When you wish...

While halfway watching the first half of The Bucket List and feigning an appropriate half-hearted interest, I got to thinking about terminal illness. I have, at times in the past, exhibited an extraordinarily terrible immune system, as in the case of having concurrent mononucleosis and pneumonia, and also in the case of getting mono again a couple of years later. That, coupled with the general prevalence of cancer, will keep me unsurprised if I get it. So making my own 'bucket list' is just appropriate forward thinking.

In terms of the days leading up to my assured and untimely death, I wouldn't be so simple as to go jumping out of planes or swimming with dolphins or having threesomes. If the Make A Wish Foundation came to me and asked me what my last wish was, I could tell them plainly: as I imagine it, I'd fly straight to FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. and apply for the job of first-in-line badass. I'd quickly get as much training as possible (probably in the cargo bay of a plane en route to a location in need of some badass assistance), and then I'd be on-call as number-one-entrant into the craziest situations the country had to throw at me.

Say there's a high-rise hostage situation a la Die Hard—I'd be the first one in, stripped to my underwear and ready to negotiate, no bull. Then, depending on how that went, I could decide whether or not to negotiate the hostages to safety or to just break the hostage-taker's arms and choke him out. Or, I could be the bomb squad's designated package opener. Suspicious package in a subway station? I'll take it to an open field and open it. It would be like the most suspenseful Christmas ever.

In a world where one of our biggest enemies comes in the form of suicide bombers, we could even counter with our own suicide operatives. If I was on my way out anyway, I'd be the first to sign up. Whether it's mob infiltration, anti-pirate ship-ramming, or trekking through the Pakistan hills looking for a knife fight with bin Laden, just let me go out on a high (and useful) note.

I'm against invasion of privacy, which is why I'm never giving the government my social security number.

As if there was any kind of regularity to my posts or to people reading them, I must say that I'll be too busy with insane amounts of schoolwork to post for a short while.

And if you are actually reading this, leave a comment so I know. Otherwise this is just a glorified email to about two friends. How am I supposed to know to continue without some good, old-fashioned positive feedback? Not to say that the feedback itself will be positive, you can say whatever you want. Do it anonymously if you feel like it, that's great. Seriously, right now. Lurk the shit out of this blog.

Flying High

When did "aircraft-grade" become the end-all for awesomeness? Aircraft-grade aluminum might be good, but if I ever saw a hotel advertising their aircraft-grade pillows, orange juice, or bathrooms, I'd stay somewhere else.

The same goes for that Tempur-Pedic, "The only mattress recognized by NASA and certified by the Space Foundation." Since when did NASA have anything to do with mattresses? They don't even use mattresses in space--astronauts sleep in these cool, zip-up, wall-hanging cocoons.

It's like saying your running shoes are the official running shoes of the American Dental Association. It might sound good if you don't actually think about it, which I'd wager is what a lot of advertisers count on a lot of the time. That’s what advertising is—-a big system designed to supplant your reason with edgy desires. I once considered getting into advertising, but at some point I decided that whatever rhetoric skillz I have would be best utilized in writing a blog about nonsense.

With all the advertising about, how is one to know which products are great and which are just hype? The answer is right there: the best products must be the ones that thrive without any advertising whatsoever. These truly special items tower above all else, great pillars of pure capitalism proven only by intrinsic value. Like Lemonheads®.



They've been around for almost 50 years, and I'll bet you've never seen an advertisement for Lemonheads®. Not in print, not on the radio, not on tv, and not even on the Internet. And the internet has ads for everything. It's a testament to their deliciousness, and it's why you can be sure they're good. That, and the fact that they're just good.