The Ranting Ramblings of John Moyer

Utah: The Most Depressed State in the Nation

John Moyer — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 09:54:23 GMT

    ABC news recently reported a recent study by Mental Health America that ranked Utah the most depressed state in the country. (Click here for the original article). I find it curiously ironic that a state which contains the highest concentration of members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the same church that preaches they have all the answers to the meaning of life, a direct conduit to God, and all the answers to bring a person joy in this life and the life to come, is the state that is the most depressed. That's a lot like the guy that drives around with the sign in the rear window of his car, "Earn 25K per month! Call Me Now!" Of course the car the guy is driving is an '89 Yugo.
    Mormon dogma preaches that if one lives a worthy life here, in the next life they will be able to have their own planet. But Mormons apparently can't even be happy in their own state, now we're talking entire galaxies filled with depressed people. The prescription anti-depressant drug companies are going to love that. They're not just going to be global, but universal.
    So why is Utah so depressed? Well that depends on who you talk to. Utah Mormons insist they're not depressed. Much like the Hitler Youth insisted they didn't care about popular fashion trends; they really like wearing plain brown shirts. I've heard defensive Mormons say the most depressed state statistics arise from poor health care in Utah and the lack of adequate treatment. Of course if the people weren't so depressed, there wouldn't be a need for so much treatment now would there?
    I don't buy the lack of available treatment argument either. A survey released by drug distribution company Express Scripts found that residents of Utah were prescribed antidepressant drugs more than those of any other state and at twice the national average. So it's not like Utahans aren't not getting enough treatment, apparently they are getting twice as much.
    So Utah is depressed; we got that. But again, why? I've spent the better part of my life as an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and a lot of that was not living in Utah, but I can tell you, I was still depressed. I don't think the place where you spend your life has as much to do with how you feel as does the place where you spend your life on Sunday. And most Utahans are spending Sunday in Mormon church houses. And I do mean Sunday. Not just the three hours in actual Church meetings Mormons have, but depending on who you are you're spending at least one hour before church meetings in meetings, and one hour after church meetings in more meetings, and a few Sundays a month throw in a few more get togethers in the evening. And that's just Sunday.
   Factor in at least one night a week for other church related activities, a few Saturday afternoons a month going to the local Mormon Temple, and a few more days in the month for other Mormon church related service projects.
   By the way, if you don't do all that, you don't get your own planet.
   And I remember how upset I was when I was six and didn't get an Etch a Sketch for Christmas.
   But it's not just the regimented scheduled church meetings; it's all the other things Mormons are supposed to be doing or not supposed to be doing.
    Mormons believed that any and all of their church leaders are called of God. And whatever their church leaders say, Mormons believe it is as if God was saying it. I once had a Mormon bishop who lectured all the sisters in the congregation that every woman was to wear panty hose to every church meeting, no exceptions. Translation: God is commanding you to wear panty hose... Now, I know, I know... But Jesus never wore panty hose with his open toe sandals. But then again, Jesus never had a Mormon Bishop telling him what to do; or making him feel guilty for not doing it.
    Because back then, whatever it was Jesus was teaching, wasn't riddled with so much guilt. Interesting that Jesus rose the dead, made the blind see, the deaf hear, and cured leprosy, but there's nothing in the Bible about Jesus having to cure his mass of followers from depression. But then again, Jesus never lived in Utah. If he did, maybe we could cure this depression thing once and for all. Not by the laying on of hands or some miracle of God... but just through some good common sense.
    And if it works in Utah, everybody can keep that in mind when they get their own planet.

The Truth About Love and Relationships

John Moyer — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 11:59:53 GMT

A lot of guys refer to women as D.T's or even C.T.'s. I prefer to refer to women as E.T's; because at some point in every relationship a guy will look at his girlfriend and wonder when the aliens came and swapped her out for the woman he met six months ago.

To be fair, that works both ways. Women complain that after a certain amount of time their man is not attentive enough or caring enough. And men complain that their women have become too attentive and too caring. Only men call it smothering and bitchy.

Maybe relationships would be a lot better off if they were treated like leasing a car. It's good when it's brand new, and you pace yourself and only put so many miles on it... but eventually normal wear and tear sets in and we need the newer model. Relationships are the same way: when they are brand new we make time, we make out, and we make love. Then eventually we can't find time. We try to get out. And love turns to hate. We are the most evolved, intelligent species in the history of this planet, yet we are the stupidest when it comes to relationships. But in comparison, we've only been around a short while when stacked up against other species. There's still plenty of time to let stupidity among men and woman kill us off.

That's why the dinosaurs are extinct. The ice age had nothing to do with a natural earthly event as much as it did with a bunch of female dinosaurs with a cold heart turning against their male companions. In fact, there are some species who actually eat their young. And that's not about hunger, it's about saving the kids from the bullcrap mom and dad are going through. I can't help but think that my siblings and I might have been a lot better off if sometime around nineteen seventy our parents had us for Thanksgiving instead of turkey.

My sister and her husband recently celebrated their twenty year wedding anniversary. Or as I prefer to call it, twenty years of tolerance. Homosexuals demand tolerance from heterosexuals so there can be gay marriage. Let gays and lesbians get married, and after twenty years of marriage they'll understand what the word tolerance really means.

To revisit the car analogy, there's a TV show called Pimp My Ride. Rapper and host Xzibit surprise someone who owns an out dated piece of crap, falling apart car, then takes said car to a specialty shop to have it completely made over into some hip, slick looking awesome set of wheels. Well, how about a show called Pimp My Bride? (Granted there would have to be episodes about making over husbands too, but since ride and bride rhyme, it's better from both a language and humor perspective.) Xzibit shows up, takes someone's significant other for a few days and then brings them back better off than the person their spouses fell in love with.

The problem with the original show is they make over the outside of the car from the ground up, but they never touch the engine. Despite the car looking incredible, what's under the hood is still a poorly functioning, unreliable, untrustworthy, pain in the ass. Much like a lot of attractive women out there. Oh sure they may look beautiful, but soon enough you'll be going out of your mind and spending good money after bad trying to fix the problem. Only you won't be spending the money at an auto mechanic - you're spending it on therapy. And every time the results are the same: it's totaled.

So we wind up back at square one where we never seem to learn. The internet is filled with dating sites loaded with people spending monthly fees to try to find love and companionship. Eharmony.com? How about a disharmony.com? It's a website filled with stories of people burned by love and relationships; tales of break ups, broken hearts, lies, deception, divorce, alimony, child support, restraining orders, and again more therapy for both the adults and this time around the kids.

Let's just cut to the chase and send every love struck couple to a site like that to surf for a couple of hours. Require it to be their home page. Then they might, just might, have some second thoughts about falling in love. They'll look at things a little more closely and decide that the casual, noncommital, multiparnter action going on within the content of the adult websites out there might just make a lot more sense after all.

Oh sure you're chances are greater of getting a social disease... but you could either feel a burning sensation down there, or feel like your entire life went up in flames. There's either once a day Valtrex or once a day Prozac. If you miss your Valtrex you might wind up with an out break. If you miss your Prozac you might break out in gun fire on a clock tower with a rifle. Either way, I guess the effects of unhealthy, dysfunctional relationships do get passed on to everyone we come in contact with. Some are just affected a little more than others.

We don't have to worry about global warming or that massive asteroid; falling in love and all that comes with it will easily see to the end of the human race as we know it.

Home Made Pornography, The Gift That Keeps on Giving

John Moyer — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 15:02:30 GMT

There are three lies every man tells in every relationship: In the beginning he says, “Of course I love you too!” In the middle he says, “Of course those jeans don’t make you look fat!” And at the end he says, “Of course I deleted those naked pictures!”

Once reserved for seedy movie theaters, then behind the curtain of the video store, the digital age has not only brought hi-def DVDs of Jena Jameson into our homes, but also naked pictures of my buddy’s ex-girlfriend into my email inbox.

Grainy and blurry Polaroid pictures have given way to the digital age. Powerful megapixel digital cameras and cell phones with photo capability now make everyone an instant Hugh Heffner; although not every model is one of his girlfriends. But the ease and convenience of such technology make the heat of passion a tangible memory that will now last a lifetime. And depending on how the relationship ends, those memories could last for a lot of people’s lifetimes once the pictures get posted on the internet.

So why is it in this day and age we are so free to take and have such pictures taken? That depends on your gender. If you’re a guy, that’s easy. What guy doesn’t like naked pictures of women? And if you know the woman, that’s even better! We’ve all undressed our friends’ girlfriends with our eyes; and barring two timing a buddy and cheating with his woman behind his back and winding up on Jerry Springer, with digital technology our buddy will eventually let us see the goods for ourselves.

But what is about an average, everyday girl next door that would bring her to participate in such “an art form” usually starring people with names like Candy Apples, Lolly Pops, and Tom Voyeur? I imagine, that a woman, when sharing the most intimate aspects of her personal being with a guy, and he suggests taking a picture or two - or even a complete photo and video session - she might view that as a greater extension of her physical expressions of commitment to him. And she believes him when he says he is the only one that will see them. And since she’s so caught up in a wonderful relationship at the moment, she can’t possibly foresee the nasty break up down the road and how that moment could come back to haunt her for the rest of her life.

But if every woman realized that, the internet would be a lot more desperate for content. And run a Google search. The internet is not desperate. These websites have it all, and will gladly take as much as its visitors are willing to upload. And men realize that. Because these websites aren’t about lust, or smut, or pornography – well, ok, for a lot of people they are – but for others they’re about healing and moving on. For what provides millions of people sexual gratification vis-a-vis digital, naked images of ex -wives and ex-girlfriends doing inexplicably nasty things, also provides ex-husbands and ex-boyfriends the gratification of feeling a little less screwed over.

Some people write loves songs about breaking up. Other people simply provide visual aids on the world wide web. Whatever helps.

The Sundance Film & Ego Festival

John Moyer — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 19:28:36 GMT

In 1988 as a freshman college student I had the opportunity to attend a screening at the Sundance Film Festival. The film screened was the animated cartoon, The Brave Little Toaster. The theater was a small venue with a smattering of people in attendance. There were no celebrities, no press, no photographers, and in fact, there was nobody there that seemed to give a damn. People watched the film, then left.

Twenty years later, to say the Sundance Film Festival has changed is like saying Michael Jackson looks like he’s had a little work done. The look, the feel, the size, are bigger, but can one say better than ever? Today for a film like The Brave Little Toaster to even be considered for Sundance, the toaster would have to be gay and involved in a sexual relationship with an underage baby monitor. In addition, you’d have to drop the word brave in the title. Brave is the last word in "The Star Spangled Banner", a song that generally instills feelings of patriotism. Patriotism is generally associated with support for the United States Military and therefore, a Hollywood film could not in any way, shape, or form be associated with anything having to do with pride for the United States.

But really, in this day and age of Sundance does anyone really show up for the films? Sundance has become less of a film festival and more of an ego convention. It’s where celebrities from Hollywood and nobodies from everywhere else flock each year to spend ten days in a constant collision of pomp and circumstance that only serves to remind the celebrities of what important people they really and truly are.

It’s also where the nobodies go to feel like somebody. The cultural significance we give to Sundance seems to warrant everyone who buys a ticket to a premiere to feel they have some type of cultural significance. News flash: bragging you have tickets to a Sundance screening is like bragging you have a supermarket rewards card. Am I supposed to be impressed that you are some type of VIP connoisseur of cinema? Don’t labor under the delusion you are going there to watch movies. You want to watch movies? Then go to Blockbuster. You’re going because it’s soooo cool and anybody who’s anybody is going to be there. Only I know a lot of people that go to Sundance, and guess what? They’re nobodies. So much for anybody who’s anybody.

So with all that being said, I propose a few new guidelines to bring The Sundance Film Festival back to the roots of what it originally intended to be.

Number one: Only celebrities with a film at Sundance are allowed to attend. The other day, a local newspaper featured photos of Tara Reid arriving at Sundance. Now, Tara doesn’t have a film at Sundance. In fact, Tara doesn’t have a film anywhere. Unless you count that online video of her boob popping out on YouTube. At least with the cold weather, her layers of clothing assured us that little faux paux wouldn’t be happening. But why in the hell is Tara Reid at Sundance? My best guess is apparently she got it confused with the AVN Awards.

Number two: No more swag. Celebrities rush in out and out of stores with more arm-fulls of free loot than the L.A. riots. The Sundance Film Festival is a virtual soup kitchen for celebrity hand outs included, but not limited to designer clothes, cell phones, tech gadgets, jewelry, and the like.

And if celebrities getting gear gratis for themselves isn’t enough, let’s not forget about their pets. Cesar Canine Cuisine Spa, described by the Washington Post as "the official Sundance Film Festival retreat for small dogs and their celebrity owners to get pampered and primped for the Sundance premieres, parties, and entertainment. All invited guests "receive a complimentary Puchi dog-bag to carry their four legged friends and an array of luxury doggie gifts valued at $1,500.”

Earlier this evening I flipped through the channels to come across the show Animal Cops. I saw several malnourished and abused dogs put to sleep. Then it hit me, if there was only a way to get those dogs to Sundance! They’d be provided for there. But hey, we also have children in this country that go to bed hungry every night. Let’s not let those families’ needs get in the way of making sure Paris Hilton’s dog Tinkerbell has an adequate supply of Purina Caviar Chow.

Number Three: Check all cameras at the city limits. The population explosion of Sundance has more to do with star gazers than actual stars. Now, I can appreciate that Brenda from Wisconsin drove 2000 miles to Sundance to stand outside in subzero temperatures to snap a quick pic with Screech from Saved By the Bell to post on her MySpace page, but so the bloody hell what? Again, am I supposed to be impressed? Such a pic says nothing other than a desperate star gazer was able to rush up to some A, B, C, D, or in the case of recently spotted Gary Coleman, E list celebrity and stand still next to them long enough for a photo-op. It’s not like Brenda has video of her in bed with Screech. To which, if she did, would at least let tell us there was some type of an on going personal connection. “Wow, you did Screech!?” is much more awe striking than, “Wow, you ran up to Screech outside a Starbucks at Sundance and he stood next to you for three seconds?” Though from what I understand, a sexual leison with Screech doesn't last much longer. Nor has his career. So change number one would pretty much void his presence at Sundance out.

But while cameras are still allowed at Sundance, allow me to make a note to those celebrities who act annoyed and or refuse autographs and photographs while attending Sundance. Hey, it’s Sundance! Going to Sundance and not expecting to be asked for an autograph or have your picture taken is like going to Disney World and not expecting to hear “It’s a Small World After All.” Sure, it grates on you and is annoying after the hundredth time, but you choose to go there, you knew what was in store, so don’t be a Val Kilmer... er, I mean a jack ass. Celebrities need to remember it’s those millions of people like Brenda from Wisconsin that plunked down eight fifty for a ticket to their last movie that allows them to be someone that the rest of the world actually wants to have their picture taken with.

Fourth and finally: More people than ever are staying away from movie theaters. The advances in home theater systems make for a much more enjoyable and less expensive experience to watch movies. So why even bother to have screenings of Sundance movies in theaters in at all? How about everybody stay the hell home for ten days in January and the cable and satellite networks can have the Sundance Film Festival Pay Per View Channel. Movie buffs can kick back in their living room picking and choosing from an array of deviant indie films without ever having to put on a parka.

Sure implementing all these things might take a toll on the local Utah economy, but isn’t the toll taken on the soul of humanity a much more significant concern? I know it is for me. It has been ever since that group picture of me and Gary Coleman surfaced on the internet.

Modern Day Technology: The Serious Business of Stand Up Comedy

John Moyer — Sat, 21 Oct 2006 09:49:26 GMT

Thirty years ago college students on campuses across the U.S would laugh to the likes of Robert Klein or George Carlin riffing about politics, religion, and current events. Today college students laugh at Dane Cook doing bits called “Itchy Asshole.” American youth are dumbing down and let’s not make any bones about it. The IQ of the average college age kid over the last thirty years has gone down faster than membership to the Mel Gibson fan club in Miami.

The decline of grey matter in today’s young skulls can be clearly traced to the birth of the MTV Generation. Video not only killed the radio star, it’s also taken out countless numbers of brain cells. Only now, the MTV Generation is made up of old timers. We sit around and tell our kids how when we were young, back in the olden days known as the eighties, MTV actually played music videos. My nieces and nephews have a hard time understanding how that could possibly be entertaining when huddling around a computer screen to watch some 14 year old kid swallow a cell phone and fart out ring tones can provide hours of non-stop amusement on YouTube.

In the desperation for the information super highway to bring us information, we over looked one small aspect: the information. Sure in the millisecond it takes to click a mouse a college student doing a research paper can not only read, but actually see Martin Luther King Jr give his “I have a dream” speech. And they can also see Jenna Jameson giving – well, you get the point. The internet has become less of an information super highway and more like the Vegas Strip; and there are barkers on every corner handing out flyers trying to attract every little piece of our attention. But the big problem is that on the net what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas. We’ve got to take into consideration those prefixical three initials, www: the World Wide Web.

The ability to connect to people and transmit information is a powerful tool. We’re now a global community. But if some alien world is out there tapping into our media transmissions to study our global community, I’m sure they can’t help but think there’s an awful lot of inbreeding going on. Welcome back to “Itchy Asshole.”

There used to be a time when comics would complain about other comics who only had seven minutes and got on the Tonight Show. Now comics with seven minutes get hour long TV specials because the programmers know the comics have fifty million friends on MySpace that will tune in.

Now look, I don’t hate Dane Cook. But I don’t fawn over him either. I think he’s a mediocre comic who put the cart before the horse and learned to promote his act before he actually had an act. He takes so long to set up a joke I can go to the bathroom, nuke my popcorn, get a drink, eat the popcorn, drink the drink, digest it all, then go back to the bathroom, and still come back in front of the TV in time before he gets to the actual punch line.

But he has success. And I give him credit and kudos for that. He’s brilliantly channeled the power of the global community to reach the masses. Recently Details Magazine ranked Dane Cook in the top Fifty Most Influential People Under The Age of 42. Please note that Variety, TV Guide, or Entertainment did not rank him in the top Fifty Most Funniest Comedians Under The Age of 42.

It’s no argument Dane Cook’s impact has been far reaching and shaped the way stand up comedy is promoted, viewed, and received. However, is that a good thing? That’s like asking if having nuclear weapons is a good thing. And let’s face it; if it weren’t for nuclear technology we might have the phrase government sushi instead of government cheese. Although as one who is not a fan of sushi myself, I can see how if that’s what we were doling out to the poor, it might encourage people to get off welfare. But the flip side of that question is us knowing that the likes of Kim Jong Mentally Ill could have their tiny little communist sausage finger on the trigger.

The same goes for stand up comedy. Is what Dane Cook did a good thing? Though I don’t think we can blame and or assign great credit to Dane Cook. He just happened to be the first one out of the gate. If it wasn’t Dane Cook, it would have been somebody else. The natural evolution of “information” through technology can’t be suppressed; whether it’s good or bad. The first thing printed after the Bible on Gutenberg’s press was nothing other than porn. It just goes to show that at some point, somebody will eventually get a light bulb on in their head, no matter how dim it may be.

A hundred years ago people were arguing over the wisdom and duration of the automobile. They called it a fad that would never last. Of course the “they” being blacksmiths. However, the smart ones quit their bitching and adapted. They traded in their hammers and anvils for Craftman socket wrenches and started charging people seventy-five bucks and hour. Now those of us with cars in the shop bitch.

But adaptation is exactly what stand up comics have to do. And quit their bitching. Well, for some of us our bitching is our act, we just need to channel what we bitch about. But yes, on many fronts, it’s frustrating. Recently I participated in an online competition on a comedy website. I uploaded a video clip of my stand up act and then visitors to the site would rate my performance. My video was a professional clip from a television show I did. The material was solid and received exactly the way it should be.

You would think that might be the standard for someone uploading a video of their comedy act for a competition. Not so. I perused many of the other video clips of my so called competitors. And I use the word competitors loosely as many of these “comics” were nothing more than the club janitor deciding to try out toilette jokes on open mic night. The video quality was so bad it could have been shot by Abraham Zapruder on the grassy knoll. And the sound was so poor it made Al Jolson’s The Jazz Singer sound like THX. Yet consistently these “stand up comedy” video clips were receiving some of the highest ratings available. Why? Because each of the “comics” were blasting out emails and posting bulletins on MySpace.com telling all their “friends” to vote them to the top.

OK… well, so was I… But I’m a professional stand up comedian and entertainer who makes a good living doing what I do. I’m funny. On this website after watching all these clips of my “competition” I felt like that 1988 skit from Saturday Night Live that parodied a presidential debate between then majority front runner George H.W. Bush and Michael Dukakis. Dana Carvey played Bush 41 and was spouting off these incoherent dumb as a rock ramblings at which point Jon Lovitz as Michael Dukakis turns to the camera and quips, “I can’t believe I’m losing to this guy.”

And that’s what comedy has become. It’s not about who’s funnier. It’s about who has the most “friends.” And if those friends will support you, then you make it to the top. And the only way to get those “friends” is to market yourself.

Since the advent of radio, movies, and television if you were a comic who wanted to succeed, you had material, you were funny, and you traveled to clubs across the country and audiences laughed. Executives in the industry, always wanting to make a buck, recognized that, they took you, found a way to package you, marketed you to the masses and a star was born. Today comedians have taken those steps and shuffled them around a bit - and even eliminated a few. The comedians now market themselves to the masses through the internet; give birth to their own star if you will, and the industry recognizes that – and not necessarily the talent.

Now for a comic who is funny this new age process can be great. For those who aren’t funny it’s great too. And for those that are funny - that’s bad. For what has a generation become that’s being inundated with mediocre and even bad stand up comedy and being told it’s good and even believe it’s good because some open mic’er has a camcorder, high speed internet, and fifty million “friends” on MySpace?

So I say to the newbies, the guys just starting out, please above all else, hone your act. Pace yourself. Know it takes time. Yes, we all need support in the form of friends and family coming out to laugh; but don’t allow support to become bigger than the reason why you are on stage: to communicate a well thought out premise, deliver a joke, and create true laughter. And hopefully impress and pick up hot chicks after the show.

To the old timers, the stand up comics who started before, say the year 1995, I say hang in there. Like the blacksmiths of old, learn to adapt. There was a time when a comic could just show up to the club and our responsibility was to the club owner to do our best on stage. (If you’ve done a gig for David Tribble in the Pacific Northwest that responsibility also includes not drinking before or during the show. No drug use on the hotel premises. No partying with the wait staff in your rooms. No breaking the audio equipment. And no fighting with the audience members.)

But in today’s world we also have an added responsibility; and it’s to ourselves: to not only show up, but to do our damnedest to make sure an audience shows up too. That’s a cold hard fact, like it or not. Because if we don’t, the crappy open mic’er with fifty million friends on MySpace will get the audience to show up. Think of the old philosophical riddle that asks if a tree falls in the woods and if no one is there to hear it fall, does it still make a noise? Well, if a comedian shows up to a club, and no one is there to laugh, is he still funny? He very well may be, but in the world wide global community we live today, funny has taken a back seat to actual butts in the seats.

We can’t fight change, but we can help shape it. The proverbial cream will rise to the top. If the truly funny comedians can connect with everyone out there with a computer, the World Wide Web will see what’s funny and figure out what’s not. And perhaps, hopefully, we can not only be funny stand up comedians, but also decent human beings and a true friend to the people staring back at us over their keyboards.

Summer Fun: The traveling carnival!

John Moyer — Fri, 16 Jun 2006 16:19:05 GMT

Summer time is finally here with all the fun and excitement of vacations, warm weather and that quality out door time.

And more often then not, that out door time includes traveling carnivals: those proverbial fly by night amusement parks. these carnivals ain’t, because you could never come up with a Goofy costume that looks goofier than the people that actually work at these places. I’m not sure what kind of half way house or mental institution or work release program they hire these people from, but it’s a little disconcerting to me that we are putting our lives in the hands of the guy operating the tilt a whirl who’s drunk driving lost him his license to operate a vehicle.

I might also feel a little more comfortable if these carnival employees had a dress code. Shirt and shoes required apparently only applies to the customers. I know these people don’t make a lot of money, and it’s clear they don’t have any medical benefits, especially dental, so the least management could do is throw in a uniform. Based on the prison tattoos half these people have, they’re clearly used to wearing identical clothing.

And the rides at these carnivals have scary names like the Hell Hole, The Colossus of Fury, and The Spinning Spider. None of which are actually as scary as their maintenance record. You should be so lucky they’re maintained by Manny Moe and Jack. Instead they look like they’re serviced by Larry, Darryl and Darryl. If you’re a maintenance guy at a carnival, apparently duct tape and wire hangers are your only tools of the trade.

The kind of rides they have is suspect. I was dragged to a traveling carnival last year by my family and this particular carnival had a large inflatable slide. But it wasn’t just any slide. It had a theme. The slide was an inflatable replica of the deck of the Titanic as it was sinking. The kiddies would climb to the top of the stem, then slide right down the deck to the stern below.

I’m sure it would have really gone over well that if on that fateful night of April 15, 1912 you told some poor third class passenger clinging to their loved one as they both plummeted down the deck of the Titanic into the icy waters - that in 94 years kids of all ages would be screaming with glee as their little asses reenacted the same slippery trip of demise; only this time instead of dying a watery death at the bottom, they’d just be throwing up from eating too many corn dogs.

The fact that somebody actually thought a slide reenacting the sinking of the Titanic was a good idea disturbs me. Because if that’s the idea that got the green light, I’m really curious to see the other human tragedies the carnival company passed on. Was bungee jumping out of a burning replica of the Hindenburg too much? How about a wave pool that reenacts last year's tsunami?

PT Barnum, the master of traveling entertainment is rumored to have once said that nobody ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public. And the traveling carnival is the intellectual equivalent of Paris Hilton at a Mensa Convention. Now granted traveling carnivals are a staple of summer time activities; but so is poison ivy. And I do my best to avoid both.

If anything good has come out of taking my child to a traveling carnival, he now understands the value of a college education… Or at the very least getting a GED.

The Memorial Day Picnic!

John Moyer — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 16:16:48 GMT

Next Monday is Memorial Day; or as I prefer to call it here in Utah: Let’s have a picnic on our dead relative’s graves!

People in Utah, those that are alive anyway, will, in loving tribute of remembrance, break out the hibachi, thrown down some blankets and enjoy hamburgers and fried chicken just six feet above the rotting corpses of their loved ones. I saw a Tongan Family visiting some of their dead relatives last year and they were resourceful enough to use an empty grave for a pig roast.

For those of you that don’t bring your own picnic supplies, my wife’s relatives are resting eternally in a very considerate cemetery that has it’s own concession stand and provides visitors with free hot dogs and drinks. Which is great because I can get my fill of free hot dogs and drinks at the cemetery in the morning, then in the afternoon hit the sale at RC Willey for even more.

But I have to tell you, that’s a real selling point for me when it comes to my eternal resting place. I picture my great grand nephews deciding whose grave to visit on Memorial Day: Uncle John’s or Uncle David’s? Then one of them chimes in, “Uncle John’s! They’ve got free foot longs!”

Now competition for your final resting place must be getting fierce. Several years ago on Memorial Day a local Utah cemetery also put on an antique car show. Now there’s a hook! Come see the cars your relatives were driving when they were still alive!

Communist Premiere Vladimir Lenin had the right idea. He is the gimmick at his final resting place. His dead body has been on display at Lenin Mausoleum for the last eighty years for millions of people to stroll passed and gawk at. It should be noted that many of those people mistakenly thought they were actually going to see the remains of John Lennon, so an actual total of how many people were interested in seeing Vladimir is unknown.

Now I understand the Lenin Mausoleum also offered all visitors free kielbasa and vodka, but given the financial struggles of the former Soviet Union they’ve done away with that. In order to generate enough income to keep Lenin on display, his remains have had to make a few appearances at supermarket openings, grandchildren of the revolution’s birthday parties, and most recently guest stared on an episode of CSI: Chernobyl.

The fact that millions of people have strolled by to take a look at the preserved remains of Lenin goes to show that mankind has a morbid fascination with death. So maybe we should forget graves. We could just sell our bodies to those Haunted Houses that pop up every year at Halloween. Then instead of just Memorial Day, our relatives can come and see us for the entire month of October.

For the environmentalists at Halloween, they can just have their bodies cremated and there ashes sprinkled over a corn maze as fertilizer.

Cremation is becoming more increasingly popular. You’d have to acknowledge the positive aspects of having your dead relative’s ashes right there at your house. Now instead of going to your dead relative’s grave for a picnic on Memorial Day, you can barbeque with your dead relative anytime in the comfort of your own back yard.

So as you visit a grave or two next Monday, remember that some day hopefully somebody will be visiting you. So plan ahead folks. I told my wife I want my tombstone to be designed in the shape of a barbeque. I’m also going to buy up all the plots around me and then burry a couple of those huge underground tanks they store gas in, only I’m going to fill those with beer and install above ground tap. You can rest assured my relatives won’t be just visiting me on Memorial Day. At the very least I’ll also be guaranteed Super Sunday.

Have a great memorial day weekend!

THE MORMON CHURCH... "GROWING" IN THE WRONG WAY

John Moyer — Sat, 06 May 2006 12:24:45 GMT

TUNE IN MONDAY MAY 8, 2006 TO SALT LAKE’S KBER 101.1 WITH MICK AND ALLEN AT 5:10 PM TO HEAR JOHN READ THIS BLOG FOR HIS COMMENTARY SEGMENT, “MOYER ON THIS…”

Several weeks ago a Brigham University Study concluded that on average, Mormons in Utah are 4.6 pounds fatter than non-Mormons… Yeah… And I need a university study to figure that out? I went to BYU fifteen years ago and one of the oldest jokes there was did you hear about the car that swerved to miss the BYU Coed? It ran out of gas.

Now apparently it’s not just BYU coeds that are fat anymore. Take a look at the average menu at a Mormon pot luck supper. I think the reason why they call them funeral potatoes is because all that fat and cholesterol from the five pounds of melted cheese leads straight to a heart attack. It’s enough to scare Richard Simmons straight.

And let’s not overlook Sunday meetings at a Mormon Church; all that sitting around for three hours. Take a lesson from the Catholics. At least in their mass they’re getting in a solid cardio vascular workout. And if you’re an altar boy you get an additional workout just by running from the Priests.

Try moving into any neighborhood in Utah and the first thing that happens is the Mormon families show up on your door step saying “Welcome to the neighborhood! You’re one of us! Here are some fresh baked brownies, and cookies, and other treats!” Apparently their way of getting you to fit in is by getting you to be as fat as everybody else. The problem is you fit into your neighborhood, now you can’t fit into your pants.

Mormons have come a long way from the pioneers that pulled handcarts carrying their every possession two thousand miles across the country. Now that was a work out. The closest thing a Mormon gets to doing that today is pushing a shopping cart at the Super Walmart.

They say sex burns calories. And Mormons are having so many kids you’d think they’d be as skinny as an extra from the movie Schindler’s List. Of course once you’re done having children, I can imagine how difficult it would be for a married couple to find some quiet alone time with nine kids running around the house. At least if you’re a polygamist you can tag team each other. One wife baby-sits the kids while the other wife is with the husband making more kids. Polygamists are a group of people you would think would be in great shape what with between making babies, taking care of them -- and running from the cops.

I don’t know if polygamist fundamentalist are skinnier than regular Mormons. I just know the reason why they call it Polygamy Beer is because you have to drink for or five of those things before the polygamous wives start to look good. Four quarters equals a dollar but four ugly women does not one good looking chick make.

The obesity issue among Mormons has gotten so bad, the Mormon Church, and I kid you not, has now called some of its members to be “Wellness Missionaries.” These are missionaries that teach people how to loose weight and get into shape. I think Gold’s Gym already has people like that: they’re called personal trainers.

I mean how exciting is that missionary call? You got friends going to the Tokyo Japan Mission, The Rio de Janeiro Brazil Mission, and you get a called to the Kentucky Fried Chicken Mission.

Now we Mormons are faithful people, give us credit for that. Last year we were challenged by our church leaders to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year and most of us followed through. How about this year they challenge all the fat Mormons loose thirty pounds? (Sixty if you're polynesian.)

I think a weight loss challenge like that would solve the obesity issues, but it might create a few more problems.

There will be those that are struggling with it. Sneaking food they shouldn’t. I can imagine some poor Mormon wife flipping on the light in the basement to catch her husband hiding in the corner secretly scarfing down Ho Ho’s. Suddenly chocolate is the new porn.

Judgmental Mormons would no doubt be eyeballing their fellow ward members each Sunday trying to determine whether or not they are losing weight. Those chatty Kathy Relief Society sisters would be gossiping at the fact that someone saw sister so and so at the Costco and she was buying case lot of Snickerdoodles.

I would of coure use my creative resourcefullness to cash in. I plan to take some Mormons hymns and redo them 70’s disco style for work out music. The CD is called: “Sweatin’ To The Spirit.”

The menu at the Mormon Pot Luck supper would be better. Though somebody might have to explain that just because you put shredded carrots in green Jell-O salad, that doesn’t make it health food.

The one thing Mormons understand when it comes to dieting is Diet Coke. They’re usually drinking it to wash down that bacon triple cheeseburger and cheddar fries. Mormons are commanded not to drink coffee or tea. Yet many Mormons guzzle down more Diet Coke in less time it takes the BYU Cougars to fumble a ball. So coffee bad, Coke good. Sometimes I think the only difference between a Mormon and a non-Mormon is the temperature of their caffeine.

So here’s to hoping all those fat Mormons can slim down. And if they can’t, Utah has the highest rate of anti-depressant use in the country; at least we can still manage a way to feel good about ourselves.

May 1st and The Big Immigration Protest

John Moyer — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 13:22:52 GMT

Tomorrow is May 1^st, the day pro-immigration activists stage a national boycott with millions of Latinos demanding amnesty for illegal immigrants in this country. They say they are going to flood the streets closing down Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, and other major cities.

I say great! If the streets are shut down, and people can’t drive, they won’t buy gas. Maybe we can finally get that boycott of the oil companies to actually work. People have been forwarding that email to me for the last four years to not buy gas on a certain day, but we’ve been too lazy and too selfish to actually do it. But now, thanks to the illegal immigrants, it will actually get done. See, it’s not just cooking and cleaning, even when it comes to protesting there’s somebody willing to do the job the rest of us refuse to do ourselves.

The purpose of the boycott as stated by the pro-immigration activists is that it’s a way for their voice to be heard. Personally, I feel if you really want your voice to be heard, pick some better looking spokespeople. I can’t turn on the O’Reilly Factor without seeing a pro-immigration pundit who doesn’t looks like the lead singer from Los Lobos. And that’s just the women. Now I’ve seen Telemundo. How about using some of those hot chicks from the soap operas? We could care less what they are saying, but they are hot chicks, and that goes along way when it comes to influencing the male gender; and since most politicians in this country are men - they’ll be influenced. Unless of course it’s Congressman Barney Frank from Massachusetts. Congressman Frank is openly gay. In that case he’d pay a lot more attention if your spokesperson was Ricky Martin. But then again, have you seen Barney Frank? He’d most likely be turned on if your spokesperson was Cheech Marin.

Now when it comes down to it, the Republicans say they are for immigration, provided the immigrants go through all the legal procedures to be here; which is time consuming and difficult. Unless of course you’re an immigrant who’s rich and owns your own oil company; in that case you’ll get in faster than Jenna Bush at two for one margarita night at La Concina Nachos.

The Democrats are all for granting immediate amnesty to all illegal immigrants. Many speculate that’s their way of kissing up so they can increase their voter base. Of course it’s only a matter of time before that love affair wears thin because a liberal Democrat and the ACLU try to sue some poor immigrant on grounds of a violation of separation of church and state because the immigrant’s name – Jesus - appears on his state issued drivers license.

Then there’s the Minutemen; a group of down home, vigilante, good old boys. They set up camp for weeks at a time on the Mexican border and stare into the desert trying to spot illegal immigrants trying to cross. Apparently for these people Larry the Cable Guy isn’t entertainment enough. The entire situation has generated such notoriety it’s inspired a book from the makers of Where’s Waldo called – Where’s Julio?

Now I have no problem with granting an illegal alien amnesty to live in this country, but there should be some requirements in place. For instance, they should have to serve in the military. If you are willing to fight hard to live in this country, you should fight hard to make sure there’s a country to begin with. The plan is simple, whatever work you did as an illegal alien, you’ll do in the military. For instance if you were a housekeeper – you’ll go to Iraq. After all, that situation is such a mess it needs all the cleaning up it can get.

Secondly, if you can’t speak English, fine. But the government gets to pass a special income tax on all non-English speaking immigrants to pay for the technology to invent that universal translator from Star Trek. Unless of course you are a non-English speaking immigrant who is a geeky Star Trek fan so obsessed with the show you learned how to speak Klingon; if that’s the case, we’ll pair you up with a geeky Star Trek fan from the U.S. who can also speak Klingon and you can get by that way.

Finally, if you are an immigrant who works in a restaurant that serves ethnic food, you can only work in a restaurant that serves ethnic food from your home country. To me there’s just something wrong with being at the Chinese Buffet and having my Mongolian Barbeque prepared by a guy wearing that hair net and a plaid shirt buttoned up only at the collar. I want sweet and sour, not sweet and salsa.

Now until we get the amnesty thing straightened out, we still have to deal the flood of illegal immigrants coming across the border. So how do we stop it? Is it a fence across the border? Is it putting the military on the border?

I say it’s putting eighty year old Walmart Workers on the border. You know these people. They're the old folks working at Walmart guarding the door and checking receipts on the way out. These are the people that can rifle through my twenty-seven bags of groceries and find a pair of toe nail clippers that were over looked in getting paid for. They don’t mess around. They stand closer watch over that exit than Hulk Hogan over his daughter’s virginity.

The old people will get the job done. So I say do it. Unless of course we can figure out a way to turn old people into an alternative form of energy to power our automobiles. In that case, I say screw immigration, let’s all have cheap gas.

But if you are going someplace on May 1st and can’t get there because the streets are jammed with protestors, the solution is simple. Yell out the word INS. These people will fun faster than Speedy Gonzales on a double espresso.

My Space, Minors, and Public Saftey

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 13:53:46 GMT

Well it's been about three weeks since I have officially been on MySpace.com.

I have to say, that when I was in junior high, I never had so many people who wanted to be my friend as I do now -- who are in junior high.

My wife was going off on me. She said, "I can not believe you are on My Space talking to eighteen year old girls!" To which I said, "First off, I am not talking to eighteen year old girls. They are sixteen... Secondly, if i am going to talk to members of the opposite sex, the smartest thing I could do is talk to members of the opposite sex who are under age. Cause nothing is going to happen. Why? Because yeah, I am afraid of getting divorced, but even more than that, I am afraid of going to prison! -- And in prison you have very little space. And the guys there want to be more than friends! And you have no option of approving whether they are your friend or not!"

I jest of course... about talking to underage girls. Not about prison. The only underage girls I have on my friends list and have chatted with on MySpace are my two nieces; and even then we don't chat anymore on MySpace. I posted a few comments on their profile page and they got upset because they said having an old guy make comments there was not cool and I was cramping their style.

There's been some stuff in the news about older, perverted guys, hooking up with underage girls on MySpace. Then of course people run around screaming about how MySpace is so evil. Here's what I don't get. If my nieces think it's not cool and embarrassing to be talking to me on MySpace, because I am so old, who are these kids that apparently are into talking to old men? And what is it about the old men they are so interested in? Maybe if the old guy had a profile name like, "Buys beer for minors" --but that would be about it.

And how do the old guys find these young girls? Have you seen the average teenage girl's profile page on MySpace? It looks like a scrap booking store threw up. I went to my niece's page and my eyes hurt from trying to read through all the sparkling animated Macromedia flash glitter floating all over the place. The colors were too bright and bled over the words. And I had to scroll left and right and up and down like three feet to see these huge ass pictures. Basically all I could make out was the large image of someone's tongue up someone else's nose. I might have been the same person's tongue and nose, but I couldn't tell. I didn't have time to scroll back the other three feet.

The whole thing just made me nauseous. The blinking, spinning images, and the loud music. It was like riding the loop d' whorl at a carnival. That's fun as a kid, but you just can't do it when you get older. So you'd think that alone would deter these MySpace old farts from cruising for young girls.

A lot of the responsibility about teaching and monitoring the kids about this stuff falls on the parents. I know parents in my neighborhood are doing a good job. I took my son to the park today and there were six other kids of various ages there. I was the only grown up and these kids looked at me just like we all look at a middle eastern dude riding with us on an airplane. They never took their beading, suspicious eyes off me. I've never committed any kind of a crime in my life, but at that moment just being an adult male made me feel guilty.

I think we could use MySpace in a good way to help kids; we can post on My Space the pictures of kids we normally see on the back of milk cartons. My son asked me about that other day. He wanted to know who the picture of the little boy was on the back of the milk carton. I said he was a boy who was missing. My son wanted to know if the boy was missing, why was he smiling? I told him that they took the picture of the boy before he went missing. Now they are using it to find him. My son then asked how did they know the boy was going to go missing.

But it made me think of another idea. When a sex offender registers as a sex offender, we should put their pictures on the back of milk cartons. It's right there for the kids to see. Some kid comes running into the house, "Mommy! Daddy! I was at the park and I saw the bad man on the back of the 2 percent!"

And, I think as part of their sentence, they should have to work at a diary. That way they'd have to face themselves everyday.

It's inevitable though there'd be people upset and speaking out against it. I am sure once a black sex offender showed up on the back of a chocolate milk carton, the ACLU would be screaming racism.

I thought of putting their pictures on cereal boxes too, but that might get confusing. I don't want some old guy who looks like the Quaker Oats man getting falsely accused. Or some innocent midget who looks like the Lucky Charms dude.

But we wouldn't have to worry about any of this if we could just protect the kids. Personally, when it comes to the net, I think there should be legislation passed to connect MySpace with the DMV. Everybody's default picture would have to be their driver's license photo. People would be a lot less inclined to try to hook up with someone on MySpace if all they had to go on was a person's driver's license photo.

HBO'S Big Love: Polygamy Yesterday, Today, and Forever

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:35:25 GMT

Today the Deseret Morning News featured a story about the HBO miniseries Big Love. If you are not LDS - that is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints - or a member of one of it's many whacko polygamous practicing off shoots, you really have nothing to fear. I use the word whacko in reference to the whacko polygamous practicing off shoots, but I am most certain there are many who would easily apply that word to the LDS church as well. No surprise there. Recently Bill Maher commented that the Mormon Church was grateful for the creation of Scientology "because now there would be a religion more weird than Mormons."

But I digress.

The article in today's Deseret Morning News quoted LDS Church spokesperson Mike Otterson as saying, "Obviously, we don't like the program. There's nothing about the program to like if you're an active Latter-day Saint."

I would like to thank Brother Otterson for setting the record straight for me. Apparently tonight I learned I am not an active Latter-Day Saint.

I liked the program.

But it begs one to question why would an active Latter-Day Saint not like this program. Yes, there is some sexual content and mature themes. But come on! It's not rated R! So that makes it OK to watch.

One would counter that with, what is there for an active Latter-Day Saint to like about the program? I could respond; but more than likely the person asking that question would be a Latter-Day Saint who doesn't like it, so no matter what I say, it's falling on deaf ears. And I am not here to focus on that. I want to discuss why an active Latter-Days Saint would take issue with that show more so then they would with, say The Sopranos.

The bigger picture in Big Love as to why an active Latter-Day Saint would not like to watch it is probably because in reality, the truth hurts. Which is why so many members of the LDS Church, including the LDS Church, are so worried about it. The very existence of that show is in direct result of practiced doctrine introduced by the LDS Church some 175 years ago. Now granted the LDS Church denounced polygamy in 1890. And of course it took a few years for the members to catch on that the church's denouncement of it was for real and not done with a sly wink, wink, nod, nod. That's how they did it from 1831 to 1852.

The LDS Church stopped practicing polygamy for one reason and one reason only: the law of the land. The United States Government put the LDS Church and its leaders under intense pressure and it threatened to destroy all that the members of the LDS Church had worked so hard to build up since their settlement in the Great Salt Lake. Had the rest of the of the world not been so upset and wild eyed about the Mormon's polygamous practices, well, Big Love just might be about your typical Mormon family living in Utah today and not one of the many off shoot groups.

From a doctrinal stand point, Mormon dogma still asserts that the concept of polygamy is an eternal principle, practiced by the prophets of old; both Old Testament era and Doctrine and Covenants era. It is believed that it will be practiced in the here after. In fact, this very author, being divorced from my first wife is still "sealed" to her in the eternities in addition to my current wife. Though I highly doubt my first wife would make it anywhere near heaven given the fact that she did such a good job of creating hell on earth for me. However, it has been speculated that since I have been sealed to two women, that if one of them doesn't make the cut, that slot could open up for another who might have had a husband that didn't make the cut either. All I know is dealing with one wife is enough for me now. And that's in a 24 hour day. I can't imagine eternity.

One of the biggest issues concerning those individuals who practice polygamy today is the age factor. Often times girls as young as 14 and 15 are married off into polygamous marriages. That is appalling. Not too mention expensive. I have a 14 year old niece who bugs her father everyday for new jeans, new shoes, money for the mall, money for the movies, money for jewelry, more money for clothes. I can't imagine having multiple 14 year olds do that. And then in another 14 years, you have to go through it again with your kids.

Regarding the age factor, a family member commented to me that the difference was in the early days of the Mormon Church they weren't marrying girls that young. Not true. They were marrying those young girls back then as well. The only difference was they didn't have malls and designer jeans, so it wasn't as costly. But the fact that my family member was not aware of similar details in early Mormon Church history is troubling. Unfortunately that is the case with many current Latter-Day Saints. They are misinformed, or simply naive. And often times when presented with the true facts refuse to believe. I can understand as such; it's not like the doctrine of Blood Atonement, being killed for committing certain sins to receive forgiveness, as taught by Brigham Young is going to show up in the Sunday school manuals anytime soon. Though I think it should. And I think it should be a principle taught in connection with home teaching, the Mormon practice of making a monthly visit to assigned church families to stay apprised of their needs and daily welfare. The church's new motto could be "100 percent or you die!"

But I think we should be aware of our past, blemishes and all. Many wonder to what purpose. Good question. I imagine presenting anything unflattering to the current status of the LDS Church would make it hard to win converts and maintain the status quo among the current members. Ergo the numerous questions that will no doubt be raised as a result of Big Love.

So what's the flip side of that coin? Is it to suppress the past? One can make a serious argument that has been the standard for some time now. See previous paragraph concerning the lack of lessons on Blood Atonement being taught in Young Men and Young Women. And that's where it should be taught the most. I mean how many parents already threaten their teen age child with bodily harm for any number of mischievous acts. So it's not like it hasn't come up already.

But if we suppress the past, where does that lead us into the future? Gay marriage is a hot bed topic of debate in this country. It's legal in many places around the world and many are pushing hard and fast to get it to be the case in the United States. And it stands to reason that if the law is going to permit gay marriage -- which to me sounds like an oxymoron -- but I digress. If the law is going to permit gay marriage, then it stands to reason that polygamy will only follow suit. And many are pushing for exactly that to happen. It's not far fetched to think that gay marriage could become legal in this country and polygamy as well.

Now let it be said I am not here to take a stand on gay marriage one way or another in this blog. That is not the focus here. I am simply saying that if gay marriage becomes legal, polygamy will most likely not be far behind.

If that indeed does happen, where does that leave the LDS Church? It was the law of the land that put a stop to Mormon polygamy, but if that law no longer stands in the way, will the Mormon Church resume the practice of marrying multiple wives? Now the steadfast Mormon will announce that only can be determined by God through revelation so it's pointless to speculate. However, I think the speculating has already been done because I have always been told that all things shall be restored, including polygamy. And why not speculate? It's simply being prepared and perhaps knowing what one might do in any given set of circumstances. The LDS Church teaches its members to be prepared with a year's supply of food in case of an emergency. Why not be mentally prepared for something as well?

So in the course of speculation it's stands to reason that like gay marriage, polygamy would fall under intense protest and disdain by numerous groups of people. Practicing of such a principle would of course be a huge obstacle for anyone considering joining the LDS Church and even its very own steadfast members themselves. Where does that leave the missionary work? And since it's hard enough to get 100 percent home teaching done now when it's one husband and one wife with one family, imagine how much harder it will be when you have to go see some guys multiple families.

There's many questions with many answers and I don't pretend to know what those answers are. Until then, I guess will continue to watch Big Love and see how the writers of that show handle things. At least now I know in LDS Church spokesperson Mike Otterson's eyes, watching that show and liking it makes me an inactive Latter-Day Saint. I guess I now get to stay home Sunday mornings.

Cheap Labor, The Home Depot, and other Businesses

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:35:41 GMT

There's something to the whole homeless guy working for food. I am thinking of expanding on it; maybe go down and buy twenty bags of those forty-nine cent tacos from Del Taco and then head over to The Home Depot and get the Mexican's hanging around out front to paint my house.

Mexicans are always hanging around the parking lot of The Home Depot looking for work. And good for them. I just wished some Asians would hang out in front of Best Buy. I could get them to come back to my place, set up my big screen and show me how to Tivo my shows. I'd even pay cash for that, but if they preferred, I could take them to the all you can eat Chinese Buffet and Sushi Bar.

I wonder how prevalent the whole racial stereo type of associating at race with those of particular job skills looking for work really is? Maybe somewhere theres a group of Jewish guys hanging out in in the parking lot of H and R Block.

East Indians wouldn't be in the parking lot of the 7-11, 'cause well, they are already working inside. Though I bet in India there are a lot American's hanging out in the parking lot of tech support centers.

And who knows, maybe there are some middle eastern guys hanging out in the parking lot of a demolitions company. That old building need to come down? Not a problem, the middle eastern guys can just walk inside and -- boom!

Nobody ever hangs out in the parking lot of Pep Boys looking for work. You would think they would. After all there are already eighteen people in the parking lot working on their own damn cars. You can't go to a Pep Boys, or an Auto Zone, or a Checker Auto Parts without seeing people underneath the hood of their cars. It's annoying. I mean, you don't pull up to a Walgreens Pharmacy and find people in the parking lot giving their kids a treatment for head lice.

I had no idea how competitive this whole looking for menial work really is. I saw a fight break out between a homeless guy and some illegals in front of a Home Depot because the illegals were upset that the homeless guy charging food was undercutting their price. It started a whole gang war. The homeless dudes got together and did a push by. Which is basically a drive by with a shopping cart.

Of course, in the end, people complain that we are contributing to the aid of illegals buy giving them work no matter what business they hanging out in front of. A lot of people want to see something done about illegal immigration. Many suggest building a wall from the east coast of Texas all the way to California. Others complain that would be too expensive. I say there's an easy solutions. We just head down to the Home Depot and pick up some cheap labor.

Will Work for Food Got Me Thinking Arby's

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:36:24 GMT

I see this homeless guy today with a sign, "Will work for food." Which I never understood. I mean if I were homeless, I wouldn't want food. I would want things like bricks, lumber, aluminum siding. Maybe at the very least a gift card to the Home Depot. I mean if you're homeless, shouldn't a house be your primary objective? Maybe that's how ginger bread houses got started. Some homeless guy worked, got food, and used it to build a house at the same time. But then he winds up getting hungry so eats it and is back to being homeless again. Homelessness is such an perpetuating circle.

I read this article once about homeless Eskimos. I'm not sure how an Eskimo become homeless. What does he do? Blame it on global warming?

Anyway, I ignored the homeless guy and looked straight ahead at the red light. I hate it when I pull up to a read light and there's one of those homeless people right there. It's not so bad if you have the proverbial buffer car in front of you. Then they have to deal with it. But when you are right up front, they're looking at you. I just try to look straight ahead, fool with the radio, make sure my registration and insurance card are not out of date. Anything not to act like I see the guy.

So, I ignored the homeless guy, but that got me thinking: I am actually hungry myself. I could go for a Roasted Chicken Club from Arby's. I think that's how their new slogan, "I'm thinking Arby's" actually began.

So I show up to Arby's and ordered a Roasted Chicken Club sandwich. But when I sit down and take a bite, I find out its ice cold. I mean, the cheese isn't even melted. I take it up to the counter and tell the manager. He tries to tell me it's supposed to be a cold sandwich. I said to him, it's called a Roasted Chicken Club sandwich. Roasted means hot. He proceeds to tell me no, it's a cold sandwich. Now, I've eaten this sandwich a million times. In fact one time I ordered it in the drive-through and accidentally dropped it in my lap. It was so hot, it burned my crotch. My law suit is pending.

But that's beside the point. I know this sandwich is supposed to be hot and this guy is trying to lie to me like I'm Judge Judy. So I tell him once again, no, it's supposed to be hot! So he tells me if I want he'll warm it up for me in the microwave. Great, now I am paying five bucks for left overs. I tell him no. I want a whole new ROASTED Chicken Club Sandwich. So he gives me this dirty look, but agrees. And off he goes.

So now I am proud -- I stood up for myself! I told this guy! I wanted a new sandwich and that's exactly what's happening. This guy is making me a new sandwich! This guy is back there right now - pissed off at me - making me a new sandwich... This guy is back there right now - alone - pissed off at me - making me a new sandwich. This guy is back there going, "You want a hot sandwich mister!? You got a hot sandwich! I have a spot right here between my clamy ass cheeks that's nice and warm! And while I am at it, let me put some special sauce on there for you!"

All I can see flashing through my mind is images from one of those Fox TV Shows: Fox's Most Disgusting Surveillance Tapes Ever. Like the one where the guy took a leak in his co-workers coffee pot. Now I was never a big fan of shows like that. I used to think it was trash TV. But now I am thinking they are a positive contribution to public awareness. I mean, how many office workers were tipped off to urine laced coffee because of seeing this show? Now those special tablets people drop into their swimming pools have a wider scope of purpose. Your co-worker pours his coffee and sees a neon blue tint to it -- somebody needs to start asking questions. Like why nobody's ever seen Kawolski use the bathroom, yet he keeps taking so many coffee breaks in the lounge. Or why that Mister Coffee filter looks strangely a lot like my kid's diaper.

Who knows what's going on with my food. So when the guy comes back with my food, I'm nervous. I wish I had those body guards that kings and presidents have to taste their food for me. Or even those special swimming pool tablets. But I took my meal, said thank you, and left.

I then left the Arby's and had the homeless guy wash my car for me.

He gladly accepted payment in the form of Roast Chicken Club sandwich. Of course by then it was cold, but to him that really didn't make a difference.

The All Male Gym

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:36:48 GMT

I saw an ad today for an all male gym. The ad was like, if you are tired of co-ed gyms, come here! OK, I suppose if you are gay, that has huge advantages. But really, what STRAIGHT guy would go to an all male gym? First of all, guys like to see hot chicks working out. It inspires us to work out. We want to look good. That's what I never understood about guys working out in jail. Who'd want to look good in jail? Again, I suppose some people would. But maybe the rest are working out in case they had to beat the crap out of guy who thinks they look good no matter what they look like. It's all self defense.

By the way, I was thinking tonight about the phrase beat the crap out. When I was a kid, and my older brother would get really mad at me and yell, "I'm going to beat the crap out of you!" I would run and lock myself in the bathroom and take a really big dump. Then I would walk out and go up to him say, "I'd like to see you try that now!"

But I digress.

Back to the all male gyms. Or any guy who would want to go to an all male gym. The thing is, men are sexual pigs. We would go after any woman we could. That's why it's impossible for a man to just be friends with a girl, because the whole time we'd be trying to figure out a way to hook up with her. Unless she was a pig herself, sexual or not. So according to that rational, that all men are sexual pigs, if a guy is gay, how in the world could he just be friends with another gay guy? Maybe that's why some gay guys stay in the closet for so long - they're too busy to leave.

But on the other hand, if a gay guy tells another gay guy he just wants to be friends - wow - that's the ultimate insult. You know you're ugly when you can't even get the gender who constantly thinks about sex to hook up with you.

I read an article last week that said unattractive people are more likely to commit a crime than attractive people. I don't think that's the case. I think the ugly people are just caught more. Why? Because there victims could never forget that face.

And imagine if an ugly guy goes to prison and all the other prisoners still just want to be his friend. Man. That's ugly. At least he's in the ultimate male gym and has twenty five to life to try to get into shape. Maybe eventually somebody will think he's hot.

Rings and Things

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:37:11 GMT

I can't find my wedding ring. I took it off cause it was bothering me -- no deep underlying subconscience statement on my marriage mind you - I was just feeling bloated that day. So I took it off. I guess if it was more comfortable I would have left it on. Hind sight is twenty twenty...

See... when my wife and I went to buy our wedding rings we found a pair we liked. However, right next to it, was the exact same pair, only four hundred dollars more. I asked the sales woman why. She explained to me that those rings were what they called the "comfort fit." If I was going to wear my wedding ring all the time, I wanted the "comfort fit" because like its name suggests, it fits more comfortably. I tried it on, and it did feel much better to wear, only the additional four hundred dollars didn't feel better - except to the jeweler.

If you make a product that people wear, don't you think every product you make should actually fit right? Why make a product and then tell people if they want it to actually fit, they have to pay more money? I mean I don't walk into the Gap to have the sales person tell me that I am a size thirty four waist, but if I want the size thirty four that actually fits, I have to pay forty dollars more for the "comfort fit." Those jeans don't come with the jagged razor in the crotch.

But maybe that actually is the case. I see all these kids walking around the mall with those baggy pants that hang down below their rear end. Maybe there are pants out there that really do fit them, its just that they're more expensive. And who can afford that on today's allowance? Teenage clothing is expensive enough.

Clothing is one thing, but jewelry is another. That was one of the main talking points the sale woman at the jeweler wanted to drive home. She was a pro. "What's spending four hundred extra dollars, one time, for a marriage that will last a lifetime?" she asked.

The trap was set. How many times was that line used on a man in front of his future bride? What do you say? How much is this marriage worth to you? Priceless should be the answer. You should be willing to spend any amount. Though no guy I know is willing to spend any amount, they just don't want their girlfriends to know that.

And the jeweler knows they don't want their girlfriends to know that either, that's why this is one of the oldest tricks in the book. Lore them in, ask the question, and the rest will work itself out to the tune of hundreds of dollars filling the cash register.

I needed an out. Of course I am willing to spend any amount I say. But this is not about money. See, I explain, if I wear the uncomfortable fit, the ring calls attention to itself. And if I think of the ring, I think of my wife.

If the ring is comfortable, I forget I am wearing it. I stop thinking about the ring, I stop thinking about my wife - and start thinking about that eighteen year old baby sitter next door. Suddenly, paying four hundred dollars more for the comfort fit, is now costing me several thousand dollars in alimony. So I'll get the uncomfortable fit, save the four hundred bucks, and save my marriage at the same time.

But then again, even if you can't find your wedding ring -- it's an item that is easily replaceable. A house, cars, investment portfolios, residual checks, and bank accounts are not so easily replaceable. And those are things that everyday help to remind me to stay happily married.

The Big Picture

John Moyer — Sun, 19 Mar 2006 16:37:29 GMT

Speaking of God...

Why is it that only Christian denominations go door to door? Imagine if athiests did.

"Hi, we are some athiest missionaries sharing a message."

"Really, what's your message?"

"Ah... Nothing."

And you know, we always consider God to be an all knowing, all wise, omninpotent, mature, father. Did it ever occur to anybody that God just might be a scared teenager who had a baby out of wedlock?

He's nervous, immature, upset that he can't go out with his buddies like he used to. Maybe that's why the world is such a screwed up place, he's just letting us run around doing whatever the heck we want because he doesn't know any better.

Then of course like with all kids they finally get to that one really loud, really obnoxious point where they are fighting with each other and dad just freaks out and goes nuts because he can't watch the game in peace. That's when we get hit with an earthquake, a flood... That's God's way of popping in the Incredibles DVD and keeping us busy for a while.

Just my two cents. Religion and spirituality is open to a lot of interpretation. Of course pretty much every religion thinks they have the lock on God and spirituality. But that's the thing, I think when all is said and done there'll be a lot of surprises for a lot of people when they die. Their looking around heaven going, "You kidding me!? Those people got in!?"

Jehovah's Witnesses believe that only 144,000 of them will get into heaven. Yet there are over seven million Jehovah's Witnesses world wide. Talk about over booking... What do the rest of them do? Wait around on stand by? "Hey Bob! Great news! Jim committed adultery at the last minute and your in! Let's go!"

I've known a few J.W's in my time. That's one group that will be pretty surprised. And who knows, maybe there will be Mormons standing around going, "What!? You mean it would have been ok to be drinking carmel macchiatos this whole time!? -- What about me thinking I was supposed to have sixteen kids!? Wait you know what, I don't want to even know!"