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by Paul
Nov 8, 2005 10:12
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Well, I was talking, and she was nodding...off. Either way, that's a conversation in my book. The subject at hand was the nursery rhyme about Jack and Jill. For those of you unfamiliar with the anecdote, basically, Jack and Jill go up a hill, to fetch a pail of water. Jack falls down, and breaks his crown, and Jill comes tumbling after.
Now, I'm all for teaching kids morals with Aesops' Fables, and Kermit the Frog's various methods for advocating racial equality and what not. What I'm not for however, is lying to the children.
Clearly somebody's trying to pull the wool over my eyes on this one. Nobody writes nursery rhymes anymore. So that means, this was written like a hundred years ago. You know, before science could explain all the mysteries of life, and people relied on crazy shit like the bible and Old Mother Hubbard to explain its various intricacies.
Incidentally, this might be the first in a long series analysis. Featuring my expert man brain, explaining the various falicies implicit in these seemingly harmless stories we tell our children. By the way, when I say "our" children, I of course mean your children, because I know how to not have children; it was explained to me in a nursery rhyme.
So anyway back to the lecture at hand. Perfection is perfected so I'ma let 'em understand. From a young G's perspective. And before me dig in a bitch I have to find a contraceptive. See, a nursery rhyme taught me that. And you thought I was just making stuff up. Shame on you.
No but seriously. Alright so, Jack right... wait, let me back up. First of all, who puts a well on top of a hill? A hill is a raised piece of land. if there is water in the hill, then you could drill the well at a slant at the base of the hill, and eliminate the need to drill down like... 100 feet of hill.
Technically, whoever had the bright idea to put a well on top of a hill, is responsible for Jack falling down and breaking his crown.
What's really important in this whole story, is the motive. Fetching water, the last time I tried, is not a two man job. Or a two woman job. Or a one man and one woman job. Remember that one skank in the bible who Jesus saved from getting stoned? He was like "Yo... let this broad give me some water before you stone her." Then if I remember right, they tried to stone her, but they missed and Jesus said, "Haha, are you going to build a house with all those bricks?" Then they laughed together and built a barn. That's how the amish started. The point is, it only takes one woman to fetch water. Plus when this nursery rhyme was written in 34 B.C., women did all that work anyway. There's only one explanation as far as I see it. Jill must have lied and conned Jack up there with the promise of something else. Either she told him she'd show him her dust covered saggy (no bras in 34 B.C.) boobs, or that there was a big ass TV on that hill.
I could get into the history of women manipulating men, but let's not even escalate this post to that point. The bottom line is, Jill got Jack up on that hill, then she pushed him down the hill. I know this, because of the way the events played out. I submit the following potential scenarios to further my case:
Exhibit A: If the guy was trying to kill the girl, he'd just kick her in the face and throw her down the well. Nobody would find her because no dude is going up a hill to fetch water just for the fuck of it. Not without a promise of deflated balloon titties, or a television at least. Plus even if you went up there, the well is like a million feet deep because some idiot put it on top of a hill.
Verdict: It couldn't have happened because Jack fell and got hurt, not the other way around.
Exhibit B: If Jack fell down by accident, for any number of reasons, be it lack of coordination, an honest mistake by Jill or whatever, why did Jill fall down behind him? And when she did, why didn't she also break her crown? While possible, it's not very plausible.
Verdict: It might have happened in a million years, but man hasn't lived on earth for that long, so no.
Exhibit C: Jill intentionally lures Jack to the top of the hill. She is not a Viking so she can't throw Jack into the well. She promises to take her top off if Jack closes his eyes. At this point she pushes Jack down the hill to break his crown. In order to displace suspicion, she then follows him tumbling down the hill herself. "Conveniently" Jill escapes the terrifying ordeal unharmed. Incidentally, Jill convinced Jack to build the well 5 years earlier when she hatched this entire plot. If only Jack knew he was building his own gallows so to speak.
Verdict: Open and shut case Johnson. Let's sprinkle some crack on him and get the hell out of here.
Well folks there you have it. One of History's mysteries solved. It's not an easy job, but I do it anyway. For truth, justice, and for my own self. |
| By the way, even if Jack broke his crown, I'm pretty sure you can get that replaced. The porcelin work dentists these days can do is amazing. I wouldn't know though, since I don't have any fillings in my super human teeth! |
by John
Oct 14, 2005 08:13
I'm an on-the-go new millennium type of guy. And by that I mean a lazy, hasty, and self-absorbed type of guy with shoes dating back to the previous decade. Amidst the hustle and bustle, I don’t have time to evaluate things properly. In fact, I don’t even want to crack the cover; I want to judge a book by its cover.
Hey look at this new CD on the rack. It tells me it includes the hit songs “Backwoods Cousins a’Shufflin’, Tustlin’ Terries, and the Irreparable Stain.” I know this is a good album because it has a cool cover and the sticker tells me the songs are hits. Good purchase! Sam Goody is a great place to find excellent new tuneskies.
Check out this USB cable! Best Buy is a good place to shop because it implies it has the “best buy”! Get it?! MARVELOUS. Anyway, it says here this USB cable is gold plated. It must be worth this awful inflated price. Gold! One day, a magazine ad told me gold was helpful in analog connections, so the same must be true for digital over a length of cord less than the length of my midget inseam. Gold! It’s useful for more than paying off Thai hookers and making TV-inspired investments.
Wow, I can really go for a flick. Let’s hit up Blockbuster. I think they said “no late fees” a while back. Haha! Check this out. "Black Knight.” Haha. That’s hella funny. Get it? Martin Lawrence is black and he’s the black knight. He has a backwards cap and dark negro-man shades along with what appear to be some expensive urban-targeted athletic shoes. His pant legs are rolled up too so you can tell he’s “ain’t strapped.” That’s exactly how my black friend dresses. Well … he’s in one of my classes at least.
And look here, critic Joel Seigel says “This is the funniest fucking movie I’ve ever seen in my entire fucking life.” Haha! I bet he’s a tough critic. If this movie is half as funny as Bringing Down the House, I’m there! Why are you picking that old movie up for? Who the hell is Jimmy Stewart? He’s wearing a suit, and it’s in black and white. How boring. BLACK KNIGHT BLACK KNIGHT BLACK KNIGHT!!! Hey, have you guys seen Hitch? Man, that looks funny. The fat white guy on there is trying to be all black! Haha. What a novel approach, BRO!
That’s all the shopping I can do for now. I gotta hop into my Dodge Stratus. It’s a JD Power and Associate’s Best in Initial Quality pick. Take that Toyota! Initial quality! Time to hit up that new Del Taco. I could practically eat the master tape to their commercials.
by Paul
Sep 29, 2005 10:09
And if I'm lucky it pans out into some coherent thought I can share. This might be one of those times. Why is a "Man's Man" a cool dude. It seems to me that another man's man, is in fact, a homosexual. In either case I guess the saying is in place, so let's just roll with it.
I am a man's man. Meaning I'm not a fruit. Paul likes the ladies. I have most of my conversations with them staring at their chest. I say goodbye with a firm smack on the ass. And yes, I do kiss my mother with this mouth, bitch.
Those of you who are unfamiliar with the Beach Boys should know that big girls don't cry. You might also know what doing a shitload of acid and hanging out with Charles Manson does for your surfer/stoner rock career. Anyway that's all beside the point. Big girls don't cry, and since I'm a man's man, neither do I.
Fast forward to today. By today I mean like last week, but it's today enough for our purposes here. Let's not get caught up in specifics. So today me, myself and my friend Brandon, who we'll call Eugene, because it's a funnier name, were going to a fast food drive through. Eugene is driving, and your's truely is riding shotgun.
Really, the fast food trip has nothing to do with anything, I was just giving you a little background in case you're in charge of some sort of unauthorized Paul-Biography.
What matters is Eugene had one of those little bottles of concentrated "New Car Smell" air freshener, which he decided to spray. Good idea I thought. This car smells like hot ass.
Unbeknownst to me... no, that's not true. Knownst to me, but unaccounted for were the number of climate control vents aimed squarely at my eyes. Once that New Car Smell hit the air, all 16 vents pushed it directly into my pupils. My eyes looked like that one lady who can pop her eyes out of her head, only I'm not ridiculously played out like she is.
The following is a hit or miss transcription of the ensuing conversation.
Paul: Thanks.
Eugene: Not problem. That bottle smells great.
P: I agree, but you just sprayed all that directly in my eyes.
E: ...
P: ...
E: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
P: Fuck you asshole, this shit burns!
E: Oh shit. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
P: I hate you.
E: That's hella funny. How did I even do that, I sprayed it down here (indicating a rough area; center console)
P: Yeah dick, but your vents are on. It came right up in my face. I can't even cry because I'm too hard for the radio. MTV won't even play my video. But right now as we speak, my eyes are on fire.
E: ...
P: I really can't quite explain to you how much this hurts. And consequently how much being a super man's man hurts because I refuse to cry.
Drive Through Girl: Hi. That'll be nine dollars and... what's wrong with your friend.
E: He's gay.
P: Fuck that son. This asshole just sprayed mace in my eyes.
Drive Through Girl: Oh my god! You sprayed mace?!
P: Yeah all girls carry mace, which is why this cock socket unloaded on me after I told him he put on a few pounds and he got offended.
Drive Through Girl: Oh my god!
P: That's what I said.
Give or take all or none of those words, I think that's how the situation went. Now I know how porn stars feel. One split second of bad timing, and BAM right in the face, and you're on hurt-mode for the next 15 minutes. I swear to god if that mother fucker ruined my vision and I have to get glasses, he's paying for them, AND I get to spray aerosol hairspray right into his face with his eyelids flipped inside-out.
In related man news, I man'd the situation up, and promptly recovered 100%. If anything I think my eyes are better now because I'm building up an immunity.
Today I'm listening to: Jimmy Cliff - I Can See Clearly NowIncidentally, the moral of the story is that I should get some smarter friends. Nothing funny here people. Keep walking.
by Paul
Aug 23, 2005 10:04
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mashing down only the aisles containing products I need of course. I had to get some shampoo generico, and in the process I pass the tooth brushes. Now, I'm a man who is the best tooth brusher in the entire universe, and the last time I checked, a few alternate universes as well. Including the universe where everyone has perfect teeth. I'm still the best. I have had 0, count them 1, 2, 0 cavities in my entire life.
I don't even use an electric tooth brush either. My shit is all manual. The last time I bought tooth brushes was at the Costco. I got like a 50 pack (their smallest) of the super ultra tooth brushes. You know what I'm talking about?
My shit has everything. The bristles that change color so you know when you need a new brush (3 days). The bristles on the end that are longer to get behind your back teeth. I have the bristles that cross back and forth to get between your teeth.
I've got the angled head.
My angled head flexes.
I've even got the fucking rubber curb-feelers on the side that massage your gums, balance your checkbook, and wipe your ass.
My toothbrush has it all!
No, no it doesn't. I'm watching TV, and i see the Oral-B Pulsar. HOLY SHIT. This toothbrush has a head that's split in half! Some of the bristles have like... these rubber plaque attackers or something. I don't even know what's going on! All I know, is that if i can have 0 cavities now, and that's without the Oral-B Pulsar, if I got the puslar, I think I could probably have negative 4 cavities! Or maybe it would get rid of this nagging rash I keep getting. A toothbrush with more features than a fucking BMW has to be so good it's proactive at preventing all kinds of crazy ass diseases.
At least, that makes sense on paper right?
Today I'm watching: Plaque to the Future |
| My toothbrush is so good I catch gingivitis on purpose, just to mock it and get rid of it. |
by Paul
Aug 11, 2005 10:03
Unfortunately the rest of the world insists on being selfish, and/or lazy so I end up picking up the slack. The rest of the world lacks the gumption necessary. The rest of the world lacks the dedication necessary. The rest of the world, lacks the LOVE, necessary to tell other people they're fucking up. So guess who comes to the rescue? That's right, everyone's idol, Paul. Paul comes to the rescue, picking up the world's slack, and guess what? Now *I'm* the bad guy.
Remember when you were kids, and your friend Bertha played Barbies with you? Yeah. That was great. Then remember in about... 5th grade when Bertha started packing on a few extra pounds? Remember when you said, "Hey Bertha, I think you should maybe watch your weight a bit." Oh, you don't remember that? Oh wait! That's because you never said it! 15 years, and 150 pounds later, guess who has to say something to her? That's right, me. And now I'm the bad guy. What's the deal here? You were her best friend. You should have told her. You're supposed to care. You love her don't you?
Remember when your boy Bob started dating that girl Matilda? Yeah, the one who looks like somebody lit her face on fire, and put it out with a sledgehammer? Yeah her. It was a good thing you told Bob not to date her. Oh wait, you didn't! Now they're married, and just because I suggested Bob maybe possibly might have been able to do a little bit better, I'm the bad guy. What's the deal here?
Remember that girl who wore a little bit too much makeup? Just because I said "You know those sponges you use with astringent to remove makeup? Well, your sponge is the same one i use to wash my car.", I'm the bad guy.
Am I to blame for this? No. The blame rests squarely on the shoulders of the people who are supposed to be close; the people who are supposed to care. If I'm at fault for anything here, it's that I love too much. That's right, I have an enlarged heart. I care enough about everyone to point out various ways they can improve themselves.
If that's a crime my friends, well then give me the lethal injection.
Today's Free Giveaway is: Diets for everyone!It was pointed out to me that an enlarged heart is a serious medical condition I should have checked out. I'll make an appointment right after i talk to this woman about her White Woman Ass Syndrome.
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