Johnson's tale

147

Email Etiquette

Bob's a tough out

Difference of Opinion

A place to live

Who's on First

So it looks like Who's at short. Well Hu anyway. Just for the record Hu came in on opening day as a defensive replacement. So Hu was literally on  second.

VW Commercial

There is a Volkswagen commercial where a hip, 20 something guy is looking at a Jetta and the alarm goes off. You know the commercial. It's on every 10 minutes. This advertisement bothers me. It took me a bit of time to figure out what it was that bothered me.

The Asian girl is autistic.

No really, I swear she is. The girl has shows no emotion. Watch the commercial again. She is like Rain Man. OK I admit I know little about autism. I should probably say someone is autistic after watching a 30-second commercial 397 times, but the girl is odd. She is either autistic or a robot.

An Asian robot/android brings up some interesting stuff

I have seen way to much anime in my life. I know the cute Asian android chick is always tied to an apocalyptic event. If you have watched any anime you know this is true. Cute Asian robot = End of Man. This is a well-established fact.

I think that VW has built a Cute Asian android. I think they are advertising this in the same way serial killers advertise their crimes. History and anime tell us making girly Asian android is trouble. We all know Germans ability to forget history and arrogantly move forward with a plan of destruction.

I can tell many of you think this is far fetched. You are wondering why would VW do this? Volkswagen refused to allow the new Beetle to be in Transformers: The Live Action Movie because they did not want to be involved with war or violence. Why would they build an apocalyptic robot and placing her in their ads?

Why would Germans build a device of mass destruction? Because they are German.

That is like asking why do the French surrender? Because they are French.

Then again, I could be reading way, way too much into a commercial that I find odd.

I have been right up to this point. Keep that in mind

K Tuttle.

Anton Chigurh

I would say this post contains spoilers, but I don't care enough to tell you that.

Wait, I just did.

Ah, but you don't know what movie I'm going to ruin. Anton Chigurh gets away. Llewelyn dies.

The movie is "No Country for Old Men" and Anton Chigurh is my new fictional hero. He replaces Lloyd Dobbler from "Say Anything" and Brodie from "Mallrats". At first glance, you would think that I'm tired of being funny and that I want to be a badass. You would be wrong. I want to piss off my best friends' girlfriend. Since she is actually his fiancée now, I think I'm off to a good start.

Chigurth symbolizes everything Americans need to do to get back on top. I am going on the assumption that we are not on top now, but not in a bad way, in a "Hey, if China wants to be on top for a while that's OK with me. Let her do the work for once" kind of way. America can always roll back on top and get right back into its rightful position of screwing everyone else.

Anton Chigurh is just the guy to make that happen. Once this guy is given a job, he will do whatever has to be done to finish the job. Kill a Cop with his own handcuffs? Sure. Kill a guy with a cattle bolt and steal his car? OK. Blow up a car to get the medicine he needs? No problem. He is both committed and resourceful, both qualities that America could use more of in this day and age.

He is also able to kick back and have fun. If you have not seen the gas station scene, you don't know what fun is.

I have heard complaints that he is not intelligent, that he is just a predator. That is simply not true. To track a man who doesn't want to be found takes intelligence, and luck, as the movie proves. He is not a predator because predators eat their kill. Hannibal Lechter was a predator. Chigurh was just a motivated professional.

And what was he motivated by? Success, and what can be more American than that?

Wait, he was Mexican wasn't he? Shit.

Maybe I should rethink my immigration policy.

K Tuttle

Lessons never learned.

The other day I was preparing for work, my socks were on my feet and I was about to put on my shoes.

I thought, "Pants. You need to put your pants on before your shoes."

I have been getting dressed for about a quarter of a century, by this point you would think I would have that down. Pants go on before shoes. This got me thinking, how many things are there that I should have mastered at a quarter of a century, but simply have not. Let me tell you there are a lot. We will do this in the form of a blog staple of the list. It's been 3 months and I am willingly walking into blogging cliches.

Good work Tuttle.

1)Chewing. I have been eating since before I had teeth, still I bite my cheek. Maybe that is the problem. In the beginning stages of eating you have no teeth so you chomp away. Teeth come in slowly giving you plenty of time to figure that little issue out.

No matter, the real issue I have with biting one’s own cheek is that is never on good food. You aren’t anticipating a great steak and out of enthusiasm take a bite of one’s mouth. No, you bite the crap out of your mouth on a ham sandwich. It’s always something bland that causes the cheek bit. I just don’t get it.

I suppose you could blend all your food into a mush and drink it though a straw but that would be wholly unacceptable, as you will soon see.

2)Drinking. Outside of breathing there is nothing I have been doing longer than drinking. Still I spill all sorts of drink down my face on to my shirt. Now I could use a straw, but we all know they are Communist plots.

"How are straws communist plot?" you ask.

Silly reader, you should know by now I always support my claims.

The plan it to weaken us by causing us to rely on tools and not on our own ability. The straw robs us of hand eye coordination and the ability to anticipate. You need hand eye coordination to lift a cup to your mouth. You need to have anticipation skills to drink strawlessly in a moving car. Damn Commies tried to take away our hand eye coordination but Nintendo brought it back. Thank You, Mario.

3)Walking into Walls. You are walking to a meeting and you are in a little bit of a hurry. You can make it on time if you walk quickly and shave steps. So you walk as close to the corner as you can. You look at the turn and size it up, your mind starts to wonder to the meeting, "Did Johnson take care of his end? Will they have the projector they said they would? Will the…" WHAM. You have just walked into a wall.. After twenty-five years you still cannot walk without running into stuff. Maybe you should stop drinking with that straw.

4)Breathing and Swallowing. This is the one that metaphorically kills me. One day it might literally kill me. I constantly breathe and swallow at the same time. I think they use this as a test to see if you are brain dead.

Apparently I am very brain dead. It’s so embarrassing you are just standing there not even drinking anything and BAM. Cough! Cough! Cough! Weez!

"What Happened?" they ask.

"I’m not smart enough to breathe and swallow" I answer.

‘Oh’ is the condescending reply.

So that is the list of stuff I have not seemed to master after a quarter century of life. It is not a noble list but it is a reasonable one. I should be able to do all these things. But alas I cannot.

And neither can you.

So don’t get all snooty about it, ass.

K Tuttle.

Will you...

One of my dear good friends recently became engaged. After 7 odd years of togetherness, he managed to make it a surprise. He asked her on Valentines Day, a choice so cliché that no one in a functioning relationship could ever see that coming. Good job Timothy.

That was the first example of me burning a bridge for the blog, Good Job, Kaylon

Now I am an idiot. There is ample proof of this on the pages of A.B.S. Given the choice between two things, one which is clearly the right answer and one which is funny, I pick funny every time. Knowing this I will invariably screw up a marriage proposal. So I have made plans for my proposal to reduce the pain.

This does not indicate a timeline, mother.

Option 1
I tape the ring to the remote control. I then place the remote just out of my reach. My ladyfriend walks in, she sees I can’t reach the remote and that I’m too lazy to get up. With puppy dog eyes and I ask, "Can you pass me the remote?" She looks at me with disdain, grabs the remote and feels the ring. She looks at the ring with wonder and I say, " Let’s get MARRIED." Classy.

Option 2
I cook Ramen noodles and put a can of tuna in the Ramen. That is gross, but when these two dry they become concrete hard. Which is why I take a few noodles and a little tuna and place it in a bowl with the ring and put the bowl under my bed for a week. After a week, the ring is super glued to the bowl. I place the bowl at the bottom of a big pile of dishes. I watch her wash the dishes, patiently waiting until she gets to the magic bowl. I then pop out and yell, "Let’s get Married!" If all goes well, she drops the bowl, shattering it, making the ring easier to remove.

So those are the options I have come up with so far. I do have a lucky lady. I know she is waiting for one of these proposals any decade now.

K Tuttle

The Prophecy part 2

"Guns" is Back

So now that the three-part nightmare is over I can now move on to a new topic. But before I do I just want to go on record, 450 to 550 words is going to be the typical length of my posts. I cannot restrict Mr. Hurst or Mr. McMillan to that number, but I will try and keep it short.

Brevity is the soul of wit, they say. Now onto the wit.

So we here at A.B.S. were talking about our adolescent passion of "Guns" and decided that is ripe for an adulthood revamp. Now some of you might be thinking "But paintball is the adult version of guns."

No it's not. Once again reader, you are wrong.

Paintball is a bastion of nerds who weren't good at real sports. They then invented a game to physically abuse real athletes. Way to invent D’N”D for Boy Scouts. There is also the point that its is more along the lines of capture the flag.

The beauty of Guns is that the same game could be played every day and you had super awesome toy guns. Toy guns that were so realistic they don't sell them anymore.

This is not one of those "Remember the good old days when you were young and we had it so good" posts. We don't do that here. Any nostalgia is purely on your part. We were just reminding you of how it was played, so when you see the updated rules you would not be lost

Oh, yeah that is what we are doing. We are updating Guns for the office.

First Rule - No Guns Real or Fake.

Don't complain. We have to look at this practically. Adults cannot point guns at each other without police coming. To avoid getting actually shot we will have to go with the classic finger gun. On the plus side you always have your gun with you and you have unlimited bullets.

Second Rule – ”Commando" accuracy.

You know the classic Arnold movie where hundreds of men could not hit our hero but one of his bullets kills 15 of them. Yeah. It’s like this here except we are all Arnold. To get a kill you need to make physical contact with the enemy and say bang. There will be no across the parking lot kills unless…

Third Rule - Cell Phone Sniper Shots.

I love this rule. It really brings the game up to date. You watch someone from a reasonable distance without being seen, once they flick their hair or pick there nose or something noticeable…BANG. You call them and tell them of the kill. HAHAHA-HAHAHA-HAHAHA….AH…HAHAHA. Man, that is so mean and sneaky. Hehee. I get giddy just thinking about it.

Fourth Rule - Unlimited contact, No time outs.

If you see the enemy at restaurant with his family sneak up on him shoot him in the head and say " A dead man doesn't need a steak" Cut yourself a bite, eat it slowly, take a long sip of his drink, wipe your face with his napkin and walk away. There is no limit but your imagination and gall.

Fifth Rule - Context (This rule contradicts the last one. I’m ok with that.)

You have to know where you are. Funeral for a drive by gunshot victim is not the place for "Guns." Customers should not see you play "Guns." But then again maybe those are exactly the places you and your crew should play. I don' t know where you work. Find an arbitrator, some one fair, unbiased and cruel to deicide if a kill is fair.

I think these make for a good foundation to the game. Feel free to add your own comments or email me at thetizzle@gmail.com.

Oh yeah car keys make great grenades.

K Tuttle

Women are cats

So it is time for the long waited part two of Men are Dogs. We shall call it "Women are Cats"

"Wow creative title," you say.

Remember we are known for content here at A.B.S. not clever titles. We desire lasting glory not short-term fame. Last time we discussed why men, women, cats, and dogs make mistakes. Now we will discuss...wait we can't give a way the punch line up front.

"Orange you glad I didn't say banana... Knock, knock. Wait I did that wrong." That is not how we roll. Meandering aimlessly is more our style.

So here is the question. Who does a cat want to pet it? The cat wants to be petted by who the cat wants to pet it. When does the cat want to be petted? The cat wants to be petted when it wants to be petted. I didn't really answer either of those questions, I know, but they are questions that can not be answered by mankind. They are mysteries.

By now you should know where this is going and you should be nodding your head in agreement. You should also be preparing cleaver comments and telling your friends all about how great this blog is and how they should read it daily. Onto the obvious.

Now, Whom does a woman want to be rubbed by? A woman wants to be rubbed by whom the woman wants to be rubbed by. When does a woman want to be rubbed? A woman wants to be rubbed when a woman wants to be rubbed. The woman is discriminate. That is evolutionary biology and territoriality speaking. This is my land and I must protect it. There is also the if you see me and can't touch me you want me more. The tactics of cats and woman are survival and desire based both fear and control in the same action of selective petting.

Neither man nor dog care who is rubbing them. They want to be rubbed all the time by everyone. They are not discriminate. They just want to be rubbed. This also comes from the agricultural concept of broadcasting, throw your seed as far and wide as possible and it will find fertile ground.

Oh yeah, "rubbing" and "petting" refer to sex, if you weren't picking up the subtly. And seed, that would be semen. Fertile ground would be a womb, in which a sperm and an egg could join and grow into a child.

Actually this whole series of blogs is an extended metaphor where I compare Cats to Women and Dogs to Men.

I hope this clears up any confusion.

K Tuttle

Men are dogs

For those of you who know me you have undoubtedly heard this argument before, but it has been a slow week intellectually for me, so I'll rehash some old idea. 

Apparently blogging is like being a sit-com writer, except we get to be funny.

Now what is this old idea you ask? It is simple and time tested. Women are like cats men are like dogs.

“Wow that is profound” you think. “Good work next you're going to be telling us the sky is like blue and the ground is like hard, jackass.” Wait, wait, it's not the theory that is good, it's the examples. They are funny and I tell them "with such enthusiasm," to quote a Mr. Conn.

So here we go.

Why does a cat crap on the floor? No one knows. It could be because you changed its cat food, or you didn’t chance it’s kitty litter. There is a chance it *crapped on the new rug because 3 weeks ago when you were doing your taxes it wanted attention jumped on all your paperwork and rashly you threw it to the ground. You might have a guess at what the cause is but you never really know do you.

Why does a dog crap on the floor? You didn’t let it out. That’s about it.

Now women are like cats here, if they are mad you never really know why. It is a great cosmic mystery. You came home late 3 weeks ago? Nope that’s not it. “You should know what you did” they say. The cats message of mystery on the carpet is the same thing. “I’m pisssed now you have to figure out to make it better or I will start pissing all over your shoes.” There is nothing you can do about either except behave and put up with the shit that is amply provided.

Why is a man mad. Most likely because you didn’t let him out, with his friends, for a beer or nine.

He, like a dog, is simple minded. That is not to say stupid. If a dog sees food out it thinks. “Huh food and I’m hungryYOOMMP YOOMMP. Hey I’m not hungry any more.” That is simple. He is not thinking about the dinner plans at 7pm with the parents. He’s hungry and need nourishment. Eating when your hungry is not stupid. 

Men and dogs are not stupid, they are inconsiderate. Consideration is NOT a natural thought process for the simple mind of man and dog.

So this is part one of three. I’m making it three parts for two reasons. One I get to make multiple post about one topic. easy. Secondly 350-450 words seem to be about the right length for these things. So I ask you the reader for some feedback.

Did you like the older longer post? Do you like frequent short posts. Hit up the comment box or email me at  theitzzle@gmail.com.

Not that I’m going to listen. 

Anarchist don't take orders.

K Tuttle.

Love Birds

Terms of the Day

Douchebag, Ass, Jabroni, Jerk - all terms to indicate that an individual, while seeming to be cool is in fact not. There are a lot of these people. I like to call them readers. These terms are so fun to banty about they end up being used far too frequently, losing their original insulting meaning.

Ass might be the best example. If you call me an Ass, I feel complimented. Conan O’Brien refers to himself as an Ass and he is AWESOME. That makes me want to be an Ass as well. My lady friend tells me constantly that I have succeeded.

Douchebag seems to be the term with the most cultural currency at the moment. Everyone is a Douchebag. The problem is one of degrees. Some people are bigger douches than others are and it is an insult to the little douche to compare to a huge douche. We don’t want to water down a term unnecessarily.

How do you think Carson Daly feels being compared to Ryan Seacrest? Not good I tell you.

So here is my solution. We should refer to Little Douches as Carson Dalys and Big Douches as Ryan Seacrests. The really little ones as Ryan Dalys and the huge total Douchy McDouchersons as Carson Seacrests.

So now we have come up with terms to clear up the Douchebag confusion, who should Douchebag be used on?

Mets fans. God Damn Mets fans.

K Tuttle.

The Night Shift

The Reveal

Knock Knock