"Put Your Shoes On, We’re At Grandma’s."

CDP Headquarters.
(Me and the Missus crunch some numbers at CDP Headquarters.)

Yeah, I’ve got nothing today.

Because of this, I’m opening up the comment section to anything you want to talk about. 4th of July plans? Vacations? Stuffing corpses in your crawl space? Sound off, and I’ll be back with new stuff next week. If you’re feeling so inclined, come up with a good caption for this photo.

MONDAY:
10 THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE.

Tin Roof Rusted.

I’m working on a lot of things right now, including the heavily-anticipated Post #400 (which will arrive in a couple weeks). To tide you over in the meantime, here are the last 20 Wikipedia articles I’ve read in my never-ending quest to become the most brilliantest man in the world. I try to take in about 50 new articles a week, concerning anything and everything interesting that I may or may not know about. Check out a few of them for yourself; you might learn something:

Yoko Ono
Simpsons Neologisms
Waverly Hills Sanatorium
Synaesthesia
Asperger Syndrome
Thomas Pynchon
Salman Rushdie
J.D. Salinger
Jandek
The Shaggs
Azaria Chamberlain Disappearance
Passive Aggressive
Taos Hum
Ball Lightning
Warren Buffett
Philip Taylor Kramer
Beatles Butcher Cover
The Misfits
Spontaneous Human Combustion
Francis Bacon

What are you Wiki-ing? Sound off in the comments section and let us know.

I had a dream the other night that I was walking alone through a crowded mall. The overhead speakers were blasting the song “Love Shack” by The B-52’s, and everyone was dancing and singing to beat the band. Everywhere I looked, customers and patrons were shaking their asses while pushing strollers, sucking down Orange Julius’ and carrying armloads of bags. It appeared as if they were all having a great time.

Just then, a young man pushing a stroller whizzed past me. He was a white-gangsta’ wannabe, wearing impossibly baggy clothing, rocking a sideways baseball cap and sporting a huge medallion. He was also singing loudly and moving to “Love Shack,” all while violently wrenching around the stroller, which was carrying a newborn baby.

I was concerned for the infant, so I confronted the man. “Dude, be careful!” I said. “You’ve got a baby in there!”

The man stopped his song and dance, looked up and grabbed me by the collar. I could tell he was pretty angry as he pushed me up against the window of a Barnes & Noble.

Looking right into my eyes with all the seriousness and emotion in the world, he said:

“She’s sixteen years old.”

He then jerked my collar free and let me go. I woke up seconds later.

I’ve chosen to have myself voluntarily committed. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

Give Me Some Skin.

Give me some skin.

To me, the start of summer only means one thing: 90 straight days of mind-blowing sunburns.

As an embarrassingly pale man, getting a sunburn is about as easy as beating Shaq in a game of ‘Horse.’ I needn’t be outside for more than a picosecond to instantly transform my baby-smooth exterior into a mass of pink, stingy nerve endings. From June 3, right up until September 10, I’m rendered freakish and unpleasant in the eyes of friends and neighbors; invitations to parties cease and desist. Nobody wants to see Old Creepy McBurnyface singing karaoke; it tends to bring down a room.

The term ‘tan’ is not in my vocabulary. This word means nothing to me; sort of like ‘zork’ and ‘scalene.’ Unless I liberally lubricate my pores with SPF-Nuclear Holocaust lotion, I’m screwed.

A few years ago, me and the Missus went to an outdoor concert. I asked her to put lotion on my face, making sure she knew how susceptible I was to UV rays. She did not take this warning seriously, and carelessly streaked a few drops of lube across my melon. When the show was over, it looked as if I wanted to highlight certain parts of my forehead that were more important than the others.

And now, an awful story from my childhood.

In the late 80’s to early 90’s, I helped out on my family’s dairy farm during the summer. One summer weekend in particular left me with the Queen Mother of all sunburns on my legs. I had been wearing shorts, and the result left me looking like I was wearing a permanent pair of red socks. from the knees to the ankles, I was charred beyond recognition.

I took care of my crimson legs for days on end, gently soaking and aloe-izing them before I went to bed each night. Even at such a young age, I was an expert at the art of third-degree burn treatment. I had experienced many a sunburn by that point in my life, but I knew that this one was different- even special, somehow. I didn’t realize why I felt that way until the big day finally came.

I woke up on a humid Sunday morning and swung my wok-fried stumps over the edge of the bed. That’s when I noticed the beginnings of a peel on each of my calves. Wide-eyed, with a skilled and steady hand, I proceeded to peel off my skin like an honest-to-goodness sock, producing two snake-like sheddings, each about a foot long. It took me about a half-hour, and they were absolutely beautiful. I held these giant hunks of flesh up for inspection, and everything suddenly became well worth the wait.

I couldn’t let these go to waste. I had to do something with them. But what?

My attention focused to the small, black-and-white television I had in my room. The reception from this TV was horrible, and no matter which way I manipulated the rabbit ears, I got nothing but static and white noise. However, I did notice that the picture came in much better as long as I kept my hands on the antennas.

Scientifically speaking, I now know that the reason for this is because we humans give off a certain amount of electricity, which acts as kind of a booster for the TV antenna. As a child, all I knew was that I couldn’t hold onto the antenna and watch the tube at the same time. Perhaps I could fake the TV out somehow, by making it think I was holding onto the rabbit ears.

I think you know where I’m going with this.

Imagine the look on my Mom’s face when she walked into my room, only to see me watching a television with two giant balls of human skin affixed to the antennas.

I Want A Suburban Home.

Old and busted.
Old and Busted – Current location of CDP Headquarters.

New hotness.
New Hotness – Future location of CDP Headquarters.

We’re moving, you see. The date is September 1.

Location-wise, this place is less than a block away from our old one, which allows us to stay in our retirement community neighborhood and remain the youngest couple on the grid. I like that.

The decision to move was an absolute no-brainer. I’m not going to ramble on about the upgrades and whatnot, just assume that everything in the new place is probably bigger and better than everything in the old place. The damage? Less than $50 a month more than our old loft. Scandal!

And get this, full basement. I’m already shopping around for pool tables and tiki bars.

The place used to be inhabited by a retired widow who decided to up and move to a smaller place in her old age. She took amazing care of it; although we’ll have to spend hundreds to remove the ‘old lady’ smell from the carpeting. These particular locations seldom open up, so we jumped on the first chance to rent something that at least vaguely resembled an actual house.

We have a yard! A yard that I don’t have to mow!

New hotness.

This will be the view from my kitchen window. I’ve never had a kitchen window before.

Me and the Missus have a lot of work to do up until that point. We’ve already hired movers to haul over our bigger items, and we’re taking a week off of work to properly settle in thereafter. We’re shopping for a new bed, and are looking into creative ways to make the basement rock properly. I can assure you that once we’re all set up, I’ll throw the mother of all housewaming parties, and you won’t even have to bring gifts.

Until then, I’ll be watching The Burbs and carefully packing boxes.

New hotness.

What do you have to say about it? Sound off in the comments section, and enjoy your Monday.

Hot Enough For You?

An Inconvenient Truth.

“The era of procrastination, of half-measures, of soothing and baffling expedients, of delays, is coming to a close. In its place we are entering a period of consequences.”Winston Churchill

Thank you, Al Gore. Thank you for showing us that Global Warming is not a political issue. Thank you for showing us that global warming is not a national issue. It is a planetary fact, and must be dealt with instantly. Thank you for criss-crossing the country and passionately educating people on the cause and effect. You have created a documentary that is vital, and I am urging people to check this out if they plan on taking in a movie over the next few weeks.

Thank you for scaring the poop directly from my pants.

You Are What I Eat.

Showin' The Ween.

I received a piece of negative e-mail yesterday, which I happen to get from time to time. Usually, I respond to said e-mails with such brilliant sarcasm and clever wit, the culprit in question is all but forced to write me back and apologize, sometimes even sending me small gifts or fruit. I like to deal with these disputes in private, because I would like you to think that all the readers of the CDP constantly agree with every teensy-weensy thing I have to say. Today, I’m forced to pull down the iron curtain of awesome.

Last week, I posted the wildly successful ‘CDP Guide To Vegetarianism.’ This received almost instant acclaim, earning me many e-mails of praise, an armload of ‘Bloggie’ awards and a cover shoot for Veggin’ Out magazine. I was pretty happy about the whole thing.

Then I got this e-mail from a fellow named ‘Litespeed.’ I’m only making this e-mail and response public because I think it concerns you guys a bit. Here is the full e-mail; I’ve edited nothing out:

Just so that you don’t believe we all fell off the proverbial turnip truck, you should read the allowable amounts of rat hairs and feces and insect parts in all your vegan products. I am not even going to get into the whole and complete dust mites in cereals and other grain products not to mention your pillows. These animal parts are consumed by you every single day.

So, what are you saying, that you are more pure because you only eat small animals and insects and animal parts? Is someone less pregnant who is only three days pregnant and not 3 months? If a woman takes only small amounts of money for sex is she less of a whore than one who does it less often and takes large amounts of money?

Man is an omnivore. That is fact. We have canine teeth. That is fact. On this planet and in our seas, we have many animal, insect, fish and even plants that consume other living creatures.

If you take some moral ground argument or the position that animals are not dispatched humanely, I can buy that. They often are not. When wolves take down an animal or large cats do and they start eating it alive from the anus forward, it is inhumane. If God designed this earth and this was his intent, or he was a bumbling fool who kept trying and trying over the millennium and still has not got it right and it is beyond his meager abilities, well that is not going to be corrected by man who like all God’s creations is a real screwed up piece of work.

We are what we are. We eat sugar and it is bad for our teeth. We consume caffeine and it stimulates us to a heart attack and sleeplessness. You can really and truly make arguments against virtually anything. As they say in the legal community, it is quite easy to indict and convict a ham sandwich and sentence it to prison for life or have it executed. I know. You would choose the latter.

I say, stop your preaching. You lie when you say you are trying only to reach those who already want to be vegans. You are truthfully trying to get as many people to convert as you can. Well, why not? Catholics have been doing the same thing for centuries and look at the wonderful things they have accomplished doing that. Everyone wants others to do as they do. It is human. Only less developed animal life does not do this. Hmmmmm.

There you go. As far as negative e-mails go, this one was rather harmless and general. I’m more used to the ‘you suck’ and ‘you’re gay’ varieties, so it’s always nice to get something that was obviously labored on for some time. Again though, I brought this out in the open because ‘Litespeed’ calls out my reading audience. He thinks you can’t make decisions for yourselves. He thinks that you’ll do whatever I tell you to. He thinks that people cannot change their primal instincts, regardless of whether or not it’s for the better. To me, this is stunningly ignorant and closed-minded.

Here then, my response:

‘Litespeed,’

1. I never denied that there wasn’t rat hair, mites or feces in foods other than meat; I simply spotlighted meat because that was the focus of my post. It was, after all, called ‘The CDP Guide To Vegetarianism.’ There are plenty of people who don’t realize all the ass-nasty things they ingest every day, so I was just throwing that fact out a reminder. Believe me, there are folks out there that were surprised by that fact, although they are far less intelligent than you, I suppose.

I also noticed that you referred to vegetarian food as ‘your vegan products.’ They’re not mine, dude; they belong to everyone. You can even grab some for yourself at the local market. Don’t be afraid, they love you!

2. I never said I was ‘pure,’ nor did I say I was striving for purity. I’m far from it. I drink way too much alcohol to call myself a saint, and I like professional wrestling. I also made several comments concerning the fact that I don’t mind people who hunt for the purposes of feeding their family. I ate meat constantly as I grew up, and I have no problem if you want to keep on keeping on. I was speaking from personal opinion and experience, which is the only thing I honestly care about. Eating something by accident is far different than eating something on purpose. Why, just yesterday I was walking down the street when I slipped on some refuse and swallowed a pig. Boy, was my face red.

FYI, that thing about a woman being pregnant for three days versus three months; I totally agree with that. If a woman’s been pregnant for three months, then yes, she is more pregnant than a woman who’s been with child for three days. Do the math; no religion or politics required.

3. True, man is an omnivore. The CDP, however, is an herbivore. I also play the drums, so I’ve got a lot of things going for me.

True, we have canine teeth. We also have an appendix, a tailbone, a ring finger and a lot of other crap I never use. Just because we have the bombs doesn’t mean we have to drop them, and just because you have sharp teeth doesn’t mean you have to use them to tear through beef 24/7. I sometimes use them to open CD’s. CD’s by vegan rock bands.

4. I think you took my religious arguments a little too seriously. I’m not trying to change the world or right any wrongs, and I’m certainly not trying to correct God’s mistakes (I don’t have the time; have you ever seen a giraffe?). I’m a vegetarian, not a humanitarian or anything else that ends in -arian. I prefer to practice isolationism and every man for themself-ishness. I simply prefer animals because they don’t send me cumbersome e-mails that I have to pick apart. Your ideas on my ‘mission’ are far greater than anything I’ve ever set out to do, and I thank you for thinking so highly of me. I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on people.

5. Again, just because you can do something, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s right to do so. I actually don’t take in caffiene, and I have absolutely no idea what you were talking about with your ‘ham sandwich’ joke. Leave the funny stuff to me.

6. Am I trying to change people to vegetarianism? Well, possibly, but I think you’re overestimating my reach and power over the common man. I’m not Ryan Seacrest, here. They can make their own decisions, just like you. You’re a big boy, and you can eat my share of meat if you choose; I’m not playing ball for my own reasons. Furthermore, there’s a difference between ‘vegan’ and ‘vegetarian;’ you should have looked into that before you wrote this e-mail up, it would have helped your case a bit. I’m not a vegan, I don’t plan on becoming a vegan, and I don’t even know if I like vegans.

I’m a hypocrite. I’m a sinner.

There’s a shocker. I’m not even pretending to change that. I like me.

I don’t eat meat because it’s not good for my health, I hate the business behind it and I’m trying to avoid killing as many animals as I can, even though it’s bound to happen every once in a while. I’m doing this for me, and I also know it wasn’t the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I figured it would be a decision a lot of others considered making, so I wanted to put something into the blogosphere that was slightly less preachy and more real-world as far as the circumstances go.

I’ve succeeded, because people have applauded my efforts, and I pissed you off.

Sincerely,
The CDP.

In conclusion, I don’t really see what this guy’s point was. I think he was trying to tell me to stop the preaching and accept that fact that people will do what they were bred to do. Okay, then. Not the best advice in the world, but it’s a feather in my cap.

What do you think? Sound off in the comments section or e-mail me at communistdance@yahoo.com.

Cotton Anniversary.

06-19-04

As of today, me and the Missus have been married for two years.

730 days.
17,520 hours.
1,051,200 minutes.
63,072,000 seconds.

We’ve been a couple for almost seven years.

2555 days.
61,320 hours.
3,679,200 minutes.
220,752,000 seconds.

In the near-seven years we’ve been an item, there have been only two days where we didn’t see each other.

2 days.
48 hours.
2880 minutes.
172,800 seconds.

While I don’t remember these two days personally, the Missus assures me that they exist. I guess we got into a bit of fight sometime during high school, and I skipped school for two days because I was afraid to face her or something. Sounds about right, and I’m certain that it was my fault. Regardless, we ran out of interesting things to tell each other in 2001. Nowadays, we just sit around and talk about things that other people have done in their lives; usually celebrities and professional athletes.

Every time another one of these relationship milestones comes and goes, her parents always remark at how amazed they are. Mainly due to the fact that the Missus’ attention span doesn’t allow her to keep suitors or interests longer than a few weeks. I’m aware of this, so I’m always thinking of new ways to keep the marriage fresh. Here are some ideas that have worked well for me in the past; try them out for yourself sometime:

1. Every few weeks, I’ll get home from work early and break something that’s special to her. This can be something like a family heirloom, or perhaps an expensive dress. When she comes home, I have her walk around and hunt for the item in question, while informing her if she’s ‘hot’ or ‘cold.’ She used to cry, but now has grown quite accustomed to the fun and unpredictable nature of it.

2. You have to get out of the house and do something as a couple at least once every two weeks. It’s best to do something collaborative, where you can put your heads together and work as a team. For this, we usually head out to a small border town and kidnap a stranger. We don’t kill them or anything, we just scare the whiz out of them and dump them off at a bus station. Just try to keep from making out after an adrenaline rush like that.

3. I sometimes go to work naked. Now, the Missus really doesn’t know I do this, but she can see it in my swagger when I return home.

When you spend every waking moment with someone, it becomes more and more difficult not to simply take them for granted. Some days, it’s quite easy to regard a significant other as someone who’s just always around, much like a couch or house plant. In order to combat this, I suggest fighting for no reason. The second you start to feel like your husband or wife is non-existant, just do something so monumentally stupid that they have no choice but to bust your chops for the next four days. It keeps things fresh, and there’s never a dull moment.

In the end, I’m just really glad that the Missus allows me to be her house plant. Happy Cotton Anniversary, Celia. I love you more than toast.

Click here to be shot two years back in time to our wedding day. Click here to be shot back just one, to our first anniversary. Sound off in the comments section, and tell me how proud you are of the two of us.