Because I Rock

I just saw this idiot on an SNL rerun. Now I know how my father felt when he had to hear me listen to Kiss and AC/DC. His favorite expression was, 'Turn that shit down, for Christ's sake.' And then my mother would say, 'Billeeeee! Don't use the Lord's name in vain!'

Well, I've finally become my father and I have three words for Kid Rock - Turn It Down. And three more words - Wash Your Hair. And finally three more - Lose The Midget. And don't get me wrong, I love loud music. The louder the better but could we have a modicum of melody? Just a smidge? It wouldn't kill you. You are a "musician" after all. He's on stage with a midget, two dancers and his "band" and it seemed like everybody was playing a different song. And all the while, Mr. Rock was screaming to a song that the other five people weren't playing.

To call it cacophony would be a compliment. I've been in more melodic traffic jams. Which is why I hate most Rap. Rap isn't music. Period. It's a bunch of screaming, angry people and a beat.

Rape yo' mutha'

Kill da cops

Bus' a cap in yo' ass

An' I ain't neva gonna stop!

Like I said, I'm becoming my father. Because I used to think the coolest lyrics in the world were from Dr. Jimmy by the Who:

What is it? I'll take it.

Who is she? I'll rape it.

Got a bet there? I'll meet it.

Getting High? You can't beat it.

Nice, huh? Thief, rapist and junkie. It wasn't so much that I wanted to be any of those things, it was that Dr. Jimmy didn't care about anything. And back in the day, yo (to use the young kids lingo), I thought I didn't care about anything either. I did, of course. But when you're 16, it's fun to pretend you don't. You're just a badass with long hair and an earring and nobody understands. Not your parents, not your teachers and certainly not Reagan - that bastard. No nukes! I hope the Russians love their children too. I would have been in Washington for the protest if I'd have been born in 1984.

Back to music for a minute. That wasn't the worst of the song. Then there was this:

You say she's a virgin.

I'm gonna be the first in.

Her fellah's gonna kill me?

Oh fucking will he.

So we've gone from thief, rapist and junkie, to rapist and murderer. And what floors me is that this song was written in 1973. Maybe I should be a little more understanding with the silly, angry, little rapper people.

I still hate Rap. I have become my father.


Ass-faced weatherman, Jeff at the Weather Channel has just informed me that it is cold in January.

Some other interesting weather-related facts:

February is also cold.

Rain is made up largely of water.

Tornadoes are dangerous.

Trailer parks are generally not the best places to stay during a tornado.

"Five Day Forecast" is a euphemism for "a bunch of stinking lies." So the next time you hear some bozo in a tie say, "And here's the five day forecast...", your brain should automatically translate that into, "And here's a bunch of stinking lies..." You'll be more likely to change the channel real quick once you've done the translation.

A quick and easy way to find out what the weather is in your area is to look out the fucking window.

Weathermen are wrong approximately 72.6% of the time.

If you are wrong 72.6% of the time, you are functionally retarded.

Well, I hope we've all learned something today.

Next up...the Food Network.

The Color Of the Sky As Far I Can Tell Is Cold Gray

There are some really stupid people in this world and this time I'm talking about me. We're waiting for a snowstorm which could mean that Sweet Alice and I will be off tomorrow.

So what does that have to do with me being stupid? We can't stop watching the freaking weather channels to say nothing of the local forecasts. None of them have the same predictions. Which I guess, for ratings sake, is normal.

You have one station being conservative in their estimates - It'll be mostly rain with a few flurries. Back to you, Bob; another, a little crazy - but you never know what can happen, Bob; and the other completely outrageous - Bob, snow will envelope humans and to be perfectly honest, people could die! So here's my composite of the local weather report.

Bob the newsguy: And now we go out to Virginia Beach to Zipp Blaster and his News4 Quadruple Doppler News Team, Zip?

Zipp: Bob, the flurries have already begun and already the roads are TREACHEROUS. Flurries are most definetly falling here which could result in significant accumulation in the jasminlive area making it TREACHEROUS for tomorrow morning's commute. If Nashville is any indication, we could really get hit hard. Bob?

Bob: Zipp, are road conditions presently TREACHEROUS?

Zipp: Well Bob, cars are slowing down and the flurries just keep coming. TREACHEROUS conditions are developing. And we here at the News 4 Quadruple Doppler Radar Team want to remind you to DRIVE SAFELY, WALK SAFELY, and most of all bundle up. Dress in layers because typically snow brings with it cooler temperatures. Back to you, Bob.

Bob: Thanks, Zipp! Next up - a baby, his father and a hairdryer. Was it child abuse? Stay tuned!

Which reminds me of one of the greatest inventions ever - Q-tips. How great are they? Have you ever stuck them so far into your head that you worried you would hit your brain? It's a little scary but kind of fun. Really. You have to be careful but you can turn it into a jasminelive game. And the way I look at it, so what if you hit your brain. What's the worst that can happen? You pop an eardrum and damage your brain. Frankly, I'm sick of hearing people talk and I'm already fairly brain-damaged. It' win-win.

Snow Days

Notice how I didn't write Snow Daze? That's because it's stupid. Anyway, the big snowstorm is supposedly heading our way and the folks here at work won't shut the hell up about it. They're worse than children.

So, you think we'll be closed tomorrow?

I hope so. I heard on channel 10 we're getting 6-8 inches.

Really? Channel 3 said 4-6 but channel 13 is sticking with 2-4.

I need to go shopping after work just in case.

Oh, I already did my shopping yesterday.

And what is up with snow shopping?

Dear God, Honey! It's snowing and we are OUT OF BUTTER!!! Oh, the humanity!

What should we do?

Well, I don't know about you but I'm killing myself. We'll probably die anyway. In the snow. Butterless.

I'm all for a little snow and I certainly wouldn't mind a day off but please people - just stop it right now.

Where do you think I got it from. That's all I listen to eight hours a day.

Sheesh! Co-workers. You can't live with 'em and you can't go on a killing spree at work.

Unless you're disgruntled.

A Watched Boil Never Pots

Here's a tip: You know the expression 'a watched pot never boils'? Well screw that. The next time you're boiling a big vat of water to make pasta and you want it to boil faster, make believe you're about to bathe a meat cat.

Trust me. Every other night I put a big pot on the stove to give Meaty his salt bath, thinking the water will take forever to get warm, and it seems like a minute later the water's boiling. Which means we have to add cold water so we don't accidently braise him in his pussy goodness.

I'm serious. It works. Whether or not you'll want to eat the pasta after thinking of Oscar the meat cat is another matter and frankly, not my problem.

Oh, and the meat baths are working splendidly. Thanks for asking.