Deep Thoughts

Go back in time. Before Edison. Before Mr. Bell and his telephone. This is a time of ideas. Where you can go to bed at 6:00, and no one call you crazy. Where butter is churned, people say hello to strangers, doors are left open. Dinosaurs are still dead. And Pocahontas still loves John Smith. Yes, my friends, this is the age of civility.

I think we can blame all our troubles on electricity. It is a cursed fundamental to our civilization. Edison knew he would corrupt America. Rumor has it he was an early Communist. And I'm talking early.

Many of you are furious that I can accuse such a great inventor of being Communist. Don't worry. This is satire. No need to get your pants/dress into a knot. Fisherman Bend style (another wasted boating allusion).

So as a dedication to my protest against electricity. I will no longer use it...starting now.

So, anwyuawy, leaife ias gud annnd thinas r sai nicae. I hop ye anjoy thae blaogg. SAny noa toe electieaycity!!

I would write to all you fanatic satire lovers, but alas, I have been too busy these past few days. Do not fret. There are plenty more treasures to come. Wait and see.

Comments are now welcome from anyone. :)

The art of making words up: makitiology. And yes, I made that word up, as well as the definition. Too easy. For this blog post, I shall post all of my own made up words. Feel free to use them as salt to liven up your conversations. All I ask are for royalty fees. 10 cents for every time one of my words is spoken. Thank you very much...

Finally a get rich scheme that works. I've already wasted 100 bucks for the last scam. How to sell on Ebay. I'm still waiting for that book...been a good 3 months. But let's move on to the words.

Hypola: this is actually the updated name for the threshold of a door
Tibial: meaningless, comes from the Latin tibiath, to waste
Quinnable: childish, to have an air of immaturity, junior-high boy-like
Vesean: A lightly used overcoat, red in color
Ploun: finally we can talk about a plural noun without having to use two words!

Now, you might be afraid of these words. Don't be. Use them constantly. Make me money! Remember, enhancing your conversation with different words creates friends. Still scared? I'm here to help once again. Let's use them in some sample sentences so you know how to use them.

While heading off to school, Janice gripped her vesean close to herself. It was tibial. She definitely should have gotten a new coat before winter started. Her family couldn't afford much though. She looked at her frost-bitten hands. Well, there goes another finger she thought. Suddenly, a chunk of ice came flying through the air and cut her face open. She looked over. It was Ted. He was so quinnable. "I'll get you back Ted!" she yelled. Boys, she thought. Can't stand them. Luckily it was so cold, her bleeding face scabbed quicker than she thought. It was her lucky day! She finally made it to school. She crossed over the hypola, nearly tripping, as she came into her classroom. Oh no. She forgot about the quiz. It was over plouns, and she hadn't studied any of them. Looks like life was back to normal for Janice.

See. If I can do it, you can do it. Go ahead. Give it a try. Watch as wonders unfold...

I have decided to enhance my vocabulary. It won't be easy. I live in the South; I'm surrounded by idiots. (Can he even say that?) People assume that opening the mouth and uttering sounds is fine English. Hey, You need to move your tongue a little! Add some plosives, fricatives, and bilabials (speech & vocal skills allusion, look it up).

Now that you've cleaned up your speech. We can work together. Let's enhance our speech TOGETHER. As one. Homework assignment for this week. Grab your handy-dandy Webster Dictionary. Blow the dust off. Cough. Open Book Cover. You know...you can do stuff on your own without me telling you. Now, turn the page. Urghh, there we go again! Cursed Webster!! Put down the book.

Let's just grab a CD and listen to Shakespeare all day. That'll deepen our speech way to much...Let's do it anyway! All week. All year. Problem solved.

----------10 years later----------

Turns out you're a freak show trying to preform Shakespeare in Central Park. The kids run away from you. Constantly. People throw rocks at you. Stinks to be you.

As for me, I just finished my fifth award-winning performance in Faust. I'm going to be knighted by the Queen of England herself! Good thing I listened to that CD. I'm so glad we both decided to make this decision....best of my life. How bout you?

Some kid is throwing rocks at you now. I gotta get out of here. Cya.

This commitment must be as strong as marriage. What commitment am I hinting at? You’ve seen the signs. Adopt-a-Highway! Yay! Now I want to! It’s an un-admitted dream of everyone…

Remember, people and organizations adopt either to gain publicity or give back to the community. So, it’s a big deal. Now, you could think of the adoption like with a child. I have a different metaphor that goes even deeper. If you choose to adopt a highway, the road must become your spouse. Spend time with it. Love her/him! Depending on your gender of course…Highways are very conservative. When you sign that paper, you have signed your life away. Not specifically to responsibility—even though there will be—but I say opportunity! Such a better word. Creates optimism.


You do have a responsibility though. Shoot, here comes another metaphor. You must become a greenskeeper. Follow me on this. The highway needs love, nurture, and guidance. Many a man has strayed from improperly caring for his strip of road. Look at yourself. Bottles, butts (cigarette of course), and bums scatter across your highway. And you call yourself a qualified adopter! Clean up your act. Put some pansies in that soil.

Adoption awaits you. Literally, millions of children need to be adopted. But I speak of the highway adoption program. Remember our topic! Sheesh. Lost you so quick.

Adopt-a-Highway is calling your name. Will you respond? Or will you choose to adopt a real child? Your fate lies in your hands.

So I’ve been trapped in a car for 9 hours today. Not to mention 9 more hours coming back home to Greenville on Sunday. I can now consider myself an expert on travel. Anything I tell you about traveling, accept it without questions. I am a travel expert. Here to make your travel plans go smoother. Let’s begin.

Throughout my travels this week, I have gained vast amounts of knowledge. I could fill a pamphlet full. Literally, if a travel agency came up to me, I could provide sufficient data to create quite an entertaining advertisement. There would be bullets and everything. But that’s beside the point.

I want to give you some helpful travel tips. Things to watch for, and (might I add) things to watch OUT for. So here we go. Obviously I have like a million tips. I will only give you a small glimpse of what resides in my mind. I’m telling you, this stuff is gold. Or, as good as gold. No, no. It’s gold. Use it in your bartering.

1. Hitchhiker Rule: Only pick him up if he has a large wallet. Check the pants (no pants=keep driving). Luckily, you might have found a CEO whose car recently broke down. He will reward you immensely. Good work.
2. Number of Stops: As your age increases, so must your stop count increase. That’s Newton’s 5th Law. There is actually a formula (Age + weight / MPH x number of axles = number of stops). But I calculated it myself.
   
3. The Lumbar Pain Solution*: You know what I’m talking about. Riding in a car for about 9 hours creates immeasurable pain in the lumbar region. For the youngins reading, the lumbar region is your lower back! Yes, go ahead, it’s safe to touch. So what’s the solution? You could stop and walk around but that increases your stop count! You don’t want that! Or you can participate in motoral yoga. Give yourself plenty of room, turn on cruise control, and bend. Warrior one & two work great maybe even upward dog. In no time, the pain disappears and your stop count stays low! Success!

Many across the globe have wondered if the cartoons have their facts straight. Forget surviving a TNT explosion; forget temporarily stopping in midair; and forget a coyote chasing a roadrunner. Sometimes cartoons get their facts correct. It's true! The statement is hard to believe but true. A certain myth must be addressed though. The idea of a cartoon character that uses a banana peel to cause his enemy to slip is completely plausible.

Please consider the much forgotten fruit. We brush it off as only a source of potassium. The "other" fruit. But there is more to the fruit then its yellow hue my friend. Look at the banana’s exterior. Now peel. Not your sunburned skin. Peel the banana. Good. The question must be raised. Is there enough slippiness (very scientific term) on that skin to cause someone to slip?

After testing over 300 individuals, results show that only 27% of participants slipped on the banana. Further study revealed that each of the 27% was wearing a worn down shoe with no traction. After paying many surgery bills, we interviewed each person that slipped. No one would speak to us! All were furious that we threw a banana peel in their path and then watched them slip. Ignoring the injuries, we must ask. Is the slip possible? We think so. But of course, in no way are we licensed to perform such research either. This is just a blog. Not a research center.

But do not count out the research so quick. If you are walking down the path and immediately you face a banana peel, resist the urge to step upon the peel. Remember the research. No benefit can come out of stepping on the peel. Listen to your back say, “I don’t want to die!” The slippage is completely feasible. With a proper knowledge, you can avoid such a catastrophe. The banana slip is a danger that threatens us even today. If taken too lightly, mankind could fall. So peelease, watch out for bananas.

Phone call. You put your potato chips aside, wipe the grease off your fingers, and pick up the phone. As you listen to the voice on the other end, you look at yourself. What has happened to you? You're wearing a sweaty wife beater and no pants. You been unemployed for about 5 months now. But hey, you've been searching...

Oh yeah, the phone call! You stop looking at your fat slob and listen. It's Paramount Pictures. They need you back. You think to yourself. "Oh yeah, like I'll ever go back to them!" 8 months ago, Paramount fired you for directing Land Before Time XXVII. Little Foot actually marries Sarah! You thought it would be the next Dark Night. Seriously. But it wasn't. It made it to theaters, and people paid not to see the movie. The local charity Adoptions Anonymous benefited quite well from the extra money.

So, anyway, you're really bitter at Paramount for firing you. If Paramount were a mountain, you would set its trees aflame and not think twice about it. But that's if Paramount were a mountain. It's not. It's a movie company. Shoot. Plan A gone.

The guy asks if you want the job. Your second chance! You scratch your partly balding head. Not to sound too excited, you let out a sigh and say, "I reckon." Weird. Now your Southern. You've grown up in California your whole life. I mean you graduated from UCLA. Reckon?? Luckily, the guy on the other line bought it. Whew. Click, you hang up.

A week later, you go to the set of your new movie. This is your comeback! Just make a good impression. You arrive wearing the same exact clothes from a week ago. You haven't changed or bathed for a week. There was a Doritos stain across the front of you shirt. Not to mention the sweat stains. Oh, woops. Just did.

You're ready. Let's film this thing.

You open the script to your magnificent comeback to Hollywood. Director-Your name. Good. Length-2 hours. Check. Movie Title-"Facing the Giants 2: Return of the Southern Accent." You set the script down and cry to yourself quietly. It seems Paramount has gotten the last laugh...

So I'm in wonderful Williamsburg basking in the history this week. When I say bask, I mean soak. Literally, I am soaking wet. Drenched. That is how much history is around me right now. I don't think you are following me. I must spell it out in a detailed manner. I am on a metaphoric raft and vast amounts of sea surround me. I can only choose one direction. One choice, if you will. The wrong decision leaves me continuously stranded. My haven (the rescue boat or land) is the knowledge I gain. I long for that knowledge.

Pop Quiz: Who invented the spinning jenny?

You see? I want to answer that question within 5 seconds. Not 2 minutes! I want to be Ken Jennings! (wasted TV allusion) Luckily, with the motor (i.e. tour guide) I add to my boat; I can make it to that land of knowledge quicker.

I lost half of you in the metaphors. Who cares. Let's try to clear things up. Let's look at me describing Williamsburg through metaphors with a metaphor...

Ok, so this question might be focused more toward men. But ladies do not close that browser so soon! This argument addresses you as well. What happens if you boyfriend/husband starts doing Yoga?

• Is it time to call the Police?
• Is he getting fruity?
• Man, time to find another boyfriend...

1. Increased Flexibility: ok...guys typically don't care. But still flexibility helps longevity.
2. Lubrication of joints, ligaments, and tendons: ok, don't get freaked out about the word lubrication...
3. Organ & Body Massage: how do your organs get massaged? Try Yoga, you'll feel it. It's heaven in liverland.
4. Detoxification: Boom. There you go. Blood rushes in and out to clear all the nasty things out of our system.
5. Muscle Toning: Now all the guys jump in. YEAH! That's what I'm talking about!

Ok, so I've deprived all human nature of my existence. I apologize. I have decided to up the ante in my writing. No longer will I post useless journal entries about my life. Sorry all you dedicated freak fans that have no life. I have to say goodbye. So what's the new agenda?

I could waste my time all summer watching TV and playing golf. But is that really what matters? Eh, no. Let's get those brain cells a working. Let's write.

I want you to come to this blog and relax. Laugh your head off. Yes, you may read previous entries from my other blog...die-hard lovers of Josh world. The site is located under favorites. But on to the good stuff! Your first entry awaits...


To the Desserted Island

Immediately, you accuse the writer of a misspelling in the title. The buzzer sounds loudly at you. Incorrect. Listen up; the chance may come when a person may wind up on a deserted dessert island. You follow? Will you be ready for that day? It could happen! Think about it.

You wash up on shore. Your nose quickly perks up. What is that delicious smell? Is that batter cooking? Are cookies taking a chocolate bath? You must be delirious. You have to be. How can someone be trapped on an island and at the same time smelling freshly cooked delights? Brush it off. You cannot lose your mind. As you come to yourself, you stand up and look around you. Everything seems normal. Endless seas stretch in the distance. Check. Sand stuck between your toes. Nasty check. Cupcake trees bloom in the distance. See! Everything is normal. Wait a second. Cupcakes. Yummy! You like cupcakes remember! You run and devour the ripe cupcakes. And next to the cupcake trees blossoms the brownie patch. Good thing brownies are your favorite; you grab five and stuff your pockets. Oddly, you have never seen a cupcake tree or a brownie patch! The island must be somewhere in the Pacific, obviously.

You continue to shake your head in unbelief as you push a Slim Jim beanstalk out of the way. As you do, your eyes widen. Sitting before you steaming is a giant pool of hot chocolate, not the watered down look-a-like. This chocolate just got done in the sauna. You dive in. Drink up. You do so happily.

Slowly, doughnut lily pads float toward you. They act as servants ready to serve their king. You order them in your mouth. They obey, weird. You stride out of the chocolate lake. You walk briskly to the other side of the forest.

For the first time, you look down. Twizzler grass? Are you kidding me? Could this place get any better? You continue to run past the Milky Way waterfall, and immediately you stop. Before you in all its glory, sits the Godiva Mountain. You have dreamed of this masterpiece. You look at it and even get a cavity. For years, you have longed to sink your teeth into that milk chocolate peak. The time has finally come! You start to run then sprint. You can taste the chocolate. Suddenly, as if in some odd ironic story, you trip on rock candy. Your head strikes the side of a cupcake tree. Instant darkness.

Then, your eyes open. It is your 4 o’clock class. Everyone in class is gone. It is just you and your teacher. You smile. He does not. This cannot be good. You long for those cupcake forests.