We know that dating is the worst. So is internet dating. Where do these people even come from? I tell myself that it’s not so strange. I tell myself that if I use internet dating, so do other regular people [editor’s note: haha – Amandoll]. I tell myself that it’s 2016 and I do everything on the internet. I tell myself that I’ve met plenty of people through The Online, including Amandoll, Hoffman, Daniel Haun, Alext, Grogberries, and Cheston. I tell myself that I’ve met plenty of dates on there and they went just fine.

But oh, the ones that didn’t…

Stranger Danger

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The literary world is rich and full of wonder. I know that we are all avid readers of fine books and voracious readers of fine periodicals and delicious websites that offer fine journalism such as the one you are reading right this very minute. Reading what has been written is a joy that every literate person takes pleasure in, and if you know of anyone who is illiterate, why not be their hero and teach them to read? Or donate to charities, because everyone loves donating to charities!

Anyway, I am here to talk about a nursery rhyme. Adults often overlook nursery rhymes in the Land of Literature. We memorize them when we are very small, then cast them aside once we can comprehend child fictions about riding horses, or little books about not being afraid of the dark, or not being afraid of failure, or owning and riding dinosaurs, or having imaginary friends. But those first nursery rhymes are very important for us as tiny youths, and we probably still have most of them buried away in our brains, ready to be recited at the drop of any old hat anywhere.

The subjects of a lot of these nursery rhymes are actually kind of creepy. We have all heard about that one rhyme really being about the bubonic plague horrors and everyone dying. There are others too, so it stands to reason that pretty much all of these rhymes are based on adult themes and death and destruction, or in the case of that disgusting Georgie Porgie – date rape.


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I haven’t seen The Three Caballeros since I was about eight or nine years old at my grandma’s house. And even then, I am not sure if I saw the whole thing, as it is incredibly boring for a child to sit through. If you haven’t seen it, it is basically a weird Disneyfied “documentary” (or maybe it is just “vaguely educational” instead?) that tells you a little bit about our beautiful friends to the south, the Central and South Americans, in little segments. Well, the plot is that Donald Duck receives a mysterious gift in the mail or something and then he watches it and we do too and so we learn with Donald, and that seems simple enough. Except of course that it turns out to be not that simple after all.

three caballeros

As with all good things, it began with boredom and YouTube, my adventure. And ends with my inability to craft a pleasant looking sentence, it appears! Well, this is what you get. Anyway, the other while ago I decided that I wanted to watch something. Now it is true that there is television and there are cable channels where I am, but it is also true that I have gone so much of my life without having a television of my own that I don’t really want to navigate channels and mute advertisements anymore. So there was YouTube. And somehow or another in the related video list, I noticed The Three Caballeros — FULL LENGTH.

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Money is grosser than gross. It is essentially nasty garbage that everybody wants and feels compelled to carry around in their pockets. “Look at that nasty garbage,” people say, “I want it very much. I want to take the nasty garbage with my bare hands, and place it lovingly in the pocket of my pants. Then I will carry around the nasty garbage with me for some time, before exchanging it for goods or services, giving the nasty garbage to someone else who would very much like it. I love you, nasty garbage.” I might be paraphrasing.

do not touch

After over two decades of experience and exhaustive research, I have concluded that no one should ever touch paper money. Not you, not me, definitely not your children or other loved ones. Not ever, and not even a little bit. Maybe you can let your pets handle your cash, but remember that that’s the same creature that eats its own poops and greets others by sticking its entire face in their assholes.

Why is it that something so coveted by everyone should be so detestable? Why? WHY?! Calm down, psycho, you don’t have to yell. I’ll tell you.

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Another Presidents’ Day has come and will soon be gone, ladies and gentlemen, and I find myself feeling a little older and wiser because of it. Presidents’ Day is a blissful time of year, a glorious holiday that has retained its quiet dignity. Very little commercialism surrounds it. We are not inundated by P.D. cartoons, mascots, hassles, guilt. In fact, it is mostly ignored. Between Valentines Day and Chinese New Year, mid-February is an active time of planning and celebrating.

I think it is time for a change! Let’s remove focus from that pink and red heart-shaped atrocity known as Valentines Day – who needs it anyway – and begin celebrating Presidents’ Day the way it should be celebrated! I think that it being mostly known as yet another day when the lazy postal workers get to not deliver our precious mail, and one more day when mattress salesmen get to host a SALE SALE SALE, is a shame and a tragedy. There have been many great men among our list of 44 or so Presidents. And many not-that-great men, too.

Scientists tell me that Americans know only a handful of our president guys. George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are seen everywhere you look, and Jefferson, FDR, JFK, Ted Roosevelt, and some of the more recent presidents are also pretty famous, too. But what of the early 1800s? What did they have to offer? And the late 1800s, what about them? They had their characters and their scandals, but they go by largely unnoticed by Joe or Jane Anybody. Historians are the only people both good and brave enough to write books for other historians to read, books about these commanders-in-chief, so that they do not fade into obscurity. But I don’t want the historians to fight the good fight alone! I want to help them!

In the future, I will help create a world where Presidents’ Day is marked by parades, and themed parties where people dress up in costumes modeled after their favorite presidents. I will contribute with various desserts and appetizers which actually look like the presidents, or maybe will represent the snacks that they are recorded to have actually enjoyed. There will also be cards sent and given to each other. That is how I have helped this year. I have made a handful of cards highlighting the faces and one short quote from some of the lesser-loved presidents. These cards are drawn on MS Paint and would include the accompanying text on the backs, if MS Paint allowed there to be backs. In fact, these are more than simple greeting cards, these are modelled after collectible Wildlife Cards that you might have gotten as nerdy children who were interested in zoology. I couldn’t have been the only one!

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I’ll be bringing you a little yuletide cheer this week by talking a little bit about Nestor the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey. Oh, wait. Did I say “cheer” because that is actually the opposite of what I meant to say. What I have dredged from my soup of far distant childhood memories is a Christmas special that I saw when I was maybe eight or nine that was SO DEPRESSING that I only saw it once, and it made me cry. It made me cry outrageously hard. This animation AGED ME far beyond my years and I will never forgive it.


I don’t even know how popular this one is. When I was little, I loved animated specials very much, so I would be sure to catch them whenever they were on. Not this one though. I am not sure if it is because I just avoided it magically, or if it was only shown one time because it inspired a wave of angry calls from parents. I can’t really even remember what upset me so much about it, except for one obvious part I will tell you about in a moment, as we watch it together, hand in hand.

So, let’s get this over with, my friends, my strangers. Let’s watch Nestor the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey – for the first time in decades. Let’s see if it will stir up more feelings, feelings I have spent a lifetime trying to silence. And for those of you who don’t feel like watching along with me, I’ll just summarize this son of a button for you as it goes along.

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Lately I’ve been trying to find something that I can eat for lunch at work that doesn’t come out of that part of the frozen meal section that oh so many middle-aged women huddle around at your local supermarket. While those frozen meals are generally okay, I find myself slowly spiraling into depression more and more with every microwave thawing of one. I have no idea why. Maybe because it makes me sad that I would much rather be eating SpaghettiOs straight out of the can than sitting there deciding if I would rather get another frozen brick of French Mushroom Italian Delight Panini, or Italian Lobster Fish Fart Bake. At least SpaghettiOs have a taste. They taste like SpaghettiOs. All of that frozen stuff just tastes like microwave radiation, no matter how many fancy ingredients you claim are in it.

As much as I would like to just drink a can of SpaghettiOs at work, I feel I need to be a bit more “adult” in my lunch approach. So I did what any confused person that has no clue what the fuck they want does at the supermarket and wandered into the mystical International Foods aisle. I was instantly greeted with more than a few lunch options: mostly a bunch of generic rice packets and other assorted ricey things. But that shit need not even apply because out of the corner of my eye, I spotted these little beauties:

Cup Noodle

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It’s possible that this is not a universal problem. It’s possible trying repeatedly to contact local charities and non-profits and never hearing back is something that happens to only me. It’s possible that these particular places are bad at responding. It’s also possible that they hate me and are ignoring me. Yes, all 17 of them.

If you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about, let me enlighten you. I am a nice person occasionally, and I like to help people out. Although I do sometimes donate money, when I am dealing with local organizations, I prefer to offer time, resources, or even pay for things they need and bring it to them. Generally, I find a non-profit or charity that mentions specific items they need. I contact them at the exact email address where they say “contact us about this” and I often follow up to the address listed on a Contact Us page on their website.

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