Are We Prepared for an Invasion?

With the upcoming remake film War of the Worlds set to premiere in June about aliens invading planet Earth, it begs a very important question about real life. Are we prepared for an alien invasion? Set phasers to “No.”

If I learned ANYTHING in Boy Scouts, it was that you must always “be prepared.” Always. “Hey, you got chance for a twenty?” You better respond, “I sure do. Here’s a ten, a five, 4 ones, three quarters, two dimes and a nickel. Let me know if you need to convert that ten into pennies.” And if Bobby Fischer returns, you better know that he’s gonna move his knight to king’s bishop’s third. And if Pluto turns out to be the Death Star, we better have giant mounted photon guns capable of interstellar warfare.

In the event of an attack from above, here are a few things Earth should consider.

1. We need a flag.
First thing is first. We’re going to need a flag. How are we going to fight alien scum without a unifying “Earth” flag flapping in the windy gusts from the landing spacecrafts?
Vexillologists (people who actually study flags) will tell you that flags are an important symbol of unity for a common goal, which in this particular case is to “not die.”
But what will it look like? It can’t be just a picture of Earth, because then we’d just be flying giant maps. It can’t be anything religious though because of the varying views. And it can’t be any combination of existing flags, because then we’d have a jumble of crosses and stars. So I nominate the idea of a flag that just says, “Go away, alien scum” in big letters. You know, to get the message across. This isn’t the time to be subtle.
Once that flag design is finalized, we’ll need a fleet of Betsy Rosses (but probably foreign and working in a sweat shop), duplicating and sending the glorious symbol literally to the ends of the Earth! From Alberia to Zimbabwe! From sea to shining sea! From Santa’s house to Antarctica! Everyone gets a flag! We wouldn’t want to “alienate” anyone.

Side note: Can we make them in flame-retarded material? We can’t have hippies demonstrating when we’re engaging in intergalactic warfare.

Also, using the phrase “flame-retarded” makes me giggle.

We’ll need all kinds too. Flags for poles, walls, and stadium rafters. Banners, ribbons, pins, buttons, bumper stickers, face paintings, and more. We’ll need some of those flags people attach to their car windows. We’ll need a new monument of a couple of guys erecting an Earth flag. We’ll need to send a group of climbers to the top of Everest to plant our new flag. We’ll need the people of Flagstaff to join hands and sing “It’s a Grand Olde Flag” on Flag Day while wearing t-shirts with flags on them. It’ll be just like after September 11th.

2. More missiles.
Earth needs to be armed to the magma with missiles. It’s time we stopped pointing the nukes at other countries and instead pointed them aimlessly into outer space. It’s the only way.

However, in these uncertain times of nuclear proliferation, weapons inspectors, and only one Jack Bauer, I can understand being hesitant when giving everyone nuclear missiles, but I have a plan. Wait for it…

We give the countries that don’t have “space strike” capabilities plenty of missiles to haphazardly rocket into the atmosphere, BUT on one condition: no shooting other countries.

What do you mean that won’t work? They’ll be on the honor system. HONOR, people. What ever happened to “honesty is the best policy,” huh?

Besides, I have reason to believe that the aliens will attack in organized lines in space, allowing us to fire continually into their ranks. We can strafe back and forth, jamming the fire button as rapidly as possible to whittle down each incoming squadron. But, unfortunately, the aliens will advance more quickly as time progresses, making it increasingly difficult to protect our saved initials and therefore our legacy.

Until this planet has a giant shield, a “Star Wars” defense system, or the International Space Station is packin’ heat, our best defense is… more offense. Of course, there are other defensive methods, including the “Duck and Cover Technique,” the “Run Like Hell Method,” and the “IMAX Defense,” which consists of closing your eyes until the feeling has passed.


3. Some idea of what they’re packin’
The problem is there are too many different alien types. We know so little about what they really are, and even that information is from people who were abducted and probed while they slept. So to learn more, in case of an invasion, we need to ask ourselves some of the following questions:

What do they look like?
Are they green and anorexic? Or are they talking apes? Maybe they look like us. Maybe they already have alien spies amongst us, watching for the right moment to strike. If so, we need to find these aliens and place them in “camps” where they can “concentrate” on not being an alien.

Are they friendly?
Who knows, we might be preparing ourselves for an epic battle against the likes of ALF. Hordes of ALFs just pouring off the mother ships in search of feline food. In which case I say we let them have the cats.

Ok, they're not so friendly. Why are they decimating our cities?
We must discover their motivating factor and maybe we can appease them in some way. Maybe they’re farming our poor planet for resources or feeding on our fattening citizens. Maybe we pose a threat in space once we stop mixing metric and imperial measurements. Or maybe they’re just offended by the coffee mugs that say, “Greatest Dad in the Universe.”


4. We need Bill Pullman.
In the event of an invasion, someone needs to find Bill Pullman on the set of whatever terrible movie he’s making and immediately put him in charge of the world. I think it’s safe to say I’m not the only one who got chills when President Pullman proclaimed “Today we celebrate our Independence Day” in a movie with a similar title. This uplifting speech, coupled with his role as Lone Starr in Spaceballs, makes him overqualified to be leader of Earth. And to assist him with important decisions, Martin Sheen from the West Wing will provide counsel.

And just in case the entertainment industry inadvertently guessed a viable deterrent, we’re also going to need the following:

• A computer virus to “upload” into the mother ship


• Will Smith


• Predators


• Superman


• Biological warfare (a.k.a. the flu)


• Water


• Country music

With a solid combination of patriotic flags, a nuclear arsenal, intelligence gathering, and Bill Pullman, I believe Earth can defend itself from total annihilation. You may rest easy knowing that there is a system in place to protect us. But we must stay prepared. Chances are the aliens aren’t going to be making crop circles before they invade. In the meantime we can practice on each other, preventing pesky illegal aliens. As long as we don’t fire any nukes. We’re on the honor system.

Jesus Scented Candles

Couple Sells Candles That Smell Like Jesus

A couple in South Dakota is selling candles that smell like Jesus. Now your whole house can smell like the sweet sweet aroma of your Lord and Savior. Mmmm.

The guy walked around in the desert and rode camels on a daily basis, so my guess is it doesn't smell like vanilla.

Now, I can understand when they sold Michael Jordan cologne, because everyone wanted a piece of the #23 so they could be a "ballah." But it was simple though because, you know, he was still alive. That made it easier for them to get a Sample o' Mike.

But this is just ridiculous, Jesus!

The couple says in the article that it is a "form of ministry." Of course it is, because nothing says "God is good" like making a buck off the Bible.

"Go, my children, and spread my word to the people. Tell everyone that I am the Son of God. And if you can't do that, then sell them a candle that smells like me over the Internet."

There you have it folks.
"This little light of mine..." smells like Jesus.



I bought seven.

Exercise

I am out of shape. I've slowly come to terms with it. I got out of breath just posting this.

Been thinking about exercise a lot recently. It’s a combination of eating too many jelly beans, being in the fattest city in America, and staying up watching insomnia-mercials.

“Have you ever been vacationing in the Serengeti, saw the gazelles, and thought ‘I wish I could run like them.’ Now you can! With this Gazelle glider!”

Who buys these things? Someone bored of running like a human, I guess. They get their Gazelle friends together, run in a herd. A guy in a lion machine running behind them.

Tony Little (pictured above looking not straight), self-proclaimed “America’s Personal Trainer," peddles these Gazelle gliders at 4 in the morning. I once heard him yell, “IT’S SO EASY, EVEN YOU CAN DO IT!” Whoa there, Thor, let’s tone down the insulting enthusiasm a little. It’s bad enough I have you fagging up all the TV channels at night, but I don’t have to take this sort of abuse lying down... on the couch... eating chips. I mean, you’re obviously nothing short of “man-tastic,” Tony. No one can deny your muscles are “pumpisized.” And the pony tail. Let’s not forget that chick magnet. But how about you leave me out of this?

And then there’s all the other fitness tapes. 7 minute abs. Buns of Steel. Bulimia Really Works.
Most include fitness exercises for you to try.

My favorite is the “reach” move. This consists of standing straight up, feet shoulder width apart, and extending your arm up and over your head as far as you can reach. Yeah, that’s a helpful little maneuver. Really workin’ stuff out with that one. Why not just... use the other arm? It's right there.

Arm circles, however, are easily the most humiliating and worthless exercise, without a doubt. I’d rather do the Thigh-master, followed by seven hours of “Sit and Be Fit” than one single arm circle.

In case you aren’t familiar with them, arm circles are a warm-up exercise where you hold your arms out to your sides and make circles in the air with your hands.
They’re ridiculous. They are designed to make you look silly, that’s it. You could do a thousand arm circles and you wouldn't shed a thing, except maybe your integrity.

I can just see it now, a fitness room full of unsuspecting saps, being led in an “arm circle” degradation. “Let’s do a little warm-up, shall we? Arm circles! Ok, start small. Circle, circle, circle. Now go big! And... reverse it! Now cluck like a chicken!” Finally, the instructor tells you to stop, before reaching over and turning off the video camera and placing the tape in an envelope marked “Blackmail.” Political elections have been won and lost on the discovery of embarrassing “arm circle” photos, believe me.

But you have to warm up. Nothing worse than pulling a muscle. First question everybody asks is, “Geez, what were you doing?” Same with bruises, broken bones, and perpetual motion, people just want to know “So, how’d you do it?”

Of course you’d like to say, “Oh, I was saving a Mormon family of twelve from a burning building. It was nothing.” But instead you hang your head in shame and say, “Well, I... I was walking.” And now you have to tell the story. Not only did you pull your groin, but you did it walking out to get the mail. You’re so out of shape you can’t stroll to the end of the driveway without injuring yourself and spending the next week swaggering around like a cowboy who dropped the soap.

Wherever you go, people have to know. People are just coming up to you on the street, “Whoa man, what happened?” Crowds are forming, the word’s getting out you’re hurt. “Come on, everybody gather ‘round, this guy’s telling us why his arm is in a sling!” And there you are, in front of a throng of curious faces.

“You really want to know?”
“Yes! Tell us how you hurt your arm! We must know!”
“Arm circles.”

News from the Short Bus

A 13 year old boy in Alaska stabbed another kid on the bus on the way home from school. And the bus driver didn't notice.
http://www.adn.com/news/alaska/story/6181544p-6056351c.html

The kids got in verbal, "name calling" fight, so he shanked him. 13 and 14 year old kids!
The worst arguments we ever had back then were over pogs or which ninja turtle would win in a fight. The answer was CLEARLY Raphael. And don't argue with me, or I will cut you.

I blame the media. No, it's the video games' fault. Wait, Marilyn Manson. Screw it, I blame the Swiss, with their pocketknife armies and their... cheese.

The "worst/best/worst again" part about it all is that the bus driver had NO idea that a kid was getting skewered in the back of the bus. Old Man River looks like he can barely see the road, much less what's going on in his peripheral vision.

What ever happened to the old fashion "Hey! Hey bus driver! Help! I'm getting stabbed back here!"

Crazy Alaskans.

Game Over

Here at Miscellaneous Thoughts we usually don’t focus on celebrity news. We like to hold our website to a higher standard, not one that drags the murky waters of tabloid journalism like Entertainment Tonight. But today was a slow news day what with North Korea merely announcing that it has nuclear capabilities and a continuing war in Iraq just days after an important democratic election. Forget all that though, because even Mary Hart would agree, this is real news.

Mario and Princess are calling it quits.

After 10 long years of marriage, the two are parting ways in what is considered one of the nastiest and most heart-breaking divorces in show business, both parties stating that things were not so "super." This recent development amidst allegations that the Princess has been having a torrid love affair with Mario’s brother and partner in crime fighting, Luigi.

Luigi declined comment.

This couple got together in 1990 after Mario heroically rescued her from the clutches of Bowser for the third time.

Bowser has since gone on to recording rap albums, including his most recent album “Little Bow-Bow,” the follow-up to his hit multi-platinum record “No Limit Koopa.” He said the whole kidnapping thing was just a misunderstanding. “I wasn’t throwing hammers AT Mario. I was just practicing my hammer throwing in his general vicinity. I think that’s happened to us all, hasn’t it?”

The Princess is quoted at the divorce hearing as saying, “You never even rescue me any more!”
Mario exclaimed vehemently, “Mama mia! Sometimes I wish I had never even rescued you all those times!”

The Princess continued later to reporters, saying “Sure, it was fun at first. There was Mario Party 1. Then Mario Party 2. But soon there were so many parties, that I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to have time by ourselves. You know, like old times.
Plus, he never does anything nice for me. I mean, the one time he brought me flowers he ended up eating them, then throwing fire balls all around the room.”

Greatest Story Ever Told

Too often in life we take things for granted. We bustle about in our daily routines, passing by the finer things, such as art. A fine painting or a beautiful song.

What most people don't realize is that movies are an art form too. Cinema combines the elements of sound and video to create a form of expression like no other. And in this case, the animation techniques of some of the most brilliant minds in the world.

And what drives this art form, as it glides across the silver screen, are emotionally moving stories about interesting characters.
Since 1895, when the first motion pictures were shot, cinema has shaped this great nation. But it wasn't until 2003, nearly 110 years later, that it was perfected in this truly synergistic and indescribable display of storytelling.

Some may argue that Citizen Kane is the greatest movie ever made. Or the Godfather trilogy. Or even Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen's How the West Was Fun. But I say, "Nay. I have found it. The best movie ever."

So, without further ado I present to you, the greatest story ever told:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0374020/

Spongebob a Little TOO Soft for Some

Soak this one up. Christian Groups have recently slammed the children’s cartoon Spongebob Squarepants for promoting homosexuality to kids. The purple Teletubby and him have joined forces to infiltrate and spread gayness at an early age.

Apparently the group, erroneously called Focus on the Family, is up in arms about a video where Spongebob appears with a few other television pals about tolerance and multiculturalism after 9/11.

Here’s an actual quote from the leader Christian fundamentalist whack-job about the Spongebob video.

"We see the video as an insidious means by which the organization is manipulating and potentially brainwashing kids," he said. "It is a classic bait and switch."

CLASSIC bait and switch. Happens all the time. The evil cartoon empire lures children in with loveable characters and then swaps them for naked men having sex with each other. Classic.

I personally don’t see anything wrong with him. Last thing I heard there’s nothing in the Bible about enjoying a little carefree cartoon sponge hangin’ out with his buddies. He looks like a sponge version of Dilbert, actually. And he’s not gay, that I’m aware of. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Cartoons were never criticized as potentially gay in the past. Speed Racer was never accused of “driving on the other side of the road.” The environmentalist superhero Captain Planet, clearly quite liberal, was never questioned about “swinging that way.” Even He-Man never stirred up this kind of controversy.

Besides, a gay cartoon would never be caught dead in socks like those.

Hugging

You ever notice how hugging can get awkward if done incorrectly? I think we've all had our hug-tastrophes. I’m no exception. I’ll admit; I don’t even know which one is the hug, the X or the O. I guess it doesn’t matter, since I’m not really crafting hand-written notes for flower bouquets.

Hug-tastrophes come in all different forms, lurking and waiting to create an uncomfortable moment. For example, have you ever had the problem of the accidental face-to-face? You go to hug, and there’s that split second where you have to choose which side your head is gonna go. You have a 50/50 chance of picking the wrong side and almost turning that hug into a kiss. Sometimes it’s awkward enough as it is, but now you have to worry about head juking on the way in.

It’s like when you’re walking towards someone and you try to step out of the way. But uh oh, they chose that side too. Now you’re both practically waltzing, until one finally slides past and you both move on, thinking, “Man, that was awkward.”

It’s exactly like that, but now your face is inches away from theirs and you’re already in a half embrace. Your arms are out there. You're moving slowly closer. You are now committed to a hug. There is no turning back now. And your head is shaking back and forth like Jay Leno as you desperately try to avoid turning that harmless hug into a sudden smooch. But you can’t abort now because you don’t want to offend.

Now that you’re in the huddle, someone has to call the play.
“All right, you go left.”
“Which left? Your left or my left?”
“Just pick a side and go with it.”
“Ok. Ready? Hug.”

Those Italians have it down though. Everyone seems to know which way they’re going on The Sopranos. I think it's because they add that double cheek kiss onto it.

It’s like a handshake. Always with the right hand. Everyone knows you’re going right.
But with hugs, there ARE no rules. HUG AT YOUR OWN RISK, PEOPLE.

I’ll never attempt the double cheek kiss though. Hopefully never have to. Because I know I’d screw it up. I just know it. I’d wind up mouth kissing my mother-in-law or something. Or worse, my father-in-law.

When two guys hug there’s a whole new set of insecurities thrown in there. I mean, if they’re family or something, they just bear hug and are done with it. But otherwise, there’s that phase where you’re past the handshake greeting, but you’re nooooot quite at the bear hug level.

Here are a few of the possible maneuvers in the man arsenal:
The Sideways Hug:
This consists of throwing the arm casually around the shoulders or waist of the other male, avoiding any chest to chest or incidental face-to-face contact. Perfect for homophobes.

The Handshake Conversion:
What starts out as a handshake suddenly becomes a pull move into a shoulder bump. I’ve read they execute this maneuver in “the hood.”

The Manliest Hug Possible:
When it would be awkward NOT to hug, as “other people are doing it,” there’s always the "Manliest Hug Possible." This includes much grunting, growling, and “hey there, big guy” comments as you can fit into the hug duration. Also a firm back pounding is in order.

But sometimes, despite the risks, I can be a hugger. A real squeezer. You know why? Because then women think I’m sensitive. Right there in the greeting they’re thinking, “He tends to my needs.” And I’m thinking, “I just saw the front, and helloooo there’s the back.”

I’m a short guy too, so any girl over six feet is going to be giving me a face full of mammary, which is nice.




Ok, so that was probably wrong of me to say. And possibly offensive. I didn’t really mean it. I’m sorry.
How about we hug it out?
XOXO

AOL SLIM

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TiVo

For Christmas my brother bought my parents a TiVo. Then he escaped to Boston, leaving me to set it all up for them. He’s an evil genius.

Though, to be fair, they did need an upgrade. A few days before Christmas we were gathered in the living room, watching something on a tape, when the VCR started emitting a high-pitched squeal.

You know when you pick up the phone during a fax and it makes that horrible shrill sound? Yeah, it sounded a lot like that. Only that is what is SUPPOSED to happen during a fax. This sounded like the VCR was crying out for help.

I waited about a minute before I said, “Uhh… the VCR is about to explode.”
“Just ignore it” came the reply from my dad as my sister cranked the volume on the TV to drown it out.
I tried to tune it out, like they had grown accustomed to, shutting out the piercing plea to be put out of its misery. In the meantime, I shifted the blankets in front of me like a shield, calculating an estimated blast radius in case it finally combusted.

I should take this time to mention the phenomenon known as the “Greg Field.” Basically, the “Greg Field” is an invisible (but very real) bubble that interferes with electronic signals. Scientists have been able to pinpoint the center of the field, determining the cause to be my dad, who knocks out electric devices as he moves about the house. Machines previously working flawlessly before entering “The Field” are rendered to expensive and bulky paperweights. Just so you know what I’m working against.

Setting up the TiVo was like an intense wrestling match, only there were less tights involved. Not saying there weren’t tights, they were just hidden under my tear-away pants in case that devil machine REALLY wanted to throw down.

Everything started out smoothly. I set it all up in the living room without reading the instructions because, after all, I’m a man. “Pathetic little video recorder,” I sneered as I turned on the TV to make sure it was all set up, and… nothing. Touché TiVo.

I scrambled behind the TV, checking wires and connections. Nothing seemed to be fixing it. Apparently I underestimated unplugging and plugging it back in.

So once sweet power was flowing to my opponent, I knew we were in for more of a struggle than I had anticipated. According to the instructions, (which I finally gave in and consulted) the TiVo requires a phone connection to activate. Unfortunately, the only plug was on the other side of the room. So I ended up stretching a phone cord across the living room. You know that scene at the end of Back to the Future where Doc is stretching the power cord to send Marty back to the future? Well, let’s just say that while I was hanging on for dear life I thought, “The things I do to record digital television.”

Ok, so the TiVo is activated. The Teletubby-esque TiVo logo was merrily doing a mocking jig. Now I can’t have a phone cord snaking its way across the room, so I decided I was going to hook up the wireless internet. Here is where the “Greg Field” kicked in. I plugged in the wireless adaptor and looked up eagerly at the screen, only to see “No signal found.” Fantastic. After doing a fair amount of fiddling, I carried the TiVo back to the bedroom where the wireless signal originates. I hooked it all up and placed the wireless adaptor literally on top of the router. No signal. Well played, TiVo. Well played.

Six hours later I changed some random setting somewhere. As I left the room, taking a much-needed break from the bout, I glanced over at the screen. Eureka! A signal had been found and was operating at 80%! Wait, 80 percent? It’s sitting directly on top of it! The antennas are touching each other. Damn you “Greg Field!”

To make a long story short, I moved the TiVo back into the living room and when Dad goes to the store it gets a 15% signal.

I would learn later that the biggest feat of all was teaching TiVo. You know what they say. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” And not only was my dog not interested, my parents weren’t too keen on learning either.
My sister hasn’t even warmed up to the idea yet. “Just show me how to change the channels,” she said.
“But you can –”
“No, I don’t care.”
“And there’s the –”
“No, shut up.”
“With the –”
“GO AWAY!”
“And the –”
She then made a sound that reminded me of the old VCR. Ahhh, the memories.

But they also say, “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” I’ve read about 5 pages of the manual, so I’m the reigning recording royalty. That is until the “Greg Field” knocks out the power.