Friday, June 29, 2007

Jail the Jaywalkers!

Many a dangerous criminal and violent psychopath go undetected for years. They have no criminal history, no outstanding warrants, no accusations of sodomy or ferret-fucking made about them over the water cooler. They are, in the law’s eye, safe and ideal citizens: kind, normal, acquiescent and predictable.

You can see them buying broccoli, bananas, detergent and milk at your local supermarket. You nod to them in front of your house as you are taking out the trash. You smile at them as they pass you on your way to work.

They are entirely indistinguishable from other ordinary folk, working 9 to 5, trying to survive, raise families, and understand the meaning of life. They have clothing preferences and movie favorites, opinions on politics and thoughts about music. They eat, sleep, love, breathe and count stars just like you.

They are lawyers, bus drivers, artists, propeller makers, seatbelt engineers, writers, migration workers, waiters, water pipe salesmen, NGO organizers, marketing specialists, yoga instructors, volcanic tour guide leaders, financial specialists, aspiring script play writers, physical therapists, dildo mold makers, sex therapy doctors, grad students, ship-in-bottle builders, and educators.

Sometimes, you don’t even know they’re criminals until you catch them red-handed in vile acts of abominable law-breaking and terrorism.

Luckily, authorities caught one of these two-faced, deviant devils this morning. Now, we can have a better picture of the felonious transgressors who commit some of the most deplorable and dubious dick-slaps to societal law.

At 7:44 a.m. today, a white female English teacher was observed walking across the street on her way to work. One of Seattle’s finest motorcycle cops noticed that the ‘Don’t Walk’ signal had begun to flash just as the sinning teacher placed her heathen sneakers onto the road. Although the signal remained green as she safely crossed the street, and no driver or pedestrian was inconvenienced or harmed by her crossing, the esteemed officer luckily captured this national threat.

Though the suspected terrorist subversive has not been detained, she has been issued a $56 traffic infraction for crossing the street while the ‘Don’t Walk Red Hand’ flashed.

We can all, now, feel safer because justice has been served, and Seattle has been immunized against the impending national security threat that this jay-walking, terrorist teacher posed.

Sigh of relief…

Editor’s question: Should I fight the infraction or allow justice to be served and my country made safer? I mean, it's only $56... but, it's $56! And... can I use the: "It's the principle of the thing!" argument here?

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Delusions of Invisibility

We were talking about invisibility cloaks.
As people often do…

in multi-national ESL grammar classes
(when they are not discussing conjunctions, prepositions, declining bee populations, nuclear contraception and global cucumber size standards).

The class was divided, and a civil debate raged in broken English. Half of the students believed that we would never gain the ability to make objects invisible to the human eye, while the other half claimed we already had the technology, and it was only a matter of years before exploration of the military applications decreased government masturbation time by fifty percent.

I, of course, being the objective teacher, sat straddling the proverbial wooden fence. I moderated, asked provocative questions of each side and poked holes in faulty arguments, pausing only occasionally to pluck fence splinters from my crotch.

I was in Teachers’ Paradise. You’ve heard of the place, I’m sure. It’s a mythical land of plenty where critical thinking skills play games of lacrosse with social skills, and hillsides of curiosity sing with the laughter and debate of mentally inquisitive students. Newly gained knowledge seeps into lively conversation, and beneath every tree of suggestion, new ideas sprout.

I tell you, it was spectacular. Assertions and rebuttals made in the Future Perfect Continuous Tense were flying around like child porn round a minister’s hard drive, and Conditional Passives were mobilizing more quickly than child therapists round a military base.

But, even the finest persimmon rots.

And when I returned from skipping through the knowledge field of flowers in my day-dreamed Teachers’ Paradise, I was forced to hear the REAL discussion going on in my classroom. At that moment, I was flogged by a splintered plunger handle of reality, and any engorged pride I once had in my own teaching skills was immediately deflated.

“If I be indivisible tomorrow, it’s means every soldiers can’t feel me. He don’t touch me and I can murder him not justice.”

“Yes. And I think by 2050, we will have been being make indivisibility by government. This we will have been become a lot of dangerous.”

What? So much for my perceived idyllic debate of logic and insight, and so much for my sanity…

While I thought we were talking about the scientific possibility and potential ramifications of creating a Harry Potter-style Invisibility cloak, we were in fact discussing whether or not humans could be chopped up and divided into little pieces by the government and ‘touched’ and ‘felt’ by soldiers.

Hmmm. Yup, it’s time to call the Nuthouse recruiters. We have yet another delusional ESL teacher to catch.

P.S. For the record: I don’t exaggerate the English skill of my students for comedic purposes. I don’t have to. They really talk like this.

Plus, I've met a few native English speakers who dream of this level of literacy.

And, although they are patriots, these honest souls are still not quite sure if their nation is indivisible, invisible, miserable, commiserable or even liveable...

Thursday, June 14, 2007

On Dust, Welcoming, and Paris Hilton

I’d rather read about dust accumulation on unused dildos.
I’d rather read about moth ball replacements in old farts’ closets.
I’d rather read about the international distribution of pocket lint.

I’d rather read about almost anything, really….

Anything but Paris Hilton.

But damn if I didn’t just get a great giggle out of reading my good friend’s post about the very subject! Check it out at his first virgin blog:

Grog Fog Blog

(Sending a big Blogosphere Welcome to Scotts, my hilariously entertaining, long-time Japan-residing, amazing photograph-taking, thought-inspiring, brilliantly blathering brother in Hawaii! May your days of Bloghood be plentiful, and may you save me from reading many a dildo dust story!)

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Cry of the not-so-mute mime

I admit I’m probably a scary teacher.

A lovable teacher, yes, but an obviously crazy one.

Afterall, it’s not natural for any human to spontaneously burst into animated gorilla improvisations when explaining uses of gerunds and infinitives. Nor is it considered sane to employ another human being to pick their nose so that you can illustrate the uses of the past perfect continuous tense. (He had been picking his nose when the gorilla decided to interrupt him.)

But, that’s why I love my job. As an ESL teacher I am, by design and purpose, encouraged to foster a comfortable environment in which everyone can theatrically pick their nose, scratch their rear hairs and pretend to be a gorilla. The students are, afterall, learning a new language that will inevitably make them look like idiots at some point when they misuse it, so why not make them comfortable with that feeling right away?

Unfortunately, I’ve found more often that it’s just me who feels like the idiot.

Student: I like ramen. And I enjoy bagels. They are very delicious.

Me: No way!!?? (exaggerated arm-flaling) You like ramen?? (exaggerated slurping gestures) Oh my god (mocking prayer reenactment), you like New York style bagels too?? I can’t believe it!! (exaggerated facial expressions of disbelief) But don’t you think the demand (overacted grabbing gestures) for onion bagels (donut sketches on the whiteboard) promotes excessive planting of onions fields (mimed tears over onion chopping) resulting in infertile soil? (lying on the floor, pretending to be nutrient-depleted earth)

Student: Uh… I don’t like onion bagels.

Me: Oh.

I’m becoming increasingly worried that my tendency to over-use gestures and childish imagination might one day be the end of my social life.

(dramatic enactment of tears rolling down my face onto my Mac)

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Web Search Apology

Sometimes you need quick, peripheral information about something.
Sometimes you want to expand your already profound knowledge of a topic.
Sometimes you’re looking for validation or disproof of an outlandish claim.
Sometimes you’re just bored and want to know what info exists on the www about baby sock alterations, coprophilia and acrylic paints….

Whatever your reasons for using Google Search may be,
I wish you luck.

I do, however, sincerely apologize to the guy today who typed into Google Search:

“why can i only get one erection a day?”

and landed on a blog page about gay flamingos.

Terribly sorry.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

I’m a “Flam Hag”

(slightly different from the colloquial “Fag Hag”)

As I stated in my last post, I like gay flamingos.

Yes, The Gay Flamingo (or The Flaming Fuchsia Phoenicopterus, as it is known by genus tossers), is perhaps one of the most delightful of dinner party topics (or guests, for that matter).

It has a long, sexy neck capable of various acts of sensual dexterity, lovely webbed feet (which we all know were sculpted in the image of the Almighty Platypus), and a downwardly-bent bill which differentiates it from The Homo Heron or The Sissy Stork (who are both far inferior cocktail party conversation catchers).

The Flaming Pink Flamingo is most often recognized by the fact that it stands on one leg.
Although some scientists attribute this to an attempt to conserve body heat/energy and to keep its legs from getting wet, I think we can clearly say that this is a seductive ploy on the part of the hetero-heathen flamingo to entice other flaming companions.

I mean, don’t humans employ this same tactic when trying to lure a mate? Don’t women often drape partially-revealing clothing over their voluptuous bosoms to inspire in their pursuers a desire for the mysterious and unattainable? Don’t men (when hoping to cunt-spelunk) sometimes quote dead philosophers/poets and learn to play “Blackbird” on the guitar, hoping to ignite intrigue and mystery about their deep thoughtfulness and sensitivity (and, thus, SEX appeal)?

In this same way, I believe the Flaming Flamingo hides his leg in order to fertilize the curiousity of his potential wing-slappers.

Anyway..., that's it.... I think The Flaming Flamingo (along with its hetero cohorts) is pretty feather-flappin' special.

Afterall..., if he can filter out mud and silt from his diet using the lamellae which line his mandibles....,

just what ELSE can this exquisite pink prince do with his hairy tongue?

*For info about this spectacular creature, please contact a qualified biologist, ornithologist or flamingologist to do a Google search for you.

Otherwise here are a few extremely random articles about homosexuality among flamingos:
Gay flamingos pick up chick
Flamingos strike long-term relationship
Gay flamingos Celebrate fifth Anniversary with their Children
Homosexual Activity Among Animals Stirs Debate