Tonight, on DUMBSHOW . . .

"Tonight on a very special episode of DUMBSHOW, we explore the hidden relationship between cable repair trucks and orange cones. What is the hidden meaning of their symbiotic existence?"

OPINION TIME

What is your opinion about OPINION TIME?

Here is where we will have a frank and open discussion about our opinions about OPINION TIME.

If someone disagrees with you about OPINION TIME, make sure to let them know; tell them your opinion about them disagreeing with your opinion about OPINION TIME. This is constructive.

Do not change your opinion about OPINION TIME under any circumstances, but be certain that with a reasonable argument, you can change another person's opinion about OPINION TIME.

Remember, if someone disagrees with your opinion about OPINION TIME, they are wrong, and their disagreement with your opinion about OPINION TIME is a personal attack. It is best to respond in kind with a personal attack. Insult their character, heredity, or intelligence. This is a sound persuasive tactic that always works, and brings those of differing opinions around to your way of thinking.

OPINION TIME. What is your opinion?

RECEIPT DESIRED?

Today I stopped at a gas station I don't normally frequent because road construction. I filled the tank, replaced the nozzle, replaced the gas cap, and the fuel pump screen said:

RECEIPT DESIRED?

Desired? That's a strong word. It's creepy. It is amazing they were able to cram bad, passive writing into that tiny space. Just give me the receipt. It isn't like:

"Oh Gas Receipt, ever since I first saw you, I had to have you. You are so beautiful Gas Receipt. Run away with me, I must make love to you."

No. It isn't like that at all.

"Da-yum Gas Receipt, you're tight. I would very much like to hit that."

No. I think PRINT RECEIPT? would be the appropriate message.

SMART ANSWERS TO DUMB QUESTIONS

Q: "What's your favorite color?"
A: "Depends on the object."

I FORGOT MY SUNGLASSES

Man it's bright. Jesus, this sun is killing me. Oh man, I forgot my sunglasses. Why? I surf like, every day, and here I am without my friggin' sunglasses. Oh well, can't go back now. Ashley's in there doing that thing in the bathroom. I gotta tell her it's over. How am I gonna do that? Jesus, this sun is like, melting the side of that building. What the hell is going on up there? A crap, a text. Already with the texts. I left the apartment five minutes ago. She can't even spell it out? Three exclamation marks? I'm suffocated. Suffocated. I better text back. If I don't text back, she's gonna send another one. Christ. Terran was right. She's bad news. God, the way she screamed at Luke last night. One drink makes her insane. And that thing in the bathroom. That noise. Crap, another text. What does that even mean? Is she just putting random emojis in texts now? The sun is so friggin' bright. I got to stop drinking. I have to stop drinking, and I have to break up with Ashley right now. I'll text her. God, need some shade, can't see this friggin' phone. Okay, lemme see. crap, caps lock. Lemme try again. God, no. I can't break up with her by text. What's that lady looking at? "I'm just sending a text." Suspicious old woman. Look at that dog. I bet she doesn't pick up the poop when it goes. Probably just buries it in the sand. Jesus, this friggin sun. I wish I had my sunglasses. 

# DOG SKELETONS

And then people started seeing dog skeletons walking around at night. First there were reports of single skeletons, and then packs of ghastly animated skeletal dogs. No one believed the reports at first, but then the sightings were reported nationwide. Each skeleton walking in its own unique way, a permanent toothy snarl on each skull, heads down, as if the habit of sniffing persisted in ghoulish phantasms with no possible olfactory sense. The empty eye sockets were wide and expressionless.

Occasionally a dog collar was spotted, dangling off a short span of spinal chord between the skull and shoulders.

At first people were alarmed, claiming it was a portent of the "end times," but biblical scholars had to admit that packs of dog skeletons fit into no known prophetic writings, old testament or new.  Others conjectured that it was pollution, or radiation, but scientists had to admit they to could find no explanation.

As they passed through the streets at night, the dry, fleshless paws sounded like dry leaves skittering across the pavement, wind or no wind.

Motorists would see them crossing the street. Some would stop and watch the horrifying parade of dog skeletons cross the headlight beams, while others would hit the gas, scattering the bones everywhere, the satisfying crunch of bones sometimes costing them a chipped windshield if a particularly large skull impacted the glass. Later no bones would be found, as the skeletons, animated by some unknown supernatural force, would recombine and continue on toward whatever mysterious destination draws packs of dog skeletons.

CELESTIAL EMPORIUM OF BENEVOLENT KNOWLEDGE

Supposedly taken from an ancient Chinese encyclopædia entitled Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge.

The list divides all animals into one of 14 categories:

1. Those that belong to the emperor
2. Embalmed ones
3. Those that are trained
4. Suckling pigs
5. Mermaids (or Sirens)
6. Fabulous ones
7. Stray dogs
8. Those that are included in this classification
9. Those that tremble as if they were mad
10. Innumerable ones
11. Those drawn with a very fine camel hair brush
12. Et cetera
13. Those that have just broken the flower vase
14. Those that, at a distance, resemble flies

source: wikipedia

You're perfect.

#61 THE TWISTED TREE

If there's no "us and them"
Then all that's left is one big "we."
And this of course means that
We're "we" in everyone we see.

We're black and white and thin and fat
And freaked-out xenophobes.
We're grandmas with arthritis
We have hoops in our earlobes.

We're crotchety vets from foreign wars
We're kids of meager means.
We're jerks with lanyard keycards,
We're flamboyant painted queens.

We go to church and carry guns
And pray to God above.
We get tattoos and drink
And want equality in love.

We worship Allah, God, or trees
Or aliens in volcanoes.
We worship nothing, drive big cars,
And pick the avocados.

If there's no "us and them"
Then all that's left is one big "we."
And we are all the leaves on
On an enormous family tree.

If you believe in "us and them,"
And need to make a fuss,
Then we'll all be here waiting
Till you realize it's just us.

We're shrill acerbic soccer moms
In tragic yoga pants.
We're homeless bearded mystics
On the sidewalk mumbling rants.

We're all the people in the cars
That ruin your commute.
We're crazy people on the news
That cause you to press "mute."

We're gay and straight and in between
We're from another state.
We're from another country,
And we think our country's great.

We're seven billion people
We're all scrambling for food,
We're all a little frazzled and
And we're often very rude.

We're all in this together,
And we'll sometimes disagree,
But we are one big family
On one twisted family tree.

the annoying

That person at work, or on the news, or on the street, or at the party, or wherever, who is so annoying is not annoying by virtue of their age, or their race, or their gender, or their nationality, or their class, or their politics or their whatever. They are annoying by virtue of being human.  Some people are simply annoying. They are not annoying because of some artificial classification. It is their character, or their circumstance, which is unique to them.

Grouping large numbers of individuals by superficial similarities is a mistake of logic. It is lazy thinking to paint millions of people a certain way in the mind simply by virtue of a few annoying people with whom they share a superficial characteristic.

E.B. White, from his essay, "Here is New York," 1948

RIPOST: FOR USE IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN:

"I was only trying to be friendly."

"Perhaps you should reexamine your methodology."

WALKING IN A LAKE

The first time I heard the song "Walking in L.A." (1984, Missing Persons) I thought they were saying,

"Walking in a lake / Nobody walks in a lake"

And I found that puzzling. No one walks in the bottom of a lake, but if you go to the beach, you have to walk out to where it is deep enough to swim, usually, if it is a public access beach.

So it seemed inaccurate.

Also, did you know that the lead singer from Missing Persons also played the "Mary" character in Frank Zappa's album, "Joe's Garage?"

# THERE'S A PROBLEM WITH THAT THING

"There's a problem with that thing."

"No there isn't."

"Yes there is. That thing is happening all the time. We could fix the problem. It would take a lot of work, but..."

"No. There isn't a problem. I do not see a problem."

"But what about X, Y, and Z? We need to fix this stuff. Something needs to change."

"Those are isolated incidents. They are not connected in any way. All circumstances and events exist in a vacuum."

"They are a trend. They are a symptom of a bigger issue."

"No they aren't. Can you give me a specific example?"

"A couple, but there are so many..."

"If you can't give me twenty specific examples, right now, off the top of your head, there isn't a problem. If you give me twenty examples, I'll ask for twenty-one examples."

"This Thing is a problem. It's complicated and involves..."

"I don't see it. It isn't affecting me, so it isn't a problem..."

"It's a problem."

"Do you have a specific solution, that you can describe completely, right now? Is it foolproof and perfect, as all plans are foolproof and perfect?"

"Well no..."

"See? Then there is no problem, and even if there was a problem, which there isn't, it can't be fixed because there is no perfect solution that is easy, and involves no sacrifice. No problem."

"But..."

"Nope. End of discussion. I have to go do things now. Also, booze now. I do not have time for this. Things are going well for me, so there is no problem. Booze now, and sports. Booze now?"

"Yes, booze I suppose."

~~~  LATER ~~~

"Can you believe that thing that happened on the news!? It is awful and terrible! This will briefly make me somewhat sad, for a few days, or hours!!"

"Yes. I can believe it. I don't see why you are surprised. It is part of the thing we were talking about the other day, these things are connected."

"No. There is no problem. That is not a real problem. We don't need to fix it, it isn't a problem."

"You don't see how that led to this?"

"No. It is another isolated incident. I have to go do things now that are important to me. Work stuff now. Booze later, and also, sports."

cargo shorts

HEAD DOWN (look at the phone)

MUSICIANS! I have just composed this masterpiece, which I give to the public domain, for use in performances etc, etc. YOU ARE WELCOME!

downloadable .pdf of this masterpiece found here: http://www.danmanning.com/music/phonehead.pdf

it's a bit silly

AN AMAZING DISCOVERY!

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS!

I was just listening to the 1973 Steve Miller Band song, "The Joker," and I think I've stumbled across something in the lyrics.

I suspect that the line, "really love your peaches / wanna shake your tree" may have NOTHING to do with the peach tree (prunus persica), or the harvesting of the fruit from that tree, but something altogether different.  (I think it is a reference to sex stuff.)

I'm going to investigate this further, and keep you posted.

Just thought you'd want to know. 

# LET'S FOCUS ON DUMB, SUPERFICIAL THINGS, FOR FREEDOM

An old guy who won a track-and-field event 39 years ago got a sex-change operation.

Unless there's some potential for romantic involvement, for a mature, thinking person, another person's gender should be one of the least interesting and least important attributes about that person.

If the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal wants to change genders, then good for him, that's his business.

If an annoying professional "exister" on an annoying reality show wants to change genders, then good for him. That's his business.

That annoying person on that annoying reality show will probably still be annoying, because, for most situations, gender does not matter.

Unless there's some potential for romantic involvement, for a mature, thinking person, another person's gender should be one of the least interesting and least important attributes about that person.

It might be important to that other person, and that’s fine. Respect that.

But really, for most situations, when interacting with other humans in non-romantic things, gender is unimportant.
People who make a big deal about superficial things are like large, dumb children.

The only person who should be concerned about the gender of the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal is the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics, or somebody who is trying to fuck the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal.

Are you hoping to be romantically involved with the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics? Are you currently romantically involved with the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics?

No? Then the gender of the winner of the men's decathlon event at the 1976 Summer Olympics doesn't matter.

An old guy who won a track-and-field event 39 years ago got a sex-change operation.

#58 ODE TO NYQUIL

Sweet nectar of the Lotus Flower
Purveyor of uneven dreams
Ferryman to Lovecraftian ScreamScapes
Sweet vapory drops of Mind-Twisting visions

Dropper of Heavy-Lidded slumbers

So careful do I approach
The doors of your subterranean grumbles
The mangled half-understood phrases
Overheard in uneasy dreams.

Oh Bringer of Deathlike Lethe—
The blue-tinged landscapes of
Unspeakable Horror and Impossible Dares
Beyond Euclidian Space and Linear Time

Strike down these cloggy bellows—
Sick with the weakness
Of traitorous health

Lower me slowly
To your undersea realm—
Where illogical thoughts skip
Wildly through unfamiliar
Copper-Sunlit towns

{Groggy jaunts to the
Midnight toilet
Bleary-eyed and eager to return
To Blissful Vapor-Sleep}

Oh NyQuil!
Key to the
Forbidden Unholy Bacchanal!
Of haunted Seventies Discos
And Parallel movie sets!
Conversations with the Dead
Skydiving with Manatees and
Oscar Wilde

Having a sandwich
With Sally Struthers
In World War One trenches
Half-caught visions in
Unnamed haunted regions.

Soothed,
Murmur-rocked smoothed
In a cool roof—lumbering
Feather-drift easy—like decent
Into dewy fluid sway,
Wavy vapor shady
With a gradual casual stir
To the demur.
Apostle castle
Namaste taste vanilla flavor
Navel gaze raze to the vapor haze.
Groovy chode toad
In a mellow abode.

Oh Nyquil! Thou has shown me
The Face of God

My balloon-like limbs
Sway in your reedy-whispered
Willow Gardens—

To traverse desert landscapes
Under star-strewn nights
Warm vaporous sleep to ancient cities
To find the texts
Of dark philosophies

Oh NyQuil! This mild sickness
Is my excuse—to travel with you
To alternate realities—
You are the doorway—the key.

Odd voices give ill advice
And shadowy figures move
At impossible angles.
Judgmental angels give sidelong glances
As they drink coffee.

I would awake from this,
But I have yet to fall asleep—
And then it will begin.
And in that dream, I'll dream.

In that dream, I'll find pen and paper
And write again this very page
And drop the notebook there
And fall asleep again, within a dream.