It seems like nowadays that all the cool kids are busy rioting over Mohammed cartoons.  That’s great and all, but what about all the other offensive cartoons out there that need to be opposed by burning French cars?  Me, I’ma gonna go riot over Marmaduke, blasphemous infidel running dog that he is.

            At work I’m presently reading a Jane Austen novel on my much breaks, but since my job is supposed to take place in 1622, the only way I can get away with that is by acting as if “Pride and Prejudice” is actually a science fiction novel set in a distant and horrible vision of the future, which actually makes it a lot more interesting, especially the part about where Mr. Bingley has to make a cannon out of bamboo and costume jewelry to stop the Gorn.

            If you were a supervillian and you got arrested for jaywalking, that would be completely unacceptable.

            I saw a bottled water delivery truck the other day, which was emblazoned with the legend, “Untouched by Human Hands.”  Which makes it sound all extra clean and pure until you factor in that two weeks ago unemployment among trolls and orangutans fell sharply after Deer Park opened a new bottling plant.

            It’s a good thing that America is such a wide nation, because otherwise Oregon Trail would have been considerably less fun to play.  There is a good reason, for instance, why Luxembourg Trail never really took off quite the same way.

            I love any movie with an actor from Star Trek in it, because even if the movie sucks, I can sit there and create an entire side plot about how Commander Riker had to travel back to the Civil War and become a pompous sissy boy Union General to maintain the integrity of the space time continuum, or how Geordi LaForge got sucked through a rogue warp bubble and decided to spend his time trapped in the 20^th century well by teaching children to read.

            I want to go to Mexico and open up a store that sells raincoats.  Then I’m gonna name it The Poncho Villa.  Then I’m gonna laugh a lot until I go out of business because I can’t speak Mexican anyway, but for a while there, it’ll be totally sweet.

            Wendy’s claims to sell old-fashioned hamburgers, that’s great and all, but I’m not sure I’d even recognize a new-fangled hamburger if I ate one.  Would it have a lot of little unnecessary LEDS on it?  Or possibly a little repulsor lift underneath so that Professor X could ride around on it if he were even simultaneously tiny and very hungry?

            I hope that some day someone writes a biography of Jim Varney and calls it “The Importance of Being Ernest.”  Then my universe will at last be complete.  Assuming of course that someone else took care of that whole repulsor lift hamburger thing already.

            I love how when there’s a turn in the road ahead, they never just put up one sign with a little arrow on it, but instead they throw like, ten of them out there.  Like if you were driving along and just saw one you’d decide to challenge its dominion of the roads by audaciously going straight and ramming your car into a Pizza Hut, but when there’s fifty of them there you’re gonna be all impressed. “Whoa, all you guys got together to tell me to turn sharply to the right?  Dag, you must be for real this time; Thanks bunch of signs with arrows on them!”

            I was at a minithon last week with Amy (and in which neither of us was running, just in case you were about to be inadvertently impressed) and some guy came up and gave us a card instructing me to do something really Xtreme, take a picture of it, and send it to their website.  I thought little of it until about three minutes later when another guy tried to give us another one and another one after him and so forth.  So yeah, all I can assume from this is that Amy and I must have been the most Xtreme-looking couple in DC that day, which is kind of cool, because I’ve always harbored a great deal on insecurity concerning my Xtremism and the perceived lack thereof.