Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, CockSucker, MotherFucker, and Tits

I don't usually care when celebrities pass away, as most celebrities just aren't worth caring about. George Carlin, though, was a funny man with huge balls who I greatly admire.

That's all I'll say. Now, enjoy a couple of Carlin's greatest hits (thanks, YouTube):


First, on religion:


And now, the great one:

Time to get some dirt under my nails.

I went to buy my wedding band last weekend, and much to my surprise, they don't make the one I want in the size I need. I'm a size 14.5. The ring only goes up to size 13. What a predicament.

All last week I thought about shopping around or having one custom-made. I suppose that might work, but it seems like the problem isn't necessarily that the ring is too small. It just may be that my finger is too big.

So, as of this weekend, I'm going to make my life a better one. Run more. Eat (and drink) better and less. Take control of my health and my life. Because as (and talk about great advice from unlikely places) Chad Johnson in the latest ESPN Magazine:

"Some people say the grass is always greener on the other side. I say be the gardner. Water the grass. Feed the grass. Make your own grass grow.

I make the grass grow wherever I am.

I am the gardner."

Esquire? Really?

(Good) Relationship advice come from unlikely sources sometimes. Here's some from the typically annoying Esquire:

"The Faithful Man is a stranger among men. Among men, where it is an article of faith that no man is capable of sexual fidelity--that sexual fidelity is, in evolutionary terms, unnatural--the Faithful Man is considered suspect. Because infidelity is seen as entrepreneurial, he is seen as lacking in the drive and daring that make for compromised husbands and successful capitalists.

Go to a steak house: At the same table where an Unfaithful Man counts his latest conquest, the Faithful Man keeps a prim silence about his principled surrender. Even when a friend who avers that he could never stay faithful asks the Faithful Man how he does, the Faithful Man makes excuses for his success rather than boasts about it. "I dunno," he says. "I guess I have a great wife."

Among men, he accepts the moral equivalence of fidelity and infidelity, because moral judgment is one of the few deal breakers in male friendships. Among men, he presents his fidelity as a condition passively acquired--as something that just happened to him--because he doesn't want to present it as an ideal he has actively pursued. And so, among men, he has a secret, and the secret is this: He does judge. He does presume that fidelity is morally superior to infidelity. He does idealize it, and he does actively pursue it. Indeed, he knows fidelity wouldn't be worth the bother--it wouldn't even be possible--if he didn't tell himself it was the most important thing in the world.

In the absence of a sustaining mythology of male faithfulness, he has had to develop his own private one, wherein he struggles to be true not just to his wife and his family but also to himself. At issue is the question of choice, and choosing is the difference between surrender and defeat. Sure, the Faithful Man has surrendered to his vows and his marriage and, yes, his wife. But he has chosen to surrender, because the choice, as he sees it, is not between cheating and not cheating; it's between love and the utter desolation and meaninglessness of lies. He has had to draw the line in order to walk it, and he has had to give up some part of his volition in order to keep himself whole.

How does he know that he's chosen? Well, he knows he's chosen because he knows he chooses. Every day, when he wakes up to his home and his life and his wife's face on the pillow, he makes sure to say, "Yes, this," or more important, "Yes, her," because fidelity without active assent is just as futile and confining and absurd as other men say it is. Every day he chooses, every day he has to choose, every day he has to keep on choosing, every day until he's dead. And when one of his friends asks him how he does it, he's only trying to tell the truth when he mutters, "I dunno. I guess I have a great wife."

New Home.

I'm in, and I'm thrilled.




That's what he said.

Another quote, this time from a Salon.com article entitled "How Rock Band Saved My Marriage"

Life is filled with unpleasant realities. We have to watch what we eat and go to the dentist; we have to control our spending and unplug our electrical devices at night, lest we become obese and toothless, drowning in a sea of consumer debt and glacial melt. None of us can stay 18, and very few of us will ever be rock stars. It's important to acknowledge this; it's healthy. But sometimes we need to escape into a daydream in order to face what we've become, and what we will be. And if once in a while you can escape with someone else, then that's about the best you can do.

I know I'm not in my 30's or 40's yet. Hell, I'm not even technically in my mid 20's yet. But still, I see myself aging. Getting bigger. More mature. Less energetic. I'm starting to realize that if I ever want to get better or thinner or smarter, then the time is now.

Pretty soon I'll be staring at my life and I'll be too far gone to ever go back. This scares the living shit out of me.

And that's why, starting today, I'm making life a more fun, more centered and just all around better trip. Join in if you want, but brace yourself. If I know myself as well as I think I do, then it's gonna be one wild and crazy ride.

Quote

I would say I want to do a quote of the day (and I will try), but it'll probably just end up being whenever one smacks me across the face.

Here's what hit me today:

"Wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows."

-- Martin Luther King, Jr.

What the fuck?

OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

For those of you that know me, you know this just ain't right.

Damn it! That sentence contained no fucking swear words.

OK, I think we've probably beaten that one into the ground now.

Ass.