Glutton For Punishment

I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.
I'm currently working on my Master's Degree in Criminal Justice Leadership and Management from Sam Houston State University. I've got a new baby (#3) due in April. I have a fulltime job, plus an extra job on my days off. I also have a newspaper column and now I've taken on a new article for a professional magazine for the Game Warden Association.
I think the next chance I get, I'm going to volunteer as a missionary bringing culinary advice to cannibal tribes.
I'll have a glut of articles coming. In the mean time, to keep things fresh. I think I'll post some of my homework assignments here.
Won't that be fun?

String Cheese Article XXV

Cheese Awards are nacho normal kind of prizes

By ARYN CORLEY
Updated: 01.12.10

Wow.

It seems like only a year ago that 2009 was being ushered in with the promise of hope and change.

Now, as the “Baby New Year of 2010” cries incessantly and spits up on itself, it’s important to look back at 2009 and recognize the folks who made the year great.

The awards I’m about to bestow upon these lucky recipients were carefully evaluated by the Cheese Research Academy of the Pineywoods. Most awards are based on some kind of achievement.

However, this dubious honor is reserved for those individuals, or government entities, which have demonstrated an elite level of cheesiness for the past year.

The award itself is a fine, hand-crafted pair of scissors made from a block of processed cheese. All awards are made in the USA and are completely edible (I suggest sausage and diced tomatoes to go with it.)

Ladies and Gentlemen [drum roll], I present to you the 2009 Cheese Cutter Awards! [applause]

Since I’m a chivalrous guy, I’ll give the ladies’ award first. First runners-up are Paula Abdul and Susan Boyle who have a common thread with Simon Cowell.

The Cheesiest Woman award goes to the First Lady of Cheese: Sarah Palin. The former governor has given late night talk show hosts and we humor columnists plenty to work with.

It was Palin (Sarah, not Michael) who used her Facebook page to suggest that Democratic health care legislation would create “death panels,” which was manifestly untrue.

However, it was her appearance with William Shatner on the Tonight Show, which put her on the express Cheeto to fame. I hope for the sake of comedy in this country that Sarah Palin lives a very, very long time.

Speaking of government, the next award is for the Cheesiest Government Action. Our elected officials are putting Wisconsin to shame with the cheese output.

Honorable mention goes to corporate bailouts and ending analogue broadcasts. Thank goodness we don’t have to suffer the indignity of watching Ryan Seacrest in standard definition.

The award for Cheesiest Government Action goes to: electing Al Franken as senator. It’s fitting that he ran in the same state that elected a pro-wrestler for governor.

Public office seems to be the next logical step for anyone who used to write comedy. There are few differences between drafting legislation and crafting punchlines.

There were enough media moments to stuff a jalapeno and wrap it with bacon. Interestingly, the shocker of the Obama Nobel Prize win and the non-event NASA missile striking the moon were on the same day.

However, the Cheesiest Media moment, hands down, goes to: the endless coverage of Michael Jackson’s death. What happened to the media when Jacko’s death was announced is the same thing that happens when you shove a burrito into a VCR.

The glut of coverage was so overwhelming, I had to call a random person in Afghanistan to find out how things were going. I just hope that the next time it happens, I’m out of the country. Pop culture is the mortar by which the bricks of lunacy are set.

The Cheesiest Man Award could easily go to Jay Leno for retiring from the Tonight Show only to have it come on earlier in a horrendous format, which is as funny as a nutritional label.

The award could also go to Tiger Woods whose extramarital shenanigans have cost him his family and career. Tiger has more mistresses than he has mulligans.

The award for Cheesiest Man easily goes to Wall Street huckster Bernie Madoff. His 150-year sentence in federal prison speaks to the fact that Madoff failed to research the success rates of Ponzi schemes.

Bernie proved once again that you can get away with murder, but investor fraud will not be tolerated! The world also learned never to give money to anyone whose last name rhymes with “made off.”

And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for — the BIG Cheese award.

Former Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich was on track for the prize for his impeachment, removal from office, and bad hair.

Nadya “Octomom” Suleman almost won by giving birth to a litter of kids, bringing her total number of tax deductions to 14. That’s enough kids to move into a decent sized shoe.

However, only one was worthy enough to claim the 2009 BIG Cheese award. This guy’s cheesy idea of getting on national television was so ill conceived, it backfired and landed him in trouble with federal, state, and local police.

Dear readers, raise a glass for the 2009 BIG Cheese: Richard “Balloon Boy Dad” Heene.

As a dad, I know I do some dumb stuff. As far Richard Heene is concerned, the cheese stands alone. His lust for the limelight was so insatiable, he decided to cook up a lie that his son, Falcon, was stuck in a huge floating Mylar balloon.

His ticket to instant fame and fortune was punched when the son accidentally outed him during a live television interview that the whole event was a hoax.

Heene’s stunt brought air traffic to a standstill, wasted emergency resources, and made several police officers wish they’d gone to the gym before chasing that dumb balloon.

As a result, Heene and his wife received jail sentences of 90 and 20 days, respectively. Way to go, dude. The family that does time together stays together.

Well, that’s it. Sadly, there are no more awards to give out. We’ve covered the Cheesiest of 2009. I hope that 2010 will be just as cheesy as the last. We’re only a few weeks into the new year and it already seems promising.

String Cheese Article - XXIV

Kids’ curiosity creates Christmas questions

by Aryn Corley
Updated: 12.22.09

Child psychologists will fist-fight each other debating whether or not it’s socially acceptable to lie to children about Santa Claus. As a general rule, I feel people should lie to children. But if we are to lie to kids about Santa, we have to get the lie straight. Conflicting stories will expose the truth and as Jack Nicholson reminded us in “A Few Good Men” we can’t handle “the truth.” Besides, it’s children who shouldn’t lie to adults because they’re short and can’t go to jail for anything.

My own kids are starting to ask some probative questions about Santa and his activities. They may be starting to figure out the holes in the story. In this article I’ll answer some of kids’ frequently asked questions. Hopefully, it can act as a guide for adults while fending off their inquisitive minds for another year.

Here are some questions from kids about Santa and Christmas in general.

• How did Santa and Mrs. Claus meet?

Santa met his wife, Gertrude, when she was working concessions at a carnival. As the story goes, she fell madly in love with Santa after he came back for his seventh helping of cotton candy. She thought he was coming back all those times to see her. Really, he’s a huge fan of cotton candy.

• Did Santa and his wife ever have any kids?

Yes. That is until they had to deal with diapers, formula, crying, and all that post natal stuff. They both agreed that dealing with children only once a year versus all year long was a better idea. Who could blame them?

• How come Santa didn’t bring some of the toys on my list?

Kids make Christmas lists that could put ransom letters to shame. Also, Santa doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. If there were items left off your list, it was probably because of something you did.

• How many elves work at the North Pole and what does Santa pay them?

Technically, Santa’s elves are undocumented workers. So, they aren’t paid a working wage and they would not qualify for medical coverage under the new healthcare plan. Living at the North Pole also gets Santa a nice little tax shelter. There aren’t any labor laws there, either.

• How can I get my parents to let me play with the manger and the animals?

Forget it. You’re parents won’t budge. My son keeps using our nativity scene as a playset for his Star Wars figures. The other day I found the three wise men bringing gifts to the baby Yoda. If you do it, my advice is don’t get caught. If you have to ask for something, forgiveness is better than permission.

• My older brother says there’s no such thing as Santa. Is that true?

Of course there’s a Santa. Who else would bring you a bunch of things you don’t want like socks and underwear? You’ll see. Besides, there’s no empirical evidence to support the existence of older brothers.

• How does Santa get into a house without a chimney?

He uses lock picks. Before Santa got into the gift business he worked as a repo man for a loan company. Locks are no obstacle for the jolly man.

• How will I know if I’m on the “nice” or “naughty” list?

If you’re on the naughty list, you’ll get an e-mail from Santa that starts off “Dear Tiger Woods...”

Merry Christmas, everyone!

String Cheese - Article XXVIII

Keep reading, we’ll keep writing

By ARYN CORLEY

Updated: 12.15.09

This week’s String Cheese is a bit of a departure from my usual foray into the absurd. There are plenty of things going on lately to poke fun at.

The whole Tiger Woods debacle has created an endless source of comedy fodder for the best and worst of comedians.

A couple crashes a White House dinner party and eats all the little cocktail weenies before someone questions who they are.

The war in Afghanistan is intensifying while Osama Bin Laden is hiding out as a short order cook in Roswell, New Mexico.

Brett Favre plays for the Vikings.

Instead of writing something dumb, I’d like to take the time and write a “Thank You” to all the beautiful, brilliant, intelligent and talented people who enjoy my columns.

I feel a great sense of gratitude to each reader who’s taken the time to let me know how they either laughed at my article or had difficulty reading it in the restroom.

I’ve done what I set out to do which was to intentionally provide humorous content to balance out the non-funny content unintentionally supplied by the public at large.

I’m not saying that all of the news is bad. However, there is a lot of it. At least my senselessness doesn’t hurt anyone. Well, most people aren’t hurt by it.

Of course, none of this would at all be possible without my editor Vanesa Brashier who first went out on a limb to give me a forum for my ramblings. It’s hard to grasp the amount of work she does. She not only puts three papers together, but she’s a mother, a wife, and when there’s a little extra time she sleeps.

Really though, I told her that if she didn’t run my column I would toss a sack full of live kittens into the lake. Needless to say, they sank. But she felt bad for me and decided to run my column anyway.

In case you were wondering, I got the name String Cheese from two places. First, I’m a stringer, which means that I contribute articles but I’m not anywhere nearly as astute as Wukman. Secondly, how I write is “cheesy,” so I put the two together. It was either that or an advice column called “Dear Scabby...”

Another reason why I wanted to say thanks to all my readers is because of their support for our paper. This last year has been a bad year as iconic newspapers stopped their presses and dropped off the journalistic landscape.

As we continue to compete with alternative sources of news and entertainment, I appreciate those loyal readers who continue to choose the Houston Community Newspapers. See, HCN was also smart by having a copy of the paper online so that no matter where in the world you are you can get your String Cheese articles.

So if one were thrown into a Turkish prison, at least there’s a way to stay connected back home. Believe it or not, there are people from all over the world who read our local paper!

As for my String Cheese articles, as long as someone will print them, I’ll write them. Throughout history, humor has been the looking glass for which the world is scrutinized. As life throws us curve balls, I’ll do my best to show readers how to step into the pitch and take a free base. My motto is this: humor first, spelling and grammar second, and redeeming social value, rarely.

I would also like to extend a special thanks to the Curry Brothers (Kyle and Clay) who are using my articles to teach a young hunting dog to make potty on the paper.

Again, thanks so much for your support and continued reading and I hope that you pass the Cheese along to your friends and loved ones.

If you’re interested, follow me on Twitter @ArynCorley or contact me at aryncorley@gmail.com.

Who Let the Dawg In

We decided to let the dog in because this global warming is causing temperatures to drop. In order for a coon hound to stay inside it must first be bathed. Once a dog is bathed it releases a funk that will make Ralph Lauren "ralph".

Even as I write this mini article, my dog is resting his head in my "nether regions". Apparently, this is how they say "hello". Since he knows me already, I think he's just being very forward. Of course, I had him fixed several months ago so it may be he's envious that I still have my...

Speaking of golf balls, this Tiger Woods thing is spiraling out of control. Where Tiger went wrong is he left cheating out of his pre-nup. I'm sure that his wife, Elin, wouldn't have been so upset if she'd known up front that Tiger was on the prowl. Gatorade has dropped Tiger from their ads. Nike is remaining steadfast, however. In fact, they've shown support for their pitchman by changing their slogan to "Just Deny It." Tiger will undoubtedly rebound and come back bigger and stronger than before. If he does, I hope he wears a hockey mask and carries a machete.

As the healthcare debate rages on, and more troop deployments to the Middle East are imminent, Congress is mustering to figure out how Tareq and Michaele Selahi infiltrated a white house party. As James Bond already knows, you only need two things to crash a party: a tux and a pretty girl. I bet if you rip the latex mask off of Michaele Selahi you'll find that she's actually Roger Clemens. Even if the duo are dragged in front of the lazy eye of the legislative branch, the couple plans to plead the fifth amendment. Wait, is that the one which states, " Thou shalt not enter a taxpayer funded party uninvited?"

Finally, there's a great furor over the accidental release of the TSA screener manual. The sensitive government document supposedly reveals the inner most secrets of the TSA. Now anyone can practice the ancient art of looking at an 85 year old woman and knowing if she's a terrorist. There's also a special section dealing with people who have foil wrapped cucumbers stuffed in their trousers. I wouldn't know anything about that.

Thankfully, AMTRAK doesn't use screeners. In fact, people may soon be able to carry guns in their checked bags onto a train. Finally, someone has come up with a way to deal with those obnoxious businessmen in the "quiet car".

String Cheese - Article XXVII

Don’t mock my smock

By ARYN CORLEY

Updated: 11.23.09

Picture this: you feel chilly and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

It’s not the type of chill felt by Eskimos or men who live with menopausal women, but it’s still pretty annoying. There’s nothing you do can stop it. You’ve turned up the thermostat. You’ve built a fire on the living room floor. You even poured jabanero sauce all over yourself. Nothing works. Thankfully, someone invented a cure.

It’s a blanket, but not just any blanket. It’s a blanket with sleeves.

It’s called a Snuggie, and like bacteria, they’re everywhere.

I wonder, though, if this is a passing fancy or the answer to the plight of thousands who don’t know how to use flannel shirts.

The commercial shows everyday folks over the age of 40 who are blissfully enjoying the comfort of a sleeved blanket. These people are so happy and warm they don’t even care that they look like Gregorian monks. I guess when you’re suffering from chill, fashion sense is the first thing to go. One of the claims in the ad is that the Snuggie is “... great for college.”

I’ll say. No professor would dare fail you for wearing one in class for fear of having a spell cast on him.

The main selling point for the Snuggie is that it gives you the freedom to use your hands. I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt trapped like a bait shad laying underneath the heavy and oppressive quilt that my grandmother made with her arthritic hands. Although I’m warm and comfortable, I’m forced to work the television remote with my tongue. Plus, when I have to go to the bathroom I just go in the bed, couch, or wherever I happen to be parked.

Snuggies come in three colors: royal blue, sky blue, and secret society red. I wish they had one in solid black to go with the enormous wooden scythe I have in my garage. I could wear that black Snuggie while chopping weeds in my subdivision. However, that might be a bad idea given the number of retirees who live in the neighborhood.

While it may seem like a revolutionary idea, it’s not. People have been doing this for hundreds of years. They would take a deer and cut the head and feet out and wear the hide like a shirt. The idea worked like a charm until a bunch of guys got shot during hunting season. In Leonardo Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper,” everyone is wearing a Snuggie. Including the Big Man himself!

Whether I’m at the grocery store, the hardware store, or my local cabal, there’s a Snuggie on the shelf waiting to go home with some lucky consumer. I can’t go anywhere without seeing a Snuggie for sale.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about just stay up really late some night and watch a channel that has mindless drivel as its entertainment. That shouldn’t be hard and the Snuggie commercial isn’t easy to miss, either.

I’m glad there’s a remedy for such an affliction. Being chilly versus freezing is a terrible thing because it prolongs discomfort for an unspecified period of time. Whereas, at least when a person freezes, death brings an end to the discomfort.

All that notwithstanding, it’s extremely difficult to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians in a semi-cryogenic state.

String Cheese - Article XXVI

Guy rules are man-datory

by Aryn Corley
Updated: 11.18.09

It takes more than rewiring to become a guy.Being a guy requires a healthy dose of macho laced with a slight touch of immaturity. I ought to know. I’ve been doing this for a few years and I’ve gotten somewhat good at it.

The recent gender re-assignment of Chastity “Chaz” Bono lead me to think about what comes next for the former female. This article is for anyone deciding to leave womanhood to wander aimlessly through the woods of “Dudeland.” It’s also important for one to know how to earn its currency: “man credit.”

Man credit is that which makes other men look at you with an approving frown and corresponding head bob. If you’ve ever been to a car show, you know what I’m talking about. I hope this information is extremely helpful to make the transition to guy-hood complete and rewarding. I realize I may be giving away some closely guarded secrets, but it’s for the ultimate good of humanity.

I think.

It’s very important for a guy to be able to handle insects and open jars. These two skills are the only things keeping us teetering on the edge of extinction. Otherwise, we’d helplessly fall into a dark chasm of obscurity filled with yummy, creamy gravy. A woman will place a long distance phone call to have a guy come over from Europe to scoop up a dead cockroach. Jars present an interesting conundrum because, technically, it is a piece of machinery. Being able to kill spiders, make babies, and open the pickles makes us guys only a tad more useful than a Swiss Army knife.

Goodbye, Prada. Hello, Mossy Oak. The bright colors of spring and the subdued hues of fall must be thrown out the window in favor of camouflage. Color coordination is very easy when you dress like a tree.The key to a guy looking nice is having a woman who knows how to tell him how ridiculous he looks when he picks his own clothes. Guys must never shop alone for apparel unless he’s buying Garanimals. Stay away from biker leather unless you actually ride a motorcycle. Loincloths are dicey. Everything goes great with a NASCAR cap.

Guys are beasts complete with hair and grunting. Beasts eat meat. Guys are no exception. If it was cool to be a vegetarian as a woman, the opposite is true for guys. If you want to instantly lose man credit, be a vegetarian who drinks flavored water. To earn copious amounts of man-cred learn how to hunt and eat the cutest animals in the forest. If you can bag Thumper, Flower, and Bambi with nothing but a chainsaw, then you are well on your way to legendary status.

Spanish television. ’Nuff said.

Confucius once said, “Man who ask for directions is lost.” Under no circumstances are guys supposed to ask for directions. Why? Simply, put... just because. Guys aren’t lost when we drive around for hours cussing and blaming city engineers for poor traffic configurations. If we hit the OnStar button in the car it’s because the woman on the other end sounds attractive. It’s hard to be lost when everything is just around the corner.

The sense of humor between women and men are at opposite ends of the spectrum. If gender reassignment is truly successful, then Will and Grace stops being funny. Lifetime television starts to become a powerful sedative. What emerges is a fascination with rude bodily functions. Even though I’m 30 years older than my son, we’ll both die laughing with every “Bronx Cheer.” When a guy has grandchildren, he is instantly imparted with the knowledge to practice the fine art of posterior-digital actuation control. Elevators suddenly become fun houses.

I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface. “Uh...”, as an answer to the question “Do you know what day it is?” is a subject worthy of a doctorate thesis. I wish anyone wanting to be a guy the best of luck. Sometimes, it can get a little crazy.

However, there is one cardinal rule which must always be followed.

Leave the lid up.