Big Mouth Blues

I’ve been hard at work in the lab lately doing some landmark research on cross-cultural intellectual relativity theory (C.C.I.R.T.) and wanted to share some of my initial findings just in case any readers had valuable insights to share before I submitted my final report to the appropriate scientific journals.

I believe that I have proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that individuals in possession of a British accent receive an intellectual credibility enhancement (I.C.E.) benefit of approximately 63% upon arrival in the United States. This benefit differs based upon the sub-variant of the accent. For example, a Cockney accent only yields a modest 10% benefit while an East Yorkshire-on-Little-Paddington accent receives an incredible 134% gain (on average).

This (frankly undeserved) intellectual perceptual boost helps to explain* the massive emigration of British citizens to the U.S. over the last three decades. Many Brits are now well aware of the fact that Brits of average intelligence have a much greater chance of financial success in America simply because the average American thinks that Brits (even dumb ones) are wicked smart because of their fancy way of talking.

(*Please note that our research also showed that many Brits prefer life in America for many other reasons. Some of the listed examples include: the American habits of wrapping food in hygienic containers, chilled beverages, cable television and sporting events that do not drag on for months on end without resolution.)

Sadly, there appears to be no reciprocal factor. Residents of Great Britain (England in particular) are wholly unimpressed by American accents and actually have a higher opinion of dim-witted Welshmen than of Americans, especially Southern-accented Americans. This is most likely due to the perceived intellectual limitations of former American president George W. Bush.

Other notable findings of the study include the fact that most Americans view Australian accents favorably; but as opposed to the intellectual credibility enhancement associated with the British accent, the majority of Americans just thought that Australians sounded like “they’d be fun to party with.”

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Thanks as always for reading. You can find all of my NaBloPoMo essays here. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your mates (just the British ones) to stop by.

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This time of the year the media is always full of useless articles with suggestions for avoiding embarrassment at your company’s annual holiday party. Ironically, these articles provide the same advice that my Mother attempted to pawn off on me in high school: “Just nurse one beer throughout the entire evening.” This makes a lot of sense – unless you’re the person that wants more than one drink.

(Please note for the record that I work for a highly professional organization that celebrates the holidays soberly and sedately in the traditional fashion – with a retelling of Dicken’s A Christmas Carol and a trip to the Nutcracker. You can file this essay under the heading of “fact or fiction?”)

So while I cheerfully advocate having a good time at your party, it’s also important to keep track of “The 5 Stages of the Company Party” to make sure that you don’t commit any professional faux pas:

Stage 1: Anticipation

Starting right after Thanksgiving and culminating with the pre-party drinking at the office, the Anticipation stage is a wonderful time of reminiscing about parties past and dreaming of future glories. If you do karaoke, it’s also a great time to talk about past performances and to think about this year’s potential song selections. While generally a wonderful time, the anticipation stage can be rough for those who have embarrassed themselves in the past.

Stage 2: Love

After the drinks start flowing, the combination of holiday spirit and alcohol usually produces an outpouring of love and affection. Awkward hugs, proclamations of eternal loyalty and even a few stray tears are the tell-tale sign that you’re knee-deep in the love stage. Yes, it’s a beautiful and natural expression of human emotion, but you may live to regret it if you get too swept away in the moment.

Stage 3: Aggression

At this point, we’ve reached the half-way point of the evening. Love has been displaced by aggression. People are starting to get drunk and old resentments are surfacing. An accidental bump or spilt drink can turn ugly. I don’t like this stage and I don’t understand this stage, but alcohol clearly activates some prehistoric gene in the Y chromosome that makes men crazy and violent. Smart money says to avoid this stage in the bathroom, at the bar or out with the smokers on the sidewalk.

Stage 4: Sloppy

The early-birds have left. The floor is wet. People who shouldn’t be drinking anymore start doing shots. Inappropriate coupling is taking place. Glasses are breaking. People are falling on the dance floor. It’s sloppy time! This is my favorite time of the party because this is when the memories are made – but it’s not for the faint-of-heart. When a party turns sloppy you’ve either got to go home or buckle up and go for a ride.

Stage 5: Remorse

Sometimes it hits you during the cab ride home. Sometimes it hits you when you’re getting sick in the alley. Sometimes it hits you the next morning when you wake up. Or worst of all, sometimes it hits you when you walk in the office and are reminded of the horrible thing that you forgot about the next day. It’s fairly certain that if you didn’t leave before things got sloppy, you’ll probably regret something (or someone) the next day. Don’t worry, though, plenty of companies start hiring again after New Years!

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Thanks as always for reading. You can find all of my NaBloPoMo essays here. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your co-workers (just the heavy drinkers) to stop by.

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You’ve read A Handy Little Guide to Choosing the Perfect Place to Stay When Traveling Away from Home.

You’ve booked the perfect room.

Now you’re probably wondering how to get to your destination.

Fear not! For today we bring you:

Jets, Rails & Cars: A Handy Little Guide to Choosing the Perfect Mode of Transportation When Traveling Away from Home

For most of us, we have three main choices when we’re traveling from home: we can drive (and fight the traffic), we can take a plane (and fight the security), or we can take a train (and fight the railway hobos).

You might be confused as to why I left boats and busses of the list. I’ve got two reasons (movies) why: Titanic and Midnight Cowboy. If you’ve watched those movies and still choose to travel by bus or sea, well then I really can’t help you. (But a doctor probably can. Legionnaire’s disease is no joke!)

Automobiles

Cars are an extremely popular form of transportation these days. In fact, they’re so popular that it’s practically impossible to get anywhere in a car because of all of the other cars on the road!

The nice thing about cars is that you’re in control of your own destiny. You can play with the radio. You can pull over for some delicious road food and coffee (calories consumed in the car don’t count!) whenever you want. You can cut people off and give them the finger if you need to blow off a little steam.

Plus, the advent of DVDs and third-row seating has made traveling with the youngsters practically a dream come true: now instead of being badgered “are we there yet” after 15 minutes, we can enjoy a full 35 minutes of peace before the whining commences. Huzzah!

Sure, cars are an expensive, inefficient and dangerous mode of transportation but they deliver one thing that you can’t get anywhere else: the illusion of control. Savor it.

Planes

On the opposite end of the spectrum are airplanes. Everything about the flying experience is tortuous: the check-in process, security shakedowns, being 47th in line on the tarmac, the pilot’s overly-loud and tedious announcements, the stupid farewells when you’re trying to get off the plane, trying not to poo at the airport, etc.

Even though I’m not particularly scared of the big ol’ stinky bus in the sky, I desperately hate everything about flying, especially the phony security experience (are planes really susceptible to sneaker-water-toothpaste bombs?) You know, if we really wanted to get revenge on the terrorists we shouldn’t torture them or lock them up in Gitmo, we should just make them spend the rest of their lives at the airport waiting in the security line. That, my friends, is what we call poetic justice.

Of course, we put up with the flying experience because it’s the fastest way to get long distances. But the real question is: do we really need to get everywhere so quickly?

Trains

That’s where trains come in. I love traveling long distances by train. I yearn for that brief period in history where there were trains but no planes. Damn those stupid Wright Brothers! I wish that we just ditched the whole airplane thing and built high-speed trains that went everywhere. If trains were the only choice for cross-country travel then we’d all accept that it takes a week to get to California and everybody would slow down a bit. Every trip would turn into a reprise of Festival Express. We’d be drinking Jack with Janis, singing with Danko and chasing the dragon with Garcia. Sure, we might need to spend a little bit more time in rehab, but isn’t that a small price to pay for a little piece of mind?

Everything about the rail experience is great. You can read, listen to music, walk around, eat, work, talk on the phone, drink, smuggle things to foreign lands, play Uno, whatever.

Summary

Whether you choose to drive, fly or take a train on your next trip, the important thing to remember is that there’s really no need to ever travel beyond the cozy confines of Route 128. As we like to say in Boston, everything that you need in life can be found within the 128 border – and if it can’t, well then you probably don’t need it.

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Thanks as always for reading. You can find all of my NaBloPoMo essays here. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your relatives (just the designated drivers) to stop by.

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Traveling away from home can be one of the most exciting things to do in life. It can also be the most frightening, especially when you get sleepy and are far away from your own comfy bed. And while most people understand the basic concept of exchanging money for a room, the options can quickly become overwhelming. Should you stay at a hostel, motel, corporate hotel, boutique hotel or luxury hotel? All are legitimate options and all have their pros and cons.

With the busy holiday travel season fast approaching, we’ve developed this handy little guide to help make your life just a little bit easier. We like to call it:

A Handy Little Guide to Choosing the Perfect Place to Stay When Traveling Away from Home

Hostels

Hostels are the cheapest option for the budget-conscious traveler. Traditionally, hostels were intended for traveling students, but thanks to our shameless European friends, anyone of any age can now stay at a youth hostel as long as they’re wearing shorts, thick wool socks and a rucksack.

The downside of staying in a hostel is that you’ll most likely end up sleeping in an army surplus cot in a large common room with the aforementioned European. Sadly, our Euro friends aren’t that concerned about daily showering and hostels usually smell pretty rank. Also, if you fall asleep too deeply someone will probably steal one of your vital organs.

On the plus side, if you’re in the market for a kidney but don’t have $15,000 to spare you can usually find a sleeping Euro at your local youth hostel. Just follow your nose!

Motel

If you like the general ambiance of the youth hostel but are seeking a little bit more privacy you might be interested in a motel. Motels are blocks of rooms with exterior entrances that are centered around a parking lot. The key to choosing a good motel lies within reading the message board carefully. When the board says “weekly rates” what they really mean is “hourly rates for you and your tranny prostitute.” When they say “A/C” what they mean is “no heat.” When they say “free HBO” what they really mean is “free HBO” – jump on that right away.

Definitely look for a motel that bills itself as a “motor lodge” or “inn”. It’s a little-known fact that in order to legally call yourself an inn or motor lodge you must have a mini-sized pool table in the game room. Don’t forget to bring a roll of quarters!

Corporate Hotels

Corporate hotels come in all shapes, sizes and quality levels and can cost anywhere from $75 to $500 a night, depending on the location and the thread count of the sheets and towels. Unlike motels, hotel feature interior room entrances, hallways, lobbies, restaurants/bars and patrons without felony convictions. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to scope out the individual properties in order to determine whether the hotel meets your personal standards and is worth the cost.

Things I look for in scoping out high-quality corporate hotels: those nice, thick plastic laundry bags hanging in the closet (perfect for transporting sensitive organs packed in ice!); an extra pillow in the closet that isn’t made out of feathers; 2-ply tissues and TP; ice machines on every floor (perfect for…well, you know); and a bar that doesn’t turn into a breakfast buffet in the morning (that really depresses me for some reason).

Boutique Hotels

I personally favor boutique hotels because when I stay at them they make me feel slightly hipper than I really am. Signs that you’re in a boutique hotel: the lobby and the bar area are nicer than your house; the staff is better looking than you; the staff is slightly rude to you (because they’re better looking – duh); your room is the size of a closet (but a nice-sized closet) and is all art deco-y; the mini-bar has condoms AND chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.

Please note that the one thing you can never ask for in a boutique hotel is where the gym is located. There isn’t one. People that stay in boutique hotels stay thin through the cigarette and vodka diet. Looking for the gym is a tip-off to the staff that you’re not a cool boutique hotel person and then they’ll never, ever be your friend, no matter how many condoms and chocolate-covered macadamias you give them.

Luxury Hotels

Luxury Hotels are the most fun at the stay in because you can freak out the uptight patrons quite easily. Just walk through the lobby in jeans and a hoodie and you can literally hear the monocles smashing on the marble floor. Order a beer at the bar and I guarantee that you’ll hear some old bitty complain that the Four Seasons has turned into “a veritable halfway house.” Accidentally urinate in a plant and the police will accuse you of “disorderly conduct.” They’re uptight, I tell ya!

The nice thing about luxury hotels is that they put a lot of money into their bathrooms. Even the toilet paper gets its own fancy little metal door. And make sure that you load up on the free shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer and hair dryers – they’re all top-notch and complimentary.

Summary

Whether you choose to stay in a hostel, motel, corporate hotel, boutique hotel or luxury hotel, the important thing to remember is that even though they don’t print the title of the movie on your bill, everyone will assume that you rented porn even if you just watched “The Time Traveler’s Wife.”

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Thanks as always for reading. You can find all of my NaBloPoMo essays here. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your relatives (just the ones you don’t want crashing at your house) to stop by.

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Digging into a bowl of Peanut Butter Crunch the other night I had a major epiphany.

The epiphany that I’m referring to is peanut-related.

You see, after all these years of considering myself to be a huge fan of peanuts and peanut butter I realized that I actually like fake peanut butter flavoring much more than I like real peanuts or peanut butter…hence my love of Cap’n Crunch’s delicious spin-off cereal, Peanut Butter Crunch.

(Reese’s Puffs are actually better than Peanut Butter Crunch but I try not to stock Reese’s Puffs in the house because they’re way too good and I run the risk of eating an entire box in one seating. Seriously, giving me a box of Reese’s Puffs is akin to giving George Michael a wheel-barrow full of crack and a key to the men’s room. But I digress.)

The evidence is pretty overwhelming. For instance, I love Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups but I’m lukewarm on Snickers. I adore Butterfingers but I’m ambivalent about Baby Ruths. I obviously favor fake peanuts over actual peanuts.

Thinking about it, it’s not just peanuts that I prefer in the fake form. A couple more examples of delicious fake foods:

Real coconuts are terrible. The meat is dry and unpleasant. The juice is much too thick and tastes gross. But process that bad boy into a Pina Colada or a Mounds bar and I’m almost paradise!

Genuine crabmeat is generally disappointing. The texture is odd and gritty and it’s just not worth the effort of cracking open those pointy shells. But fake crabmeat rocks! It tastes like you think crab should taste and it has a much better consistency.

I think it’s nice that today’s ethical consumer is concerned with environmentally-responsible and healthy foodstuffs. I commend efforts to support your local farmer’s market and to buy sustainable organic produce. But I think it would be irresponsible for us not to realize that modern science has helped to make some marginal foodstuffs palatable.

So let us take pause today and celebrate the fake foods that so enrich our lives. Let us be brave enough to finally admit that Swedish Fish taste better than real fish. Let us be bold enough to declare our preference for candy corn over real corn.

Or maybe I just like candy.

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Thanks as always for reading. You can find all of my NaBloPoMo essays here. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your friends (just the chubby ones) to stop by.

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Do you remember that old show “Crossing Over” with John Edwards? In it, John Edwards acts as a psychic medium between audience members and their dead relatives, friends, or neighbors. It’s a pretty compelling show, and it seems like John might be on the level.

Most people are pretty skeptical when it comes to the supernatural. It’s a logical position to take because the psychic industry (if it even qualifies as a real industry) is full of charlatans and scam artists. Now, I’m not claiming that Miss Cleo is a grifter per se, but how exactly do you give someone a tarot card reading over the phone?

And yet, I truly believe that John Edwards is on the level. I know this, because I too have been touched by the hand of fate. I have been blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with a psychic gift.

For many years I tried to deny my gift. Fearing ridicule and further ostracization from society, I suppressed my true self. But as any legitimate psychic would probably tell you (I couldn’t actually find any to talk to) if you have the gift, you can’t deny it.

My psychic gift first manifested itself when I was in my teens. I was working part-time at a bookstore. As a register boy, one of my responsibilities was to greet customers and bade them farewell. I noticed that some of my co-workers repeated the same phrases to each and every customer: “Thank you for shopping with us. Have a great day.”

No originality. No flair. Delivered in a monotonous tone that made it quite clear that they didn’t really care if you had a great day or not.

I made a vow to myself that I would make an earnest effort to say something different to each and every customer; no matter how much I personally disliked them. (Register boy disliked most people.) I would break from established tradition and deliver a unique and personalized greeting for all who patronized my book shop.

But a curious thing happened. Even though I kept saying different things, people would say the exact same thing back to me at precisely the same moment. I’d say, “Have a good one.” And they’d say, “Have a good one.” I’d say “Take it easy” and they’d say, “Take it easy.” And so on. It was like I was reading their minds, predicting the future, and forging a psychic bridge between us. Clearly I was slightly telepathic and a touch clairvoyant.

Needless to say, I was pretty freaked out at the time. Finding out that you’re telepathic and clairvoyant is a pretty heavy trip for a 15 year old. I decided to attempt a little experiment to verify my findings. I wanted to see what would happen if I turned the tables and played the part of the customer. I went to various stores and delivered my glad tidings. As I suspected, the same thing kept happening. My gift was very real.

To this day, I still struggle with my psychic gift. I know that it’s not cool like communicating with the dead, or lucrative like ripping people off with a 900#, but it’s real. Believe me, it’s real.

So, the next time you experience some unexplained phenomenon, don’t just discount it. As people like John Edwards and I can testify, the truth is out there.

{originally written way back on 4/23/02}

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Thanks as always for reading. You can find all of my NaBloPoMo essays here. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your relatives (just the dead ones) to stop by.

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