Kungfupower's Half-Assed Resolution List

So the new year is here. People are asking me if I have any resolutions. My answer is a resounding "yes...sort of."

1) I WILL QUIT SMOKING...for the most part. I have to finish this last pack that I bought, but after that there will be no more cigarettes for me, except for those I can bum off of others.

2) NO SECOND HELPINGS AT MEALS...except for pizza, buffets, barbecues, holidays and special events.

3) NO MORE DRINKING...of canned beer and bottom shelf hooch, unless it's offered to me.

4) I WON'T EAT IF I'M NOT HUNGRY. When I feel the urge to eat something, I will ask myself: "am I actually hungry, or not?" If the answer is "not," then I will refrain from eating, but if I am hungy, then I will immediately tend to it with an 18 oz. steak and a hardy tankard of ale.

5) READ ONE NEW BOOK PER WEEK...until the WGA writers' strike ends and the networks start showing new episodes of my favorite TV shows.

6) WALK AT LEAST 20 MINUTES PER DAY...unless my feet are aching, or if I'm tired, or if it's cold outside, or if it's hot outside, or if there's the remote possibility that I might be attacked by a pride of feral cats.

7) GET ORGANIZED. Everything in my living space is in one big pile. Separating that pile into smaller piles will make things easier to find.

8) WIN THE LOTTERY...'nuff said.

9) GIVE MORE MONEY TO CHARITY...just as soon as I complete resolution #8.

10) MORE FREQUENT BLOG POSTS...unless I just don't feel like it.

I Am a Jerk

Sunday night I decided to drive out to Long Beach and play at the Auld Dubliner's Sunday night Irish music jam. I had a great time and was able to reconnect with some terrific people I had not seen in a long time. Unfortunately, during all the fun, I forgot to have my parking validated. When I reached the parking lot exit, I was greeted by quite a rude surprise.

"That will be $10.50," the gate attendant dutifully informed me.

I felt my blood rush to my face, and the tension build from my shoulders and quickly spread all the way down to my hands, causing me to grip the steering wheel with such intensity that I though I might actually rip it off the the steering column completely.

$10.50??? For parking????

Before I knew it, a string of words like "rip off" and "scam" were pouring from my mouth, liberally sprinkled with words of a coarser nature normally reserved for use in more nautical settings. The righteous indignation which had so utterly taken control of my very being was of a degree that would normally be aimed at black market kidney smugglers, Nazis, and people who urinate on public toilet seats.

While none of my impotent invective was hurled directly at the person in the booth, I am certain that listening to ill-tempered motorists grumbling vulgarities is probably low on the list of things he loves about his job, falling somewhere between the low pay and the lack of bathroom opportunities. Of course, for all my complaining, I still had to pay the $10.50, and I certainly didn't feel any better about it. All that I managed to accomplish with my peevish tirade was to make myself look like an uncouth lout in front of a complete stranger.

Bravo.

T.G.I.F.

As many of my friends know, I was unemployed for a number of months until I managed to secure employment last July. I was grateful to have the job too, because I was about to run out of money, and having money is much better than not having money. If you don't agree, then try buying a pepperoni Hot Pocket® with nothing but a losing lottery ticket and a heart full of song. That and two quarters will get you a phone call, or maybe some watermelon Jolly Ranchers.

I really wanted to rock at this new job. I had such high aspirations when I first started. I was going to take the company by storm, work hard, diligently apply myself and rise through the ranks until I could eventually acquire enough power to funnel the corporation's vast revenues into fulfilling my lifelong dream of creating a vast army of atomic-powered laser-shooting titanium-shelled super robots capable of taking over the world and executing my every capricious decree with ruthless efficiency. But I think, that every mature working adult realizes that there comes a time when even the purest of aspirations have a way of being brutally crushed by the unforgiving weight of unmitigated laziness.

Actually, "laziness" is a label that stupid people give to a psychological phenomenon that is actually complex in its pathology and diverse in its manifestations. When I was a young man of about 19, I was feeling unexplainably unmotivated and unfulfilled by my work as a gas station attendant. In an attempt to determine the mysterious causes of my distressed mental state, I went to a psychiatrist who ran a rather thorough battery of medical and psychological tests. In the end, I was diagnosed with a condition called Work-Avoidant Personality Disorder, which the DSM IV describes as a psychopathological disorder characterized by hypothyroidism, low levels of serotonin in the blood and abnormally high levels of lead in the ass. At last, a diagnosis that made sense! I was able to treat my condition by reading comic books at work and leaving all the really boring work for the Mexican guy who worked the shift after me. He seemed to enjoy that stuff, whereas I was unfairly saddled with a condition that stole away all the excitement and glamor of emptying trash, mopping floors and cleaning toilets and rendered these tasks colorless, tedius and dull to my poor addled mind.

So this explains why, after just 4 months of working at my new job, my dreams of promotion have been replaced by daydreams about Don Knotts and Bob Denver slugging it out in a no-holds-barred cage match to the death. Instead of spending my free time reading policies and procedures on the company website, I spend that time reading the backs of my eyelids. I am not a bad person...I am a victim of nature.

The Meme to End All Memes

I got bored with some of the lame memes that have been floating around out there, so I decided to make a lame meme of my own. It will probably never get anywhere, but oh well.

1. If you could change your name to anything you wanted, what would you change it to?
Señor Mojito Fandango

2. Do any of your friends have a nickname for you? If so, what is it?
One of the girls at work calls me Yum Yum. Josh calls me Frank the Tank. Ariana calls me Gordo and a whole host of other unsavory Spanish words.

3. While taking a leisurely stroll on Magic Gumdrop Island, you are suddenly pelted in the head by an errant jellybean. What are the first words out of your mouth?
"Son of a biscuit eatin' dog!"

4. If you could reincarnate as another animal, what would it be?
A house cat. That's the life.

5. Jedi or Sith?
Jedi, with a blue lightsaber.

6. What is the weirdest thing you have ever eaten?
Breaded, deep fried mountain oysters.

7. If you could live anywhere in reality or fantasy, where would it be?
Monster Island, or maybe Greece

8. If you could date anybody in reality or in fantasy, who would it be?
Linda Carter's version of Wonder Woman

9. Are there any languages that you would like to learn, but have absolutely no reason to learn?
Swahili and Anglo Saxon

10. If you were a superhero, what would your superpower(s) be?
I would want to be telekinetic and telepathic, but I'd probably get stuck with something stupid like hyper-seismic flatulence.

11. In one sentence or less, describe the strangest dream you've ever had.
Flesh-eating zombie trucker ate my face and then feasted on my innards (seriously--this was a real dream of mine).

12. On a scale from one to ten, just how awesome is Alan Arkin?
Fifteen

13. What is an appropriate punishment for peeing on a public toilet seat?
I think a flogging will suffice...as long as it's done with a rabid cobra wearing a steel helmet crusted with shards of broken glass dipped in salt.

14. You are a mad scientist bent on world domination. You create a monster to challenge the earth. Describe it.
I combined a horse, a bearded dragon, a giant squid and Abe Vigoda and bombarded them with gamma rays till they fused together and grew 600 feet tall. My monster is called King Vigodora and can smash buildings with its giant hooves and lizard tail, shoot tentacles from its chest, and breathe radioactive fire. It also makes frequent cameo appearances on Late Night with Conan O'Brien.

15. If the ghost of Don Knotts came to you and offered to grant you three wishes, what would you wish for?
1) an attractive and healthy body
2) all the gold and jewels in the world
3) a way for all the people of the world to live in perfect peace...out of stark terror of the horrific punishment that would befall them should they anger me, their supreme master and all-powerful ruler of mankind

Please share the joy by reposting this survey, but with your own answers, of course, and then send it to, like, 5 other people and try to see if you can get them to do it too. They probably won't, but at least you gave it the old college try, eh?

Trippy Cell Phone Picture

My co-worker, Ariana, was looking through the Arbonne f.y.i. catalogue. When I looked over, what I saw made me do a double take. Unfortunately, I moved too slowly to capture the moment on my phone's camera, but Ariana was kind enough to recreate the moment for me:

Man Up!

At my Sunday night study group, a short conversation arose as to the meaning and origin of terms such as "man up" or "cowboy up." The general consensus that emerged regarding the meaning of the phrase "man up" was that it served as an exhortation to draw upon some hidden resource of courage when confronted with a pressing danger or obstacle, such as beginning a difficult new job, facing a need to make sacrifices for one's family, or fending off an attack by killer bees. It was also generally agreed that the term "cowboy up" was a redneck version of the term "man up," implying a more Coors-beer-oriented strain of courage, presumably resulting in a display of dominance over some sort of livestock.

Among the members of my study group, there was virtually no knowledge as to the origin of the term "man up" or of its redneck variant. This piqued my feline sense of curiosity, and I commenced to undertake a bit of research on the subject.

According to Professor Nigel Mincemeat of St. Fuzzyknickers College of Ancient Literature and Automotive Maintenance at Oxford, Mississippi, the term "man up" has its roots in the works of the Classical Greeks. The almost forgotten poet Efeminades in his epic poem The Viriliad, wrote of the hero Virilides--wielder of the Lance of Apollo--and of his quest for the Golden Eggs of Zeus. Virilides manages to find the Golden Eggs in a cave, places them in a sack, and tries to abscond with the treasure, but he is confronted by the horrifying monster, Kakogynos, who guards them. Describing the ensuing battle, The Viriliad reads:

"...and, manning up,
Virilides did grab his sack and thrust forth his mighty lance
to penetrate the throbbing heart of the beast."

The phrase has also been found in a little-known 13th Century English manuscript found in the Abbey of St. Conan Comedianus in Co. Limerick, Ireland. It is a text of instruction in the proper technique of killing spiders:

"...an werre thar nary a nobbin fer ye runnin, than whar ye goin to lang aboon upon yon stoole, in ye stead of cowardise, ye do mann up fer to aplye yon heele upon beastie fer to grine unto the erthe..."

One of the more interesting uses of the phrase was found in a work of somewhat dubious origin. In 1987, one Joey Smits claimed to have been revealed a new faith. The basis of this new faith lay in his discovery of a stack of golden cocktail napkins hidden in a barstool in the Cumorah Tavern in Syracuse, NY. According to Smits, the napkins were of antediluvian origin and written in a language called Reconfigured Sumerian, which he was able to translate with the aid of a sacred Sumerian shot glass which he called "The Wallbanger." One of the fruits of Smits' "translation" efforts was The Book of Nehi, from the second chapter of which came the following verses:

17. And it came to pass that Nehi was joined unto Pepsi, the daughter of Pibb, and was bound through an oath of honor to marry her.

18. And lo, Nehi did look upon her and found her visage to be exceeding loathsome and a vile sight.

19. But behold, the LORD was with Nehi.

20. And verily did Nehi man up and lo, he did know his wife, yea, numerous times. And verily was he blessed with many sons, bearing semblance to their mother in no wise.

In summation, as can be seen from the following examples, the term "man up" may quite possibly be much older than any of us can imagine. So the next time one of your buddies is whining about how he feels unfulfilled in his career, hated by his own children, and rejected by his wife, stand proudly with countless generations of mighty warriors before you and tell him to "man up" and shut up! Only by pushing all those troublesome thoughts down into some deep dark place we can all hope to stand triumphant as men!

M...m...must....Avoid...Spoilers....

I am the ultimate procrastinator. I read the original Harry Potter book about 7 years ago. I really enjoyed it and couldn't wait for the next installment in the series. Then it came, and I had every intention of buying it and reading it, but I just never seemed to get around to it. Then came the third book, and then the fourth and the...well, you get the idea.

I was quite comfortable with the fact that the books would be around for quite some time and that I therefore had no reason to hurry up and get them. But then, a fire was lit under my feet. J.K. Rowling announced that a major character would die in the final book. Now I positively had to read the books before the last one came out. It just wouldn't do to have some obnoxious git blurt out the big secret and ruin all the other reading that I had ahead of me. But, I thought, it will probably be awhile before the final book comes out. So....

Now it's here. All my friends have read it. Everybody is writing about it and talking about it, and what sorry state am I in? I just finished book #2 two days ago. Now I am trapped in a prison of my own making. The danger of accidentally stumbling across the BIG SECRET is overwhelming. I am now afraid to read blogs, news sites, web forums. If I even hear the name Harry Potter, I find myself running frantically in the opposite direction. I'm even afraid to open the front door for fear of being confronted by missionaries from some religious group gleefully bearing the bad news ("this week in The Watchtower: Harry Potter Character [Insert Name Here] Dead, but the Wickedness Lives On," or "in this month's Ensign: Family Home Evening Activities to Help Your Children Cope with the Death of [Harry Potter Mystery Character]"). Even the mailman can't be trusted ("Hello, Mr. Kungfupower. Nice day isn't it? A pity about [dead HP dude], though."

I thought about filling my ears with beeswax and covering my head with a paper sack in order to further protect myself while out and about in public, but that makes driving far too difficult. I think my only hope is to avoid others as much as possible, lock myself away during every free hour I have, and read until my eyes are throbbing with pain. Much sacrifice will be necessary to make up for years worth of callous neglect, but Kungfupower is up to the challenge.

And a warning to any vile miscreant who may foolishly seek to amuse himself by daring to reveal the Sacred Secret in my presence: if you do so, your empty noggin shall be swiftly introduced to the dire effects of Kungfupower's perfected Drunken Panda Falls From Heaven Iron Paw of Death technique.

It's best that you don't even think about it.