Free Candy Giveaway

I just (finally) saw the acclaimed movie Zero Dark Thirty and I have to admit that I was deeply disappointed.  Don’t get me wrong, the movie was fast paced and entertaining at times, but it had a fatal flaw (warning, spoiler alerts abound in this post).  The ending just wasn’t believable.  For starters, I don’t see how the CIA or the White House would approve such a dangerous mission when most of the experts agreed that there was, at most, a 60 percent chance that Bin Laden was in the compound.  I know, one person said she was 100 percent sure that Bin Laden was in the compound, but that person was a female ginger who wasn’t even Claire Danes.  I’ve worked for the federal government (albeit as part of the federal judiciary) and there is no freaking way senior decision-makers would’ve just taken the ginger’s word for it over all the other dark-haired males in the room.

I was willing to forgive this misstep because, I get it, the filmmakers needed a Hollywood ending.  What better way to keep the audience’s attention than a military assault?  Ok, fine, but if you are going to have a dramatic attack at the end, it should at least bear some semblance to reality.  But in Zero Dark Thirty, the assault on Bin Laden’s compound wasn’t even close to anything that could happen in real life.  The compound where the movie’s Bin Laden was hiding was in Abbottabad, Pakistan.  This doesn’t make any sense.  Abbottabad is a relatively well-to-do city, far away from the loosely governed tribal areas where he would probably hide if he went to Pakistan.  Moreover, Abbottabad is where Pakistan’s version of West Point is located, something the filmmakers could have figured out with a simple Google search.  Obviously, there is no way Bin Laden could ever hide so close to such a large military school in Pakistan, a crucial ally of the United States.  I have no idea why the filmmakers chose to have the assault in Abbottabad, when there are countless other places in the Middle East where Bin Laden is more plausibly hiding.

Also, the unit that attacked the compound in the movie was a group of Navy Seals.  Again, a simple Google search would’ve told the filmmakers that the Navy is responsible for fighting on water.  But the attack in Zero Dark Thirty was carried out on land, with helicopters.  There were no boats and the soldiers were not wearing scuba gear or white outfits with blue trim, as is typical for people in the Navy.  I thought this was inexcusable, because the United States has a service that fights on land.  It’s called the Army.  The script writers could’ve easily had the Army carry out the assault, rather than the Navy.

As for the assault itself, I’m not buying it.  There were only two helicopters full of soldiers in the attack.  I just don’t see how the powers that be in the government wouldn’t have sent more than two measly helicopters to capture one of the most wanted men of all time.  But I guess for budget reasons the studio didn’t want to hire more actors.  One of the helicopters also crashed, which is totally ridiculous.  Whatever part of the armed forces that would’ve carried out such an attack would’ve made sure that the helicopters could work properly in the conditions around the compound.  It would’ve been tested a million times.

Once the “Navy” soldiers finally got into the compound, the movie lost all semblance of credibility.  They had almost no resistance getting into the house, even though one of the most dangerous terrorists of all time was supposedly living there.  They shot everybody they saw instead of arresting them and reading them their Miranda rights, which they legally have to do, even to terrorists.  The soldiers also shot and killed Bin Laden, even though in real life the CIA would’ve wanted him alive so they could question him.  There were also a lot of computers in the house, and I doubt a group that basically wants to turn back the clock to the Middle Ages would ever use modern technology like computers.

Look, I want the United States to capture or kill terrorists as much as anybody, especially Bin Laden.  I just don’t think it is helpful for Hollywood to give the nation false hope by concocting such an unrealistic scenario where the government kills him.  We will get him in due time and, when we do, I’m sure the reality will be way more exciting than this ridiculous Hollywood invention.

Do you ever listen to pop music on the radio and think to yourself, “I’d like to know what this person is singing about, but I just don’t have the time to sit down and really think through the song?”  Well, you’re in luck, because I have the time to contemplate songs and explain them to you!  Think of me as your mamma bird chewing up a song and spitting it back at you.  In today’s post, I’ve decided to explain, “What’s My Name” by Rihanna.  The lyrics are in italics and my explanations follow in regular type.  If people find this explanation helpful, I will explain more songs in the future.

Oh, na, na, what’s my name?

Oh, na, na, what’s my name?

Oh, na, na, what’s my name?

What’s my name? what’s my name?

Rihanna cannot remember her name and is crying out for help.  It’s unclear why she has amnesia.  According the Mayo Clinic, head injuries can cause amnesia, so maybe she has been hanging out with Chris Brown.  But hang in there girl, the clinic says that amnesia from head injuries is usually temporary.  Rihanna also appears to have developed an unusual stutter.  Or perhaps “oh, na, na,” is nervous filler, like “um,” which would totally be understandable because forgetting your name is so scary you guys.

Yeah, I heard you good with them soft lips

Yeah you know word of mouth

Somebody has entered the room with soft lips.  Rihanna has noticed his soft lips and probably hopes he is good with them so the lips can properly form words and remind Rihanna of her name.  Lips are important for good pronunciation.

The square root of 69 is 8 somethin’, right?

‘Cause I’ve been tryna work it out, oh

I think Rihanna is getting a little ahead of herself here.  She should probably focus on remembering her name before she jumps into complicated math problems.  But the head injury hasn’t really hurt her math skills, because the square root of 69 is roughly 8.3, so she is pretty close.

Good weed, white wine

I come alive in the night time

Okay, away we go

Only thing we have on is the radio

Okay, so she’s been drinking and smoking.  Maybe that made her forget her name?  Wine gives me a headache and sometimes makes me cry, but I still know who I am.  I guess everybody reacts to alcohol differently.  Also, I bet figuring out the square root of 69 was some sort of a drinking game.

Say my name, say my name, wear it out

It’s getting hot, crack a window, air it out

I can get you through a mighty long day

Great, Rihanna is getting back to the most important task here, which is remembering her name.  Then maybe she can return to drinking games/math problem sets.  It does sort of concern me though that she is feeling hot.  She might have a high fever.  The Mayo Clinic also says that amnesia can be caused by a virus, and specifically mentions herpes, so, again, Chris Brown could be involved.  Or maybe she just farted and wants the window open so the fart floats out the window before her guest smells it.  She is probably better off owning up to the fart.  In my experience, they linger near you for a while and don’t just magically go floating through the nearest open window.

Soon as you go, the text that I write is gon’ say

Oh, na, na, what’s my name?

Oh, na, na, what’s my name?

The person is right in front of you Rihanna!  Just ask him now!  Why do you have to text him your question?  This section is a sad statement on our technology-saturated society.  Young people today would rather talk by text than face to face.  Or maybe the fart was particularly nasty and the guy is running out of the room.  I don’t totally blame him, but the least he could do is tell Rihanna her name before he runs away.

The song continues from here, but I will save you the trouble of reading explanations for each and every stanza.  Basically, the person comes back into the room and Rihanna remembers he is good at something dirty I won’t repeat on this blog, for fear of alienating my sensitive audience.  She talks at length about this skill, with occasional interruptions to inquire about her name.  Sadly she can remember the guy’s skill, but her name continues to escape her for the rest of the song.

There are a many groups suffering with various ailments that get an inordinate amount of attention in the world today.  Kids who have cancer, AIDS patients, baby seals and Republicans, for example, are the subject of constant press coverage and fundraisers.  And that’s great because I’m sure they all suffer tremendously, but sometimes they take attention away from other more marginalized groups, like the one I’m here to talk about today.  I’m talking about the triskaidekaphobes, and we are particularly suffering this year because of our legitimate fear of the number, oh God, I can’t say it because it will bring me bad luck, well, uh, the number between twelve and fourteen.

Most years, we can take the usual sensible precautions against facing the number.  For example, we can mute our television sets or change the channel when we see a trailer for a movie that is rated between PG and R.  We can avoid walking on 12th street plus one by making sure we don’t have friends who live on that street or frequent any businesses there.  Yeah, sometimes you have to cross that terrible street when walking down an avenue, but if you hold your breath and run across it, the number won’t have much time to do its damage.  Sure, it sucks when it is between twelve and fourteen minutes after the hour, but that is only one minute every hour.  It is relatively easy to take one minute out of every hour to stare off into space and not do anything important that can get cursed by the number.  And yeah, it is even worse for us when it is that day of the month that falls before the fourteenth day, but one day is still better than an entire year, and maybe we can get through the day without mentioning or writing the date.  If that awful day falls on a Friday, we can take the day off and barricade ourselves in our rooms, because at least Friday the youknowwhat doesn’t happen that often.

This year, however, the number is unavoidable.  Every time we see calendars it is there, menacingly staring at us.  We are hounded at work whenever we have to send an e-mail or schedule something.  We can’t sign anything that requires us to fill in the date because there are only so many times you can pretend you put 2012 in the year slot by mistake.  This makes paying for anything with checks obviously out of the question.  Sure, in a pinch you can convince yourself that you are protected from the horrible number by writing in the month and then the year slots and then filling in the date in between last, so at least you haven’t written the number you get from adding six plus seven last, leaving it just hanging out there to ruin your day.

Maybe all of this trouble in our work lives wouldn’t be as big of a deal if we could come home and relax in front of the television, but we get no respite there.  We are barraged by car commercials telling us repeatedly that they are selling the 2000 and, you know, the last two digits of this year’s model.  We want to watch the news and all we get are people telling us dates things are happening or what the unemployment rate is for the first quarter of 2 x 6 + 1 + 2000.  And then you try to look away from the television and you see is that adorable kitten wall calendar that your girlfriend hung on the wall with the year right there in big bold letters, ruining the cuteness that used to calm you.  Arrrgghh, I can hardly take it anymore.  Many of us have become emotional wrecks at the thought of all the bad karma we are getting from hearing the number all the time.

Hopefully, by now, you are probably asking yourself, “is there anything I can do to help”?  Yes, there are two ways you can help.  First, you can refrain from insisting that we all need to get help from a therapist.  The number we are afraid of is genuinely evil and brings the world bad luck.  Getting a psychologist to try to trick us into thinking the number is not harmful will hardly help us.  Second, you can make a concerted effort to stop saying what year it is.  Everybody knows what year it is.  Saying it ad infinitum just brings bad luck on everybody.  For example, if you are raising awareness about the lack of clean drinking water in certain poor countries, instead of saying “it is unacceptable in the year two thousand and [the bad number] for people to lack clean water,” just say “it’s unacceptable in the year that we are currently in.”  If you are a sportscaster and a team wins the championship, saying “congratulations to the champions of this year” will do just fine.  If you are in charge of creating forms where people have to insert today’s date, maybe leave out the year category.  It really won’t be that hard.  I mean, architects have supported us for decades by creating buildings that skip from the twelfth floor to the fourteenth floor.  It will go a long way to helping us triskaidekaphobes avoid the terrible consequences we face every time we have to deal with that awful number if everybody else pitches in and does their part this year.  Thank you in advance.

Recently, I saw the following posted on Craig’s List:

Free heavy plastic cups From spring break locations and more.  Take . . .

Free heavy plastic cups From spring break locations and more.  Take some or all.

Thanks!

— Ernest

I sent the following e-mail in response:

Dear Ernest,

I am interested in your free heavy plastic cups from spring break locations, but I need some more information about you and your cups.  I am something of a connoisseur of heavy plastic cups and, even if they are free, I will not add just anything to my carefully curated collection.  As you may know, I won Chill Bro Magazine’s Cup Collector of the Year Award in 2011, but sadly I lost some of my best heavy plastic cups last year in a bet (long story short, I thought more people watched the NCAA lacrosse championship than the Super Bowl last year).  I’m trying to recapture the award this year, but I’m not going to be able to win based on reputation alone.  If I have any shot at the award (and the year’s supply of creatine that comes with winning), I’m going to have to make some smart acquisitions to replace the cups I lost.

Considering all that’s at stake for me, before I head all the way over to (I’m assuming) Murray Hill to see the cups, I’m going to need to know everything about them.  Most importantly, I need a list of where you got your cups.  Please include all pertinent information, including the city and the bar/strip club/ DUI lawyer’s office where you obtained the cups.  Please also note if any of these places were featured in Girls Gone Wild videos and/or regularly host wet t-shirt contests.  This is the kind of stuff that enhances a cup’s pedigree.  I’m also going to need you to list each cup’s shade of neon (if it isn’t neon, don’t even bother, it’s worthless to me).

From the picture you provided, I can see cups from Club 600 North, “Daytona’s Radical Night Club.”  Obviously, neon cups from the home of the prestigious American IronHorse Bikini Contest will impress the “brodges” (combination of “bro” and “judges”) from Chill Bro Magazine.  I also see that you have a neon pink cup from The Oyster Pub in Daytona.  It is less rare than a plastic cup from Club 600 North, but I still might be interested.  The artwork on the cup depicting an oyster with a human body drinking a beer and holding a pool cue gives it some value.  It is funny because oysters typically do not have legs or drink beer.  However, the cup loses some value because it does not have the Oyster Pub’s famous slogan:  “Do It in the Raw.”  (Are they encouraging you to eat uncooked oysters or have unprotected sex and worry about STDs later?  Or both?  It’s an unsolvable riddle).

These cups are a good start, but seeing as you are the type of guy who has so many spring break cups that you are just giving them away, I’m hopeful that you have partied in more places than just Daytona.

If I decide that it is worth my time to come look at your heavy plastic cups, I’m also going to need you to set aside some time to talk about your spring breaks and how you’ve used the heavy plastic cups.  I’m sorry if this seems intrusive, but spring break cups are more than just something to chug Bud Light out of.  Spring break cups represent the ideal lifestyle.  Bros at their optimal brospethness.  The brodges will sense if these cups were not used by somebody chill.  For example, were the cups ever used in an impromptu beer pong game when you didn’t have Solo cups?  Did you ever pee in any of the cups when you were too lazy to go to a bathroom?  How about vomit instead of pee?  Did you ever drunkenly try to cut a hole in the bottom or the side of the cup with your keys so you could shotgun a beer out of the cup?  Were the cups ever referred to as “the fine china” in your frat house?  Did you ever pump the hand holding the cup over your head when “Call Me Maybe” came on a jukebox or stereo, forgetting that there was beer in the cup and getting everybody around you wet?  The more times you say “yes” in response to these questions, the more likely it is that I will want the cup.  Also, I can’t stress this enough, I will not take any of the cups if you’ve ever used them to drink imported (except from Mexico) beers, craft beers or wine of any kind.

Look, I know you probably have other inquiries from people who want the cups who are not making you jump through the same hoops I’m asking of you.  And I’m guessing your life is stressful right now because you are getting married and your future wife demanded that you “grow up” and get rid of your spring break cups.  But I’m giving you the opportunity of a lifetime —  a chance to have your heavy plastic spring break cups featured in Chill Bro Magazine.  Can anybody else offer that?  Or are you just getting offers from smug hipsters who want to impress their friends in Greenpoint or Bushwick with their “ironic” collection of plastic mugs?  I thought so.  I look forward to your response.

Sincerely