As I established last “lightning round,” there are certain thoughts I have that don’t really make an entire Take it from Snee. They’re just ideas I save up from stories I read and, when the week’s particularly slow, I just ejaculate them into one gonzo post.
So, enjoy my brain ejaculations.
I promise to avoid your hair and those pants that are dry clean only. But you’re on your own for your eyes. You don’t like this? Keep ’em shut.
Six Degrees of 9/11
You ever watch people play this game?
Somebody brings up 9/11 or some other incident where more than one person died and the media ate it up. School shootings work, too. But, even those revert back to 9/11 because everyone can connect themselves to national tragedies; schools are too local.
So, 9/11 comes up, and somebody mentions, “Oh, I knew a guy who was supposed to fly that day, but his flight got grounded.”
Without realizing it, somebody else will up the ante, “Yeah, my cousin was in the air when they grounded the flights. She was terrified because she took off from Logan just like one of the planes!”
And then the stakes are raised: “My boyfriend’s ex was supposed to be on Flight 293, but couldn’t go because he got the flu.”
At that point, the boyfriend’s current beau is the winner unless someone can match the bid with an acquantice who either lived near or worked in the World Trade Center or the Pentagon, or knows somebody who actually died.
Can’t think of any more tattoos
I got my first tattoo when I was 19, the second one when I was 20 and some add-ons and touch-ups when I was 21.
Seven years, a college degree and steady employment later, I just can’t think of anything to tattoo to me. But, I always planned on more.
And it’s not like I don’t think more tattoos would be cool; as I get older, I just can’t think of anything I care enough about to inject permanently into my skin.
When I was 18, I could think of a million things that I would always care about more than my own life or employability:
- America!
- Ska!
- The Simpsons! (And yes, I did consider “Starland Vocal Band.”)
- Irish heritage!
- Horses! (Don’t judge.)
- Then-girlfriends that I was gonna marry!
The only thing I probably still care about as much is boobs. I love naked women, but I’m married, so it doesn’t seem right to get other naked women tattooed to me. But I don’t want to get a naked tattoo of my wife because somebody’s gonna look at it and say, “Man, that looks just like her.”
The sad part is that I see people about my age or older that have my same problem, but still want more tattoos. So, they cheat and pick stupid things like their kids’ names.
“They’ll always be my babies!” they say.
Yeah, well what if you have to disown them one day? Take that, Ma Hitler.
“‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ me that we’re gay”
One of my favorite shows of all time is Magnum P.I. (Bear with me.)
While the show itself is your average detective show, mixed in with all-things Hawaiian, what I really love is watching how people did things in the 1980s. Like how people’s phones rang so loud because there was only one in the house and they could be in another room or in the shower.
But the real kicker is the fashion. Short shorts. Unbuttoned Aloha shirts exposing barrels of chest hair. Mustaches.
And it was all cool because nobody knew it was gay. I mean, are you going to tell 1980’s Thomas Magnum that Wham’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go” was about another dude that George Michael just had sex with? No, he couldn’t handle it. He’d burn all his clothes, shave his ‘stache and go live in a survivalist compound, never wearing less than full rain gear.
A lot of the military doesn’t seem to have a problem with gay and lesbian service members, you know, as long as they “act like the rest of us.” But, what happens if they come out, but act basically the same? They wear their butch uniforms, wrestle, clean their bathrooms while talking about their homosexcapades and don’t feel weird about it?
I’m not saying the military’s totally gay. I’m just saying that a lot of gay people want to volunteer for service. It might be time for our troops to face the music. And by music, I mean house.