Scott Cramer wrote this.

First, let me give you the background. The fundraising company I help run has a “Screaming Flying Monkey” as a prize for sellers. Basically, it’s a cute little plush monkey with an aviator’s helmet and rubber arms. You put your fingers in it’s hands, pull it by the tail, and let it fly. When it hits it lets out a loud “ahhhh-EEEE-AHHHH-AHHHHHHHHHHH” scream (I’m too lazy to record it and insert the sound here so use your imagination).

Okay, now for the silly part. Because you can “aim” and “fling” it, many schools won’t use it because it is classified as… wait for it… A WEAPON!

Now, I know I’m getting older, but looking back to my high school gangland days, I don’t ever recall an alley rumble with flying screaming monkeys. But hey, what did we know? So, since we have several hundred of these little buggers sitting around the prize room, we’ve decided to help out with the war on terrorism and ship them all to our boys overseas. Take that, stink’n Al-Quada!

I found a $70 wool coat at Old Navy on clearance for $10!!! From a distance it looked pretty cool and, hey, how can you beat $10? Still I wondered why there were so many left. I tried it on.

It had these shoulder strappy things on it. I felt like I should be a guard at a border checkpoint. “Pleez to let me see all ov your paypers, Comrade.” Maybe they were there to hold my beret? Or maybe to airlift me out of some natural disaster? I don’t know. It was pretty gay though. Still… $10…

One pair of scissors later… No more gay army coat.

From the looks I got from the store clerks, I probably should have waited until until I bought it before cutting them off, though. Oh well. $10!!!

The fact that my girlfriend’s shower is full of mysterious gadgets and more products than I could use on my car is a topic for another day.

The fact that she doesn’t use a bar of soap and uses liquid soap and big poofy body pom-poms (???) is a topic for another day.

The topic that *is* for today is that I wanted to use a manly bar of soap – you know, one that doesn’t smell like rare flowers from exotic countries – and when I got in the shower with it, there wasn’t any flat or hanging space left for me to put it. Being the industrius lad that I am (no, I didn’t resort to soap on a rope) I went to the hardware store and bought a suction-cup soap holding dish.

I noticed that the package advertised, “Holds over 8 pounds.”

Holy crap! Who in the hell has an 8 pound bar of soap?!?

My girlfriend is *very* punctual. While we were out shopping, I found her the perfect wristwatch.

I stop at the gas station to pick up a Diet Pepsi for my girlfriend. There was a line so I’m standing in the open area in front of the counter waiting for my turn to pay. A couple more customers come in and are standing to the side and behind me. I don’t know if you ever feel the self concious need to “look cool” out in public. Maybe it’s just a guy thing. Anyway, I change my stance to where most of my weight is on one leg and I could tap my toe with the other (not that I think that would be cool, but I’m just describing the stand).

I make sure not to stare right at the guy fumbling through what lottery cards and cigarettes to buy and who’s taking forever. I don’t want to seem impatient – cool people aren’t rude and impatient. I pick a spot to look somewhere off to the side – not too far away from the counter, so people know I’m still actively in line and they can’t cut around me, but not too close either so they know I’ve got much deeper things to ponder than a stranger’s lucky lotto pick and menthol lights. Truthfully I’m not looking at anything. I’m the movie producer staring through that little camera lens thingy hanging around his neck. Cool people don’t have to know what those things are called. I’m concentrating on paying attention so I don’t miss it when my turn comes but not blowing my cover that I am actually paying attention to the transaction in front of me. Cool people have no need to eavesdrop.

This goes on for a minute or two. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the lady behind me glance at something and then quickly avert her gaze. She moves away from me a bit and starts shuffling around uncomfortably. Obviously not as cool as me. I looked to where her gaze so quickly averted – and it was the spot my eyes were facing – the spot that I never actually took the time to “see” what I was “looking” at.

It was a large box of brightly colored condoms. Lots of colors. Lots of styles. The kind you’d find in truckstop bathrooms. The kind for big burly men with a dollar twenty-five in quarters and a hottie waiting in the tractor cab. The kind that I’d been “staring” intently at for the past several minutes – completely lost to the world around me.

Oh yeah, there’s nobody quite as cool as me.

In an interesting development this week, the FCC and Department of Transportation have partnered to create a bill allowing them to regulate radio station playlists. Citing a precedent from Fort Wayne, Indiana, officials say, “We were lucky there were no fatalities from the nearly dozen traffic accidents that immediately occurred after heavy-metal song ‘Lick it Up’ by rockers KISS was immediately followed by country star Garth Brook’s ‘Friends in Low Places’.” The FCC chairman will not officially comment that the Department of Health might also come onboard to back the new bill. An unofficial statement from the Surgeon General, however, states, “If we can tell people to wait two hours after eating before swimming to avoid cramping and drowning, it is not a far reach to expect radio stations to avoid the kind of mental whiplash that can occur by immediately playing country after heavy metal.” In the meantime, public officials encourage drivers to avoid stations that advertise a “variety” of music and stick to “pure genre” stations instead.

I drove to pick up dinner after work and, in a flashback to my 80’s louder-the-better listening days, I pulled into the restaurant parking lot with windows shaking from hair-metal band Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again”. The timing was perfect with the music as I pulled into the parking space. It was a good hair day, I was wearing my cool black coat. I had that slightly unshaven devil-may-care look. I got out of the car and walked through the parking lot nodding my head to the tune still echoing in my ears. It was one of those rare “I’m actually really cool right now” moments. Of course, there was nobody around to see it.

I get out of the restaurant with my take-out order, still feeling pretty studly. A regular midwest Miami-Vice-Era Don Johnson. This time there are people in the parking lot. Pressure. I still managed to keep the cool look as I walked to my car. I might have even swaggered a little. The cool soundtrack was still playing in my head. I got into the car and, before shutting the door, started it up. My radio, still set at I’m-too-cool-to-follow-your-rules-man volume, immediately started blaring. Oh yeah. Everybody would experience my coolness.

As plastic-pop-diva Cher’s “Do You Believe in Love” washed out over the parking lot, I’m sure the horrified look on my face as my hand shot out to turn off the radio and smashed into my two bags of takeout food showed them all exactly how cool I really was.

Radio, you are not my friend.

You know, sometimes it’s hard to even add something to the insanity. Check out the article below copied from Adrants.com. Original link here.

Just because the United States of America has a few perception problems in other parts of the world, doesn’t mean the country should go and change it’s name to something that exudes a friendlier perception. Just because everyone refers to Australia and “down under” doesn’t mean the country should adopt that name. Just because Iraq caught some crap from the rest of the world, the country isn’t running out to change it’s name so we all think differently about it.

A county’s name is steeped in history and isn’t something to be toyed with like a brand name but that’s what Al Ries would have us believe. Because Guatemala seems to be suffering some perception problems among the rest of the world’s populace who don’t realize it’s the center of Mayan culture as opposed to Belize, El Salvador and Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula who’ve co-opted the culture, Ries, aside from disliking the country’s new slogan, “Soul of the Earth,” thinks the country should change its name to Guatamaya. Yea, you heard that right, Guatemaya. That’s like calling Australia Kangaroo. Or Brazil Bootyville.

Perhaps viewing Guatemala as some sort of helpless third world country that has no pride and doesn’t care what it’s called by pompous marketing blowhards in America, Ries would have us believe the name of a country is on the same level of importance as a product name and subject to the whim of fickle marketers who think a product name is the solution to all ills. While we’re sure Guatelama and its citizens would love to increase its tourism business, Ries’ suggestion does nothing but reinforce the world’s view of American as a country with a serious superiority complex.