I just got a new computer thanks to the lovely Andrea, who pulled some strings with one of her clients (from the radio station). She was getting way tired of my putting my tentacles on her laptop. It's been kind of a hassle getting this machine caught up. I'm running Windows 7 RC and it is just FANTASTIC!
Also, I have new septic lines in the back yard so my septic water won't be in the front yard anymore. TRA is happy, which makes my neighbors happy, which makes me happy.
Thanks to all of you who read this blog and continue to read my colums. I appreciate being the sole source of nonsense in your life.
Cheers.
This is the Official Blog of Aryn Corley the award winning author of his humor column "String Cheese". He is also the author of "The Do-It-Yourself Guide to Annoying Your Spouse" and "The New Parent's Handbook to Warping Children". He has penned two children's books titled "I Spilled Grandma's Ashes" and "My Daddy is Also My Uncle". Aryn also holds a PhD from the Pointblank Institute for Pataphysical Research. Please sign up for email updates when new articles are uploaded.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
String Cheese - Article XXVII
Cars may soon miss best parts
By ARYN CORLEY
Updated: 06.02.09
The recent economical slump and waning consumer confidence are putting the brakes on the American automotive industry. The closures of several hundred auto dealerships, coupled with parked auto sales, may signal the collapse of one of this country’s most important institutions.Of course, I’m referring to the automotive accessory industry.
It’s depressing me to think that if American cars drop off the face of the earth, there won’t be a need for window decals of Calvin, from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, urinating on some automobile logo. I shudder at the thought of seeing a huge pair of metallic testicles dragging the ground behind a Smart Car. Whole forests of little air freshener pine trees will be neglected. Fuzzy dice would grow even fuzzier!
It would truly be a bummer for your Hummer.
Part of the “American Dream” is owning a really large car, or truck, that gets terrible gas mileage, then adorning it with all kinds of accoutrements, which not only make a statement about who you are, but are completely unnecessary.
I wish I had bought stock in a vinyl window decal manufacturing company. East Texas alone could have made me a millionaire. Everywhere I go, there is plenty to read on the backs of people’s windows. College rivalries are played out with declarations of “Saw ’Em Off” and “Reveille: The Other White Meat.” I have seen quite a lot of trucks with the words “Ain’t Skeer’d” plastered across the rear window.
However, I’ve yet to see anyone proudly declare the words “Kan’t Spel.”
When Henry Ford made the Model-T, his reason was to have something on which to put his bumper stickers. There’s a sweatshop somewhere in Arkansas where out-of-work comedians are churning out insightful quips for our traffic-jam entertainment. I bet it’s right next to the fortune cookie laboratory. If it weren’t for bumper stickers, the achievements of hundreds of honor students would go unnoticed. It’s also useful to know if someone is going to brake for that centaur standing in the roadway.
It wasn’t all that long ago when it seemed like everyone had those annoying “on board” signs hanging in their windows. To be different, I used to hang a HAZMAT placard in my window with the words “HAZARDOUS WASTE” printed on it. That one sure helped me get through rush-hour traffic!
The Great Chrome Mines of Green Bay, Wisconsin, would surely close as well. The little kids who work in those mines would be left without insurance and without their normal wage of copious amounts of Mountain Dew. The chrome from those mines are primarily used to make spinner rims for recreational and military vehicles. Spinner rims create the illusion that the tire is continuing to move while the car is stopped. While they’re utterly absurd, the military has a practical use for them. While the enemy combatants are shaking their heads in disgust, our boys launch a rocket and the battle is won. Hoo-ah!
If the President has any more stimulus money, I hope he can throw out a couple billion more to a charity that can really use the money.
The Dashboard Hula Girl Relief Fund comes to mind.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
String Cheese Article - Twenty Six
Waiting is the end of the line
By ARYN CORLEY
Updated: 05.12.09
Everywhere I go there is one. When I see one, I go the other way. I can go halfway across the country and there’ll be another one, maybe two. In fact, they’re all over the world. Across all cultures and socioeconomic strata people love them and want to be a part of them. Some people love to make their own.Personally, I detest them.
I hate lines.
A line will either drain you of your time or money. Oftentimes it’s both.
As a species, there must be something in our biological code that compels use to stand behind another person and wait for something. Whether it’s a need for human companionship or Hannah Montana tickets, it never ceases to amaze me just how long people are willing to wait in line. I’m not very good at it because it requires a level of patience and self-discipline that I lack.
Every time I end up in a line, I start feeling like David Banner just before he morphs into the Incredible Hulk. Sadly, I’ve never been exposed to gamma radiation. So, the only thing I’m capable of morphing into is the Incredulous Sulk.
I don’t understand how people can do it.
People will stand in line to wait for some of the craziest things. Lately, it seems that when there is a new video game system to come out, legions of techno-nerds will line up for days prior to the release so they can be the first ones to get their hands on that little piece of digital heaven.
Science fiction fans will often dress up in costume and hold impromptu conventions while they wait in line for movie tickets to go on sale. I often wonder if these people’s bosses wish they could show that kind of dedication at work. This is all based on the assumption that the guy who dressed like a mangy Wookie actually has a job.
My earliest recollection of line-waiting goes all the way back to my days in elementary school. On field trips, we would be herded from place to place like a company of incorrigible munchkins. The only instructions we were given was to line up and stay quiet. It was oppressive. However, I wasn’t going to let that ruin my trip to the meat packing plant. It was worth jumping out of line to go talk with anyone wearing pigtails.
During my time in the military, I wasted a lot of time examining the backs of people’s heads. So much time, I should’ve gotten college credit hours. In basic training, we would march (in line) to the chow hall, wait for chow (in line), then go back and wait at the barracks (in line).
On one particular day, my drill sergeant was giving me all kinds of maternal attention. After all, for six weeks, he was a real mother. Anyway, he asked me what I was being trained for. The response he was looking for was “killer,” “blood thirsty,” “rabid Hun,” or any other gear of war. When I shouted, “I’m being trained to wait in line, sergeant!,” I almost got a snicker from him. The standard price for almost making your drill sergeant lose his military bearing is about 100,000 push-ups. Thankfully, they had an installment plan.
The next time you see one of our young soldiers, sailors, marines, or airmen, thank them for the incredible amount of line waiting it takes to preserve this country’s freedom.
The main problem with waiting in lines is the complete lack of entertainment. Lines, by their nature, just aren’t fun. This is exactly why places like Six Flags and Disney World have rides. It gives you something to do between the times that you wait in line! Even Wal-Mart has televisions to take your mind off the fact that you’re waiting in line and there are 20 empty unmanned registers.
My wife likes to talk to people when she’s waiting in line. For her, it’s a social event. She could be waiting in line and then suddenly have everyone singing “How Great Thou Art.” It’s creepy. My dad despises line waiting. I think I get that from him. The two of us were waiting for three hours for a shuttle one time. We were both so livid that we didn’t talk for the next eight hours. Luckily, most of that was sleep time.
I guess there’s no avoiding it. As long as there are people on this planet, there will be a line to stand in.
I just hope that wherever we go from here, they have turnstiles.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The MEH factor
Please be sure to check out The MEH factor @ http://themehfactor.blogspot.com.
This is a blog site where I write pithy satirical comment about things in the media that make people say "meh". Basically, it's stuff that people don't care about. The purpose is to stimulate critical thinking about the things that we are fed from the media.
It's barnyard journalism at it's finest!
This is a blog site where I write pithy satirical comment about things in the media that make people say "meh". Basically, it's stuff that people don't care about. The purpose is to stimulate critical thinking about the things that we are fed from the media.
It's barnyard journalism at it's finest!
String Cheese - Article Twenty Five
Eco-Friendly Can Be Eco-Crazy
By ARYN CORLEY
Updated: 5.2.09
What kind of gift am I supposed to give to someone for Earth Day?I suppose that a small glob of plutonium would be terribly inappropriate. Maybe a more acceptable gift would be one that is not only environmentally friendly, but would not leave any long-term detrimental effects.
Cow dung comes to mind.
Gaylord Nelson, a US senator from Wisconsin, created Earth Day to address the concern of global overpopulation and the detrimental effect that it can have on the environment. The environment, like everything else, gets really messed up when you start adding more people to it. Like every great idea that came out of the 60’s, it gave folk singers more material.
While I’m neither an opponent of responsible environmentalism nor an opponent of well-reasoned conservation of our natural resources, there are aspects of the Earth Day phenomenon/craze, which makes me turn a little “green.”
During the week of April 22, every year, we get treated to a media blitz of “green” public service announcements, news, and shows with an environmental spin. I refuse to believe that Matt Lauer going “commando” on the Today show is somehow saving the environment. Whether it kills baby seals or not, deodorant made from chemicals is usually always a good thing.
Madison Avenue is even getting in on the craze. Product logos and wrappers are green along with the money that goes into the pockets of companies touting themselves as “Earth safe.” Consumers will pay extra for something if they feel like their money is being used for a worthy cause. Frankly, I don’t care for “green” toilet paper.
I like white, thank you very much.
So if being the most environmentally conscientious earthling only lasts for 24 hours, what happens during the remaining 8,736 hours of the year (non-Leap)? It’s during this large hunk of time that people love to dump their trash in the national forest or dump motor oil and unused appliances into local creeks. Responsible stewardship of our natural resources should be every day. However, I suppose that if we had Earth Year we’d come up with an Apathy Day to break up the monotony.
Finally, there is much debate about the existence of global warming. Some arguments claim that it is an actual phenomenon while others think it’s the environmentalists pushing forward their agenda. The thought of being able to wear shorts in the dead of winter in Minnesota is actually appealing to me. If polar bears can live in the Texas heat, then why can’t the rest of the globe?
Not everything organic is good for the earth or the people on it. Sunlight is heralded as a wonderful source of alternative energy, plus it gives George Hamilton spooky caramel luster. It also gives us the pleasure of fighting skin cancer if we don’t use sunscreen. By the way, sunscreen is topical and not oral. Rub it on yourself, but not on your bagel.
To really make an environmental impact, we have to make a yearlong commitment for a lifetime. Not just for one day. Use a broom instead of a leaf blower, or skip to work instead of driving.
I guess the best gift for Earth Day that anyone can give is a willingness to look past the hype and to do what he or she can within reasonable limits.
Celebrate Earth Day the best way you know how.
I think I’m going to give a cow a nice big plate of beans.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
What to write about next....
The ideas that I choose to write about come to me like the blowing wind. Sometimes, I have to grab anything I can write on to jot it down quickly before I forget. Luckily, I keep a pen with me for when my muse decides to hit me with a brick. I'm batting around the ideas of lines, cooking shows, and internet memes as ideas for my next topic.
I think I might write about the little catterpillars my kids have grown as part of their Clover Kids project. It would be more interesting to wait and see what happens to them. Right now, they are smack dab in the middle of their three month life cycle.
My new article will be up tomorrow. It's about Earth Day.
Have fun.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
String Cheese - Article Twenty Four
Facebook facilitates social ‘nutworking’
By ARYN CORLEY
Updated: 04.07.09
I absolutely refuse to get a Facebook page.
I think my refusal stems from the fact that there are people out there who may want me to repay them for lunch or gas money. Still, I don’t think I want the ghosts of my past being able to visit me.
My wife has one. Not a ghost, but a Facebook page. She’s really enjoyed getting the opportunity to reconnect with people with whom she went to school. Seriously, I think she gets a kick out of seeing how time has been particularly unkind to the “popular” crowd.
I just don’t care to take that walk down amnesia lane.
For instance, I’d hate to have my ex-girlfriend from 10th grade find me, then demand to know why I broke up with her to go out with some “mystery girl.” Even though it’s been almost 20 years, she’d still be upset if I told her it was her sister.
I know my chemistry teacher would love to finally find out how I was able to almost ace his final exam thereby cementing myself a passing grade.
Sorry. A magician never reveals his tricks. Neither does a kid who must pass chemistry to keep driving his Camaro.
I know I’d be sorely depressed if one of my friends sent me a message on Facebook saying, “Remember that cool idea we had for curing athlete’s foot using a cheese grater? I’ve made millions off that patent!” I wouldn’t handle it very well.
Besides, I don’t want to hear about how fat I’ve gotten over time.
Up to this point, I’ve kept in contact with every school chum that I’ve wanted to keep in contact with. Which is none.
However, I’m not a total isolationist.
I have a Twitter account that keeps me connected with total strangers. For the uninitiated, Twitter is a micro-blog service that lets users tell the rest of the world what they are doing in under 140 characters. Those little posts are called “Tweets.” It’s a fantastic way to let the world know what you’re having for breakfast or smelling in your office.
I like Twitter because one doesn’t have to be so personal. I mostly enjoy reading about what other people are doing halfway around the world. Actress Demi Moore is constantly flooding my inbox with pictures and Tweets about whatever else is going on in her life.
I like the idea of moving forward and making new friends.
If any of you readers out there join Twitter, look for me. My name is @ArynCorley.
I like spreading total nonsense about the Twitterverse.
I’m pretty good at that.
I think my refusal stems from the fact that there are people out there who may want me to repay them for lunch or gas money. Still, I don’t think I want the ghosts of my past being able to visit me.
My wife has one. Not a ghost, but a Facebook page. She’s really enjoyed getting the opportunity to reconnect with people with whom she went to school. Seriously, I think she gets a kick out of seeing how time has been particularly unkind to the “popular” crowd.
I just don’t care to take that walk down amnesia lane.
For instance, I’d hate to have my ex-girlfriend from 10th grade find me, then demand to know why I broke up with her to go out with some “mystery girl.” Even though it’s been almost 20 years, she’d still be upset if I told her it was her sister.
I know my chemistry teacher would love to finally find out how I was able to almost ace his final exam thereby cementing myself a passing grade.
Sorry. A magician never reveals his tricks. Neither does a kid who must pass chemistry to keep driving his Camaro.
I know I’d be sorely depressed if one of my friends sent me a message on Facebook saying, “Remember that cool idea we had for curing athlete’s foot using a cheese grater? I’ve made millions off that patent!” I wouldn’t handle it very well.
Besides, I don’t want to hear about how fat I’ve gotten over time.
Up to this point, I’ve kept in contact with every school chum that I’ve wanted to keep in contact with. Which is none.
However, I’m not a total isolationist.
I have a Twitter account that keeps me connected with total strangers. For the uninitiated, Twitter is a micro-blog service that lets users tell the rest of the world what they are doing in under 140 characters. Those little posts are called “Tweets.” It’s a fantastic way to let the world know what you’re having for breakfast or smelling in your office.
I like Twitter because one doesn’t have to be so personal. I mostly enjoy reading about what other people are doing halfway around the world. Actress Demi Moore is constantly flooding my inbox with pictures and Tweets about whatever else is going on in her life.
I like the idea of moving forward and making new friends.
If any of you readers out there join Twitter, look for me. My name is @ArynCorley.
I like spreading total nonsense about the Twitterverse.
I’m pretty good at that.
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