Pudding Pops

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Fair well pudding pops. I cannot indulge in your forbidden pleasures any longer. According to my doctor I have some sort of a problem, he called it fat, that means you I can no longer spend our time together.

No more rolling in the surf of a sandy beach with your taste on my lips. No more dancing the night away with sticky fingers holding you. No more laughing hysterically when you fall from you stick to the ground, only to pick you up and stuff you into my mouth. No more walking up to find my beard stuck to the pillow with your residue.

Our friendship was the purest love I have ever known. Up to as many much as 6 times a day for the past 6 years you have given your life for my happiness. Now my laziness and your overwhelming sugary composition have lead to the demise of our joyous union.

I will take down the picture of you that I have over the fireplace. I will delete your number from my cell phone and take you out of “My 5.” I will have the tattoo of you turned into a celery stick.

Do not cry, my pudding pops; it will make you soggy and prematurely sticky. Then none but the most die-hard, over weight children will want you. You must strive on to please others in the manner that you have me. You have made my life so full of smiles.

Fair well, my pudding pops. I shall miss you.


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I have been blogging for over a year now and finally I have received the only validation that any blogger pines for. I have a link on the JLP! To those of you who stumbled across my blog without understanding the complex vision of blogs let me explain it to you.

Blogs are a mere extension of many high school rituals all rolled into one. The ultimate high, or recognition that everyone wants is for the popular blogger to put a link from his or her blog to yours. That is the equivalent of being called cool by the varsity soccer team captain or dating someone without braces in high school terms.

I wasn’t unpopular in high school but I never achieved JLP type status until now. Since I am finally noted as cool now people will court me in order to achieve a link to my website and thereby, indirectly, to the JLP.

I await the showers of gifts and praises.

America’s National Treasure

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America’s greatest asset is not its assets. Nor is it the Statue of Liberty. It is the people who comprise this nation that make it great.

Periodically I like to look back at American History and see which American embodied the hearts of the public so much that they were deserving of the title “America’s Favorite Son”.

I can think of no one person that so captured the attention span of the American Public during the 1990s than Sinbad. With his meticulous, almost godlike, teeth and his collection of workout suits, this man’s cry rang out from sea to shining sea.
He was one of the first and arguably most famous of the “clean family-oriented comedians” to hit the scene. With his family values and caring for children this side-by-side refrigerator in a sweat suit relied heavily on facial expressions and the fact that he was the equivalent to an African-American Herman Munster to get the laughs.

With his breakout hits, such as First Kid and Houseguest, he worked his way into the hearts, homes, and pocketbooks of every American. He was selling out shows in venues that no comedian has any business performing in.

His encouraging words and clean act paved the way for other clean comedians, such as… um… Tim Allen and… umm… others. We salute you Sinbad. You are one of America’s Favorite Sons.

The state of the Union is PISSED!

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Let’s just face it. In our country pretty much everyone hates everyone and has good reason to do so. Nobody really cares about war. They just don’t like President Bush, possibly because he is from Texas, and this is a reason to hate him. Republicans hate democrats and democrats hate everything that isn’t organic and Republicans.

Face it; you hate me for posting on this blog. You have held in your feelings for far to long. Whither it is the cut of my jib, or the way I conjugate my verbs, you cannot stand the fact that I am alive.

You hate “my God” because you claim he is mean even though you know little about him.

You hate my hair because I don’t keep it well trimmed or because it is too well trimmed and not hippie enough.

You don’t like the music I like but when I am not around you tell people that my taste in music clearly points to a low IQ and the personality of a pet rock.

When you see me in the street you cannot believe I “wore that in public”.

You consider me a disgrace to the race and truly believe that we would be better off as humans is I was no longer breathing and spewing my God around.

No matter what I do you hate me because hating is what Americans do. We hate everything and try to disguise it as an expression of who we are and what we stand for.

You hate that people move to this country and don’t learn the language.

You hate our government because it is full of corrupt people, unless of course you voted for them. In which case they are not corrupt but cannot fight the corruption of “Washington.”

You hate you neighbor because his job is better than yours, or at least he gets paid more.

You hate your parents for the way they always treated you like you were a kid in elementary school.

You hate your parents for not caring.

You hate Al Gore for being a completely characterless figure. I mean he is basically a poster.

You hate John McCain. You don’t need to explain it though.

You hate everyone who is unwilling to see things the way you see them, claiming that others are narrow minded.

Well, that is the real state of our Union. We bicker and fight over so many things claiming that everyone else is to blame. Maybe, just maybe it isn’t everyone else. Maybe, just maybe it’s you. Maybe you hate everyone else because you are not happy. Maybe, instead of telling everyone else to change, its time for you to do a little work on the good old number one.

Or maybe you hate me too much right now to even listen to what I have had to say.

Great White Shark: Not So Tough?

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The Great White Shark, natures “ultimate killing machine”, was thought to have a dominant force in the water for centuries. Yet, now the shark weakness has been uncovered.

Eric Nerhus, avid diver and self-proclaimed shark-beater, was diving off the coast of Australia when he encountered one of these, so called killing machines. Even when the shark had Eric’s head in its mouth and was ripping his flesh to shreds he didn’t lose his cool.

Mr. Nerhus forced his way out of the shark’s clutches and then turned to face his attacker. After a barrage of obscenities aimed at the shark’s biological mother, to lower its moral, Eric took to the task of defeating his foe.

The shark reacted to the taunts as Eric had expected and lunged to once again bit on the man’s head and that is when the master shark-beater’s plan unfolded. He sprung into action and launched his counter attack.

Eric, having spent much of his adult life in the water and without female companionship, understood that his fists were incapable of delivering the necessary blunt force trauma to the body of the beast to send it packing, a trick used by schools of dolphins. Instead Eric planned to use a different style of defense know as the Three Stooges Defense.

When the shark lunged the second time, in response to verbal assault, Mr. Nerhus focused all of his mental energy to locating his strike point, the eye. That’s right he poked the Great White Shark in the eye and it ran away.

The shark is suing Mr. Nerhus for the damages to his retina, which makes him vulnerable to attacks from the numerous deadly aquatic life off the coast of Australia. The shark states that is no longer safe for him to venture into open water. Mr. Nerhus’ attorney could not be reached for a comment.

For additional information on this story please visit:

Alas, It has returned.

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I have had this nagging fear since I was a small child. The fear that my rubber ducky, which I destroyed in a rant after being told that I wasn’t a nuclear submarine, would resurrect from the dead and come back to kill me. Now naturally I assumed that it would return in a size comparable to Godzilla and so it has come to pass.

Thankfully my rubber ducky has absolutely no sense of direction and is, as far as I can tell, lost somewhere just east of Cairo, Egypt. That is somewhat unfortunate because my rubber ducky will probably just wait for me there. He knows that I have wanted to go to Egypt since I was a small nuclear submarine.

Oh, well. I guess I will just have to go to Japan instead. That is unless my toy nuclear submarine comes back in the shape of a gigantic dinosaur like creature that breaths electric fire. Then I will simply have to stay in my house for the rest of my life and dream of Egypt and Japan.

High School Science Teacher

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Was this man your high school science teacher?
Did his gigantic brain ooze matter out of his ears?
Did his understanding of linear functions make you feel inferior?
Was his hair to short to comb but he combed it anyway?
Did he wear sweaters straight thru the summer?
Did his shoes match his belt?
Was he able to tell between a acid and a base by touch?
Did he let you call him Dan?
Would he bring in treats for the class on your birthday?
Did his glasses give him the ability to see thru your thin lies as to why you were unable to finish your homework?
Was his knowledge of molecular structure breathtaking?
Did he conjure up an excitement in you when he talked about photosynthesis?
Was he working on his doctorate?
Did he have an amazing collection of beige colored slacks?
Did his intense knowledge of everything make you daydream about him?
Did he send you a copy of this photo and write something special just for you on the back?
Did he tell you that you were smart and really good-looking?

My high school science teacher was also my football coach. He would smear lip balm into his beard and mustache. He was overweight, rude and he hated me. I didn’t think very highly of him either. He kicked me once during practice. He would put candy in his back room for attractive girls. We would take the candy when he was flirting with high school girls. Our football team wasn’t very good.

Think about that when you remember your high school days. You had it sooo good.


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I find myself in a bit of a mood today. I was born on the same day at Martin Luther King Jr. and for most of my life only recognized it as a day off of school. We saw movies and read stories about his life but it all seemed to be quite distant from the life that I lived growing up in a small town in Northern Illinois.

The older I get, the less the world seems to identify with the importance of remembering such a day. That, more than anything else, frustrates me. Not that I necessarily can relate more to the experiences of The Civil Rights Movement, which in many ways still seems like scenes from a horrid movie to me, but more that I respect what they did and what they had to overcome.

Yet in many respects, it is still aggravating that we need a day to remember the man. Perhaps because in remembering him many others (I.E. Rosa Parks and, in his later years, Malcolm X) get somewhat lost along the wayside. Or the notion that we need a specific reminder to think about the importance of the life that he lived.

I am however, very grateful that the day in which we remember the man who fought against tyranny, we don’t drudge up old hatreds that have been laid aside in hopes of a better future. Yet, I can’t help feeling that we are forgetting to honor the spirit that drove the man. A spirit that, with all it was, fought against injustice.

Abraham Lincoln had the same spirit and in many ways I feel ashamed that I cannot recite the Gettysburg Address. It was a piece of art, crafted with words, that shows a spirit we all can envy and embrace as a goal for ourselves.

Normally, I attempt to be funny but the blasé attempt at honoring this man and the fight he put up for not only himself but also those who were unable to fight on their own behalf is an affront to honor itself. I hope that we can each find a way to honor this man and his dream. A dream, I believe, was founding in the concept that morals supercede men and injustice is always the weaker enemy.

My tribute, hopefully a fitting one, doesn’t begin or end on the day we celebrate the life the was shortened by hatred, but elongated by vision and greatness, is an attempt to strive for the preservation the fundamental concepts that his sweat and blood were spent in the pursuit of, hoping that I can in similar fashion spend my life fighting for the greatness I too see in man and against the evil we all have been bound to.

Trans Fats: Public Enemy #1

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As you may have heard, many politicians and hippie groups are launching an all out attack on trans fats, claiming that they are the major cause of heart problems and schizophrenia in America.
Naturally, I am concerned being as that I too have plans on contracting schizophrenia. Yet I can’t help scoffing at the idea that hippies are ever right about anything. That is why I conducted this in-depth 13-second research on trans fats on the Internet, the source of light and hope in the dark world.
It turns out that Trans Fats, per my medical diagram to the right, are box shaped and carry a bow and arrow. These fats just walk around waiting for you to put your heart up on an easel to dry and then they shoot it. So the solution is simple. Don’t put you heart out on an easel unless you are going to watch it and make sure that no trans fats shoot at it with a bow and arrow.
Now that was simple. We don’t need legislation to protect our hearts. As long as people don’t leave their hearts unattended, on easels, for any fats to shoot arrows at them we will be all right. Knowledge is FUNdamental.

The Flavor Wars

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Wow can you believe it is already (look at your time indicator device). I bet you have already spent a great amount of time on collating and other such strenuous activities. I would go as far to wager that you have become quite exhausted and bitterly thirsty from the arduous activates you have been partaking in.

You are just glad to have a minute to sit back and enjoy a nice cold Dr. Pepper with the same 23 flavors the “good Doctor” has been pushing at you since you were four years old. Well, I don’t know about you but I am sick and tired of the same old flavors.

I know, I know. I am supposed to get all giddy because Coca-Cola put some Vanilla in their pop but they don’t offer that anymore. And Pepsi has been offering the taste sensation known as Wild Cherry Pepsi just long enough for me to hate them for it.

Mountain Dew, which by the way is flavored neither like mountains or dew, has tried to hop into the flavor variations field and experienced moderate success with Code Red, a Hawaiian Punch knock-off on a caffeine bender. They also made an attempt at a grape flavored version called Pitch-Black or something like that. They would have had better success with bottled gear lube, because that is they flavor they ended up with. It was completely undrinkable.

Then you have the new Pepsi Jazz, where they have opted to suck any good flavor out of the beverage and replace it with artificial fruit flavors. This combination of stupidity and zero foresight have produced the equivalent of beverage torture tactics.

Dr. Pepper, proving a lack of creative thought, has combined two popular flavor add-ons and created the Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper. Concerned that people would see through this thin veiled attempt at creativity, Dr. Pepper also produced a Berries & Cream flavor, which is a throw back to a popular classic Soda Shoppe flavor.

Will no-one, can no-one produce a new flavor of pop for the masses to enjoy? Will Coca-Cola never reintroduce the Vanilla Coke, its most popular product of the past century? How many more flavors will Dr. Pepper rip off?

I have the answer my friends. Behold, the new, bold flavor of Diet Coke!

Blog Envy

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My friend Kevin’s blog has achieved a level of stardom that has made me a bit jealous. Okay so I have suffered from what is known as “comment jealousy” in the blog-o-sphere for quite some time now, but now Kevin has sudo celebrities posting on his blog. I can even get you people who meander in every day hoping to glean at least one little chuckle from my pointless dribble and Kevin has way cool people posting on his blog. My other friend Peter gets about 10 comments a day, but does he ever think to share? No, no he doesn’t! He is a comment hog. He has reached upwards of twenty comments a day. I had 2 once.

So, this is my question folks. What do I have to do to engage you in comment-style banter? What style of writing do you want? I did have 100 visits in one day when I did the Brett Favre Facts post. Do you want me to just become another John Madden Clone and have my blog attach its “lips” to Brett Favre’s tushy? What do you want from me?! Okay that’s it. I am totally going to become more abrasive than ever before. But not today… I really don’t have the ambition to “get all up in your grill” right now. But later… it is so on man. Oh yeah!

Bye the bye, Thanks so much for stopping and reading this stuff. Knowing that you are out there and so pathetically bored that you actually read my thoughts kinda makes me feel like I am a low level super hero. Not like Aquaman low but pretty low. Like the Green Lantern or something, but definitely not Aquaman.

Looking out for the Roommate.

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I found out last night that my roommate, Leroy, is Hispanic. Now that of course raises many interesting questions. Chiefly, is his fiancé only engaged to him because of the whole Latin lover thing? Now, I don’t really think that is the reason but of course my thoughts are purely speculation. I will have to employ science to accurately determine her true motives in being engage to my rather pasty Hispanic roommate, because we all know that there is a 0% of accuracy in anything that doesn’t have at least one test tube involved.

So I ran a series of very rigorous tests on the both of them last night. My tests were designed to create awkward situations, which neither my roommate or his gal would be able to discern that they were test. I started out with a simple test involving a standard greeting while I was holding a test tube. The results of this rudimentary test were mixed.

I then devised a classic hippie test to see if she would be receptive to humor that was uniquely American. In this test I filled my pockets with test tubes and poked fun at the music from the 70s in which no one ever actually correctly pronounced any words for the duration of the song. Naturally my roommate, who has an exemplary sense of humor, picked up on the joke and joined in. Now the results of this test was much more interesting and showed a bit more light on the subject.

She didn’t respond at all to my jokes until Leroy joined in. The later inspection of the test tubes confirmed my hypothesis in regards to her reaction. She didn’t respond to me with laughter because she couldn’t discern my weird mumblings. Yet when Leroy mumbled she instantly picked up on the words and the humor behind it.

I have come to the conclusion that she his Bi-Receptacle Ocular Transitional Mitosis. It is a devastating genetic defect in which the inflicted person can only truly understand and thereby communicate with a very select few people. This disease, because of the resulting social ramifications, is normally found in the more recluse, nerdy types.

Where as this defect is incurable, many can be taught social interaction and discernment. Also, I gave her a scratch test on the way out the door and she is allergic to pet dander, mold and baking soda.

I also tested Leroy and it turns out that he isn't Hispanic. I got some bad information.
But she does like Leroy because she can understand him and frankly I scare her. But that's okay... I scare a lot of people.

New Years Resolutions

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You might be thinking that listing off New Years Resolutions are too cliché to Ted Was Here, but you didn’t consider the fact that often times I don’t have anything to write about, so I just start writing whatever dribble I can conjure. So here it goes.

New Years Resolutions 2007:

1.) Write in my book every day.
2.) Kill my fatted calf. (He has lived for too long)
3.) Eat a vegetarian meal and fake my death at the summation.
4.) Have sex with my wife.
5.) Eat a completely frozen burrito.
6.) Tattoo my likeness on my back.
7.) Shave at least once.
8.) Eat a Dominoes pizza and enjoy it.
9.) Figure out who exactly let the dogs out and put an end to the speculation.
10.) Get married.
11.) Find Nemo.
12.) Kill the Cat in the Hat and burn any likeness of him.
13.) Eat pretzels without drinking anything.
14.) Become a ruthless dictator of my bathroom.
15.) Cure cancer.
16.) Fly a kite.
17.) Get my book published.
18.) Find the killer of O.J. Simpson’s wife and let O.J. take a break from looking.
19.) Make it rain in the desert.
20.) Make it rain in my dessert.
21.) Occupy France.
22.) Engage in a land war in Asia during the winter.
23.) Feed at least 2 starving children.

These are some of my New Years Resolutions. It’s going to be a busy year!

What are some of your resolutions for the next year?

An old favorite!

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Okay so here is one of my personal favorite Rock TV.

embedded version:

It is from what I like to call the "Good Era." Not saying the quality was low before but our writing hit a nerve that the our target audience seemed to embrace. It is also nice to note that this was my first major role and it was only then that I realized how exhausting a big part in a very short bit can be. That is why I fermly believe you have to be nuts to want to act. It is way more work that you would think. I hope you enjoy this. Also, I hope nobody reads into this film something that wasn't intended. I don't think that anyone can but I have been wrong before. NO ANIMALS were hurt in the filming of this video, except Leroy. Does he count as an animal?



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