"A lot of people would be thinking, 27, what have you got to complain about."

So commented a friend on the Silliest Ffourth entry, two down.

The sheer stagnation.

My own life seems to be going at a pace slowed to half the norm. My body is 27; that would put every other aspect of me to roughly 13½. I'm living in a small house with yappy dogs and parents that loudly and gracelessly snore, burp and obstruct. I have no job, and I have never had even a temporary romantic partner. All around me, everybody's getting married and having kids. Even this past day, the world, or at least the media, has gone gaga for royal goo-goo. (Why does America care? Hell, why does Britain care? Useless figureheads. Leave them alone! Man, this new baby's life is gonna be hell.) The rate I'm going, my body will be 35 by the time I get to be with somebody.

Everybody's getting married. One of my favorite old co-workers with whom I'm cyberfriends came up in my feed this past Friday as having her wedding; I'd known she was engaged, but I hadn't known the wedding date. Me, I managed to find a wedding that I could attend on Saturday, namely, that of my mother's best friend's daughter, whom I hadn't seen in rather a number of years. It was a small town wedding, just up 150 a bit, in a small church — low-key and fairly pleasant. Reception in the next town's American Legion post; food unremarkable but got the job done (I love me some pasta salad); cake curiously sweet and far too plain — no filling at all; music by and large horrendous. Also, I only got to talk to the bride and groom once. But other than the song that busted out with "LET ME SEE YOUR TITS", an overall decent and happy time. That feeling lasted through most of Monday.

So, back to jobless, isolated, lonely reality, wherein my new improved health insurance bill has arrived. I want to leave online social media for a while, but I have no place else to go. Dating sites require payment. I gaze helplessly at pictures of people with cats and food. I "Like" some of those pictures. One friend just found somebody. I dig that friend very much, and I hope it works for them. Somebody talks about all the frogs around. My mind produces a 404 page; I have never seen a frog in my life. Somebody else invites me to an "Event" at least a hundred fifty miles away from me. On Twitter, I follow Neko Case for some reason. She's single — yay — but all the posts about traveling do their best to persuade me to unfollow her. She and plenty of others speak of New York. Fuck. I put on something by the Diogenes Club and space out a bit. I play some obsessive rounds of Boggle against the computer; I win more often than I lose or tie. I destroy "bubbles" by matching three or more of the same color. I sign selected political petitions that have been e-mailed to me, never with my own name, address, or number. I play Freecell, in which I now have 940 wins and zero losses. I check in on this ... and its thread. It's gotten exciting. The music I'm playing is so dreamy as it's winding down. And then, from beyond the door to the room I'm in, the sound of another door opening. Skittering dog paws on the hard floor. Door closing. Human footsteps. Loud, repulsive burp. More doors. Fart. Piss. Decibels. Reality.

Or some semblance thereof.

Choice Chirps, Part I

I'm rather struggling of late to muster anything to post that won't make both me the writer and you the reader yearn deeply for the sweet, sweet caress of death. The same is true, I suspect, of all the rest of the Internet these days. With that in mind, I come to realize that I haven't done one of these short-takes roundups in rather a while. I hope at least some of these are as entertaining as they seemed when I originally chirped, or "tweeted", them. (Some have been edited and cleaned up in translation to Blogger.) Enjoy!

Why are they called "urban legends"? Aren't a bunch of them rural in origin and popularity?

Maybe doorknobs should be at eye level rather than elbow level. What did my elbows ever do to doorknobs? Huh!?

In this age of cursing and mud-slinging, nobody seems to call you a "doofus" anymore.

Where I live, Election Day just happens to coincide with "garbage night".

Cartoon panel yearning for illustration: a dog yelling RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF, and a cat gently murmuring "Smooth."

You know a case of verbal diarrhea has gotten bad when it gets to talking about the other kind.

My father has what I call the Sadim touch. Everything he gets involved with turns to shit.

A "blockbuster" is now a wrecking ball that demolishes buildings that used to feature Blockbuster Video stores.

December: It's the most overplayed time of the year.

Parents: The playfully mocking way you pronounce certain things may be how your kid(s) will think they're actually pronounced. Apparently, "homage" is pronounced "ah-midge".

Social climate change: The theory that people are getting colder.

Tweeted by Jasmine Dreame: "The "why" stage of adulthood is so much worse than the "why stage of childhood."

Looked up "twitter" in the dictionary on a whim. It says, "to talk rapidly in a nervous or trivial way." (OAD, 2008)

Google+ emails my Gmail account. The e-mails land in the Spam folder.

Is anything other than wit ever "vaunted"?

Assorted anagrams for Cheshire Adams: "He has dire scam". "Her chasm aside". "Ham chaser dies". "Cash sad; hire me!"

Why do we choose to stop observing Daylight Saving Time during the time of year when we could use the extra daylight?

Supposedly Google has developed self-driving cars. Fuck that shit. Show me a self-functioning lawnmower. I'll gladly snatch that up.

Why is tupperware round? It's inefficient. It would store better as squares. Or right triangles. Or hexagons.

I wasn't looking at the ad. I merely heard: "Click to see simple inaction".

Eggnog ice cream or milkshakes taste much better than actual eggnog.

Turning over a new leaf likely won't help if it's from the same tree.

My father puts the "annoyed" in "humanoid".

He who announces that something must be done clearly doesn't intend to do it himself.

Things I miss about childhood: Standing on the base of the shopping cart, pushing it along with my foot, and riding it down the aisle.

If someone gets kicked out of a hacker group, are they deleeted?

Y'ever get a big thing of chocolate-covered raisins, pick out the Siamese ones, and separate 'em with your incisors before chewing? Sublime, isn't it?

Does anything other than corn come on cobs?

"I lost part of my earring; I hope I didn't drop it in the food somewhere." —my mother, while baking

"Spare ribs" sounds like they're leftovers, doesn't it? What are these restaurants selling us, anyway?!

I'm not even bothering trying to set something in stone. At this point, I'll be ecstatic if I can make an impression on "memory foam".

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider" seems to be a metaphor for people who keep living in flood zones.

It's really just a single oodle — not that much at all.

People I can do without: Social network users who snarkily imply that you should Google the question you just asked. I'm trying to be social, you bastards. That's what this thing is for. You are part of the problem.

Teach your children to say "pardon?" or "sorry?", because "loser says what."

The average human imagination can likely be approximated by the fact that only one world flag is non-rectangular.

Threw out cassette tapes
it wasn't my decision
This is not my home.

Because nouns.

dashing the wishes

Always remember: It's the little things that accumulate and erode you slowly and agonizingly.

Not all who constantly harp are angels.

far and tethered

I think I'm coming around to understanding "taking the lord's name in vain" being an abomination. I'm so tired of people who say "Oh my God" four times a minute.

Worthless endeavor
putting a single staple
inside the stapler

Idea yearning for illustration: "Doctor Who's Next", in which a TARDIS has replaced the concrete monument on which Townshend et al. have pissed. (Edit 7-18-13: Just had the brilliant idea of Google Image searching for it. Yay, results!)

Re the Beloit Mindset List: By now, Sonic the Hedgehog is old enough to have an obese toddler — powered by onion rings.

Also re the Beloit Mindset List: Fiat never existed in America before this year.

Nashville has an FM radio station that brands itself as "Hippie radio". It features hourly updates from Fox News.

"Turn up the Radio" came on at work, but it was nearly inaudible.

Why, as a species, do we demonize the end slices of loaves of bread?

Why also do we hold a glass that has a handle, not by the handle?

Trends I have seen on Twitter: "Scandal", "TheMostAnnoyingThingsInLife", "DontBotherMeWhenIm", "ThingsIHateAboutSchool". Talk about Bill Watterson's "excessively negative people".

How am I supposed to take seriously anything on a site called "SurveyMonkey"?

Where the grass is greener, it probably rains that much more.

They tell me the key to success is who you know. A midwestern only child of a day care worker and a loner bureaucrat, I guess I'm screwed.

We lose an hour to commence Daylight Saving Time.

Life's little moments: Blowing a hole right through the tissue.

So it turns out, a "speed zone" is a place to go slow.

The fruit I was eating had actual seeds! I want to get on the porcelain rotary phone and tell everyone!

Slow cooker: A device for torturing you with smells of things that you can't enjoy for hours yet.

I suppose it's "creepy" or some such thing if I go to play on the playground in the park.

The printer software offered to print the page that said I was almost out of ink.

Loitering: Because only rapists and child killers would want to stand outside in enjoyable weather.

Y'ever just lie in the darkness and watch the green and purple swirls as they perform the mathematics of the universe?

Clarifying lotion: It's this goop you can put on your body to make your body feel better.

Two things I can give away limitlessly: The finger, and orgasms.

So I guess non-GMO products will wear a "non-GMO" label, and we'll buy those.

I think "major" and "minor" scales are misnamed. Seems to me the most urgent messages use "minor" keys.

Some things I've never seen in real life: Frogs, snakes, somebody flying a kite. Much more where those came from.

Far too much of the chicken is white meat. Not unlike the country.

Here's something I don't much care for: store-bought sauerkraut with caraway seeds. I guess someone had a reuben on rye and got confused.

Perhaps life is more valuable when there is greater threat of its sudden end. (In other words, fuck safety.)

Quite telling, perhaps, that the phrase "I hope you're happy" is most commonly spoken and associated with bitterness and sarcasm.

Paying big bucks for
cheap lawn gloves. It's my hands that
got the raw deal

Sunlight rapes the shades
another fruitless day has
been thrust upon me

A picture of a tree
in a wooden frame

You can't negotiate with terriers.

Doctor Who caption in search of illustration: Psychedalek

Is it far-out to be down-to-earth?

Has there been an episode of a mainstream cop show where the cause of the crime turned out to be supernatural? It seems to me that this needs to happen.

I hope that wasn't
an itty bitty earring
the vacuum picked up

You don't meet too many Ursulas anymore. I think it's because Disney ruined that name.

I have a crack problem.

Knuckles, heel, elbows, neck — I crack 'em all.

Every Facebook user wants a "Dislike" button. Me, I'd prefer a "Be happy for them while wholly bitter that you'll be in no such place any time soon" button.

Songs used to go "do do do do do do do". Now they go "don't don't don't don't don't don't don't". (...wait, what?)

lunatic fringe benefits

Some useful information about me: I am a VERY sore loser.

Rehearse: To transport a dead person a second time.

Funny how some dogs that bark as loud as they do can be scared of loud noises.

Unemployment Valentine Candy Hearts: "Dole queue-tee"; "Be my reference"; "This gun's for hire"; "May as well take off the suit".

Why do we call it "dusting"? Shouldn't it be "de-dusting"? In my case, more like "de-hairing"....

Obligatory: A temporary existential plane, characterized by perpetual obligation to others until the time when a more permanent plane has become available. See also "life".

Silliest Ffourth, or The Decoration of "Independence"

I have been in an absolutely wretched mood of late. I turned 27 Earth-years old about a week ago — the age at which Jimi, Janis, Jim, and many other icons, musical and otherwise, fled this existential plane. I have a useless bachelors' degree that took eight years to achieve — or just under 26 years, if you count all the schooling and growing up before college — no hope of employment in a dead-end town, the finest writing skills that ever failed to gain a following beyond a very small circle of cyberfriends,* a splitting headache from the onslaught of familial aggravation and yelling in a small house with greater acoustics than ever thanks to the replacement of carpet by hardwood, and, after my mother told me that I'm "debt-free", I got a thing in the mail that informed me that my bi-monthly health insurance payment is hopping up to $286 and change. For my reader (-s?) outside the US, that's right; my mere existence, let alone its continuation, apparently requires me to forever cough up dough in increments, because if something horrendous happens to me, I will not be allowed to just die and escape the madness, no matter how limited my contributions are to endless menial errands and half a gigabyte of scribbled lines. I'm unallowed, and I'm feeling mighty unappreciated. I don't even get a word of criticism most of the time, save from my mother who complains that I keep making fun of her; people "unfriend" me without so much as "goodbye", or they ignore me. One person in Portland seems to appreciate me quite well, but suffice it to say that the idea of going to them has perished. And I may not be far behind.

Be it personally or (inter)nationally, I gotta say, independence is bullshit. On the national scale, we in the US have run ourselves into the ground and will soon be buried six feet deep there. Everything is outsourced to....other countries. (Including pop stars from Britain, I might add.) That's not independence. Employing our own people to produce our own goods on our own soil would be closer to independence. No doubt we'd still be making treaties and starting unnecessary wars with other countries, but it would be a start.

As for the personal level, I'm not even sure where to begin. We make a big enough deal about it. I hear it from my parents; I have to be independent! They won't support me forever! Nobody will support me! I have to support myself! Nobody will hire me! I have to support myself! Nobody will host me! I have to support myself! What, do I build a house out of wood and mud, with my bare hands? Do I grow my vegetables in the roof of that house? Where do I build that house? The whole country's divided up into other people's properties. I'll be shot and/or arrested.

With the possible exception of some radical guys in Montana — or so I've heard — nobody is really independent. At the very least, we have to deal with others to get the goods, materials, and decorations we need and want. And even before we get to an age where we can do that based on our own decisions, who among us can claim that they raised themselves as children, without anyone around to teach them what things are, reach the snacks off the top shelf for them, prevent them from stuffing that mud and those creatures in their face, et cetera, et cetera? Hell, our being born in the first place is dependent on at least one other person! We don't just pop out of thin air; we pop out of another human! And, thanks to our grotesquely fucked-up evolution, even she can't conjure you alone. At least one other person needs to help with a normal, natural delivery, which I understand is superhumanly painful for her. And how about that increasing number of cesarean births? How many people does it take to surgically remove someone from their own umbilical cord? Not to mention that the mother didn't impregnate herself. Unless she broke into a sperm bank at night. But even then, she didn't build that sperm bank alone. I should think it very implicit and inherent in our biology that we are inexorably dependent on each other.

So why this crushing "independence" mindset? Outmoded macho bullshit, mixed with the greed of those special few who never outgrew that bit of childhood where the kindergarten teacher tried so hard to get you and the other kids to "Share". Those stupid, uncooperative brats ruined everything for the whole class. The whole working class.

We depend on each other. Some in certain ways, some in others, some unfortunate souls on life support completely and terminally. If the family or hospital goes cold and pulls the plug, they're gone. We're humans, and physical care is not enough for us. We need emotional support — love. We need to know that our existence has value, even if it's merely local. And by "value", I don't mean financial. If money is your primary concern, may I say this: It's humanity, stupid!

That seems such a perfect ending, right there. But I got to thinking about something I read recently on the Good Men Project, an intriguing site whose publisher somehow came to follow me on Twitter and still does. Apparently I've reached a point in my feeling of loneliness that I'm reading mating/dating articles. Anyway, one of them said something akin to "you're not looking for a partner; you're looking for a caretaker." Yes. Yes I am. And she should be too. We take care of each other. That's what we're supposed to do.

I bid you an American Fantasy Day full of happy festivity, delicious food, and well-guided love. Make it happen.



*Lucy in Cyberspace's official followers remain at three after some five years and change. I still have no idea who Daniel is, which could be the tiniest spark of encouragement. Daniel, looks like you're near Chapel Hill. You don't happen to know Rockin' Ammonia Karaoke, do you? Also, Hi Mond_licht! Long time no interact with. And Type, great to have you. Otherwise, I get a very occasional comment from the likes of Momo and Beccabear. And Tucker, I think. Love you folks to bits.