The Tidbits Formerly Known As Tweets
In what must be the sports story of the century, Ugo Humbert FORGOT HIS RACKETS before his second-round match. Now, we’ve all forgottem random things–for me, it’s my headphones–but in my defense, I’m not a professional . . . music listener, and I don’t usually listen to my music with thousands of people watching.
You know those drug ads on late night TV, the ones that have the announcer list all the risks, and there are more risks than benefits? Usually, they’re pretty specific, but the one I saw last night was troubling in its vagueness–while he was listing the side effects, the announcer also said, “Avoid grapefruit.”
Now, he PROBABLY meant “avoid EATING grapefruit,” but maybe not! Maybe you shouldn’t even go near grapefruit–like, maybe avoid restaurants that SERVE grapefruit! Maybe there have been adverse reactions to this drug in the supermarket, and you should avoid the produce aisle entirely, because you might SEE a grapefruit! What if, while taking this drug, just MENTIONING grapefruit could cause an adverse reaction?
As another way of avoiding the bleak worldscape around us, I recently watched the Scripps National Spelling Bee. While it was compelling TV, I say raise the stakes. And I don’t mean the cash prize–$50,000 is fine, but as college tuition soars, that might only pay for a semester or two at DeVry.
No, I’m thinking, what if the top three finalists were . . . pushed inside a giant locker after being given a wedgie, to better prepare them for what their high school years will be like? Or maybe, if a contestant misses a word, they’re sent back to their family’s home country immediately, to be publicly shamed?
Also, could the host just give the kids the definition, part of speech, derivations, and usage, instead of the kids having to ask for every word? You’re asking them to spell some obscure part of an Australian flower that they will NEVER need to know–the least you could do is toss them a few clues, instead of making them beg for them.
The multiverse must be real, because I clearly woke up in Opposite World today, thanks to this CNN headline: “Florida’s Gun Laws May Be A Blueprint To Reform.” I did not have ‘Florida becomes first state to enact progressive gun reform’ on my bingo card . . .
Of course, since it’s Florida, they’re probably taking away guns from people and giving out bazookas. Or live alligators. Or home meth lab kits. Still, it’s progress, right?
When The Singularity actually does happen, I think our robot overlords will find it cute that we spent so much time guessing five-letter words, while sentient machines took over civilization. Like when a pet does a clever trick . . .
“Sure, we computers can navigate interplanetary spacecraft, but you figured out the word ‘tipsy!’ Yes you did! And it only took you four tries? Good job, human!”
A dude was arrested for making terrorist threats against Merriam-Webster online, apparently after they changed some gender definitions. Because bringing down a dictionary app will definitely stop gender-inclusive language, and, you know, progress.
Of course, I like to imagine that this guy has actually been angry at dictionaries since like, fifth grade, when he failed some vocabulary test.
So, I’ve had weird dreams, and I’ve had panic attacks, but until a couple nights ago, I had not experienced the fun of a dream during which I had a panic attack! All the disturbing surrealism of a nightmare, but with bonus exhaustion when I woke up!
Still, it probably only ranks as the third strangest dream I remember, after
1) the dream in which I went to my day job, had a normal day at work, and then came home–a total waste of a dream, if you ask me and
2) the dream in which Tom Cruise was there, but had no lines and no action. He just stood there. Like it was just a cameo role. I mean, if you’re going to have a dream with Tom Cruise in it, shouldn’t he do something?
I’ve only been in Minnesota a few months, and I’m already tired of an ad I see on late night TV that talks about the state’s $9 billion surplus and what to do with it. I have an idea–why not combine the surplus with the lottery? Only teachers could enter, but one lucky teacher would win nine billion dollars!
Imagine if it were just some random elementary school teacher—
”Class, settle down. For today’s geography lesson, we’re going to visit every country on Earth! Make sure you have your permission slips! Now who’s ready to go to Moldova?”
I watch too many cooking competitions . . . or maybe I get too invested in them. All I know is, I was watching MasterChef Junior last night, and at one point I was yelling at the TV, criticizing one of the contestants for the sear on their salmon. Then I realized I’m a 62 year old man judging an 8-year-old and thought, “Maybe I’m the one who needs to dial it back a bit.” When I was eight, cooking meant opening a can of SpaghettiOs.
According to CNN, scientists have determined that the ideal amount of sleep for older people is approximately 7 hours a night; less, if you spend much time on CNN. In fact, I read this article this morning at about 3:00 AM, when I was unable to sleep because of everything else I had read on CNN.
Sure, Florida is a hot mess. But there must be degrees of crazy . . . for example, there must be ‘normal’ meth-heads that look down on other meth-heads.I imagine there are meth-heads thinking, “Seriously? You tried to set off illegal fireworks while riding aan alligator past your ex-wife’s condo after doing a bunch of meth? Now you’re just making us all look bad, dude! Why can’t you just do a bunch of meth?”
When you move to a new city, they don’t tell you all the unwritten rules. Like, in Chicago, apparently, locals ‘save’ their parking spaces by putting their belongings in the street.
So, apparently, you’re not supposed to TAKE those things to furnish your previously unfurnished apartment. After ‘finding’ a bookcase, a dresser, and two really nice chairs, I realized that I screwed someone over TWICE.
Picture some poor bastard, coming home from a long day at work, pissed off that some jerk took his chairs. And then realizing that someone is in his parking space—the space that he had saved with his chairs!