leftover turkey...

it is very chic to make declarations like "i live life with no regrets" or "i have no regrets." the truth is, i have regrets. and while i regret some of my decisions, i also realize that it is highly unlikely that if i had done things differently, i would be where i am today.

i regret not flying out to dc that august.

i regret not figuring out sooner that she was just using me and never really loved me.

i regret not sticking up for myself more often. i've always been a dab hand at sticking up for my mates, but always seem to allow others to maul me.

i regret not having sex with lara. she clearly wanted it, and i was simply hiding behind false morals that i would later completely discard.

i regret not hitting him harder.

i regret not picking up smoking and drinking sooner. granted, i quit smoking, but i might've enjoyed it longer had i only but launched into my smoking career earlier on.

i regret not following my pal tom to an english-teaching job in buenos aires after i returned home. i might've severed ties with my controlling and strict dad and stepmom sooner.

but possibly one of my biggest regrets, though it may seem small and silly to you, the non-existant reader, is not helping carl deutsch pick up his papers that damp school day.

i was, inequivocably, a huge nerd in school. this made me a semi-pariah, though i had a half-way decent personality, so i actually enjoyed quite a few friendships with more popular kids.

but there were levels even below my own. there were the greasy, pock-faced kids who drew comics about all the ways to harm a cat and would grow up to become serial killers.

carl deutsch fell below even these untouchables. he was a lumbering, oddly-proportioned beast of a kid with a huge limp that required him to wear orthopedic shoes. he was extremely shy, backwards, and rarely interacted with anyone other than his brother, who was twice as lumbering and smelly, and loud and domineering to boot.

my friend and i were already running late, and were quickly covering the distance between the gym locker rooms and the building where the rest of the classes were held. carl was on his way to the gym, and running even more late than we were, further hindered by his slow, limping pace.

as the tardy bell rang, carl dropped a stack of homework papers out of his pee chee onto the gravel dangerously close to a mud puddle. my friend and i heard his groan. a groan that seemed to carry a pain with it that breached a simple homework spill and flowed over into the very anguish and melancholy of his soul.

time freezes, corporeal objects melt away, and i am hanging in space with two other beings, one near my side, the other hunkering down to scoop up college-ruled sheets. it's as if an angel itself has flown down in front of me to say, "you're no spiderman or incredible hulk, darth, but here is a moment to don your armor and become a hero beyond your wildest dreams."

my friend and i paused in our flight for a moment, quickly eyeing the situation. we both seemed to be thinking the same thing: help carl with his papers.

and as i drew in breath to voice this shared thought, my friend said, "oh well, we're already late, we better get to class."

and i followed him into the building.

now, i am sure that carl never even knew that we had seen him drop his papers. my regret isn't borne of guilt for having slammed someone who got it on a daily basis. what still bothers me and makes me kick myself is this: i knew he had dropped the papers. that i had a chance to make a difference, and pissed it away.

who knows how that one small sign of compassion might've changed his life? probably not one bit. it's very likely, truth be told, that it would have made no difference whatsoever.

but if i could travel back in time, i would stand just inside the door of the school and tell myself to get the fuck back out there and pick up those papers or i would kick my sorry ass.

and i regret not really doing this story and carl deutsch the justice they deserve.

thanks for tagging along on that one.

darth sardonic

snow day

as we approach the christmas season, i hear alot more commercials for the star registry on the radio. i can't help but think that this is the all-time crappiest gift. an ugly tie? at least i have something physically in my possession to remind me of how much you despise/care for me.

i'd rather receive the cash you would've blown on this gift to waste on whatever stupid thing might cross my fancy at the moment. at least then i would actually have something in my hands.

but the greater bad-idea effects are long-term. cause at some point, if this whole thing is legit, scientists are going to discover shit in the solar systems that bear these names:

"news flash! news flash! scientists have discovered life on a distant planet. here, we see actual hubble images a moon of the fourth planet of the darth sardonic solar system, on which we can actually see residences and other structures. unfortunately, the life we have discovered is neither intelligent, nor motivated, nor even very interesting, really. ..."

we're snowed in today. for the rest of the world that would mean copious amounts of fresh white powder. for western washington, about 3 inches. yeah, we're lame.

so we're going to build ephemeral snow men and have snowball fights that will assuredly end in someone crying and mad.

more news at 11...

darth sardonic

it's all just too much...

man, it's been crazy.

back to work after a week off, mostly sick. thanksgiving coming up. (and a happy one to you and yours, and as always, lets try to remember those who don't find themselves in as luxurious a situation. i'm not saying bring the homeless guy to the house to eat turkey with your family, but he should be able to enjoy his holiday too, and we can help.)

sorry, that is the end of this particular public announcement. back to business.

micheal richards, a comedian i used to love even before seinfeld, did the all-time fucking DUMBEST ever and went off on a heckling audience member who happened to be an african-american, and instead of handling the heckler in traditional style (insulting intelligence, picking on his/her attire), he berated this gentleman for being black.

now, first of all, if you can't handle a heckler, you shouldn't be on stage (i myself have done some stand-up, and mostly choose to ignore the hecklers). if you can't handle people having a conversation during your bit, you shouldn't be on stage. if you are a white man, and you can't make it through your allotted time without stooping to racial or sexist slurs, and other such tripe, you shouldn't be on stage. yes, i have seen plenty of comedians of ethnicity poke fun at white people. it is their right. we have mistreated the various browner residents of the planet for many eons. these same comedians also make fun of their own ethnicity, so it's not just like they are picking on us. and i have seen these same comedians lament that a white comedian isn't allowed to do the same due to the whole PC issue. maybe so, but you know what? that is just the fucking way it is! (please refer back to my line about the white man mistreating the brown man for many centuries--and by white, i mean rich waspy types of european descent who's forefathers landed on shores and subjugated the indigenous peoples of...well, fucking everywhere. and by brown, i mean pretty much everyone else.)

and i know everyone is talking about this. or maybe not, i don't get out as much as i oughtta. but it is sad, extremely sad to see this, and frankly, i think micheal richard's career is over.

and this sorta puts me in the mood, along with the season, to again sorta do my tirade about the "american" way.

the puritans came to america, north america to be exact, and landed on plymouth rock beat the fuck up and damn near dead. if this happened today, we would tell them to fuck off and bomb their motherland.

but the native americans accepted them in, fed them, showed them around, said, "hey, yeah, you guys are more than welcome to hang out here, there is plenty of land. no, we don't care much that you don't look like us or speak our language or even agree with our culture, this land is big enough for both of us to get along."

we followed that up with giving them alcohol, and small pox blankets, raping their women, kidnapping their children, forcing our ideals on them, and stealing their land.

so if, as a result, i am not allowed to use certain words or make certain jokes, i think i can deal with that.

thanks for tagging along,

darth sardonic

a short one i guess...

just got over being sick. like hacking up junk, getting short of breath, bronchitis sick. it was fun.

i will have more of the quality of posts to which you, the nonexistant reader, has grown accustomed after a bit.

but here is a short one to tide you over in the meantime.

recently, i actually saw someone picking their nose in their car.

it's always a cliche, you know, looking over and seeing someone picking their nose. everyone jokes about it, but in my experience it didn't really happen that often.

i don't really have an issue with nose-picking in and of itself. sometimes it is possibly the only way to remove dry, caked up boogers from the confines of your nostril. i have, and will continue to do it on occasion. in the privacy of my own room or whatever, when no one is around.

and some of you may be saying "ew" or whatever your equivalent is, but hey, it's my fucking blog.

the truly disturbing things about seeing this particular person removing the offending blockage are: first, the driver of the car was completely corkscrewing the entrenched finger. next, the finger was easily buried to the first knuckle. also, the rest of the fingers on the picking hand were splayed as if the picker was waving while drilling the nosegoblin free. and finally, and easily the most disturbing thing about the whole situation, the driver of the vehicle was a woman! yes, my droogs and only friends, a woman. and a well-turned out, attractive woman with her hair carefully done, lovely makeup, and a beautiful french manicure. the kind of woman you would expect, should they ever find themselves with a stubborn chunk of dried mucus lodged within the confines of their proboscis, would excuse themselves to the powder room and clandestinely remove it with a handkerchief or a tissue.

but no, here was this gorgeous woman, who obviously is concerned about her appearance, virtually jackhammering free a booger from her nose while sitting at a light on a fairly well-traveled road chock fucking full of cars.

what is this world coming to?

stick around, i'll be back to a hundred percent soon.

darth sardonic

a step in the right direction...

and so we've wrested some of the control from the uberconservatives. let's hope that something will actually come of this, and some changes will be made, though i really feel that the dems basically rode the wave of everyone being tired of the conservatitism, and don't have an actual plan.

here's hoping they get one, and fast!

and the back bone to follow it through.

darth sardonic

slartibartfast built my fjord

file these under good ideas, my droogs and only friends:

plant verdant trees or high hedges at each corner of an intersection. preferably if one direction has stop signs and the other doesn't and would be considered "arterial" traffic.

ask the pizza delivery guy if he has "extra (ie. free) pizzas." we are a philanthropic bunch, and spend our free time creating pizzas and then loading them up by the dozens to hand out to whatever beer-swilling, foul-smelling dipshits we happenchance upon whilst delivering.

clearly mark the letter designation of an apartment building on the side of the unit--then plant a tall, and preferably leafy tree in front.

we were watching the empire strikes back yet again (lord knows just how many times i have seen these movies), and something occured to me: the movie would be a whole lot more interesting if yoda had died at the hands of the clone troopers and mace windu had survived. i know, i know, this is borderline blasphemy (i am also the guy who thinks "christ on a stick" is a great swear word.), but hear me out.

the training with yoda in empire was full of sighs and head shakings. what if it had gone more like this:

luke: i can't, it's too hard.

mace: say "can't" again.

luke: what?

mace: say "can't" again, mothafuckah, i will slice you into so many pieces that no medical droid will ever be able to put you back together again. i'm sick of your honky ass! you don't start paying attention and doing what i say and i will fuck your shit up!

still, it's nice to know that luke is keeping the galaxy safe for towheaded whiners everywhere.

thanks for playing along.

darth sardonic