The Madman disproves evolution. Take that Darwin!

In the shower this morning, I was thinking about evolution. I don't know why. As I was pondering the nature of life and the universe, it occured to me that the theories of natural selection and survival of the fittest simply cannot be true. What led me to this inescapable conclusion? Backhair.

I have a hairy back. Not Robin Williams hairy but hairy enough for government work. (The government has all sorts of jobs.) If natural selection were a valid representation of the world around us, any sort of selection, natural or otherwise, would have kicked my particular kind of back out of the gene pool long ago.

I'm not proud of it but many years ago when I was in high school and college, I used to look at Playboy magazine. Consequently, I became intimately familar with the turn-ons and turn-offs of "bubble headed bleached blondes" (thanks Don Henley). Not once did I read a list of turn-ons that mentioned backhair. They all said that they wanted a guy with a nice smile and a sense of humor, both of which I've been told I possess in abundance. Inexplicably, I could count the number of real dates I had in high school without taking my mittens off. It must have been due to the backhair.

When I shared my theory with my wife, she said, "You know that's not right don't you?" I remain unconvinced. She also mentioned that as long as I'm going to talk about backhair, I might as well mention nosehair. I'm not sure what she's getting at but I think I have a pretty good idea.

That also got me to wondering about other qualities that I posess that would help disprove the "Theory" of evolution. (Remember kids, you can't spell "theory" without "the". You could probably use an "or" too.) I suspect that I have many other features which would help prove my theory. What self-respecting cave woman would choose a mate that's knock-kneed? Or has a spare tire? Or needed glasses? Or was about as useful on a hunt as a bag of rats?

The only logical explanation (to me anyway) is that Darwin was absolutely nuts. Look at the facts:

1. He comes up with a crazy theory of evolution.
2. He travels on a ship named after a hyperactive dog. Seriously, who names their boat after a beagle? I think I'm going to name my next boat the HMS Labradoodle.
3. There is no #3.
4. If there's no #3, then this one is really pointless.

I can't wait to see my name in Kansas high school textbooks everywhere. Well, not everywhere but at least in Kansas. You know what I mean.

Kevin's Guide to Home Improvement

Buy a better house.

Decisions. Decisions.

Making decisions is getting harder by the minute. The number of choices for any given decision seems to be growing geometrically. If you don't speak math, geometrically means " a metric buttload". The most obvious manifestation of this is television channels. Everyone that grew up in the 60's had exactly 4 channels to watch if you included PBS. Now, through the magic of satellite TV, I have 4 channels devoted specifically to Ethiopian midget porn.

My mother-in-law bought us a really cool Christmas present. It's an electric mattress pad. It's great on a cold night to get into a nice warm bed. The problem with it is the number of settings that it has. If the mattress pad people had asked me, I would have told them that Low, Medium and High would have been sufficient. They did not ask me. Apparently, whoever they asked thought that no mattress warmer would be complete without TWENTY different settings. I simply cannot handle that many choices. I lie awake at night with my pad set on 17 wondering if I might not be more comfortable if I turned it up to 18. If I turn it down to 16, will I get hypothermia? These are not decisions that you can take lightly.

I got my first bicycle when I was in 1st grade. It had one gear. It got stolen. I had another bike in 6th grade that also only had one gear. It got stolen too. By the time I was in high school, I finally had a 10 speed. Surprise! It got stolen too. At this very moment, there are three bicycles sitting in my garage that have a combined total of 57 gears. If I could pay someone to steal them from me, I would. Not uncoincidentally, I have a car in the same category.

I golf. Badly. Seriously. I'm a bad golfer. I love it but I stink at it. The rules of golf state that you can carry no more than 14 clubs in your bag. Naturally, I carry 14. Sometimes 15. I actually use 3. The perverse thing about it is that if I had more sleeves in my bag, I'd buy more clubs to not use.

Gotta go. Monk is on. I think this is the one where you know who murdered the guy but you don't know how Monk is going to prove that the bad guy actually did it. Please don't spoil the ending for me.

I may not be consistent but I am forgetful.

My faithful following (Laura) has encouraged me to put something on my blog. Let's see. What could I write about that hasn't already been done? I would do Sarah Palin (not that way) but that would be like shooting moose in a wildlife preserve. Is it a preserve or a reserve? If it's a pre-serve, you would think that it would have to come before something else. If it's a re-serve then it should be something that it done over and over. I'm at a loss.

Joe Biden is every bit as interesting as Joe Lieberman so I think I'll leave him alone as well. By the way guys, good job on busting the stereotype that men named Joe are dull.

My company (it's not really my company, I'm more like their employee) had our annual auction of worthless crap that isn't good enough for us to use anymore. I'm always amazed at what people will pay good money for. I mean, how much would you pay for a pallet full of broken computer monitors that you knew without a shadow of a doubt had sat out in the rain for the last month? I'm no electrical genius (or any other kind) but I seem to recall that water is bad for most electrical components. That's why you shouldn't swim with your cellphone.

Yes I do work for an electric company (thanks for asking) but they don't let me get near the electricity. I do however keep a hard hat in my office just in case somebody over at the plant needs someone to come over and plug their printer back in.

That's one of the weird things about being a computer programmer (technically, (snort) I'm a "Senior Systems Analyst"), everyone expects you to be able to solve any problem that is even remotely related to their computer. Just as you wouldn't go to a podiatrist and say, "I had a bird that died 7 years ago. What do you think it was?", you really shouldn't ask a guy that does database programming all day what the best way to get the porn off your computer is. I can drive too. Don't let me near your intake manifold. It will not end well for either of us.

Random thoughts part π

• My rapper name is going to be Master Slushy. I'm not tough enough to have solid ice.
• Jim Morrison is Mr. Mojo Risin. I'm Universal Elm Sky.
• Today is the first day of the rest of your life unless you're dead.
• If it's better to give than to receive, aren't the givers putting the givees at a disadvantage?
• What kind of Christmas were Victorians nostalgic about?
• You'd be cranky too if your name was Ebenezer.
• I'm not 44, I'm 2 score and 4.
• If an angel gets it's wings whenever a bell rings, how do demons get their wings? Whatever it is, we should stop doing it.
• How did angels get their wings before the bronze age?
• The Nutcracker is a terrible name for a ballet unless it's being performed on America's Funniest Home Videos.
• Sleeting sounds a lot more fun than it really is.
  

Random thoughts: Part II

• Do Venetian castles have dry land around them to keep out invaders?
• Nobody’s school color is brown.
• Cats will eventually eat you if slip and die in the bathtub. That’s why I’m not a cat person. That and the fact that I don’t have long whiskers and a tail.
• Why don’t we use “extraordinary” to describe something that is really really plain?
• Chicken soup wasn’t good for the chicken. That’s why there aren’t any “Chicken Soup for the Chicken’s Soul” books.
• None of my little piggies have ever had roast beef.
• Does red eye reduction work on albinos?
• Nigerians are too trusting.
• If it weren’t for games, no one would own a Palm Pilot.
• Frankenstein’s monster wouldn’t have been as scary if the mad scientist had been named Dr. Jason McFluffy.

Let us bow our heads.

Thanksgiving is next Thursday. It’s the day we set aside to remember that the white man couldn’t grow food on his own in the New World. In honor of this, I’ve come up with a list of things that white men can’t (or shouldn’t) do.

• Jump. Obviously I didn’t come up with this one on my own.

• Sing in a gospel choir. Forrest Gump tried it and you probably shouldn’t try to imitate him.

• Say “biatch”. Actually, I don’t know of anyone that can pull this off without sounding like a complete idiot.

• Remove their shirts in May. The glare off that big white belly is blinding.

• Rap. I know that Eminem is white but he’s also from Detroit. Detroit is the only exception.

• Dance in public. As they said on Scrubs, it’s only OK if you’re gay.

• Wear a bandana. A lot of bikers try it and they all look stupid. Get a hat or wear a helmet.

Pass the turkey.