It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad Blog!

slain by the words I lack,
the world is bursting sappy music and
with your face so sad I long to make you mine.
slain by the inside light,
my world is burning on eternally
for the fire I lack this flame is feeling fine.

Lyrics courtesy of the great Mike Doughty, but the sentiment is all mine. This blog entry will be a weird one, so bear with me.

Wrap yer teeth around that and chew it! ( I was gonna write “wrap yer mouth around that and suck it!” but I decided to put the more family friendly version down.)

“What’s this thing? I don’t know. It has a thing on it.” *click* “Shit. Run!” –Dave Attell, when visiting a robot workshop on Insomniac.

Where to start . . . where to start? Well, let me begin by explaining why this blog will be weird. I now carry around a notebook.

What? You need a more in depth explanation? Fair ‘nuff.

In this notebook, I jot down anything that I think is a thought worth remembering. I plan to put these thoughts in my blog for the world to see, so they too may be privy to my mind’s inner workings. However, without any definite driving force or central theme, my blog will be a directionless jumble of odd thoughts. They’ll be interesting thoughts, though, so enjoy.

*Flips open notebook, begins to type*

Let’s start with the radio.
I used to think that morning shows were inane wastes of time, but now I kinda like ‘em. Bax an’ O’Brien, Quinn an’ Cantarra, Craig an’ Company, John Allen at the local. They can be funny and informative, and take my mind off of working.
Speaking of John Allen at the local, this unique radio show is on 100.9, WRNX. The host is John Allen, a mutton-chop-sporting, amiable Britisher. He has set out to break the world record for hand shaking, and is attempting to shake 32,100.9 hands by the end of the summer. I want to help him in his quest, and would love to shake his hand. I might also invite him to the Talent Show fundraiser we’re hopefully putting on. That’d be nifty if he made it.
The best time to listen to the radio, though, is at night. Late at night, when it’s all done by super-cool robots! No babbling disc jockeys, fewer commercials, better music.

It’s come to my attention that I’m not charming. I may be sweet and funny and have golden locks, but I am not charming at all. Too bad.

Oh! Back to the radio. I was listening to Quinn and Cantarra do a survey about what women look for in a man, and I am getting really tired of women thinking the cool answer to the “penis length” question is, “Oh, yeah,” giggle “Size does matter.” Hehehe. “The bigger the better.” You’re not funny, ladies. Now, I have, as stated in my profile, a slightly above average length phallus, so I might be motivated here by penis envy. But, it really bothers me that people can be so shallow. Guys stress the physical aspect of potential mates ad nauseam, but they usually don’t dwell on one body part so extremely. There’s more to a person than his or her body, and certainly more than one part of said body. Sheesh.

Tony mentioned stupidly that golf courses should be used as areas for low income housing for the homeless. I have a better place to use as housing ground: Cemeteries Of all the foolish primitive practices you’d have thought we’d have outgrown by now, cemeteries are by far the stupidest. They waste acres and acres of land so that we can come to terms with loss more easily. I despise the concept. On top of that, most people visit family or friend’s memorial once or twice a year. It’s not worth it. I say, get rid of cemeteries and build houses on the land. Hey, it worked in Poltergeist.

How about if I tell you about a creepy dream I had?
It started out at Holyoke Catholic. The Old Holyoke Catholic. Only, it was decorated like an elementary school, rather than a high school. And I was in Mara Hall. I walked up the stairs with Tony and Sam, who might’ve changed into Andy and Steve, the details are sketchy, to what used to be Ms. O’Neil’s room. It was now the yearbook room. I say yearbook, because that’s what it was called in my dream, but it was more of a school paper. At least, it felt like a school paper. Anyway, Caitlin’s mom was in charge of it, and she and Caitlin were arguing over picture sizes or something. And I wanted to talk to Caitlin, but could see she was in the middle of something. She gave me the “one minute index finger” and I said, “Okay,” and motioned for Sam and Tony to wait on the other side of the doorway. She gave me the signal again, and I said, “Okay,” again. The second time I got the impression that she was no longer addressing me as just a friend . . . more like uh . . . a guy she hated. So after I said “Okay,” she turned to me and said, with tears in her eyes, no less, “You can’t even use my name when you address me? Am I not a person to you?” And I can’t remember exactly what I said, something like, “You trippin’, girl?” And then I moved downstairs. I walked around the larger, converted downstairs which now held all the offices, and saw an insanely plump Mrs. Linnehan. Then, out of nowhere, Nicole Warren, or someone like her, is trying to kill me. She chases me around with a hose. I know I couldn’t get hit with the water or I’d die. So I’m dodging like a madman, running behind desks, and I finally get out into the courtyard, behind a newly installed glass wall. But it looked like an old, ‘50's style glass porch. Then I saw Caitlin again, and tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t listen. And I was looking at her, then I turned around and was confronted by the most frightening thing I’ve seen in a while. If you go to EbaumsWorld.com, and go to animation, and then click on Group X’s Schfifty-five, and watch it, you’ll know who . . . or rather what I’m talking about. It’s just a face, a large man’s face, with yellowed crooked gapped teeth and a scruffy beard. It has blonde pig tails. The scariest thing about the face are the eyes. They’re these inhuman, insane, red-brown eyes. No pupils or whites, just irises. Red-brown glistening irises. There’s something so inhuman about them. It’s terrifying. Anyway, I bump into this thing, now with a large man’s body, wearing a dirty white t-shirt and overalls, and wielding a butcher knife. And Cait says, “Now you’re in trouble. You shouldn’t have disturbed it.” And I say, “Can I kill it?” The thing is moving slowly and deliberately, raising the knife. So all of a sudden I realize I have this Belgian army knife in my hand. I actually have a knife like this. It has two blades and a spike. I have the spike out, and I ram it into the creature’s neck, right below the end of its jaw, like under its ear. And then force the butcher knife into the thing’s chest, and then I run. I gotta say, that felt pur-rittiy good. That face has been haunting me for a while. So I run back to the front door, and enter, but Nicole’s in there, and she throws a trowel at my head. I dodge behind the door and shut it, and the trowel splinters the wood and protrudes slightly. Then, all of a sudden I’m upstairs, only it’s a room in my grandmother’s house, before she redecortaed, so it has weird red and yellow and black and brown ‘70's decor, and Sam and Tony, and Mrs McD and Mrs Linnehan, and Nicole’s evil twin are backing me towards a closet door. And then the door swings open, and Caitlin and her mom are in there grinning at me, and they say something like, “Surprise!” And then I woke up. And the weirdest thing was, when I went to pour myself a bowl of cereal that morning, amongst the Frosted Flakes, out came a trowel! Dah dah dah! (Just kidding on the last part, but the dream is pretty freaky, no?

Normally I hate shopping, but I went a coupla nights ago and bought some shorts and shirts, and I was happy for the first time. Maybe it’s because I used to be such a chubby little kid that I didn’t look good in anything, but now am less pudgy, a lil’ buffer, and clothes seem to fit me properly for once. Or, maybe it’s the fact that I picked them out all by myself, like a big boy. Anyway, I have some cool new clothes.

Here’s a thought I had: Religions dwell too much on symbolic meaning. They try to make things as supernatural as possible. Read The Da Vinci code and you’ll see what I mean. But anyway, while Christians always look at Christ as God dying to save our souls from sin and give us eternal life, maybe we should look at it from the human angle, that Jesus the man died to show us the limitless compassion and bravery we’re all capable of and the level of love needed to make the world a better place.

Two things I want help with: The Talent Show fund raiser.
And Evelyn’s welcome back party. Let’s do it right this time, shall we?

I’d like to give a shout out to all my friends from the trip I took to Australia. I love you all, and I want to thank you for making me the perverted, innuendo-spewing guy I am today.

I’m thinking of making a tally of my injuries while roofing. Each post I’ll write about the most painful ones.

I love Audis, and desperately want one, but I hate the people who drive them.

I’d like to put out an ABP on a notorious cyber criminal who’s been posting comments anonymously on everybody’s blogs.

Wanted, Dead or Alive: Sombraro.

Come out and show yourself, coward! That’s right, Sombraro, I’m callin’ you out!

What? Talk about movies? Okay. I saw Bad Boys a last night, and it was awesome. Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer are masters of their craft: Kick-ass action!. I want to see Spiderman 2. Maybe I will . . . tomorrow, if anyone’s intersted let me know. The more the merrier.

Books, too? Okay. I read the Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown. And what did I think of the book that’s been the number one bestseller for about 67 weeks? M’eh. I recommend you read simply for all the awesome facts and theories. They’re so intriguing. Secret societies and The Vatican and the Crusades and the Renaissance and the Holy Grail! Oh my! But as far as book go? M’eh. It had some cool supporting characters, but the main characters left a lot to be desired. It had some humor, but it wasn’t a comedy, so humor couldn’t save it. It had some suspense, but very little action. Now, here’s my major qualm. The book talks about the sacred dualism of male and female. The facts surrounding this concept that Brown presents are fascinating. But there’s an even older, just as important form of dualism: Good and Evil. This is where the book fails. It gets so muddled in creating realistic characters (which doesn’t work. The characters are unbelievable, but Brown doesn’t go all the way, he tries to ground them in reality and it fails.) and the grey area between right and wrong, that there is neither a courageous hero to love, or a dastardly villain to hate. Maybe I’m too immature in my understanding of literature, but every good story has some sort of hero and villain. This had neither. I ended up agreeing with the “bad guy” and disliking the “good guy.” Now, you may say that it was a mystery, not an adventure novel, and so didn’t need a villain, just a person with a motivation to commit a crime, and I’d say to that, well, look at the Sherlock Holmes stories, The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Speckled Band, anything with Moriarty. They all had awesome villains and likeable hero. This brings me to my next point: It should have been more adventure novel-like. Less of a dull thriller. It had so much potential, and it seems Brown wasted most of it in favor of having cool facts. Don’t get me wrong, the facts are so amazing and thought-provoking that it’s well worth the read. But, as far as enjoyable current novels go, give me a Clive Cussler any day.

I’m terribly afraid of dogs biting my crotch. They’re right at that level. It seems no one realizes how much danger they’re in at all. One snap and it’s instant eunuchation. (Pronounced “you-nih-cay-shun”) We’re all way too trusting.

You know what I’d love to do with a girl? No, that’s not what I’m thinking of. Get your mind out of the gutter. I would love to read to her. That to me would be sublime. Just to sit and read to a girl I loved. Or if she read to me, that’d be pretty amazing, too.

Anyone who wants to go to a cool Ba'Hai fireside meeting next Monday is quite welcome. The address is:

303 River Road
South Hadley, MA 01075

Or you can call me for details.

And now, the regulars:

Casting Call:

Pawel: Adrian Brody
Steph Lepine: Tea Leoni
Caitlin: Tea Leoni (I watched Bad Boys yesterday and now have her stuck in my head, but I could see her playing either one)
Adam Goddu: Sean Astin

The Way of Rich: Buddhism: I like the Middle Way. “Whadya say, let’s play half the day, the other half we’ll be workin’ away, down by the bay, it’s the Middle Way! Hey!” You like that? I wrote it myself. Well, alright, I borrowed some lyrics from Trent Reznor, but the majority is mine. Oh, I have an idea. I’ll stop being a fucking moron and start talking about Buddhism.

As I said, I like the Middle Way. It’s a principle that I try to hold true to in my daily life. However, unlike the Buddha, I see a need for the two extreme in one’s life. I practice slight asceticism, but also indulge my body slightly. (Well, alright, like five times a day, but I’m trying to stop . . . I don’t want to go blind . . .) Seriously, though. I fast, I work roofing, I try to build my tolerance for hunger, pain, discomfort, and fatigue up slowly. But I also enjoy kicking back now and again. Buddhism feels a bit to mystic for my liking, a bit to short on explanations. I admire that in some ways, yet I just don’t get the right feel from it. I do, however, strongly approve of some practices. As for Buddhist mythology, I love the story of Buddha and Mara. How Buddha tried to achieve Enlightenment, and how Mara tried to stop him. The wave of demons, then beautiful women, then the ultimate test: Mara asked Buddha why he didn’t just stay in Nirvana. Buddha’s quite heroic, in his own right. And I like how that story parallels Jesus in the desert. I don’t like the concept of life as suffering, and as stated last time, I don’t like the idea of no-self. I like the Five Precepts except for the one about not engaging in sexual misconduct. I mean, c’mon, we gotta have some fun. But, not killing, stealing, lying, or drinking are all alright. The Four Noble Truths are a-ok, except “To live is to suffer.” However, suffering is caused sometimes by desire. Although this doesn’t apply in a situation like . . . uh . . . if you had a knife in your eye, and you were suffering. Unless the desire is a desire to not have a knife in your eye. Now, the Eightfold Path. Right Intentions, Speech, Conduct, Livelihood (except in dire emergencies), Mindfullness, and Effort I agree with. However, Right Views is not cool. It seems to be saying, “Don’t have an opinion except the one we give you.” And Right Meditation, the whole, go beyond the self thing, can get a lil’ wiggy. The concept of an arhat I like. Perfect wisdom equals perfect compassion. That’s a warm, fuzzy thought right there, ain’t it? It makes Little Debbie look like a pile a puke. Theravada puts too much emphasis on teachings, not enough on the Buddha or living. Mahayana puts too much emphasis on the Buddha, not enough on teachings or living, and Vajrayana places too much emphasis on sensual energy. So the last one is the school of thought for me! In reality, a good Buddhist would have to pick and choose from each school to find the right path for him/herself. So, I think that’s it. I’m off to have Tantric sex for profit.

Friends: Today I’d like to talk about someone y’all probably don’t understand that well: EJ Massa. You see, EJ is quite the paradox. His personality traits would seem to cancel each other out, but they actually combine to make a marvelous whole. EJ is at once a foul-mouthed lunatic, a hopeful romantic, a dynamic and revolutionary thinker, a lackadaisical scholar, a sexy lifeguard, and a self deprecating poet. But EJ can somehow be all these things and make it work. He can be sweet and insightful while spewing out random threats. He can make you want to hug him, rape him, shake his hand, and stab him in the eye all at once. Yet the way he is modest and seemingly oblivious to his amazing range of capabilities is what pulls the whole kit and caboodle together and makes him so endearing. Very few people have made me laugh as thoroughly and consistently as EJ. And very few have touched my emotions like he has. Bantering in barely understandable slurs with him is one of my favorite things to do. No one has been more serious and enthusiastic about Channel 101 than EJ, and he made Parent’s Night a hit.
I regret not opening my eyes to EJ’s unique brand of awesome before this past year, but I thank the gods of comedy that I did. EJ, you’re the greatest!
For those of you who wish to see the many sides of EJ, check out his incredible blog, mrwopsicle.blogspot.com. It’s guaranteed to make you smile.

Rich’s Joke Corner:
A lion awoke one morning feeling rowdy. He prowled through the jungle until he found an unsuspecting monkey. He cornered the monkey and bellowed, “Who is the mightiest animal in the jungle?” The terrified monkey stammered, “Y-y-you are.” The lion then pounced on a deer. “Who is the mightiest animal in the jungle?” he roared. The poor deer barely managed to say, “You are.” Finally, the lion swaggered up to an elephant. “Who is the mightiest animal in the jungle?” the lion snarled. The elephant, unamused, picked the lion up with his trunk, swung him into a tree, and stomped on him. As the lion walked away he muttered, “Jeez, just because you don’t know the answer doesn’t mean you have to make such a big deal out of it.”

What do you call Sr. Connie, Bishop Dupre, Mr. Paul, and Mrs. Allyn skydiving?
Skeet.

Actually, what do you call Mrs. Allyn skydiving?
An eclipse.

Two old men were sitting on a park bench. One asked the other, “By the way, how’s your wife?”
“I think she’s dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the sex is the same, but the dishes are piling up.”

And now, a special Fourth of July Message:

It’s a big ol’ land with countless dreams.
Happiness ain’t outta reach.
Hard work pays off the way it should
I seen enough to know we got it good.

Well I pledge allegiance to this flag.
An’ if that bothers you, well that’s too bad.
But if you’ve got pride and yer proud you do,
We could use some more like me an’ you.

Where the stars an’ stripes and the eagle fly!
Yeah where the stars and stripes and the eagle fly.

There’s a lady that stands in a harbor for what we believe.
An’ there’s a bell that still echoes the price that it costs to be free . . .

Where the stars and stripes an’ the eagle fly.
Where the stars and stripes an’ the eagle . . . FLY!

Lyrics by Aaron Tippin.

Current Mood: Pretty Good
Current Music: Grey Ghost, by Mike Doughty

Oh yeah, and a message to the rest of you bloggers: Update! I want blogical energy to keep my fuel cells full!