Bookshelf Battle

I didn’t get any time today, folks, so enjoy the nothing.

Do you have anything to share with my 3.5 readers?

Hello. I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler. As the Mayor of East Randomtown, here are my random thoughts.

Musings of a general nature in no particular order:

• Sometimes I’ll watch an old movie, spot an actress who’s a really hot chick, then do the math and realize she’s either dead by now or slurping back jello in a nursing home somewhere. It makes me sad and defeats the purpose of watching the movie. I watched it to avoid reality and now I’m worrying about the grim reality that life is short and the reaper comes for us all. After that, I worry about why my blog is so depressing. Then I wonder whether or not it’s ok to oggle the young, hot vibrant version of the actress in the old movie I’m watching, given that she’s either dead or a vegetable now. I err on the side of yes as she probably got into acting in the hopes that future generations of men would be oggling her in her movies until the end of time, right? It would almost be rude not to oggle her.

• I hate it when I sit in a chair that someone sat in previously and it is still warm from their ass warmth. Though irrational, the warmth of someone else’s butt on a chair coming into contact with my butt instantly causes my mind to believe in a most steadfast matter that a zillion of the other person’s butt germs are invading my butt. Alas, all I can do is grin and bear it because when you’re in a situation that calls for you to sit down in a chair someone else was just sitting in, you can’t exactly break out a thermometer, then wait a minute and test it to see if the chair has cooled down now, can you?  (No seriously, I’m asking, is this socially acceptable? Because if it is I’ll start carrying a thermometer to test the ass warmth of chairs I have to sit in from now on.)

• Ladies, no matter what your boyfriend tells you, it’s never cool or acceptable if your boyfriend tries to sell you into a foreign businessman’s harem. Say no to harems.

• It has just been brought to my attention that it was politically incorrect of me to express concern about the harems of “foreign businessmen” when I could have just as easily pointed out the dangers of being sold into the harem of any one anywhere at any time. Indeed, if there are any domestic harems, you should avoid being sold into those as well. I will now attend sensitivity training and flagellate myself with a cat of nine tails as penance.

• I have never left a penny in the gotta penny give a penny need a penny take a penny tray. It may be too late for me to avoid eternal damnation now as I’d have to leave so many pennies now to make up for it, and that’s not even considering inflation.

• Bums like me. I assume this is because I look non-threatening and thus they can wear me down by following me and repeatedly asking for change until I give up toss and toss a few scheckels their way just to get rid of them. Part of me wishes I appeared more menacing to bums. Then part of me just wishes the world would improve so the bums would have somewhere to go where they could be happy and warm and collect change from people whose egos aren’t so fragile that they end up wondering what is it about them that makes them look like a good mark for bums.

• I’m sorry. I’ve just been notified that “bum” is a politically incorrect term. Hobo, vagrant, transient, and/or poor person are also terms that are off limits. The correct term now is “person of limited means and stifled upward mobility.”  For example, I must look like an easy mark for people of limited means and stifled upward mobility.

• I’m fairly certain the first person who ever ate a lobster was either extremely hungry or a raging psychopath. Otherwise, who looks at a creature that looks like a red sea insect and things, “Mmm yummy!” (Then again, who looks at a cow and thinks “Mmm yummy?”

• But at least there’s a degree  of separation between me and the cow. A cooked cow isn’t heaped onto my table. I just get a tasty burger instead. Meanwhile, I have no idea how someone can take a boiled lobster carcass and not look at it while they’re eating it and wonder about the lobster’s life? Did the lobster have a wife? A family? Had the lobster fallen on hard times? Maybe he lost his job, got depressed, turned to drinking, pushed his lobster wife and lobster kids away but then he finally got a new job and was ready to put his difficult past behind him and make amends and be happy when he got tossed into your put and a fork shoved up his butt to take out his innards and dip them in butter.

• When I was but a mere boy, unknowledgeable about the birds and the bees, I thought it was possible for men to get pregnant. I’m not sure why I thought that but I assume since all I was ever told at the time was that babies come out of a woman’s stomach, that men’s stomachs were also prime pieces of real estate for baby production. Later, the truth that only women can get pregnant was revealed to me.  “Boy, I really dodged a bullet there” was my immediate response. I remember it like it was last week. Probably because it was.