The Intelligence Estimate

Only an estimate. Actual intelligence may vary.


Procrastination is a Powerful Deceiver

Tonight, while putting off writing my one man show, I watched Monster In A Box, Spaulding Gray's one man show about putting off writing a book. The irony was not lost on me.

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Checkered Driving Record

I saw a cab driver pulled over by a cop today.

Think about that.

You know how horribly cab drivers drive normally? Well, they get away with that particular brand of arrogant disregard for public safety. So how much more terrifyingly awful do they have to be before the cops notice? What did this clown do to separate himself from the pack? Unless he ran over a cop and used his corpse for an antenna cover I don't see the boys in blue taking notice. Even if he did use a cop corpse as an antenna cozy I think the worst he'd get is a written warning.

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No, SHIRT! No, SHOES!

I was walking to the train the route I always take. I turned right onto Troy Street headed toward Wilson Avenue. I had my iPod on and wasn't paying that much attention to my surroundings until I saw something our of the corner of my eye. (I would have used my whole eye, but between the ice and the dog crap I could only spare the corner.) I saw some motion and turned to pay it a little more attention. (Not my full attention because of the aforementioned ice and dog crap.)

I didn't see everything, but here is what I deduced had happened on the front porch of the house I was passing: The little old guy takes a quick look out the window and doesn't see anyone, he makes a mad dash outside (it's 16 degrees Fahrenheit here), sees me, gets spooked, grabs his paper and runs back inside as fast as his little old man legs will carry him.

This is however, just a deduction. I'm not certain of what happened because I only became aware of the old man's presence as he was headed back to the house with his paper. And I only remember that because he was not wearing shoes to go out and get the paper. In fairness, it would have looked kind of silly if he was wearing his shoes considering the fact that he had no pants on. But having no pants on was ok too because he was just wearing that little under shirt and pants would have made him feel naked from the waist up. No, better to go out in just your undershirt and underwear to grab the paper.

For those of you who were interested (and I don't even want to know who that might be) they were tighty whiteys...although they were neither tight nor particularly white anymore.

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No Spoilers!

I'm taping the State of the Union address right now so please don't tell me how it ends. I wanna be surprised to find out which country we're going to war with next. I got my eye on you Venezuela!

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Pharoah, Let My Sperm GO!

Just a point of clarification for my family: leave my sperm alone. There. It's public record now. I consider this to be legally binding.

I didn't think you did, but apparently you have to make such announcements just in case you die and your parents want to extract your sperm before they bury you. It happened to a soldier in Israel.

The article never makes this abundantly clear but it appears he had the sperm stored (in a hospital, not in like a jug under his bed) before he died. Then when he died the family sued the hospital to get them to release it to them. The hospital was all like, "No. You're not a spouse." And the parents countered with, "Oh, you're one of those uptight hospitals, huh? I find that HOT!" And the hospital starts playing all hard to get and won't release it's sperm. So the parents buy the hospital a few drinks and now they're partying like rock stars. But the hospital is such a square that even a liter of Jack Daniels finest argument settler won't break its resolve. "Not unless you're married!" the hospital exclaims. And the parents counter with, "Wanna see a three way with our lawyer?" And the hospital gets really hot and bothered and reluctantly, but forcibly releases it's sperm...all over the couple and their lawyer. (Careful not to get any in your eye.)

But here's the weird part(yeah, it was NORMAL up to now): The parents went on TV to request that women contact them if they wanted to be impregnated with their son's sperm. The parents are pimping their son on national TV. And you just know that these are the type of parents who had a 10pm curfew for the kid growing up and wouldn't let him date until he was 18. Even then no one was good enough for mom.

"Why can't you find a nice girl to settle down with," mom would ask? "I could find you a better girl! I know lots of fine upstanding young women, why won't you let me help you?" And so she does. On national TV. And 200 women respond. Two hundred women see a mother on TV with her dead son's sperm and think, "I want to be a part of THIS family!"

I think dying may have just been an excuse to get away from his parents.

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Quote of The Day

"We have row R seats 201 and 202. Those are bar stool seats."

"Oh, that will never do. My daughter has an inoperable brain tumor."

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Tube Scarf Boogie

Jen and I didn't leave the house yesterday and we got so punchy that we decided that, not only was it a good idea to spend a lot of time with her scarf but that we would take pictures with it as well. All you need to know for this to make "sense" (in the loosest general sense of the term) is that this scarf is also a tube. Enjoy.













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The Better Part of Valor

Loud woman talking loudly on her loud cell phone in an otherwise quiet Linens N' Things yesterday: "They ain't discreet about your shit. (*pause*) I SAID THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS AIN'T DISCREET WHEN IT COMES TO YOUR SHIT."

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A Weighty Situation

The other day I was at the gym and I decided to weigh myself. We don't have a scale at home so I only have a rough idea of what I weigh. Weighing myself is not normally something I do in public, but I decided that I needed to know the damage and I'll tell you why: that damned treadmill is nosy. When you get on the tread mill it asks you your age and weight. That irritated me when I first started going there. I mean, I fully expected it to start talking about politics and religion next. But I guess it needs the information to decide how much strain it can put on old fat people. Anyway, when I weighed myself the other day I realized that I had been under-reporting my weight to the treadmill by a full 7 pounds. I account for this error by telling myself that muscle weighs more than fat and since going to the gym I had now gained seven pounds pure muscle. (This is one of several lies my world is based around, like: this train is perfectly hygienic, dry cleaning is possible and cats DON'T want my eyes.) But now I feel bad because I lied to the treadmill.

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Know Your Concourse, Know Your Gate

According to a Fox News story United Airlines employees at O'Hare International Airport (one of TWO airports here in Chicago. Midway is the other one...and it seems to me there was a third one by the lake at one time too, but it's closed down now.) claim to have seen a UFO.

"'Our theory on this is that it was a weather phenomenon,' (Federal Aviation Administration Representative Elizabeth)Cory said. 'That night was a perfect atmospheric condition in terms of low (cloud) ceiling and a lot of airport lights. When the lights shine up into the clouds, sometimes you can see funny things.'The FAA is not investigating, Cory said."

Thank God the FAA isn't investigating. I think it's time to institute random drug testing at United Airlines. This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Everyone knows that the UFOs land at Midway!

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Welcome Back, Your Dreams Were You Ticket Out...

I've been on holiday hiatus and I've been watching a lot of TV. Of particular note is this game show on the Discovery Channel called Cash Cab. The gist of the show is this: people in New York get into a cab and unexpectedly find themselves in a game show hosted by the driver. They have until they reach their destination to amass as much cash as possible, but if they get 3 answers wrong then they are booted out of the cab wherever they are.

I was watching this the other day with Jen and two young, obviously gay men get into the cab and ask to be taken to the ESPN Zone. Which is why I laughed at them later when they missed a question about Roger Maris even after calling one of their fathers. Little did I know that foible would be child's play compared to their answer to this question: "Named after the peak year of the California gold rush, gold miners were known as what?"

They put their heads together and eventually came up with the correct answer which is the 49ers. (Which is also where the San Francisco football team gets their name.) But they needed to talk it out first and get the brains firing on all eight cylinders. After much hemming and hawing one of them gets a notion and screams out, "Ohhhhh, the 69ers."

Clearly they were thinking of the famous San Fransiscan sailors who, 20 years later, would invent oral sex.

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