I arrived at LAX, which isn’t as big as you would think, and immediately got lost trying to find my friend.  Unfortunately, getting lost is a recurring theme in my travels.  I spent four hours walking London’s streets at night…in the rain; I spent an hour and a half trying to find my dorm in Krakow after a wrong turn; in Seoul, I spent most of a day looking for anything familiar that could help me pinpoint my location.  I seem to have inherited my sense of direction from a piece of pocket lint.

          The first thing you’ll want to see in Los Angeles is the outside of LAX.  After that, if you’re from a non-coastal state, it’s time to see the ocean.  Although the Pacific Ocean is the largest body of water on Earth, its grandeur isn’t readily apparent from Venice Beach.  Also, the water is quite cold during the second week of March.  Do not attempt to go swimming.

          Food is plentiful in Southern California.  Lemons, limes, and oranges are free for the picking (as long as the home owner doesn’t see you).  Diddy Reese, an ice-cream shop near UCLA’s campus, sells ice-cream sandwiches for a dollar (as of 2006).  Other unhealthy food includes Carl’s Jr. and its taste-tastic Western Bacon Cheeseburger.  I regret that I did not patronize El Pollo Chicken, but the locals assured me that its food is as great as its name, which means “The Chicken Chicken” in English.  (Speaking of Spanish, it’s a popular language in Southern California.  If you studied German in high school and college, which is about as useful as studying Klingon, you may encounter some difficulty.)

          As you might imagine, there is a very serious, but delicious, obesity problem in Los Angeles.  To help combat this growing epidemic, the city has established various frozen yogurt shops and juice bars.  One of them, Yogurtland, offers many flavors of-you guessed it-frozen yogurt, along with numerous toppings such as fresh fruit, granola, and moshi.  If you are worried that your frozen dairy treat is too healthy, don’t forget to top it off with a heaping spoonful of crushed candy bar (available at the end of the row of fruit and nuts).

          When you’re done gorging yourself, you can work off the calories by shopping.  Los Angeles offers two kinds of shopping:  The kind you can afford and the kind rich people can afford.  The latter can be found on Rodeo Drive, which is home to Cartier, Hermès, Dior, and Burberry.  If you visit these stores, do not touch anything.  Don’t look at anything.  Don’t even enter the store.  Wait.  What are you doing?  Get out of there, you fool!  Run away!  (The kind of shopping you can afford is at the grocery store.  If you’re lucky, it’ll be a double coupon day.)

          There is no shortage of entertainment in Los Angeles and its surrounding cities.  Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, and Universal Studios are more than happy to take your money.  I can’t speak of the attractions at Disneyland, but Universal and Knott’s are very enjoyable, especially in early March when there are no lines.

          Universal Studios boasts sixteen different attractions.  The Studio Tour takes visitors around its film sets so people can have the magic of movies and television destroyed.  Please keep your hands and feet inside the trolley at all times and do not try to set fire to the Desperate Housewives set.  (Interesting Fact:  Universal Studios has suffered seven major backlot fires since 1932.  Maybe it’s time to get rid of the Backdraft attraction.)  I deeply regret that Star Trek Adventure was replaced in 1994; I think I might have a case with the International Court of Justice.

          Knott’s Berry Farm opened in 1940 and is, today, a hodgepodge of rides, attractions, and the creepiest animatronics outside a Rod Serling production.  I’m not kidding.  The Timber Mountain Log Ride takes visitors on a logging camp nightmare that features ’70s-style robots (that come to life at night).  Besides this bastion of evil, the rollercoasters are rip-roaring (the whole complex has some sort of strange Wild West theme that doesn’t seem quite appropriate for a coastal city); the creaky wooden one is especially terrifying.  The best part of the farm, though, is its food, which includes candy shops, funnel cake stands, an ice-cream parlor, and Cinnabon.  Interestingly, I saw no berries.

          If crowded amusement parks and rollercoasters aren’t your scene, Tijuana, right next to San Diego, offers loads of drugs, prostitutes, underage drinking, kidnappings, and random acts of violence.  While I can’t promise you’ll be kidnapped or shot, the odds are in your favor.

          Southern California has incredible weather.  The temperature rarely falls below 40 degrees and it is predominately sunny.  Winter months bring rain instead of snow.  Summer months bring scorching heat and drought.  In fact, record highs are over 90 degrees for all twelve months of the year and over 100 for eight of them.  On the bright side, you’re unlikely to encounter a tornado.  On the downside, California does not want for natural disasters.  Besides the drought, earthquakes, fires, and mudslides occur in the Greater Los Angeles area.  I suggest returning home before any of these happen.

          As you settle into your seat for the hours-long flight back to Middle-earth, do not become panicked as the airplane heads over the Pacific Ocean and towards Japan.  You have not boarded the wrong plane.  The pilot is merely using that airspace to turn around…unless you’ve been hijacked, in which case it’s a good time to brush up on your Japanese for “I’m Canadian.”

Note:  Although Southern California is lovely in early March, Minnesota is a barren wasteland.  There is every chance you will miss your connecting flight in Minneapolis/St. Paul because of a blizzard, and be forced to sleep in the airport.  Still, they have a Cinnabon.

          I’ve decided to do a series recounting the various places I’ve been.  It’s a short list, sadly, but I hope to add to it when I’m a famous writer (and I can afford to stay in the sort of hotels Paris Hilton stays in, instead of the sort of hotels her family owns).  Let’s start with Michigan.

          Michigan was founded twenty-maybe thirty-years ago by Native Americans, but they don’t count because they didn’t have a flag when the French showed up in the 1600s.  The French were one of the primary influences on Michigan, which goes a long way to explain why we have so many problems.  They’re responsible for a lot of city names that eventually became cars, such as Pontiac, Cadillac, Marquette, and Toyota.

          Speaking of place names, we have a lot of places with names that can’t be pronounced by non-natives.

          In Michigan, winter lasts from about November 1^st until March 31^st and most of it is spent indoors, complaining.  Temperatures are usually far below freezing and the state gets anywhere from 50 to 200 inches of snow during the season.  Interestingly, Michigan does not have an abnormally high suicide rate.

          Michigan is composed of an upper peninsula and a lower peninsula, giving rise to our state motto, “Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice” (“Out of many, one”).  The people in the U.P. good-naturedly refer to Lower Peninsula residents as “Trolls,” while we “Trolls” refer to them as “Yoopers,” because no stupider name was available.  Michigan gained the U.P. as a result of the Toledo War, when Michigan and Ohio battled for control of Toledo and its surrounding swamps.  To settle the matter, the Federal government gave the city to Ohio and Michigan received a vast expanse of frozen, uninhabited forest that could only be reached by boat.  Geologists, however, found huge deposits of iron and copper, so Ohio can suck it.

          Michigan has two main universities:  Michigan State University and the University of Michigan.  U of M is ranked 18^th in the world by Times Higher Education and its medical and engineering schools are highly regarded.  Although MSU doesn’t even show up on the Times’s list, they make some darn good turfgrass and have the top Supply Chain Management program in the country.  In retrospect, I probably should have attended U of M.  (To be fair, MSU started as an agricultural college and today boasts a botanically lush campus and high squirrel population, whereas U of M is a cement wasteland devoid of life.  Also, there are animal teaching and research centers all around Michigan State, including centers for beef cattle, dairy cattle, horses, poultry, sheep, and swine.  I’m not exactly sure what these animals are taught or what research they conduct, but there’s nothing like the sight of a pig in a lab coat.)

          Detroit is a popular destination for nineteen and twenty-year-olds in Michigan because it is home to the Ambassador Bridge, which connects Detroit, Michigan to Windsor, Ontario.  Unlike America, Canada’s drinking age is nineteen.  The price, however, is costly for Michiganders; in retaliation for our drunken teenagers, Canada routinely sends us cold fronts, coins we can’t use in vending machines, and its garbage.  There is a lot of talk about simply annexing Canada.  For the record, the Ambassador Bridge is a terrifying expanse of steel and concrete that stretches over the Detroit River for more than a mile.  At its peak, it towers 200 feet over water that is 115 feet deep.  I cannot speak to the horrors of the Mackinac Bridge (which connects the U.P. to the Lower Peninsula) because I refuse to step foot on a five-mile-long bridge that hovers 200 feet over a deep, frigid abyss.

          According to Wikipedia, Michigan has a booming tourist industry.  Tree-huggers love the state because it is 50% forest.  It also offers thousands of miles of shoreline, some of which is quite pristine.  Lake Michigan’s shoreline, however, is covered in dead fish and other aquatic goodies the water has thrown up.  Detroit is home to the Henry Ford Museum, the Detroit Zoo, white-flight, three casinos, and various sports teams.  Hockey is quite popular because Detroit referees don’t interfere with players’ fights.  Plus, fans are encouraged to throw octopuses onto the ice.  My favorite tourist attraction in Michigan, however, is the wealth of wildlife.  I have seen deer, foxes, and wild turkeys in just the suburbs. 

          Speaking of hunting, it’s very popular in Michigan.  Residents and visitors have the opportunity to hunt deer, bear, turkeys, elks, coyotes, illegal immigrants, and all number of birds.  I have never, technically, gone hunting, although I played Duck Hunt a lot when I was a kid.  Those who do go hunting are a force to be reckoned with.  These are well-armed people who like guns, know how to use them, and enjoy stalking and killing other living things for sport.  Al-Qaida (I’ve been told) had better stay the heck out of Michigan because you don’t have to buy a license to shoot a terrorist.

          Famous Michiganders include Madonna, Sinbad, Eminem, Geoffrey Fieger, Kid Rock, and Michael Moore.  I think we more than make up for this, though, with Motown and Bruce Campbell.

          So, this is Michigan.  I hope you like it; you’re welcome to visit.  Next on the tour is Los Angeles, the City of Angels, where you’d better speak Spanish if you want to order at the Carl’s Jr.

Note:  Although I’ve spent a lot of time visiting family in Wisconsin, I don’t feel the need to write another article.  Wisconsin is exactly like Michigan, but more unpleasant and with less peninsula.  Milwaukee smells of brewer’s yeast.

            Like death and internet porn, change is one of the few constants in the universe.  Some people embrace it.  They change their hairstyles, lifestyles, profiles.  They’re insane.  Other people are so change-averse that they stay in the same job for fifty years and would rather undergo a rectal exam than move to a new home.

            I’m not a huge fan of change, personally.  To me, it often represents the end of something familiar and the start of uncertainty.   Change is life’s way attaching electrodes to your body and hitting the on-switch.  But, as I said, it’s unavoidable, so I wonder what changes are in store for the world as we head from 2008 into 2009…

North America

            Come January 20^th, Mr. Obama will become the 44^th president of the United States and herald in an era of peace, prosperity, and equality.  We will no longer be forced to pay mortgages.  Nationalized insurance will provide free, high quality, easily accessible medical care to everyone.  Instead of greenhouse gases, factory byproducts will include smiley faces, unicorns, and candy necklaces.

            Back in reality, January 20^th will be no more historic a day in 2009 than it was in 2005—it’s just a big stupid party that I wasn’t invited to.  Come January 21^st, Obama and his cabinet, still hung over from the night before, will sit down and have a nice long talk about continuing the policies already in place.

            Halfway through the year, Ford, Chrysler, and GM will still not understand why their crapomobiles aren’t selling.  However, they’ll conduct extensive research.  In Rio.  With their wives.  And while they’re living la vida loca surveying Brazilian attitudes on cars, Michigan will seek out new sources of income, such as stem-cell research, joint ventures with the Department of Energy, and organ trafficking.

            Over in California, the Proposal 8 controversy will reach its climax when advocates from both sides stream into the state, causing it to sink.  All inhabitants drown.  On the bright side, the state’s budget deficit is no longer a problem.

South America

            Hugo Chavez will host an “I Hate Democracy” party in the spring.  Vladimir Putin, Fidel Castro, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, and the ghost of Karl Marx are slated to attend.  Games will include pin the horns on the capitalist, bobbing for oil wells, and beer pong.  At the end of the festivities, partygoers will break open a Bush-shaped piñata that is filled with smaller effigies of Bush.

            Land reforms meant to redistribute wealth in Bolivia will fail completely and leave indigenous groups without the tools, equipment, or knowledge necessary to run farms.  The smart people will take a hint from Colombia and grow coca plants.  Fortunately, Americans will see a decrease in the price of their cocaine.

            Panama accidentally loses the keys to its canal locks.

Europe

            Europe continues to break up into smaller and smaller nations.  Southern Ireland, angry at being ignored for so long, secedes from the Emerald Isle.  Scotland and Wales both claim their independence.  Spain finally gives up on the Basque region.  In Belgium, the Flemish attack the French speakers, who immediately surrender; the country is officially divided into “French-Belgium” and “Flemland.”  Holland revolts.  Germany, overwhelmed by the revolutionary spirit, splits into East and West again.  Finally, the Balkan states continue to secede from one another until each person is his own independent nation.

Asia

            Middle East:  One of the few places that never changes, the Middle East will continue to be a cauldron of hate and violence until the sun burns out.  To keep things interesting, however, Israel will wipe out Iran’s nuclear facilities using stealth aircraft, electromagnetic pulses, and gefilte fish.  Its actions are widely condemned by the other countries in the Middle East, which are secretly rejoicing that Mahmoud Ahmadinenutjob had The Button blown out of his hand.

            Russia:  Putin continues to eat capitalism and democracy for every meal, which gives him the energy he needs to buy up majority shares in every major industry in Russia.  Fortunately, he still has time to occasionally cut off Ukraine’s natural gas. 

            Afghanistan:  Utilizing historically friendly northern Afghan Tajiks who oppose the Taliban, NATO troops move up from the south-east while the Tajiks close in from the north-west.  They force Taliban and al-Qaida members into the center of the country, then set fire to the immense marijuana and poppy fields.  Afghanistan can rebuild itself unmolested while the militants search for chocolate pudding and Doritos.

            India and Pakistan:  Early in the year, before any problems can escalate, India sends Pakistan a letter.

Dear Pakistan,

            It has recently come to our attention that you are, again, massing your forces on our shared border.  We can only assume this is in response to our blatant provocation of getting attacked by your citizens.  Please accept our humble apologies for ever intimating that ten Pakistanis—who appear to have training funded by your ISS—murdered 164 victims on India’s sovereign territory.

            Nevertheless, we would like to remind you of some minor facts.  First, Pakistan started the last three Indo-Pakistani wars; maybe it’s somebody else’s turn.  Second, aren’t you already a bit overextended in the north?  Finally, although your military is impressively ranked seventh in the world, ours is ranked sixth—oh, wait.  It’s ranked third.  Our bad.

Love,

India

Pakistan decides that 2009 is a great year for block leave for its troops.

            East Asia (except for China):  Korea, Taiwan, and Japan spend 2009 marveling at how much it sucks to have four nuclear-armed neighbors (and North Korea).  Economic superiority, once their only solace, has been replaced with wishing they had a billion citizens who would happily work for a dollar a day.

            China:  China just keeps growing—economically, politically, militarily, physically.  Even its people get bigger.  Ironically, the Great Wall shrinks.

Africa

            In Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe dies when his heart, already suffering from necrotizing fasciitis, finally dissolves.  He still refuses to give up power.

            The Republic of the Congo and the Democratic Republic of the Congo go to war over which country can keep the word “Congo” in its name.  In the DRC and Uganda, the Lord’s Resistance Army continues to massacre civilians in the name of God.  The Mujahideen in Somalia object and claim that they thought of this first.

             Tuberculosis, malaria, Ebola, and HIV/AIDS still ravage the continent, as do famine, drought, and locust plagues.  Political instability shows no sign improvement.  Marauding militias still rape anything that moves.  The United Nations officially declares Africa the Worst Place to Live Ever.  (The insane fundamentalist dictator industry, however, sees continued growth.)

Australia

            Australia’s air conditioner malfunctions and the entire continent burns up.

Antarctica

            The ice, cold, and hurricane-force winds continue to draw scientists from across the globe, proving that scientists really aren’t all that bright.

(In all seriousness:  Have a happy 2009.  Let’s hope future generations look back on 2009 as a huge improvement on 2008.)

(I may have accidentally

deleted MS Paint.  You

go ahead and imagine

whatever picture you like.)

          It’s hard to make jokes about mental illness.  D’you hear the one about the schizophrenic who had a psychotic episode at the circus?  He knifed two clowns and got mauled by a bear.

          See?  What kind of a punch line is that?  Plus, I hate clowns, so it seems more like a really short story with a happy ending.

          According to a report published by the World Health Organization in 2000, approximately one third of people polled reported experiencing a mental disorder that met DSM-IV criteria.  The WHO surveyed citizens in the United States, Canada, Brazil, Mexico, Germany, the Netherlands, and Turkey.  There were 29,644 respondents at or over the age of eighteen.

          Thus, it’s mathematically safe to say that there are about 100,000,000 people in the United States who were or are mentally ill.

          Suddenly, I don’t feel so alone.

          It took ages for me to become comfortable with having an anxiety disorder.  With the exception of celebrities, who seem to find joy in sharing their diagnoses, most people feel stigmatized in society if they have psychiatric problems.  Rarely will you encounter two guys in the street and hear:

Jim:  Dick!  It’s been ages!  How are you?

Dick:  I’m great!  I managed to kick that underage-Thai-hooker habit.  How about you?

Jim:  Better than ever.  I made regional sub-vice president and started taking an atypical antipsychotic for off-label treatment of my treatment-resistant depression.  How’re Jill and the kids?

          But the problem exists for large segments of society, so I don’t understand why I should be ashamed.  It’s not a sign of weakness to have a mental disorder.  Don’t get me wrong, there are many signs of weakness.  Crying in front of others, for example, or begging for sex.  But it is fairly difficult to self-regulate brain chemicals.  Those are involuntary bodily functions (unless you have a high threshold for pain, a drill, and an exceptionally good working knowledge of the brain).

          I came to realize I had a problem during my sophomore year of high school, when I couldn’t sleep, eat, or leave the house.  Constant panic attacks dominated my life until I sought treatment.  Interestingly, Hugh Laurie’s experiences mirror mine, except for the torment.

          I was a fan of Hugh Laurie before I ever saw House.  In fact, I own all four series of Blackadder and the whole Jeeves & Wooster collection.  But I’m a little annoyed that he claims to have realized he had depression when he felt bored at a charity stock car race.  Geez, Hugh, are you sure it wasn’t when you felt pensive at an awards ceremony?  How about that time you got frustrated when you couldn’t remember Stephen Fry’s phone number?

          It’s not that I doubt the validity of his diagnosis or the seriousness of the problem.  I just think that boredom at a stock car race is the most pleasant incidence of depression I’ve ever heard of.  Most people cry for no reason and can’t get out of bed.  How Hugh must suffer.

          After ten years, I feel like an old pro.  I want to offer advice to the recently diagnosed.  I want to wear “I ♥ Paxil” T-shirts and hand out Xanax to people on the street.  The only problem (besides occasional flare-ups and a lifetime of prescription drugs—thanks GlaxoSmithKline!) is the name of my diagnosis.  The “generalized” in “generalized anxiety disorder” gives the impression of being a no-name brand product.  Can’t afford a real anxiety disorder?  Wal-Mart brand Generalized Anxiety Disorder is one third cheaper and just as effective!  Now available with mild OCD!

          I feel assured that psychiatric problems will eventually lose their stigma (except for pederasty; sorry, NAMBLA).  As the economy continues to suck/fails to thrive, more and more people will want drugs.  I foresee a day in the near future when the government will put Prozac and Valium in our water the same way they put fluoride.

          It’d save me a lot of time and money.

          I like animals.

          A lot.

          I don’t like animals in a gross, illegal kind of way, but I’m certainly more fond of them as a group than I am of people.  People are capable of cruelty; animals simply go on instinct.

          Also, I’ll admit I tend to credit animals with human emotions.  I saw a nature documentary not long ago about animals in Antarctica.  At one point, a seal went after a penguin, which kept backing up until it was cornered.  It raised its little appendages (wings? arms? flippers?) and I could imagine its terror right before the seal ate it.  I could even imagine its final thoughts and the horrible sadness of leaving behind a widow and orphan.  I had to change the channel.

          And that’s the problem.  Animals do not have human emotions, even though we think they do.  Thanks to all the anthropomorphized creatures from Disney and Japan, we often personify animals.  Just ask Liu, the 20-year-old college student in China who jumped a zoo barrier to get a hug from a panda.  “Yang Yang was so cute and I just wanted to cuddle him. I didn’t expect he would attack,” the young idiot told reporters from his hospital room.

          Liu isn’t the first person to enter Yang Yang’s enclosure.  In 2007, the panda mauled another visitor who jumped the barrier during feeding time (because if you’re going to do something stupid, you should really go all out).  The previous year, an intoxicated tourist snuck in to hug a sleeping Yang Yang, who returned the affection with his teeth.

          But pandas aren’t the only animals that humans needlessly interact with.  Have you heard of Mowgli?  Jack London?  How about Sandra Piovesan?  Ms. Piovesan kept a pack of wolf-dog hybrids in her backyard.  She fed them road kill; gave them toys; played with them; she even kept one as an indoor pet.  They responded by mauling her to death after ten years.  Talk about ingratitude!

          Like Sandra Piovesan, Timothy Treadwell spent many years living with animals, but he chose bears instead of wolf-dogs.  Tim, a former drug addict (surprise!), spent thirteen summers living among grizzly bears at Katmai National Park in Alaska.  He credited them with his recovery from drug abuse, and now bear therapy is showing promise for millions of addicts who want their limbs strewn around campsites, which is what happened to Tim and his girlfriend, Annie Appetizer.  (It is my sincerest hope that they were both vegetarians.)

          I’m not immune to this stupidity.  Although I wouldn’t dream of trespassing on a bear’s territory or playing Jungle Book with a pack of wolves, I’ve been known to get pretty friendly with squirrels.  I used to lure them close to me with peanuts or grapes or Little Debbie strawberry shortcake rolls and then hand feed them.  This worked really well until 2007, when one of them, apparently, took offense to my Kashi granola bar.  He swatted the food from my hand, walked right up to my shoe, and began hissing.  When I backed away, he came closer.  At one point, he started to climb on my shoe.

          I don’t hand feed squirrels anymore.

          It says a lot about society that people are looking to members of other species for affection and affirmation (and treatment for addiction).  Why couldn’t poor Liu get a hug from another human?  Why do I get teary when I read about animal abuse but not murder?  Why did it take the bears so long to eat Tim?  Maybe we find comfort knowing that animals aren’t capable of intentionally hurting us (emotionally, obviously).  Maybe we’re just attracted to soft furry things, which would explain why no one has ever tried to cuddle a komodo dragon.

          All I know is:  Liu, if you’re reading this and you still need a hug, you’d better find somebody else.  I don’t like human contact.

So suck it, hippies.

          I am a question-asker by nature.  Even when I was quite young, I had to know the whys and hows and what-ifs.  But there are answerless questions that haunt me at night.  These are the sorts of riddles that philosophers have spent ages pondering over with no success.  To be honest, we may never have satisfactory answers, but that mustn’t stop us from asking:

1.     If seedless watermelons don’t have seeds, what do they grow from?

2.     Why does Spanish have an “H” if it makes no sound?

3.     If machines are used to make other machines, where did the first machines come from?  For example, machinists use lathes, boring mills, and drill presses to create parts for use in automobiles.  Who made the lathes, boring mills, and drill presses?  And who made the parts for the machines that make the lathes, boring mills, and drill presses?  How did the first machine come about if there were no machines to make it with?  Do they grow in nature?  Is there a drill press bush somewhere in the Belgian Congo?

4.     Why do all of the marshmallows in Lucky Charms migrate to the top of the package?  My first bowl is half marshmallow and half cereal; by the end, I’m lucky to get a marshmolocule.  Does General Mills do this on purpose so I’m desperate to get a new box?

5.     Is every FreeCell game winnable?  Do I just suck at playing it?

6.     What does mercury taste like?

7.     Why do people “protest” retarded things?  Take poverty, for example.  Why would anybody take time out of his schedule to protest that?  It’s not as if some group is going to form a counter protest in favor of poverty.  Geez, what’s next?  Protesting child abuse?  Picketing against punching old ladies?  Whom are you trying to convince?

8.     Why are English speakers (British, American, Australian, etc.) generally able to speak with different accents, but it’s so much more difficult for people from Asia and Africa?  If Hugh Laurie can pull off an American accent, why can’t Jackie Chan?

9.     Why don’t photojournalists put down the camera and help people during catastrophes?  “Hm?  I’m taking pictures…No, you’re fine; you just keep pullin’ people outta the rubble…um, no, I can’t put down my camera and help.  Geez, what a schmuck.”

10.                        How does Braille help blind people in public places?  I always see Braille lettering on elevator signs and numbers, but how are blind people supposed to know where to “look”?  And (here’s my favorite) why do banks put Braille on their drive-through ATM machines?  There simply aren’t that many licensed blind people.

          (In case you’re wondering, the title is from my early childhood, when I asked my mother what she would do if there were a gorilla in the living room.  I don’t know what prompted me to ask that question, but I sincerely hope that, one day, I’ll be in a position to answer it.)

          I’ve really been wracking my brain lately, trying to think of something to write about.  Unfortunately, it’s hard to be concerned with anything besides looking for jobs, not getting any, and reminding myself that I have a roof over my head, a loving family, and at least I don’t live in the Jerusalem.

          Speaking of Jerusalem, the city experienced an increase in violence recently when two monks got into a fistfight (which sounds like the opening to a very poor joke).  Apparently, a group of Armenian monks held a procession in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher to commemorate the date, in the fourth century, when Saint Helena found the True Cross.  (I can only assume it had been stored with a note reading, “To Whom It May Concern:  Enclosed, please one (1) cross belonging to Christ, Jesus.  Many kind regards.  Sincerely, RomCorp.”)

          The only problem with the procession, besides its inherent tedium, is that the Greek Orthodox Church has dibs on the Holy Sepulcher.  They didn’t want any of the Armenians parading about without at least one Greek Orthodox monk to chaperone.  When the Armenians refused and began their procession, the Greek Orthodox monks stood in their path.  That appears to be when members of the two sects got out their switchblades and descended into a rumble.  Tony and Maria remain in critical condition.

          This isn’t the first time the two groups have come to blows, however, and they aren’t the only ones; seven denominations have duties at the church:  Greek, Armenian, Syriac, Ethiopian, and Coptic Orthodoxes (or whatever the plural of “orthodox” is), Roman Catholic, and Armenian Apostolic.  And they can’t stand each other.  Also, in keeping with traditional, organized Christianity, they hate themselves.

          I can’t help thinking there’s something in Jerusalem’s water supply.  I mean, the Jews and Arabs have reasons to loathe one another, although I won’t go into that because I’m not a masochist.  But a fistfight between monks?  What must their theology classes be like?

Priest:  And Paul, in Romans 12: 17 and 18, exhorted his readers, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” except those bloody Greeks and Armenians.

Monk:  Actually, sir, I don’t seem to have that last bit here in my version of the scripture.  In fact, it seems to say something about overcoming evil with good…?

Priest:  I see, Brother, and does it also mention the part about you murdering baby angels?  Maybe you should go on to Romans 13 where Paul discusses submitting to authority.  I think you’d find that chapter very enlightening.

          I’ve decided to experiment on Jerusalem.  I shall move small communities of Buddhists, Hindus, pagans, and Rastas to the city and see how long it takes them to start hating each other.  I suspect the findings will conform to my equation:

(Number of religions) x (Religions’ history of violence) – (Introduction of marijuana from the Rastafarians) ÷ (Size of community) = Level of violence, as measured in jihads (note: 3 fatwas = 1 jihad)

Previously, I would have listed the address of the article I read, but I can’t be bothered.  Find it for your own darn self.  Geez!

            I know.

            I promised I wouldn’t write about politics after my tirade against them, but with the inherently partisan nature of any election, I’m drawn toward the subject like the NRA to a shotgun.  I just have to be extra careful because I killed Marcel Marceau in my previous politically-themed article; I mentioned him and he was dead the next day.  (Coincidence?  I hope not.)

            Oh, you’ve heard of the Big Two.  Democrats and Republicans have dominated the House, the Senate, and the Oval Office since Teddy Roosevelt’s Bull-Moose Party-which I would vote for without hesitation-failed to get any bulls or mooses into office.

            But did you know there are other political parties in the United States?  Although we don’t have any communists running for president this year, there are some Independents and Libertarians.  There are a few people running under the “None” Party; I’m sure they felt very pleased with themselves until they realized that, by claiming no party, they had joined a group of other people who had claimed no party, thereby creating a party of people with no party.

            Some party names are both unoriginal and redundant.  “Citizen’s”?  “American”?  Yes, congratulations, you’ve hit upon two of the requirements for the presidency.  What’s next?  The 35-Years-Old-or-Older Party?  The Not-a-(Convicted)-Felon Party?

            One guy is running for president under the United Fascist Union Party, which takes a lot of chutzpah.  Today, fascism is associated with Mussolini, Franco, racism, and-let’s be honest-Europe.  The truth is, though, that fascism is not inherently racist or evil; it just always turns out that way.

            Some other interesting parties in this election include:

• U.S. Pacifist. “Um, we’d like the presidency, please. What? We have to fight for it? Dang it all! Come on, guys, let’s go play with the Quakers.”
• Free Soil Party. “If elected, I will lower taxes, reduce the deficit, and make available that scarcest of resources, dirt.”
• The Light Party. “Vote for me! I have 33% fewer calories than the leading candidate!”

            The only advice I can give to these third-party candidates is:  Save your money.  You will not get elected.  If John McCain and Barack Obama both died in some sort of freak campaigning accident (“Senators McCain and Obama were killed today when their podiums came to life and ate them.”), you will still not ascend to the presidency.  You are more likely to be eaten by your podium.

            Because they’re rarer than individual liberties in a fascist state, third parties are hard to describe.  What is your average Free Soil candidate like?  Dirty, maybe?  I don’t know.  But I can sure as heck stereotype the Big Two.

• Democrats: Sissies. Tree-hugging liberals. Think that, by opposing war, they can ensure peace. Pro-abortion, but anti-capital punishment. Have no moral compasses. Want to take all of my money and give it to a female black Hispanic Wiccan lesbian abortionist. Motto: “Hug a terrorist.”
• Republicans: War-obsessed. Impatient for the complete deforestation of the Amazon. Think that every problem-including rush hour traffic-can be solved with surface-to-air missiles. Pro-capital punishment, anti-abortion. Pay no attention to their well-publicized moral compasses. Want to take all of my money and give it to defense contractors, who will then trickle a few pennies back down to me. Motto: “Rape a kitten.”

            Yeah, I know they’re stereotypes, but they’ve jaded a lot of the population.  All over the country, undecided voters are looking at the candidates and trying to figure out who is the lesser of two losers.  Granted, most of them will forget to go to the polls on Election Day, but right now they’re wondering:  Is McCain too old?  Is Obama too inexperienced?  Can J-Mac get us out of Iraq and Afghanistan?  Does B-Dog plan to sell Louisiana back to France to pay for his social welfare programs?

            If only we lived under the bright, sunny, iron-fisted reign of Hugo Chavez…

(Come on, coincidence, don’t fail me now.)