Yeah, I Like Yellow Sneetches…That’s My Sneetches Problem

 

 

 

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alltreerappers

Two years ago, at a 2 Chainz show in Chicago, it struck me that you can substitute most of Dr. Seuss’s characters into rap songs for any of the words you may find objectionable, while still retaining the beat and the parts of the songs that you may enjoy.   For example, below you will find the words many people find objectionable in “Fucking Problem” (Drake, 2 Chainz, & Kendrick Lamar) with the story “The Sneetches” from Dr. Seuss’s collection of short stories “The Sneetches and Other Stories”.

 

Give it a try.     See?   It works with any Dr. Seuss book and every rap song.   Yep.    As always, you are welcome.

 

 

“Sneetches Problem”
(feat. Drake, 2 Chainz, Kendrick Lamar)

 

Sneetches-2
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Plain Bellied Sneetches I got a Sneetches problem

And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Plain Bellied Sneetches I got a Sneetches problem
If Fix-It-Up Chappie creates your Sneetches problem
Bring your bellies to the crib maybe we can solve it

 

2chainz

  Hold up Sneetches simmer down
Takin’ hella long Sneetch give it to me now
Make that thing pop like a semi or a nine
Oh baby like it raw with a shimmy shimmy ya
Huh, ASAP get like me
Never met a yellow Sneetch….. fresh like me
All these Star Bellied Sneetches wanna dress like me
Put the chrome to your dome make you sweat like Keith
Cause I’m the Sneetch, the Sneetch Sneetch, like how you figure?
Getting figures and painting Sneetches, she rollin’ swishers
Brought her Sneetches, I brought my Sneetches, they getting bent up off the liquor
She love my licorice, I let her lick it
They say money make a Sneetch act Sneetch-rish
But at least a Sneetch Sneetch rich
I be paintin’ broads like I be paintin’ bored
Turn a plain belly Sneetch out have her star bellied…..beast

 

sneetchball

I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Plain Bellied Sneetches I got a Sneetches problem

And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
If Fix-It-Up Chappie creates your Sneetches problem
Bring your bellies to the crib maybe we can solve it
8drake

I know you love it when this beat is on
Make you think about all of the Sneetches you’ve been leading on
Make me think about all of the rappers I’ve been feeding on
Got a feeling that’s the same dudes that we speakin’ on, oh word?
Ain’t heard my album? Who you sleepin’ on?
You should print the lyrics out and have a painting read-along
Ain’t a painting sing-along unless you brought the Star Off Machine along
Then ju… (Okay, I got it)
Then just drop down and get yo’ eagle on
Or we can stare up at the stars and put the Beatles on
And that beach you talkin’ bout is not up for discussion
I will pay to make it bigger, I don’t pay for no reduction
If it’s comin’ from a Sneetch I don’t know, then I don’t trust it
If you comin’ for my head, then McMonkey McBean get to bustin’
Yes Lord, I don’t really say this often
But this long beach Sneetch ain’t for the long talking, I ………beast

 

Sneetches-1glrrv0

I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Plain Bellied Sneetches I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
If Fix-It-Up Chappie creates your Sneetches problem
Bring your bellies to the crib maybe we can solve it

lamar
Yeah Sylvester McMonkey McBean, this the finale
My pep talk turn into a pep rally
Say she’s from the hood but she live inside the valley now
Vacate in Atlanta, then she going back to Cali
Got your girl on my line, world on my line
The irony I paint ’em at the same damn time
She eyeing me like a Sneetch don’t exist
Girl, I know you want this scene
Girl, I’m Sylvester McMonkey McBean
Aka Benz is to me just a car
That mean your friends need to be up to a par
See my standards are pampered by threesomes tomorrow
Kill ’em all dead bodies in the hallway
Don’t get involved listen what the crystal ball say
Halle Berry, hallelujah
Holla back I’ll do ya, Sneetch

 

singing

I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Plain Bellied Sneetches I got a Sneetches problem

And yeah I like Star Bellied Sneetches, I got a Sneetches problem
I love yellow Sneetches, that’s my Sneetches problem
And yeah I like Plain Bellied Sneetches I got a Sneetches problem
If Fix-It-Up Chappie creates your Sneetches problem
Bring your bellies to the crib maybe we can solve it

 

 

Dr_Seuss_VS_Shakespeare_Epic_Rap_Battles_of_History_12_Lyrics

 

Holla………………….

 

 

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This Is A Story………………………………

 

steviejctop_n

 

mindofmullyrect

 

This story was written in one hundred thirty-seven minutes while listening to Government Mule’s “Soulshine” a few dozen times.   If you care to listen to the proper background tune whilst reading, click that button.   If not, don’t.   Your choice.   People like choices.

 

 

 

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This is the beginning of the story………………………………..

 

 

If you like stories, this is a story.     The best part of the story happened four years ago today.

 

First, an admonishment I received from an HR department ten years ago.   I used to like to make bumper stickers.   At the beginning of one project, I made bumper stickers that read “sometimes you say the serenity prayer…sometimes you say ‘fuck it’ and throw it into fifth gear.”   The lesson (as you may have surmised) was that we were under the gun  and had to get the project completed in a very short period of time.   Human resources did not share my sense of urgency, my love and command of the English language and the certain je ne se qua that is my leadership style.   There were no further bumper stickers after that one.   That was a damn fine bumper sticker.

 

 

This is not just a single story……it is several stories that happened over a four day period in 2010, culminating in “The Decision” by Lebron James where he announced on national television, in possibly the worst television show ever broadcast to take his talents to South Beach, while I lay in bed, discharged from the hospital after a five day stay and six hour surgery, all whacked out on pain pills and champagne….four cats batting at my catheter pee bag like Napoleon Dynamite batting at the tether ball game during recess.   More on that later.   The laser focus here is not on the cats or the pee bag or the catheter or Mr. James.   The laser focus is on a fascinating Sunday with Stevie J Clark.   And I have had more fascinating, surprising and interesting days than China has rice.   These are several stories.   Vignettes, if you will.

 

These four days were precisely four years ago right………….now.    LeBron James had his ESPN “The Decision Special” on July 8, 2010.   His ridiculous television show took place six hours after I was discharged from the hospital; a hospital that shall remain nameless to protect both the guilty and the innocent.   I had the first part of my colon and the back of my bladder removed on July 2, 2010.   We had the “ high on Jack Daniels & Coke and other assorted things John Lennon filming session” (link below……and that is what this story is about) on Sunday, July 4, 2010.   It makes for a damn fine story.   A story about saying “fuck it” and throwing it into fifth gear, a story about one of my favorite days ever, and a story of solid friendship.

 

Two evenings ago, a friend (who proudly proclaimed she writes like Emily Dickinson) told me I write looooooooong things.   I do. I am verbose, yet precise and detail oriented.   God and the devil are both in the details, depending upon your point of view and whether you are a “glass half full” or “glass half empty” person.   I am not so much Tolstoy-long, but definitely Faulkner-long….with the improper paragraphination, the run on sentences (using ellipses as a crutch)…yet, without Faulkner’s flair for the dramatic and allegory.     This one is going to be long.   Very long.   Longer than the longest one ever…the explanation of Match.com and probability theory.   This one is almost as long, but not quite as long.   Here. Have a look………..

https://mindofmullybizhausshoppe.wordpress.com/2013/07/18/match-com-eharmony-kahneman-and-tverskys-prospect-theory/

 

 

See? That’s a pretty long piece. It is a rock solid, ture piece.   This piece will be longer.   Get a cocktail.   Or a bottle.   Just don’t ask for any of mine. I have to write this thing and I am damn thirsty.     I can’t do everything for you.   Get your own damn cocktail.

 

whiskey-on-the-rocks

This is the intro to the story……

 

The intro is also long; however, you need some background to fully appreciate the “ high on Jack Daniels & Coke and other assorted things John Lennon filming session” (link below……and that is what this story is about) that subsequently happened on Sunday, July 4, 2010

 

 

In April, 2010, the evening before I was to fly to New Orleans for both a spine surgery convention and, more importantly, Jazz Fest, I had the following feeling in my stomach for seventy-two hours.   The feeling of an angry, rabid mule, possessed by Satan (or perhaps the spawn of Satan), kicking me in the stomach.   Repeatedly.     With the mule getting progressively angrier with each kick.     My flight to New Orleans was at 9 a.m.   At two a.m. I jumped in the car with my briefcase and suitcase and drove to the hospital so that I could get fixed up and make my flight.   Because Pearl Jam, Government Mule, and Elvis Costello were all playing.   And I really, really, really wanted to see Government Mule cover Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” once before I transcend and become some sort of god on another celestial plane.

 

There are two hospitals within a mile of each other near my house.   I chose the one with the better ocean view. One is east of the 5 freeway, far away from the ocean.   The other abuts the Torrey Pines golf course and has views of the Pacific Ocean from virtually every room.   The former, east of the 5, has an emergency department…the latter has an urgent care.   I pulled into the hospital next to Torrey Pines at two fifteen a.m. Monday morning, walked into the urgent care and said “I am broken…please fix me so that I may catch my nine a.m. flight to New Orleans to see Government Mule cover Black Sabbath’s “’War Pigs’.”   The physician on call took my blood pressure, saw it was 237/130 and suggested some pain relief.

 

I replied….”perhaps I have not made myself clear…I have a nine a.m. flight to New Orleans and my car is in your parking lot with all my luggage because Pearl Jam, Government Mule, and Elvis Costello were all playing Jazz Fest and I have a spine surgery meeting to attend.   You really need to get with the program here…fix me up and get me on my way.”   Four hours later, after a CT scan that showed a pretty cool looking mass thing in my belly, they admitted me and gave me a most excellent room on four west, overlooking the Torrey Pines golf course, the Pacific Ocean, and the hang gliding port there on the cliff.

 

Plan your work.   Work your plan.

 

 

We have a relatively broad family history of colorectal cancer in my family…..and that’s not part of this story.   Give that we are Irish (God’s chosen people), everyone has beaten their challenges like a rented mule or a red-haired stepchild (your choice). Plus, my theory is everyone has cancer anyway…..some of it is just better hidden or dormant.     So, why stress or have anyone else stress.   I need someone to come to the hospital on April 19, 2010 who I didn’t really know and who knew no one I knew to get my briefcase out of the car and to bring me a few items I needed for that first five-day vacation next to Torrey Pines golf course.   Hospital stays are like an all inclusive resort package…..you get free food and cable…..plus, you get free drugs.   As much as you want of all three.   And my room overlooked the damn ocean. It looked like this:

 

hospitalview

 

I had met Stevie J Clark four months earlier, in December, 2009 and he was the perfect choice.   Called him on the phone and the convo went like this:

 

Me:   “Stevie JC….it’s Mully…..can you please bring three books, a yellow legal tablet, and several pens to room 428 at (name of hospital redacted)?”

 

SJC:   “Yep”

 

 

 

The conversation was that short.   No questions……..winner, winner…chicken dinner.     He showed up two hours later with three books, a yellow legal tablet, and several pens…then proceeded to go grab my briefcase from the car.   He brought in the briefcase, asked “you need anything else?”   When I said “nope”, he said “OK…well, see you…..” and left.   That is why the only person I have ever had come to visit me in the hospital is Stevie JC.   If you plan on getting hospitalized soon, PM me and I’ll give you his digits.

steviejc9

Yadda yadda….spent the next three months getting a bunch of tests and five scopes, my general surgeon thought it might be cancer and when the swelling finally went down, we scheduled some OR time on July 2, 2010

 

steviejc5

This is the end of the background intro section…………

 

steviejc3n

I have a bunch of subcategories of rules, despite my disdain and general disregard for rules, in general.     The most important rule subcategory is you do not do anything that harms children, women, or animals. Similar to this is you never judge anyone by his or her race, religion, gender, etc.   Each hold similar heft. Secondary to these (by a large margin) is the three parter: I will not ride public transportation, wear a nametag or wear special shoes for work.   All three are good rules.   Another combo rule is that I will never ask anyone to help me move or take me to the hospital because the corollary is I do not ever want to help someone move or give them a ride to the hospital.   Rides to the hospital tend to be intensely personal and who has the time to take someone to the hospital?

 

That being said, I used my car service to take me to the hospital for my surgery on Friday July 2, 2010.   Not knowing what to expect….that was my first surgery ever (because God made The Irish in an indestructible fashion)….I spent the week before the surgery planning the video we were going to shoot in my hospital room with Stevie J. Clark.   In my overnight bag were the following items, along with my hair product and tooth brush:   fifteen large white sheets of poster board, a full set of many colored Sharpies, rolls of tape, an animal costume, my iPod, and a pair of dinosaur feet slippers.     Stevie JC and I were planning the shoot for over the weekend, depending upon how the surgery went and other variables such as the tide, wind velocity, his ability to get my guitar and all his video gear past the nursing station, and whether the stars were aligned properly in the east.

 

Surgery went from 7 a.m. until 1 p.m.     I cannot recall any of the surgery because I was asleep.     Just imagine that it went really, really well and there were machines beeping, some sort of “HISSSSSSSSS” sound coming from the ventilator thing and Metallica playing in the background. Really loudly. That is how I picture it.

 

Here’s what it feels like when they spend six hours cutting out parts of your colon and bladder and then reattach the parts of your colon that still look good.   It feels like an angry, rabid mule, possessed by Satan (or perhaps the spawn of Satan), is kicking you in the stomach.   Repeatedly.     With the mule getting progressively angrier with each kick. Similar to what brings you in, but with the extra added benefit of waking up with a catheter in your privates.   For two weeks.   While your bladder heals.   The key to getting discharged is to get the two halves of your colon speaking to each other in a civil manner.   The key to starting this conversation is walking….taking laps around the nursing floor as much as humanly possible. Hence, the dinosaur feet slippers and the iPod.   If you are going to work out, you need music.   And everyone loves dinosaur slippers.   Everyone.   Except, of course, commies.

 

The first day, Friday, I was able to make one lap.   One very slow, very methodical lap.   Like this:

 

start copy

 

On Saturday, I was able to make five laps.     For most of the day, It felt like an angry, rabid mule, possessed by Satan (or perhaps the spawn of Satan), is kicking me in the stomach.   Repeatedly.     With the mule getting progressively angrier with each kick.

 

On Sunday morning at 10:30 a.m., Stevie J Clark called me, extremely drunk, from the beach with his partner in crime, J-Hof.   I had allowed no one to visit up until that time because I was having a series of bad hair days. The conversation went something like this:

 

SJC:   “DUDE!   We are coming there at 1 p.m. to film!!!!!”

 

Me: “Are you stoned and drunk……or just stoned….or stoned AND drunk.”

 

SJC: “I can’t really give you those types of details on an open line, but I am at the beach with J-Hof, we have your guitar and the tripods and the cameras and we are coming there at 1 p.m. to film.”

 

Me: “No…that is not happening.   I feel like an angry, rabid mule, possessed by Satan (or perhaps the spawn of Satan), is kicking me in the stomach.   Repeatedly.     With the mule getting progressively angrier with each kick.”

 

SJC:   “Quit being a sissy.     We are coming at 1 p.m.   Make the signs and get ready for the video shoot. Quit being a sissy, Diesel”

 

(CLICK)

 

Me: “Stevie JC?   Stevie JC?   Do NOT come to the hospital.   If you can hear me….do NOT come to the hospital. Dude, there is NO way I am doing this thing today….NO way.   I cannot DO this. Can you hear me?   If you can hear me, BRING WHISKEY!”

 

(DEAD AIR)

 

I had ninety minutes to make the signs with the Sharpies and the poster board, and line up a big shot of morphine at 12:59 p.m. (to go with the pain pump thingie they give you….because a bolus shot is a good idea when you have to shoot a video and It feels like an angry, rabid mule, possessed by Satan (or perhaps the spawn of Satan), is kicking you in the stomach.   Repeatedly.     With the mule getting progressively angrier with each kick.   I also had to gather up my nurse friends to have them distract the charge nurse from 1 p.m. to 2 p.m. (allowing us ample time to shoot), script the fake John Lennon/Yoko One “bed in” thing where they sang “all we are saying,……is give peace a chance”….thereby turning it in into “give Jell-O a chance instead.”   And I had to write the lyrics for “Give Jell-O a Chance” And I had to clean up and put some hair product in….because we were filming.   Oh, and I had to do some more laps to get the colon halves talking again.

 

J-Hof and Stevie JC rolled in at 1 p.m., sixty seconds after my bolus shot of morphine carrying my guitar, tripods, and cameras. They were hammered and laughing.   Like, really hammered.   And loud.  The morphine bolus shot kicked in three minutes later, as J-Hof pulled out a two liter of Coke, three big 7-11 Slurpee cups, and a fifth of Jack Daniels…..and as we had cocktails, I no longer minded that they were really, really hammered and really, really loud.  Nope.   Not even a little bit.    Because what was the charge nurse going to do?   Kick me out and give them detentions?

 

Plan your work.   Work your plan.

 

 

This was Keisha….she ran interference for us:

 

keishagandslippers copy

 

 

The nurses on our team distracted the charge nurse and shut us into my four west room for sixty minutes of filming.   We made this knock off video of the John Lennon/Yoko Ono bed in and “give peace a chance” BBC interview in less than an hour.   Looked at from any angle, in any type of lighting, it is not a particularly amazing video….however, given the utter lack of planning and thought that went into the video.     And given the fact that our collective IQ’s during that single filming hour were less than the average temperature in Phoenix, we did OK.   Phoenix in January, not Phoenix in July.

 

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This link will take you to the “Give Jell-O a Chance” video.   Have you been having cocktails?     It is far, far better to watch after a few dozen cocktails:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FO-uX7Kv-4s&feature=youtu.be

 

 

 

That Sunday was one of my favorite Sundays ever.   It was four years ago today. Thank you, Stevie J. Clark, for saying “fuck it” and throwing it into fifth gear.     And thank you for the whiskey.

 

I took a cab home from the hospital several days later, once my colon started communicating properly again.   The nurse walked in with the discharge papers, smiling, and asked “who is picking you up, Mr. Mulligan?”   I replied “I have not met the man yet; however, I am going to bet he speaks with some sort of accent and was a nuclear physicist AND a brain surgeon in his native country….”   Have you ever noticed that you will never, ever, ever, ever find a cab driver who says “oh, yep, I drove a cab in my other country, too.”   Nope. You will never, ever, ever hear that sentence.     They wheeled me out front in my surf trunks with my pee bag attached to my leg (see above……fourteen days with a catheter so the bladder could heal….this was day six.   That is eight days shy of the full fourteen).   The cabbie looked at the surf trunks and the pee bag with concern, I told him that it was made of a space age polymer, tested by NASA for years and he had nothing to worry about.   Then, I asked him to please stop by a liquor store on the way back to Bird Rock.     Because I was all hopped up on pain meds, had more waiting for me at CVS, and…..by golly….LeBron James was announcing his decision in less than three hours.     And that LeBron decision needed far more than Percocet.  Far more.   The cabbie stopped by the liquor store.

 

I got home and followed the nurse’s instructions to change out the leg pee bag to the permanent pee bag and hung the permanent pee bag on the bed while I opened the champagne.     Four minutes later, I fell fast asleep to the first seven hours of the ESPN special on “The Decision”.   Poor time to sleep when you have five cats…as I did at the time.   Little known fact.     Pee bags dangling from bedposts are as attractive to cats as catnip coated real mice holding popsicles made of raw salmon.     I awoke thirty minutes later to all five cats playing tetherball ( a al Napoleon Dynamite at recess) with the bed mounted pee bag.   I screamed at all five of those damn cats (they scattered like the French at the beginning of WWII) rapidly changed my catheter back to the leg mounted pee bag (which was dead sexy anyway…..it’s HOW you wear something, not WHAT you wear) and proceeded to watch LeBron James tear another piece if Cleveland’s heart out in the most annoying fashion ever.     This was precisely when Mr. James decided on “The Decision”.   Those are the guilty pee bag tether ball players……….

 

 

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That was this week, four years ago.     That’s a pretty cool week.     And I know cool weeks.   Better than 99.6% of the population.

 

 

It was not cancer.   We got that damn video shot and laughed non-stop about it for a month.   LeBron got two titles.   I got some cool scars.   And if there is a lesson we all took away from Shane Falco in the god-awful and overacted football movie “The Replacements” it is this: “pain heals, chicks dig scars, and glory lasts forever.”   Amen, Shane Falco.   Amen.

 

Write that Shane Falco quote down.

 

replacements

 

You are welcome.

 

This is the end of the story…………………

 

 

fist_in_the_air

 

 

steveiejc

heartmind

 

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I Want……….A Pony!

Wide-Eyed

 

 

This was written in forty-three minutes listening to the following tune eleven times.    Feel free to cue it up as you read.     Or don’t.   Your choice.   People like choices.     This is Deer Tick:    “Art Isn’t Real”.     Enjoy

 

 

mindofmullyrect

strange_things_n

 

Last evening at 7:00 p.m., while I was on a business call in my hotel room, I heard the following being sung outside my hotel room.   Loudly and off key.

“The sun will come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
there’ll be sun
Just thinking” about tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow till’ there’s none

When I’m stuck in the day that’s gray and lonely
I just stick up my chin and grin and say oh

The sun will come out tomorrow
So you got to hang on
till’ tomorrow, come what may!
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow
You’re only a day away!

When I’m stuck with a day that’s gray and lonely
I just stick up my chin and grin and say….

The sun will come out tomorrow
So you got to hang on till’ tomorrow, come what may!
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow
You’re only a day away

Tomorrow, tomorrow I love you tomorrow
You’re always a day away ………..ayayayayayayayayayayayyyyyyy”

That “away ………..ayayayayayayayayayayayyyyyyy” spelling above is neither exaggerated nor misspelled.   I asked the people on the other line to please hold, muted the phone, opened the door (right about when she hit “bet your bottom dollar”) and saw a slightly built (yet powerfully voiced) seven year girl standing down in the middle of the courtyard, belting out some “Annie”, I would have gotten video, but I had three people muted and on hold on my phone….while watching one of the most magnificent performances of that “Annie” tune in the history of mankind.

 

To get the full effect, you have to understand the layout of this particular hotel.     I’m on the fifth floor of eight floors and in the middle of the hotel is a faux courtyard. Each room exits out onto a catwalk-like thing that circles the courtyard and she was on the lobby floor, looking skyward, and belting it out. Needless to say, the acoustics are quite solid.   Here’s where she was.

 

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More specifically, she was right where that yellow “floor wet, do not slip” sign is.   They may have put that yellow sign there as an homage to her performance.

 

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Next to her was her six (ish?) year old sister, staring at her with that wide eyed wonderment that generally only a six year old has for most all things in life.   That was as cool as the girl singing….loudly, off key, and proudly.   Three feet away were mom and dad.   Mom was giggling and dad was hugging mom and smiling.   That was as cool as the six-year-old sister looking up in wide-eyed wonder at her older sister.

 

This morning, I took the service elevator down to breakfast with the seventy (ish) year old London couple here for their first visit ever to the United States.   We took the service elevator because two of the three elevators in the center of the courtyard are out for service and as we stood there waiting for several hours to go downstairs, the seventy year old woman (pointing at her husband) said “I’VE been taking the damn service elevator down instead of waiting, but THIS one here won’t use it.”   I replied “I’ll most certainly use that service elevator with you”, which prompted her seventy year old husband to jump right in with a “me too!”

 

On the way down in the service elevator, after reminding them that we beat the British back in 1776, 1777, and 1778, I asked them about the first thirteen days of their trip and the woman regaled me with tales of Chicago, Mount Rushmore, The Badlands, and everything in between.   She had the same wide-eyed wonder look in her eye as the six year old as she described everything they saw on a trip they had planned together for forty years.

 

I loved the parent because they stood back, watching and smiling, for the full four minutes.   I loved that seventy year old woman because she retained the wide-eyed wonder that she had at six.     Each were wonderful to watch.

 

 

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A phrase far superior to “God bless you” when someone sneezes, “have a nice day” when you walk away from seeing a friend, or “have a great trip” when someone is going on vacation would be “may you see the world through the eyes of a six year old”.   Because seeing the world through the eyes of a six year old…..each and every day….would be quite cool.   Quite cool, indeed.

My forty-ninth birthday is around the corner and I love being 48.93 today.   Moreover, I look forward to being 49 and then 50 because each year brings the most interesting people and things into my aquarium.     For example, a seven-year-old girl belting out “Annie” tunes in the lobby of a hotel while her family cheers her on.   These are the things that I have wished for each birthday, from my first year to this past year………

 

  1. A pony
  2. A pony
  3. A pony
  4. A pony
  5. A pony
  6. A pony
  7. Two ponies
  8. A pony
  9. A pony
  10. A pony
  11. A pony
  12. John Travolta’s white suit from “Saturday Night Fever”
  13. A pony
  14. A pony
  15. A pony
  16. A pony
  17. A pony
  18. A pony
  19. A pony
  20. A pony
  21. A pony
  22. A pony
  23. A pony
  24. A pony
  25. A pony
  26. A pony
  27. A pony
  28. A pony
  29. A pony
  30. A pony
  31. A pony
  32. A pony
  33. A pony
  34. A pony
  35. A pony
  36. A pony
  37. A pony
  38. A pony
  39. A son
  40. A pony
  41. A pony
  42. A pony
  43. A pony
  44. A pony
  45. A pony
  46. A pony
  47. A pony
  48. A pony

 

Clearly my wish for a pony will never come true.   For my 49th birthday my wish will be to look at the world with the eyes wide open of a six year old for a full twenty-four hours.   That’s better than a pony.   Much, much better than a pony

 

fist_in_the_air

 

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Omne Vivum ex Vivo….Life Comes From Life…..A Movie Review

 

mindofmullyrect

 

Quote-TFiOS-letter

This thing was written in fifty-seven minutes while listening to Olin & The Moon’s “Worst Is On It’s Way” eleven times.   There has been no fact checking.     If you want fact checking or editing, you have come to the wrong place.   Because six pages in fifty-seven minutes allows precious little time for fact checking.    Or even snacks.

 

 

 

 

 

the-fault-in-our-stars-book-cover1
This is the beginning of the movie review.

 

Gus…..the swing set of tears….Cantor’s proof…..and saving your ten on the comparative pain scale for the correct time.   Where to begin?   Where to begin.

 

 

 

Turning a great book into a movie generally ends up with an outcome as solid as Coke’s idea to launch a “new” Coke back in the day or the marriage of Tori Spelling to Dean McDermott.   There are a few notable exceptions to the rule such as “Fight Club” and “Primal Fear”.   I loved “Fight Club” and “Primal Fear” as novels and was deathly afraid the movies would ruin the books.   Each movie excelled in its own fashion.    These “solid novel to movie” transitions are few and far between.     Love stories are the most challenging.

 

“Fault of Our Stars” was another movie I walked into deathly afraid because I loved John Green’s book.     It is an amazeballs novel where you can hear the characters breathe and shift positions as you turn the pages.     I read John Green’s novel on a flight from San Francisco to New York City in spring, 2012 and remember pouring eye drops into my eyes nonstop so that the nearby passengers and flight attendants did not think I was having a hysterical nervous breakdown.   If you want to cover up crying in a confined space, or any space, use eye drops.   Write that down. You are welcome.

 

The theme of both the movie and the book, like all love stories, is that love stories end poorly.   Hazel describes this at the beginning of the movie quite succinctly when she summarizes with three words.   “This is real”.

 

All love stories, short and long, end poorly for someone…..often times both parties. Mr. Hemingway, in “A Farewell to Arms” wrote: “if two people love each other, there can be no happy ending.” Mr. Hemingway was wrong. I have said for years that there is a singular situation in which neither party hurts when a relationship is over…regardless of the life span of the relationship.     The situation is this.   Both parties go to their favorite restaurant, make out for ten hours, go to their favorite concert and then intentionally do a “Thelma & Louise” into the Grand Canyon, laughing all the way down and expiring at precisely the same moment.   The odds of that happening re infinitesimally small.     Like, maybe, 1 in 1,908,567,305.     I made that number up.   It’s still a really, really, really small probability, though.   Do your own math.    I can’t do EVERYTHING for you.

 

 

One day, when I am gone, they will erect statues in my honor, inscribed “Worst Boyfriend Ever”. From 1978 through 1998, I was the worst relationship partner in the universe and any other tangential universes.   In 1998, I found an excellent family therapist in 1998 and walked into her office solo.   Surprised, she hemmed and hawed for a bit before saying “you know I am a FAMILY therapist, right?   And you are a single man.”   I explained that while I was, indeed, a single man…..one day down the road I wanted to be the best damn husband in the galaxy and I figured if we started right away, I’d be in the correct position to be precisely that when The Random threw the correct person in my path.     She laughed.   We began a six-year relationship that has as the fruits of the labor a most excellent journal with Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” on the cover…because that was pretty funny.   It was funny then and it is funny now.     This journal cover.    That’s still funny.    16 years later.

 

IMG_1020

 

One of the first exercises Ellen had me do was to write down all the ideal traits I wanted in a partner and in the ideal relationship.   In October, 1998, I took a weekend and went through countless legal tablets, scribbling action verbs, nouns, past participles, and truncated sentences.   Out of all those semi lucent and partially coherent thoughts, I generated a list of sixteen items with; of course, one of those items having a subset of ten additional items.   Because I like bullets.     Below was the list then.   It is still the list today.   Should you choose to write down your list, your list will not change.   Take my word for it.   16 items.   I wanted someone with at least 11.

 

 

IMG_1023

 

Back then, I never made anyone feel safe.

 

Last Friday evening, I spent a good seven hours discussing love and life with a table full of friends and shared the finest thing I have ever heard from a woman: “you make me feel safe.”   We all talked through the best relationships we had ever been in and the consensus was that when you distill it all down to the very smallest portion….when you throw all the love you ever have had into beakers, put a Bunsen burner under the beakers to burn off everything that is NOT love….the things that are simply attraction or emotion or the three inch deep things, that is what love is.   Feeling safe and making the other person feel safe.     Gus is a wonderful character because without asking once “what can I do to make you feel safe”, he made Hazel feel safe as naturally as if he was blinking or breathing.

 

Gus was the rock star character in the book and the movie.     Rock.   Star.   And one of the finest literary (and now movie) examples of the Cherokee parable about the two wolves.   This Cherokee parable…….here is a refresher for those of you who have been out of Cherokee parable school for a long time.

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy. “It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.” The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?” The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.” Gus fed the correct wolf.

By feeding the correct wolf, he made Hazel feel safe.     That was damn cool.

 

Gus says “apparently the world is not a wish factory” towards the end of the film.   Like Mr. Hemingway, Gus was wrong.   In 48 years, I have had a single experience with a 16/16 person.  As I watched “Fault in Our Stars” this evening, I thought of her and while I was able to spend more than a single day with my 16/16 person………my living, walking, laughing proof of Cantor’s first proof of the uncountability of the real numbers………..my own experience with there being an infinite number of numbers between zero and one………I would have accepted just one day.

 

 

Even if I had only a single day with that 16/16 person back then….that would have been an extremely worthwhile day. A most excellent day. Because 16/16 is rare.   I’m eternally grateful to having that 16/16 time because I was able to identify closely with the truncated, movie version of Gus’s beautiful eulogy when it was read aloud this evening at the Fashion Valley cinemamoviesuperplex.   I could have said the same thing about my 16/16.

 

“What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.”

Back to Gus.

 

As good as that movie was, that truncated version of the full eulogy Augustus wrote for Hazel did not do the book version justice.   Here is the full version. And man, oh, man is that one of the finest love letters ever written.     If you are not going to grab the book and choose to simply see the movie, take a read.     That’s love.   That is one hell of a letter.

 

text

Begin amazing letter……….

 

 

“Van Houten,

I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time—and from what I saw, you have plenty—I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently.

Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.

I want to leave a mark.

But Van Houten, the marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous mini mall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your min mall becomes a lesion.

(Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.)

We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can’t stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it’s silly and useless—epically useless in my current state—but I am an animal like any other.

Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.

People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad, Van Houten. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: ‘First, do no harm.’

The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn’t actually invent anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn’t get smallpox.

After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I really thought she was going to die before I could tell her that I was going
to die, too. It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.

A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed, and I asked if she was doing okay, and the guy said, “She’s still taking on water.” A desert blessing, an ocean curse.

What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is
funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.”

fault-in-our-stars-806x1024

 

End amazing love letter(s).   Good night and I hope each of you get at least a single day with your own personal 16/16.   Because that will be a damn good day.

 

 

Three thumbs up.

 

This is the end of the movie review.

 

infinity__hazel_grace-3348IMG_1027

 

 

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Love Stories, Break Up Songs, & An Ocelot

 

mindofmullyrect

 

lovestory

Best read with The Call’s “I Don’t Want To”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o23d7lfWwdI

 

mindofmullyrect

 

 

 

 

This site gets roughly 60 unique visitors a day with each visitor reading an average of 3.2 posts with each visit.   I get about ten emails a week asking why it looks as if there’s nothing new.   I write every day and, unfortunately, for the past year or so, most of it was derivative crap.   That’s not to say that what is below is not derivative crap, it’s simply far less derivative crap that what I’ve been writing for the past twelve months. I heard the middle part to a most excellent love story via text last Tuesday while sitting on a plane. It is the middle of a friend’s love story and hers to tell….which she has been telling for a few years. And I have been listening, intently, since July, 2012.   It’s a damn fine story.   Then, on the little, bitty Delta regional jet from Salt lake City to San Antonio this afternoon, the GoGo wireless punked out, leaving a man who wears a 50 long suit stuffed into a little, bitty regional jet seat for three hours thinking about the middle of that beautiful love story.   Which kicked off this derivative crap.   That’s a damn fine love story you have going there, B.   Bravo to you.   Bravo to both of you.  

 

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Love Stories, Break Up Songs & An Ocelot

 

I have always been a sucker for a good love story.   “A Tale of Two Cities” was a love story wrapped in a revolution story with a dude getting his head chopped off at the end so that another dude could make out with the woman he loved in perpetuity.   That is a damn fine love story.   I read it when I was very young and that “tis a far, far better thing” ending was one of the first things I ever memorized.   A long standing student of the game of love, yet an erstwhile and rare participant, preferring to watch from the sidelines…….I truly enjoy love stories because they combine two of my favorite things: stories and women.

 

My favorite love stories are the ones I hear in person.

 

Through the years, to couples (both strangers and friends), I have asked the following battery of questions until bread rolls or napkins have been stuffed in my mouth rendering me question disabled.   And I have listened to the answers, intently and with purpose, for decades because they are some of the most fascinating stories of joy, terror, humor, anxiety, loss, redemption, and emotion that you’ll ever hear.     And, I remember all the stories. The mundane stories and the fancy stories.   They all tend to be very interesting stories.   I remember them all.

 

First day of school and first sky diving adventure questions pale in comparison to the answers to the following questions, asked with sincerity and in the correct order.   How did you meet?   When did you know you were in love?   What did you do about it?   Would you like another cocktail for the rest of the questions?   Me, too! What made you the most nervous? Did you like his/her family?   Really?   Promise?   How about now?   Did you realize it was going to be an emotionally dangerous adventure from the get go….or did it take a while for it to sink in?   What did you do to get over that anxiety?  What was the first thing you laughed at so hilariously that you both cried?   What were the courtship rituals?   Who had the best one?   Did you compete?  Do you challenge each other?   Did he/she open up new worlds to you?   Really?   Which ones?   Do you make each other better?  When did it go from black and white to full color?  Were you more “safe” or “sorry”? How fast did you jump?   Did the fall feel like it took forever?   How was the landing?   Did you stick the landing?   What did the Russian judge give you on the landing?     6?    That figures.    Damn Commies.

 

And four dozen other questions.  Perhaps five dozen.

 

Many times, with the best love stories, you don’t even have to ask the detailed questions.   You can sit back and just ask “….and then what?”   And listen.   The “and then what?” ones are generally the best love stories.

 

I’ve never really answered those questions because unlike those people who sit across from me ……I am a runner.   A world-class sprinter.   I could beat Usain Bolt in the regular Olympics and Oscar Pistorius in both the regular Olympics and the Paralympics. This is one of the things that makes me such a good listener to these stories.   And stories, like songs, help us figure out the most basic of our own questions.   I would have asked Oscar a different battery of questions.   More basic ones including gun safety and girlfriend protection

 

 

 

 

 

beginningoflovestories

 

 

 

 

A long standing student of the game of love, yet an erstwhile and rare participant, preferring to watch from the sideline………..I truly enjoy break up songs because they combine two of my favorite things: music and women.   If you have ever listened to our band Two Non Blondes, you’ll notice that 97.4% of the tunes we sing are break up songs.     Break up songs are far more fun to play, especially to a crowd at 710 Beach Club.   Because while only a third of the audience may be in love at any particular time, one hundred percent of that audience has been through a break up and will emote with each tune. Pearl Jam’s “Black”.   Cee Lo’s “(Expletive Deleted) You”.   Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Tuesday’s Gone”.   Johnny Cash’s “Hurt”.   Cake’s version of “I Will Survive”, minus the bad ass bass solos.   Ad infinitum.   97.4% of the songs we have done since 2010 are break up songs.   2.2% of what Two Non Blondes does are whiskey songs.   The remaining tenths of a percent of the Two Non Blonde songs are love songs.     We enjoy the angst.   We also enjoy the irony.

 

 

Break up songs are infinitely more interesting than love songs.     There are 3,908,904,873 ways people run into trouble and break up.   There are only three or four ways that people spend that first three to six months falling in love.   Therefore, there are only three or four basic themes to all love songs, while there are 3,908,904,873 specific themes to break up songs.

 

Unlike the love story questions, I only ask two questions regarding break ups. The only two questions I ever ask regarding break ups are:   “Are you OK?” and “Is there anything I can do to help you through this one?”

 

When it comes to the “boy loses girl” and the corollary “girl loses boy”, that’s when things get interesting.   This is when break up songs truly begin kicking the dog snot out of love songs. This is how Johnny Cash started his empire, how Bruce Springsteen won the hearts and souls of America in the late 1970’s and how (unfortunately) James Blunt was allowed to make all of his whiny albums.

 

There are 1,440 minutes in a day.   Given that the average song is three minutes long, listening to 3,908,904,873 break up themes would take you 11,726,714,619 minutes….roughly mathematized, this would be 8,143,552 days.   Twenty-two thousand years.   Given that you’re definitely not going to live to (please add your age here to the number 2,200 and say it aloud), here are the thirty-one you may need down the road.   You are welcome.

 

 

Pulp:   “Like a Friend”

 

Dave Mason: “We Just Disagree”

 

Smashing Pumpkins: “Disarm”

 

Lia Ices: “Love is Won”

 

The Killers:   “When You Were Young”

 

World Party:   “Way Down Now”

 

Coldplay: “Violet Hill”

 

Hothouse Flowers: “It Will be Easier in the Morning”

 

Wilco: “Hummingbird”

 

Wilco: “Any Major Dude Will Tell You” (cover)

 

Wilco: “Via Chicago”

 

Wilco is well-represented….clearly, Jeff Tweedy had some heartbreak.  

 

Mike Ness:   “Don’t Think Twice”

 

Against Me:   “Thrash Unreal”

 

Sand Rubies: “Goodbye”

 

Blues Traveler: “Conquer Me”

 

Bee Gees:   “I’ve Got To Get a Message to You”

 

Third Eye Blind: “How’s It Going to Be”

 

Natalie Imbruglia:   “Torn”

 

Norah Jones:   “Black”

 

Steve Kazee:  “Falling Slowly”

 

Tim Fite:  “Big Mistake”

 

James Vincent McMorrow:   “We Don’t Eat”

 

 

 

Radiohead: “Fake Plastic Trees”

 

Beth Hart:   “L.A. Song” (acoustic version….with piano)

 

Smith’s Cloud:   “Change of Days”

 

REM:   “Wendell Gee”

 

Black Keys:   “Little Black Submarines”

 

Silversun Pickups:   “Panic Switch”

 

Blue October:    “Hate Me”

 

Van Morrison:   “I’m Not Feeling It Any More”

 

Bob Dylan: Stuck Inside of Memphis With the Mobile Blues Again”

 

Replacements:   “Here Comes a Regular”

 

Replacements:   “I’ll Be You”

 

Hayes Carll: “I Wish I Hadn’t Stayed So Long”

 

Third Eye Blind: “How’s It Going to Be?”

 

Blink 182:     “I Miss You”

 

Eminem:   “Love the Way You Lie”

 

Guns & Roses:    “Estranged”

 

Rolling Stones:   most anything from “Sticky Fingers”…and “Let It Bleed”

 

Foo Fighters:  “Monkey Wrench”

 

Kris Kristofferson: “Sunday Morning Coming Down”

 

Johnny Cash:   “Sunday Morning Coming Down”

 

People like choices….you choose between Johnny and Kris.   My preference is the Kris version because it is the original; however, some prefer the Johnny version.

 

And, without question, the finest combination love song ever written or performed is the one up at the top by The Call.     “I Don’t Wanna”. Like the best love songs and break up songs, you can hear it from one year to the next and make it a love song or a break up song.   Which is, of course, most excellent.

 

lovestorymiddle

 

To those of you in love: well played and good for you. I look forward to hearing your stories down the road. To those of you breaking up, feel free to borrow any of the tunes listed above.   They all have their place, depending upon your circumstances and mood.  B!   I look forward to sitting at the picnic table with you and your man down the road, asking all the questions above and the many, many more not shared.    I agree wholeheartedly with all those people who said “you two look awesome together and ought to live in the same city.”     Yep.

 

As always, thanks for visiting and reading.

 

As promised in the title block above, here is your ocelot.     Remember to fasten your seat belt while seated and to use the bottom cushion for flotation.

 

ocelot2

 

Ocelot_(Leopardus_pardalis)-8

 

 

Question came in three months ago…how are these written.   They are written on long, long plane rides.  On the back pages of books.   As all derivative crap should be written.

 

blog2

 

blog1

 

While looking at really cool clouds while other people discuss their travel habits.

 

blog3

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If I Ran The World: Congressional Application (with mavis staples)

mindofmullyrect

If I Ran The World:   Congressional Application

congress

mindofmullyrect

The vast majority of Congress is bought.     Here is a list of who bought our Congress over the last ten years:

lobbying

Here is what the average election cost since 1986.       That’s a lot of money.

congress-campaign-finance-story-top

For the first time in history, more than half (261 members) of Congress are millionaires.    You do not have much in common with a millionaire.    You don’t.    Conservative or liberal…..you do not have much in common with a millionaire.    Here is the median net worth of Congress from 2011.     As Mavis is singing in this tune….” somebody said it’s different now, look, it’s just the same….. Pharoahs spin the message, round and round the truth.    They could have saved a million people, How can I tell you?”   Amen to that.   The vast majority of our Congress members are not interested in “change”.   They are interested in winning that next election and getting that campaign financed.    Not with your $5.    They don’t care about your $5.   They want General Electric’s money.      And the Koch brother cash.     Amen.

MedianNetWorth2-thumb-480x232-10319

You know why Congress’s median net worth is so ridiculously different from your net worth and mine?   Because it is really, really, really, really expensive to get a seat in Congress.     And once they get there, they never want to leave.    Because it is really, really, really, really expensive to get a seat in Congress.      And as much as we non-Congress member may hear about term limits and campaign reform, it will never, ever happen.    Because it is really, really, really, really expensive to get a seat in Congress.

The Duke Brothers

We can change this by making some simple rule changes and using the Congressional application below.   I’ve saved us all a bunch of time by writing out the application and the rules.   The single most important change will be that each person running for Congress will have a limit of $5,000 to spend.   And each must fill out the application below, complete the tasks, and submit the papers required for all of us to read.

It should be harder to get into Congress than it is to get a college degree.       It’s easy to get into Congress…provided you have rich friends and are willing to spew vitriol and do the dozens on your opponents.       We can change this.

change4

Begin Congressional application.

____________________________________________________________________

Hello,

Congratulations and thank you for applying to run for Congress.    Whether your goal is to be a member of the Senate or the House of Representatives, we sincerely appreciate that you would like to dedicate a portion of your time to public service.   Only 535 of the 300,000,000 in the United States get to join the club annually and, as you can imagine, we need to have strict regulations regarding whom we allow in.

Below are the rules and regulations as of January, 2015, as well as the application form.   Please fill out the application form below, complete the required tasks,  and complete the essays.  Submit them to your dedicated page at

www.wanttobeincongress.com.

Congressional Campaign Rules

  1. You may spend no more than $5,000 per year, per campaign.
  2. You must raise this money yourself:   no PAC money is allowed.  You must keep records for each dollar of the $5,000.    For example, if you are selling chocolate cookies door to door to finance your campaign and Mrs. Jones purchases $20 of cookies, please annotate the following.   “Mrs. Jones.   1135 Clague Rd.    (SS # redacted).”   Then, please have Mrs. Jones sign that line in your records.
  3. You have three avenues of expression to your voters…your dedicated page at www.wanttobeincongress.com, your Facebook page, your Twitter page, and your Instagram account.     These are the only four tools permissible.
  4. When a camera or a microphone is in front of you, you may only discuss the following:
    1. You
    2. Your plan
    3. The benefits of your plan
    4. The precise steps involved in the execution of your plan
    5. The cost of your plan
    6. The return on investment of your plan
    7. CAVEAT & PUNISHMENT:   Should you get in front of a microphone and not be able to explain the items above in your plan, you are grounded from all microphones for fourteen consecutive days.  For example, if you bring up a plan to improve education and then say “we are still hashing out all the details”, you are grounded.    If you blather a lot and use hyperbole in your plan explanation, you are grounded.
    8. When a camera or microphone is in front of you, you are not permitted to make disparaging comments about anyone, throughout history.  Should you truly feel the need to make disparaging remarks about someone else when a camera or microphone is in front of you, you may only make them about the following people:
      • Idi Amin
      • Adolf Hitler
      • c.      Augusto Pinochet
      • d.     Jean ClaudeBaby-DocDuvalier
      • Anthony Weiner
      • Pol Pot
      • Joseph Stalin

       

    9. We want you to focus the majority of your time on legislating.    Because that is your job.   Your job is not to get re-elected.   That said, you may only serve two consecutive terms in either house, with a maximum of four terms in the combined houses.    You may be a Senator twice and a member of the House of Representatives twice.    After that, you need to go get a job that creates GDP in our economy
    10. Should you be elected, you forfeit any right top be a member of any lobbying group, in perpetuity.     Should there be reincarnation, you may serve as a lobbyist in your next life.
    11. Should you be elected, you also forfeit any right to be the host of your own talk show on a twenty-four hour news program for a period of ten (10) years after you leave elected office.

Short Answer:   Please Answer Each Question

Name: ______________________

State:  ______________________

Circle One:    Senate      House of Representatives

Do you have a trust fund?      (please circle one)     Yes     No

Please list all jobs you had before college that you used to pay for college and each job you had during college to pay for college:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

If you had zero (0) jobs before college or during college to pay for college, please print the following in the space below and initial your printing:   “My mommy and daddy paid for college and I never really had to work until I got out of college.”

Please list ten friends (and their phone numbers) you have who make less than $50,000 per year.   First names are fine.   We will be calling all ten of these friends for a reference check:   please let them know we will be calling.

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6.

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8.

9.

10.

How much money did you make last year?

How much did you pay in federal taxes and state taxes?

Please list your primary tax shelters below

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5.

Please attach your high school, college, and graduate school transcripts here:

Did you serve in the military?  (please circle one)   Yes    No

If your answer was “no”, please explain why you chose not to serve in the military.     You had the opportunity to serve in the military and did not even have to run for that position…..you could have simply shown up and signed up.    Right?     Because now you are saying “I want to serve my country in Congress!” and, while we all appreciate that, most of us are confused as to why you didn’t choose to serve your country when you could have don so in the military.      Is your desire to serve your country a new desire?    One you did not have at 18?    Were you too busy to join the military and serve your country when you were young?   If so, that’s cool.    Just help us to understand why you want to serve your country in Congress now, yet you did not have that same sort of desire ten or twenty years ago.     When you could have done it quite easily.

Are you a lawyer?    (please circle one)     Yes   No

What type of law?

Please explain, in 100 words or less, what you created while being a lawyer.

Are you a member of the NRA?   (please circle one)    Yes   No

Do you own a house and write off the mortgage interest on your taxes    Yes  No

 

 

Do you understand that the mortgage interest deduction is the single largest entitlement program in the United States?    Yes   No

 

 

Please list all the “real” jobs you have held.    (“real” jobs are jobs where you did something that created revenue that contributed to the country’s GDP, hired people, fired people, grew something, made something, educated a child, saved a life, etc)

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5.

What are you planning to do once you finish your two terms as a Congressperson?

Long Form Answers:   Please Complete 3 of the 4 Tasks

From January, 2015 on, all members of Congress must complete the tasks listed below and write the lessons from these tasks.      Should you not wish to partake in any of these tasks, no harm…no foul.   Stay in your current job.     If you would like to serve your electorate, you’re going to need to experience some “life” things.   Showing up for a $500 per plate dinner with your significant other no longer qualifies as experiencing “life” things.

1.     Please go work in a restaurant or a suitable service industry equivalent for ninety days.    Submit your pay stubs, along with a written report detailing what you learned during this experience.

2.   Please go perform manual labor (concrete, asphalt, roofing, etc) for a minimum of sixty days.   Submit your paystubs along with a written report detailing what you built/made.   How did that make you feel?      How tired were you when you got home?       What friends did you make during your sixty days?   Did you hang out with them after work?   Please tell us about them and their families.

3.  Volunteer at one of the following locations for a minimum of fifty days out of two hundred consecutive days.      Submit a written report that includes biographies of at least fifteen people you helped through your volunteer efforts.    Please include the following in the biography:   person’s name, description of their family, where and how they were raised, how they came to onto challenging times, and what you are going to do to help them in the future.

4.  Submit a ten page (single spaced) report comparing and contrasting the following schools of economic thought:  neoclassical economics (orthodox economics, to some), Austrian school, Chicago school (Friedman), and MIT school (Samuelson).   In your comparison, please explain how the Chicago school’s principles, in application (United States:  1970’s, UK: 1980’s), failed miserably.    Also, in your analysis, please explain several theoretical economic theories that have been proven to be true in the real world (e.g. microloans for women in Africa).

5.  Spend fourteen days at the Marine Corps basic training facility in Camp Lejuene, NC to learn basic safety skills and firearm safety from a professional Marine Corps drill instructor.      Then, spend twenty-one days in a war zone.  One (1) of these days in a war zone must be served in a morgue setting and two (2) of these days in a war zone must be served in a military hospital with amputees.   Write a five page report that includes what you learned about proper firearm safety, as well as the three most horrible things you experienced or saw in the war zone.

6.  Please write your initials next to the number six here, noting your acceptance of the fact that Ayn Rand is a fiction writer……..exactly like Faulkner, Hemingway, and Dr. Seuss.   No more……no less.      If you disagree with this statement, feel free to submit a well researched and throughout treatise on a real life country (other than Somalia) or city (other than Mogadishu) where Ms. Rand’s fictional work holds true.     For extra credit, please note the     For extra, extra credit, please compare and contrast Objectivism with the philosophy of Pastafarianism (from The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster)

7.  Please explain the following in a single page:

  1. What has created inflation in the past, both in the U.S. and in other countries?
  2. What does “The Fed” do?
  3. How can a company like Bank of America show a profit of $4.2B in 2012 and pay $0 in taxes?
  4. What three primary forces caused the economic collapse in 2008/2009
  5. Please explain the Glass–Steagall Act and what protections it afforded (feel free to use two pages for this)

8.   What makes you different than anyone else running for your seat in Congress?   Only discuss your background, your plans, the way you feel about your constituents, and the unique things you bring to the table.    Stay positive.   Sell us on how you are different.   (five page maximum)

 

 

9.   Please describe a situation where you played well with others (with whom you disagree) as an adult.    How did you differ in your opinion?    How did you come to a mutually beneficial agreement?

All of your writing will be published on your Congressional election page for the electorate to read.     Your submissions will remain on your page for twenty years.    Should you wish to change your answers, simply type “I AM CHANGING MY MIND” next to your previous submission, followed by your current position.     Feel free to discuss why you changed your mind, or do not.   Your choice.    There is nothing wrong with changing your mind.     It’s alllllllll good, as long as you own it.

By submitting this Congressional application and signing on the line below, you agree that you will give up your Congressional seat if you commit any of the infractions listed below:

  1. Get in front of a microphone and make disparaging comments about anyone other than the seven individuals listed above
  2. Saying something ridiculously stupid.   An example of this would be saying “well, what’s to stop us from setting the minimum wage at a million dollars an hour?”     You are in Congress and not allowed to say ridiculously stupid things like that.    When you say ridiculously stupid things like that, we look silly to the rest of the world.
  3. Compare anyone to Hitler or compare anything to Nazi Germany.     Should you choose to compare anyone to Hitler or compare anything to Nazi Germany you will not only lose you place in Congress, you will not be permitted to run again and you will be forcibly moved to Canada.

Print your name here:   __________________________________________

Sign your name here:    ___________________________________________

Date:    ______________________________

 

 

End Congressional application.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

congress

fist_in_the_air

Sic semper tyrannis

 

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Colonel Kurtz, Heart of Darkness, & TS Eliot

Colonel Kurtz, Heart of Darkness, & TS Eliot

mindofmullyrect

Guy_Fawkes_Mask_by_kat_lisa

The Hollow Men

Mistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy
I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

fist_in_the_air

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