I see are facts, the same boring facts. I want to see inside the life of historical figures. What kind of ice cream did Charles Lindbergh like? Did Nero have any pets? Was George Washington Carver a fan of European Football Leagues? So many questions our history books ignore. All they tell us is the useless stuff: the presidents, famous dates, the French losing at everything. I want more! Is that too much to ask

Luckily, I am a part-time historian. Thank heavens for all those online classes! I decided to go “digging” myself for answers. So where did I end up? No, not Washington D.C. That’s where they want you to look. I had to go to North Dakota. Yes, the Indian land, my friend. And when I say Indian, I mean Native American. Don’t want to offend any of our “red folk.” Kowatawa to you.

Our government knew the Hopi tribe could guard our nation’s secrets best. Actually, to be honest, that was the deal they set up when we were taking all their land. “Ok, we’ll ruin your lives by taking your buffaloes, women, and children. We’ll then store our government files on your land. Oh, and the land doesn’t belong to you either. This will be a loan and there’s a hefty interest rate.”

So, we made peace with the Indians.

I went straight to the file room. Well, it was actually the file teepee. How they fit all those files in there, I do not know. I just started opening folders up and salivated. A teepee of knowledge. How paradoxical! The smell of cowhide was strong as I flipped through the files. I coughed a bit. My jaw just dropped; this teepee is answering all my questions. And it’s not even speaking!

Did you know…Helen Keller was never blind? It was her black glasses that caused her “blindness.” Who would have thought?

Oh, here’s another…Ronald Reagan’s mother was Jewish. Interesting.

Look at this! Kansas was never officially accepted into the USA. They just thought everyone was signing a get-well card for Illinois.

So many answers to all of life’s mysteries, so little time. The Indians bid me farewell. But I insisted to stay for their ceremonial tribal dance. They stared at me and went back into their air-conditioned houses.

Finally a new language has been created! You haven't heard? Winkipee. Ok, ok. You're trying to get all the facts at once. I'm no slot machine. Pshh. My stomach doesn't magically start turning as if slots were there. Those slots on my stomach do not have number 7's on them or even apples. Be patient. Here take a Vicodin. Feel better? Good. Take two more. And how about one for the road...

Winkipee. Not to be confused with the other newly discovered language Winkipea. Just another language of the Pygmies. Americans show off their Gold medals; Pygmies take pride in their 17,010 languages. Yes, the Pygmiatic language boasts new symbols. Not characters on paper, my friend, for the symbols are shown using only the eyelids.

Blinking. A gift from God. Because without blinking, we would have "DRY EYES." Thank you Ben Stein, Clear Eyes Commercial Legend.

The tribe only uses blinking to communicate! 1 blink = yes, 2 blink = no. Phrases are made simply. 1 eye open & 1 eye closed = "where is the nearest bathroom?" You see, the Africaans use a number of variations to communicate like eye half open, patch on or off, or no eyeballs at all. You get the point. Literally, the guy with no eyes did. Straight to the eye. Gouged! Lucky for him though, he's the only one of the Pygmies that can ask for toilet paper. (toilet paper = 1 eye closed, 1 open no eyeball)

So, I'm a man on a mission. A mission to learn this language. The tribe has taken me in. I'm nervous though. There's been a lot of blinking. I would categorize it as awkward blinking. As if they were saying, "what do you want us to do?" WAIT!!! (2 blinks followed by a half-open eye lid!) They are asking me what do I want them to do!!

Josh quickly runs over to the tribe. He blinks multiple times, and seconds later the Pygmies attack visciously. Little did Josh know, he was wearing designer glasses. (1 blink from both eyes, followed by two half-open eye lids, + glasses = I would like to be a dead man).

Ah. What a fascinating language.

America has been deprived. We tiptoe around booing as if it's rabies with a bad case of leprosy. You see, booing voices opinion.

Boo="We dislike what you're doing loser. How about you change."

I want to up the booing. Is this a bad thing? I feel as if we should boo during lectures, presentations, friend-to-friend talk, a car salesman pitch, and funerals. Ok, maybe not funerals. I just lost half my viewers. Not funerals! Because funerals need to be quiet. Yay, ratings up!

Booing is a loud sport. And a sport it is! Some people are good at it, and some people stink. You know the weak booers. Not Boers, those were Dutch farmers settling in Africa during the 19th century. I knew you might get confused...Weak booers just voice their boo so there neighbor hears it. That's sissy. Girly! Unless you are a girl. Well, then, you're mousy (to be like a mouse). Or weak. But I'm not being sexist!! Umm, umm. Women deserve equal rights! Whew, that was a close one. Also I just gave all my belongings to poor women. There. Everything is back to normal.

Then you have the Burly Booers. True Americans. Beautiful human beings. They voice a boo that rocks the rafters. Makes the paint melt. Puts the curd in milk.

But let's move to intentional booing. Let's take the booing from the sporting arena to normal life. Say, you have a friend who is in mid-conversation, just boo right in his ear. It is perfectly appropriate for saliva to go into his canal. That's one instance. Be creative. Say your teacher is just talking about sleep cycles. Stand up and give a good boo. Are you a man or not? Some people may join in. They might be booing you. Maybe not. You might feel like a fool. You probably are a fool for actually obeying satire.

Another idea, grab 21 friends and enter a library. You know where I'm going with this. Yeah, it's gonna be so awesome! Whisper to the librarian and ask where the non-fiction section is. Go there. Brush up on some light reading. Sit down at a table and discuss what you read with your friends. Wasn't that great?

Booing is essential to life. Seriously, doctors have proven that a low guttural vocalization is a must. Well, I'm doing just want the doctor ordered. I booed him right as he suggested Lipitor...

I had an uncanny meeting last week. Guess who I bumped into at the marketplace? Mr. Streptococcus! You know him, right? We hadn't seen each other in ages. He was still the same old, same old Mr. Streptococcus. Same look, same smell, same name!

Oh Mr. Streptococcus! Oh how you made me laugh into the wee hours of the night. Oh how you would make life's simple treasures the greatest joys. How you made me cough up phlegm and pray pain would go away...Wait a second. That's right! We are not friends, Mr. Streptococcus! You have tricked me indeed!

Mr. Streptococcus is actually code name for Mr. Strep Throat Terrorist?! You're an Arab?!? Oh...No? Well, I didn't mean to jump to any conclusion...I was just...I thought because you were a terrorist, you were---nevermind. (cough) Seems we're in quite a predicament here, huh (slow nervous laugh).

(1 minute of silence)

Well, it seems as if I hit a nerve with that last comment. Guess I should just rinse my mouth out...cruel things I said back there. Sorry about that. I'll just gulp down some of this ANTI-STREP THROAT MEDICINE!!! CHERRY-STYLE!! I AM THE WINNER!

And Mr. Streptococcus was gone.

You dread grocery shopping. Unless you're the rare coupon cat, who wants to win the coveted annual "Yes, I'm a Coupon Cat" Award. Surprisingly, Margaret Thatcher won it 3 years in a row (1957-1959) setting a world record which still has not been broken. Congrats Marg! Keep those coupons categorized...

But that's them, right? What about us normal people? The ones that work jobs. The ones that raise children. The ones that pay taxes. The ones that love America. Grocery shopping is a chore! Right? Rumor has it that Grover Cleveland right after taking out the trash was required to go to the local produce store and pick up the groceries. A weekly chore, but he hated it! Now, there's a man that loved America. Wish I could say the same about his mother. She was Miss "Yes, I'm a Coupon Cat" 1910. Sickening, isn't?

So what are we apple-pie-loving Americans supposed to do? We must fight! We must make the grocery shopping experience enjoyable. Will you stand with me? Take up your arms soldier...

As mentioned in previous posts, the Josh Kopp Foundation (JKF) loves to perform acts of protest to promote change. Ok...we might have accidentally supported Obama. Why? He had a great slogan! Change we can believe in?! I mean how does he come up with these gems!?

So, we bombard all grocery stores with protests. We protest for change. Change we can believe in. There is hope!! (pause) Man, that stuff gets old after a while. If all else fails, we accuse the grocery store of being racist. Badam boom, we sue. We get paid. We see change, literally. Coins jingling in our pockets. Now that's real change...

I think the question that has haunted mankind is "what is cream of tartar?" Some nerd might perk up and give a simple witty answer. Witty=wimpy. See, on this blog we don't spurt things out on command. K? We must survey the playing field. Give little Jimmy a chance at swinging the bat. Sure he has asthma, but he has feelings too. Keep that elbow tucked son! You follow? Things must be spelled out. Nothing is simple as a one sentence definition. Look at the word "the." Takes 373 pages to get the definition just right. But thanks to Webster, I know exactly what "the" is. It's the 3rd Solar System past Nubulae 5.

What were we talking about? Oh, cream of tartar! I interviewed an old witch who said, "tartar me once, and you're home safe. Tartar me twice, and there be a full moon tonight." Could this witch have something up her sleeve? I must argue no for she had on a sleeveless cloak. Odd if you ask me. Sleeveless cloaks on sale at JCPenny!

Now...
We all agree that cream of tartar is used in cooking.
We all agree that cream of tartar is good for you.
We all agree that cream of tartar is an excellent source of Kryptonite.
We all agree Thundercats was a good 90's cartoon.

So what's tartar? After many years of study, I am ready to release my findings. My partner Mr. Fisk and I have laboriously struggled to find the answer. And today, on the 6th of July, we have done it! We have an answer. Now mankind can sleep in peace...

Tartar is...tartar is...tartar is...tartar is...

Suddenly a rerun of Michael Jackson's life appears on a nearby television. Dr. Kopp & Mr. Fisk run to the TV and stare at it mindlessly. Looks like cream of tartar will be defined at a later date...pitty.

Ok. So you don't know what to do for July 4th. Something is going on, but you can't put your finger on what. See? That's what I'm here for. I want to create a non-boring day for you. You don't want to sit around all day and watch television. I mean, what goes on the day of July 4th anyway??

Here's your schedule:

7:00-Wakeup (gotta start this day early, we have so much planned!)
7:15-7:30-Shower (or bath, but that's weird in the morning)
7:30-8:30-Write a Novel (I want this to be a big day for you!)
8:30-8:45-Eat Oatmeal
8:45-9:30-Proofread novel for errors (no mistakes!)
9:30-10:30-Adopt a child (Adoption is a beautiful process)
10:30-11:00-Drop child off at day-care (You have so much planned remember! We can't have a kid weighing us down!)
11:00-12:00-Eat wherever (kind of getting tired of making this schedule)
12:00-5:00-Roam mindlessly around town
5:00-6:00-Send a $100 check to charity (Josh Kopp Foundation)
6:00-10:00-Watch Television (Forget what I said earlier. America's Got Talent is on!)
10:00-11:00-Watch News (Fireworks? What do people think it is, 4th of July??)

What is the worst possible job? Consider this thought. I have just returned from my travels of the entire world. I have met many a man who works quite an interesting job. I ask...

Why do you work that job sir?
Because my father did it.

See? That's not a good enough excuse for me. Sure, your father loved shoveling who-knows-what into a truck and selling it. I wouldn't! Stand up for yourself young man. Break free of the hereditary bondage! Sell mattresses if you want to!

So I've brought back a list for all of you. Things I have seen. Things I wish I hadn't. I've been to the tips of mountains, bottoms of valleys, insides of wigwams, and outsides of wonders. Here's my list...

-Sewage Scrubber: Problem with this job, your brush turns out to be a toothbrush. You don't get a mask. And you work in Chicago. Not a good combo.

-Easily Sunburnt Roofer in Phoenix: Too bad you're too white to build a tan. Stinks when both winter and summer turn out to be 100 degrees everyday. You'll be scraping boils all year...I suggest the rare SPF 75.

-Civilian in the Middle East: Ok, so it's not a occupation. But seriously, that would stink.

-Shark Tamer without arms: Why was the walkway slick around the shark tank? You tried to catch your fall...oh wait...missing appendages.

-Modern Medieval Man: What do you do? People just constantly point and stare at you. Soon you're living in the asylum; but hey, you still have that armor you bought on Ebay for 87.99. Winning bid at the last second!

Ok, I have gotten so frustrated finding the right "theme" for the blog. This one will do for a while. Think of you stepping into the psychiatrist's office and unloading everything. Again. Sit back, relax, laugh a little. Get away from reality for a bit.

And now, feel free to leave comments. Located right at the end of each post.

Ok, ok. Don't throw your computer against the wall. You saw the title, and now you've panicked. Yes. I am venturing into political satire. Whoa, whoa! Put down the hangman's noose. It's going to be ok. Hey! No guns while at this blog. Slowly...put down...the gun. Good. This is a peaceful blog. Our mascot is the dove. I just don't show it. At all. Anywhere on the site. Let's move on...

Bottom line. North Korea wants to nuke us. Mr. Obama or Mr. Black-Eyed Peace Man. I just thought of that. Hah! And no, that's not racist. I'm playing off of a band name. Sheesh. Anyway, the Black-Eyed Peas want peace. As do many, many Americans. So how SHOULD we respond to North Korea?

Simple Plan: Nuke them first.

This concludes North Korea Diplomacy 101. Next class, Making Eyeglasses with Teacher Kim Jong Il. Class is filling up, better sign up quickly.

tis the season ladies and gentlemen. tis father's day! and in honor of my father, i will be using no uppercase letters. dad, you have given me so much. i can only give back in such a small way. i know how much you hate uppercase letters. enjoy a day without looking at them. love ya.

I don't need to remind all of you. It's a very big week of the year. And yes, I know all of you put the dates in your calendar. So me reminding you is just wasting valuable time. Yes, my dear friends, it is US Open week in the wonderful US of A (America that is).

All you Tiger fans give me a Hey-O! All you Mickelson fans can get lost. Nobody likes a lefty. Literally, you can be racist when it comes to which hand is dominant. It's ok! Right is right, left is wrong. Been that way since the days of Adam & Eve. Don't worry. They were both right-handed. Cain was the problem. Cain wanted to be unique. He was the left-hander. He got a wife, maybe his sister. Passed on his lefthandedness. Now, to this day, we have the war of righties vs lefties.

But if you look back at history. Every single person who has done something worth saying has been a righty. Sorry lefties, you got nothing. Oh...and you too Mickelson.