I don't feel like writing much today.
For my birthday, Debbie very generously made me Reese's brownies and invited me over. Then she asked if I wanted to invite her neighbor over, and I declined because I barely know him and I felt that would create a weird dynamic. Then she asked if I wanted to invite anyone else and I named off a few people and some of them came, and then I said we could invite her neighbor because it would be less weird now. Then I had to be the first one to leave so I could get to bed so I could get up early for work. Being an adult sucks. Still, it was a good day overall and it's great to have such a friend. Also my parents gave me a new laptop, and I'm glad nobody stole it because it was just sitting outside my door when I came home from work.
At work on Friday I accidentally reached a residential number, as sometimes happens, and without saying a word was verbally abused by some jackass with the intellect of a twelve year old. There was a time when that would have hurt my feelings, but that was before I discovered that I don't care about the opinions of jackasses. Also, I don't consider "jackass" to be a bad word because it's been used in old cartoons that weren't even allowed to show Tweety Bird without feathers. Anyway, I've been more chill about stuff lately, so at Summerfest last week when I was watching one of the concerts and got pulled out of the audience to participate in one of the things on stage, my thoughts of committing harakiri dissipated within seconds. There was hardly anyone I knew watching anyway.
I could say something about the UK's exit from the EU, but I'm just going to pretend that since I'm not a citizen of it and have never lived there, it's none of my bloody business. Really, with all due respect, it's quite annoying to see so many American college students pretending they know everything about the politics of countries most of them have never been to. Which leads into my next topic...
The Mormon Section
My, how times change.
"No true Latter-day Saint and no true American can be a socialist or a communist or support programs leading in that direction. These evil philosophies are incompatible with Mormonism, the true gospel of Jesus Christ." - Ezra Taft Benson, Apostle, 1961
"Can a member be a Democrat and a good Mormon? That one makes me smile, because if the members who ask it could travel to some countries of the world and meet faithful members of the Church who belong to their national communist parties I fear their blood pressure might be permanently damaged." - Michael Otterson, head of public affairs, 2015
Only one of these quotes is a. less than fifty-four years old and b. published on the Church's website (as part of the total speech). Yet this is not the one that gets circulated on libertarian and conservative Facebook pages. Maybe they should stop and ask themselves why no one in church leadership has bothered to denounce socialism in decades, even though it's more pervasive than ever and supported by members overseas in the same proportion as everyone else in their countries. Maybe historical context has something to do with it. Maybe the threat of the Soviet Union specifically, more so than a particular system of economics (though Secretary Benson clearly detested that as well), has something to do with it. Earlier in the talk, for instance, he explained, "The fight against godless communism is a very real part of every man's duty who holds the priesthood. It is the fight against slavery, immorality, atheism, terrorism, cruelty, barbarism, deceit, and the destruction of human life through a kind of tyranny unsurpassed by anything in human history." Not all Communist nations are created equal.
Of course, there's no need parse every word of the talk and pretend it's all correct, when it's a well-documented (if, for some, frequently ignored) fact that many if not most of his fellow Apostles disagreed with his political views and that he was rebuked more than once for using his church position to promote them. I'm not a Communist and I don't believe in communism, though I wouldn't mind some Mormons thinking so if it permanently damages their blood pressure, but I'm just saying that I don't think anyone can make an intellectually honest case that the Church has an official stance against socialism. I do think it's perfectly valid, of course, to point out that socialism and the United Order are still not the same thing.
"Weird Al" Yankovic - Slime Creatures from Outer Space
The alien invasion series concludes with my favorite artist ever.
Facebook is Stupid -_-
I am so tired of this crap from Facebook.
Hitler's Jewish purge was not some sort of aberration, but a natural outgrowth of century after century of anti-Jewish bigotry, and this bigotry still exists. This is partially why I made a conscious decision to like and trust the Israeli girl at the mall and let her sell me those skin care products I couldn't really afford. Since Jews have been stereotyped by "Christians" as sleazy, cunning money-grubbers for so long, I chose to believe that she wasn't ripping me off and really would take me to the movies as promised. Someone told me a week later that she was probably long gone by now, so I went back to verify that she was still there, and she was, so my trust hasn't been shattered yet. Anyway... that isn't the worst of Facebook's stupidity.
It really disturbs me when pornographers make a big deal about having models as young as they're legally allowed to be. I get the impression that they would use 15 year olds in a heartbeat if they could. Anyway, trained orangutans could literally do a better job than this at policing Facebook's "Community Standards". They could be trained to recognize the shapes of the letters in certain words indicating red flags, which is obviously more than Facebook's staff is capable of. Whatever they're being paid is too much.
It's heartwarming to see the faith, goodness, etcetera of the old people at the old people place in spite of their deteriorating bodies and/or minds. One old man named Norm stands out in this regard as he joins us in singing the hymns, even though he can't stand up without swaying around like a bobblehead, his voice is so weak as to be barely audible most of the time, and he has great difficulty even turning the pages of the book. I like his attitude about life too. Last week someone told him "Have a good day" and he responded, "It's a good day when I wake up. If I wake up."
Having said that, I never, ever, ever want to be that old and frail myself, as it's probably a hundred times less fun to live through than to witness. I hope I die before then.
About three years ago I met this lady who I shall call "Janet" in an institute class and for whatever reason, she remembered me and always said hi from then on even though we never really talked or became close. This wouldn't have been a problem except that she was married and I was aware that I had in times past flirted with female friends without even realizing it, even when I wasn't actually interested, and I became super paranoid about that happening if I interacted with her too much, so I just felt super awkward every time and I think she thinks I'm "special" and she isn't really wrong. We never went beyond saying hi except for once when she was trying to use a computer terminal at the campus library and her baby was crying so I went over and made faces to calm her (the baby) down, and one time when she forgot to lock her front door so she asked me to go do it and let myself out the back since I lived close by. It took her like five minutes to ask because she kept oscillating between her worry about someone breaking into the house and her worry about inconveniencing me.
One time a year or two later my ward was gathered at the church building near my house to carpool to a home evening activity, and being Mormons, of course, they were still gathered there twenty minutes after we were supposed to have left. I got frustrated and bored and didn't want to socialize like everyone else was doing so I wandered away to the other side of the building. Across the street, Janet was out with her toddler and newer baby playing hopscotch and eating popcorn and, seeing that I was all alone with no family and no home evening, invited me to join them. So I played hopscotch for a minute, feeling awkward all the while, and then her husband appeared in the doorway. A look of murderous rage came over his face. He stormed out, down the driveway, toward the sidewalk, past me, and moved the baby a little further from the road, and then turned and went back into the house without saying a word. I decided it was a good time to go rejoin my ward.
Afterward I told myself that the look of murderous rage on his face must have been my imagination, driven by paranoia, because I hadn't been doing anything wrong and had never done anything wrong. I was just paranoid and everything was fine. But the next time I saw her she said, "Sorry my husband wasn't very nice. He thought I was flirting." Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because I saw them at Summerfest last night and accidentally made eye contact with him through some bushes as I walked past and slipped away into the crowd, and from what I could see through the bushes I felt like I should probably stay hidden. Predominantly, though, while I was scared the first time, this time I just felt like laughing. Maybe that makes me a bad person but, setting aside the fact that I've never done anything, he must be the most insecure person in the world if he feels threatened by me.
The Mormon Section
Last week I mentioned Elder Glenn L. Pace's book "Safe Journey: An African Adventure" and his struggle to gain government approval for the temple in Ghana, and since it's such a good book I'm going to lift from it again. During this time period he also got church approval for the temple in Nigeria, albeit this was a much easier and less frustrating process. Church leadership hesitated to announce one because of the instability in the country. When he returned to Utah for General Conference in April 2000, they asked him about conditions and he responded:
"We just had riots in the north over the passing of Sharia law, and several hundred Christians were killed. In retaliation, several hundred Muslims were killed in the south, including many right in Aba where the temple site is located. In the delta region, where the oil fields are located, many hundreds of people have been killed. Whole villages have been burned from explosions caused by sabotage of oil lines. Oil executives are being kidnapped and held for ransom. In Lagos there have been serious riots in the streets. Vigilante groups are springing up all over the country - and they are recognized, condoned, and even encouraged by the police and military. In summary, things are better than they have been in thirty years." I just have always wanted to share that quote. More seriously he continued, "Brethren, if we wait for Nigeria to be stable before we build a temple, we might as well forget it. I feel we have to move forward and support the people. I understand your apprehension. However, if I remember right, there was a lot of instability in Nauvoo when we built that temple."
President Hinckley announced that temple at the end of conference a couple days later. The moral of this story, in case you didn't catch it, is that sometimes you just have to go ahead and do something and not wait to be ready for it because you never will be.
The Music Section
The choice paralysis described by Aziz Ansari in "Modern Romance" and mentioned here extends beyond marriage to several other aspects of life. For example, I have over three months' worth of music on the hard drive from my busted laptop, so when recently I was able to remove said hard drive and put it in an enclosure, I was faced with a real dilemma of which song to listen to first. (My life is horrible.) The winner ended up being "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" by Norah Jones, which was a free iTunes download in December 2012. There's a lot of legally free stuff available if you know where to look. The reason I accumulated so much music was that after the first time I had a laptop fry, and was without it for so long, I realized that was what I missed most of all. And as Aspies are prone to do with this or that, I developed an obsession with it. I became at least as fixated with accumulating music as with actually listening to it. I developed a mindset that I was moving toward a goal of "completeness" in my collection, which of course was nonsense given the sheer volume (pun intended) of music in the world.
Of course I was already aware that I needed to re-balance my priorities and not spend so much time accumulating more, but being without a laptop again helped me to accomplish that more quickly. Now, with over three months' worth of music suddenly available at once instead of gradually, the thrill of accumulation is there again and I don't feel compelled to keep doing it so much. Of course I still have the list of albums that I intend to get someday, and tracking down obscure and out of print things on the Internet is still an adventure, but I'm doing it over a longer timeframe and not devoting so much time to it all at once. Listening to music, on the other hand, is good but not inherently productive, so the idea is to write stuff while doing so (like right now, for example). What I like most of all is to shuffle all three months plus of music at the same time. Then I never know what will come up and it removes the problem of choice paralysis or bias. When I first heard the concept of a "playlist" after getting my first mp3 player about ten years ago, I thought it was weird. Why limit yourself instead of playing it all?
Now, continuing on with another alien invasion song, this one from UFO Phil, a strange individual "who has made a name for himself through appearances on national radio programs, television, films, and internet videos speaking on the subject of extraterrestrials and the paranormal. Whether Phil Hill is an actual believer in the paranormal or is engaging in a kind of performance art is the subject of some debate." (Wikipedia)
UFO Phil - Alien Jam
The Most Exciting Part of My Week
It was sometimes after nine p.m. on the evening of Tuesday, June 7, and I was making my way back home along 100 South after taking a long walk by myself as usual. I like walking in the southern and western portions of town because my standard duties and errands virtually never take me there. Anyway, when I reached Main Street I considered turning onto it to go past the Tabernacle and through Merlin Olsen Park and up the boulevard past the temple as I often do, but this time decided instead that I would rather keep going straight, or not entirely straight, as the road has a weird curve in that spot, but the same general direction. As I was crossing Main Street a police car came barreling down it, forcing me to hurry, and then turned and went the same way I was going. It only went a few feet before parking behind two or three police cars that were already there. There was one parked just a bit ahead on the other side of the street (which I was on) as well.
The police officer got out of the car, and only seemed to be in a moderate hurry, but what caught my attention was the big gun he was holding. If I hadn't lost my man card in high school for liking Fergie, I could tell you what precisely what kind of gun it was, but suffice it to say that it was a long and thin gun, not the kind of little gun that cops normally carry around in their holsters. He walked quickly across the street to the side I was on and went behind a house. I continued walking, and a couple houses down from that, another police officer stood at the front door, holding one of the little guns that cops normally carry around in their holsters, pointing it through the door which was propped open just a bit. I was close enough to see through the door what I at first thought was some kind of reflection, but quickly realized was another guy, pointing a gun right back at him. He had a mustache. At this point I wanted nothing more in the world than to stay and watch, but I figured that would create more hassle for the police and piss them off. In fact, I was surprised that so far nobody had yelled at me to go away.
So I kept walking past that house, and at the back corner a third police officer was standing there, not even holding a gun, but just standing there as if appraising its resale value. I kept walking to the end of the block and then turned to look back, reasoning that from this distance my prospects of accidentally being killed and devastating four or five people weren't so bad. What I think I saw was one of the officers leading a child away from the house (from this distance I couldn't tell boy or girl, but it was a small person), not seeming to be in any particular hurry, and directing her/him to get under the police car. Maybe in the car, but it looked like under to me. And then he looked and saw me at the end of the block watching, and he didn't say anything but I felt like maybe I was still too close and should just go home. I'm really surprised that no one seemed to care I was there. But I continued on my way, and said a brief prayer that the officers would be protected from injury and death, and be able to protect any civilians from injury and death, and be able to apprehend whoever they were trying to apprehend.
Now I can't find anything about it in the news. Maybe I just hallucinated the whole thing. But I'd think that if I had, I would have been the hero, and the city would have showered me with money, and I would have kept just enough to jump-start my career and given the rest to trustworthy charities.
Sometimes I forget the most important things, even if seguing into them was the reason I brought something up in the first place. To recap, last week I visited Debbie and we talked about psychology. I said something about not being normal and she rhetorically asked, "What's normal?" And partly because her voice sounds like Zooey Deschanel, I thought of one of the decent moments from the mediocre "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" movie.
Arthur: Normality? We can talk about normality until the cows come home.
Ford: What is normal?
Trillian: What is home?
Zaphod: What're cows?
She opined that everyone has problems (true) so everyone is normal (not true). If that were true, no one would ever have been burned as a witch. If it were true, no one would ever be an outcast in high school (or college). If it were true, all the movies about losers and underdogs saving the day and achieving their dreams would have to be about something else. The fact is, there is an accepted spectrum of variation constituting normality and anything beyond it is weird. Not accepting this makes her good at compassion but bad at psychology. From Wikipedia: "Neurotpyical or NT, an abbreviation of neurologically typical, is a neologism widely used in the autistic community as a label for people who are not on the autism spectrum. However, the term eventually became narrowed to refer to those with strictly typical neurology. In other words, this refers to anyone who does not have any developmental disabilities such as some forms of autism, dyslexia, developmental coordination disorder, or ADHD. The term was later adopted by both the neurodiversity movement and the scientific community. (emphasis added)"
Because we have made it taboo to not be normal, it's politically correct to claim that "everyone is normal", just like we have to pretend that "everyone is beautiful" so we can continue being shallow without guilt.
I went to visit the old people like usual, but there's another group that goes a little earlier and sings, and last week I went with Debbie and we sang with them, and on Saturday I ran into one of them and he said "Are you going to sing with us tomorrow?" and I felt obligated, but lo and behold, it was just me and him and one other guy. I depend on having enough other people to drown me out, so that was daunting. It wasn't so bad as we just went room to room, but when we went to the cafeteria to perform for a bunch of people at once, one of the guys was occupied with the piano and left just two of us singing. Everyone turned their hearing aids off. Not really, but that would have been funny.
Then I headed off to ward prayer, the ward prayer of the ward that I'm actually in (36th) rather than the one I've been attending (35th), and I was about two meters away when this guy who isn't in the 35th ward anymore either pulled up and said "Going to ward prayer?" and I said yes and he said "Hop in" and took me away from it to the other one. There, Mackenzie and Charlie instructed us to get into groups and play "Two Truths and a Lie" (where, just in case anyone isn't aware, you say three statements and people have to figure out which is a lie). I like that game because I say the same thing every time: "I'm funny, I'm smart, and I'm good-looking." Then everyone laughs and someone says, "Well, we know you're funny." And then usually they're like "Aww, that's not fair to make us choose; do a different one." But this time they took it seriously and spent a couple minutes trying to figure it out. A couple of them were leaning toward "smart" but felt bad saying so. They gave up and made me say which one I think it is.
More Expert Praise
So I posted and braced myself for constructive criticism.
The page is here, and again, if you disagree with this expert opinion you're wrong.
Things that Tempt Me to Renounce My Citizenship
Neither of these people (notice I do not say "men" as that designation only applies to one of them) should be in prison. Mr. Brooker should just be left alone, and Turner should just be castrated.
Things We Learn from "Mega Mind"
1. As long as you don't touch the ground, you can survive a fall from any height with no ill effects, no matter how abruptly you stop.
2. Police and civilians alike will forgive you for allegedly murdering their idol if you promise not to do it anymore.
3. The bad guy never gets the girl. This one, however, is not accurate. Mega Mind's problem was that he was a wishy-washy bad guy. He had too many "feelings" and was unwilling to commit to complete and total badness. Women, sensing his weakness and lack of confidence, were therefore not attracted to him. He resolved this by becoming good and liking it, but he could also have gone the other way, all the way to the dark side. Exhibit A:
The Mormon Section
While chatting with a new friend in Rajahmundry, India I accidentally stumbled upon a little "secret" that made my day...
I forgot that June 8 was the anniversary of President Kimball's revelation on priesthood. I was a teensy bit annoyed at myself because I should remember something like that after studying it for five years, but we do need to strike a proper balance between remembering the past and looking to the future. Still, as events unfolded, I fittingly commemorated it by reading "Safe Journey: An African Adventure" by Elder Glenn L. Pace. One of the main topics of this book is his struggle to gain approval for the Accra Ghana Temple. In reference to (spoiler alert) its eventual approval, he wrote something that I like enough to take out of context so it can apply to everyone's lives. "I have reflected on this point in history many times. For thirty months I had felt like I was running into a brick wall. I would get up, clean my wounds, and run again. I would run at the wall faster, slower, and from further back. I tried jumping over it and digging and crawling under it. The wall didn't fall. It didn't even budge. I just kept getting more bruised and bloodied. Then, when it was time, the Lord just gently blew it over."
S.P.O.C.K - Not Human
Returning now to the alien invasion theme that was recently begun and then interrupted, here's possibly my favorite song (it's hard to choose) from S.P.O.C.K. The titular refrain is creepy because it makes me think of Europeans discovering Africans, or anti-vaxxers discovering autistic children.
Newly Posted Essays
These are from my recently concluded Creative Non-Fiction Writing class. Long after this post has faded into the mists of time, they will still also be readily accessible from the Essays page. The professor, who is a published creative non-fiction author and whose job it is to know about this stuff, likes them, so if you don't, you're wrong.
In Defense of Pickup Lines
Also, though my novel "Space Girls" has not been published and won't be until at least 2020, it has already garnered blurbs from several people.
Zack, Prince Among Men
I have been most negligent in failing to mention the great act of kindness that was performed for me a few weeks ago when, after waiting at a red light, I rode my bike into a crosswalk and one of the pedals immediately popped off. As I swore and hastily retreated back to the sidewalk, a ginger-bearded guy named Zack pulled up with his wife Katie or Kathy and baby whose name I forget (Luke maybe?) and offered to give me and the bike a ride home. Almost immediately, however, he thought better of that idea and decided they should take me to his friend's bike shop to get it fixed instead. I accepted because I was broke and figured he would be blessed for his generosity. Out of consideration I just took an old pedal that doesn't match the other one at all, instead of a new set, and now whenever I see it I will remember what a great guy Zack is.
Jewish Skin Care
On Memorial Day, I was looking for a copy of "A Giraffe and a Half" by Shel Silverstein, which is not to be found at the library or at Hasting's. I got desperate enough to try "Fun Unlimited" at the mall, which didn't have it either, and on my way out I was intercepted by a girl visiting from Israel to sell skin care products from the Dead Sea. "You there, may I have a few moments of your time?" she called out. "Are you married? You have girlfriend? Of course, you have seven girlfriends, one for each day of the week, yes?" Her warm demeanor and smooth sales tactics, in conjunction with her ethnicity and broken English that made me extra cautious to not accidentally be racist, kept me riveted, grinning like an idiot as she held my arm and rubbed it with this stuff, even as I realized that it was way too expensive for me at this time.
She twisted my arm by offering a huge time-sensitive discount. I didn't believe for a moment that this was exclusive for me and needed to be kept a secret, of course, but still... I don't worry much about my appearance, but her description of what this would do to my skin sounded exquisite... Another determining factor was her promise that if I bought it she would take me to two movies. I realized then that there were two branching paths available, and one involved gaining a new friend from another country, culture and religion, and the other involved never seeing her again, and the former would hopefully be worth [redacted] dollars. So with any luck, I just bought a friend. She has my number and if she doesn't keep her commitment, I know where she works.
So that's how I ended up with less than fifteen dollars to live off of for two weeks. Fortunately I've had plenty of practice at that sort of thing.
That evening I found out there's an Australian person in the ward combined with my ward, and I would have met her a lot sooner if I were attending my ward, but life is full of trade offs like that. I thought at first that she was British, which would have lent an amusing irony to the American flag she made for Memorial Day out of marshmallows, grapes, and blueberries. Since she's from a white English-speaking country (sort of; see below), I allowed myself to be sort of racist and listen to her talk just because of her accent, and I decided that asking a ton of questions about the accuracy of Australian stereotypes was worth the risk of annoying her and ruining a potential friendship. There was no need to worry, though, because when I decided that enough was enough, she said "Come on, what else you got?" So I asked her if she could arrange to teach us all Strine. And that was shamelessly disingenuous, since mainly I wanted to show off how much I already know from David Morgan-Mar's podcast interview with Professor Jack Bandicoot, head of the Department of Australian English at the University of Sydney.
DMM: No doubt you are aware of the fact that many people around the globe regard the Australian dialect as being
so full of peculiarities as to be almost opaque to comprehension.
Prof. Bandicoot: Indeed, yes.
DMM: As an expert in the subject, is there any truth to this reputation?
Prof. Bandicoot: No, it's a complete furphy.
DMM: So as a country, what can we do about it? Should we just cop it sweet?
Prof. Bandicoot: No, bugger that for a joke. We can't have mug lairs telling porkies about us like that. I mean, fair crack of the whip!
Debbie My New BFF
Debbie was without roommates for two days and told me in a commiserating tone, "Now I know how awful it is." That's not the word I would use. When I came home from New York at the end of last summer to find my roommates in the process of moving, I was so happy that I started singing to the tune of a famous Willy Nelson song, "All alone again... I can't wait to be all alone again..." I thought I was going to get roommates this month, since the "For Rent" sign came down weeks ago, but here I am still alone and that's more than okay with me. The drawback of having to pay everything for utilities myself is more than outweighed by the benefits of playing my music as loud as I want, having silence whenever I want, walking around naked if I want to, sleeping on the couch every night, praying out loud wherever and whenever I want, never getting woken up by people talking or playing video games at stupid a.m., and not being excluded from social events in my own home. My roommates were great guys, of course. The only problem was that they were people.
Because of Memorial Day, the campus library where I would normally go to use the computer was closed on Sunday, so I was faced with the dilemma of choosing which friend to exploit for the use of their laptop, and I chose Debbie because I don't get to see her often enough anymore since she left the best ward ever. I was going to just walk over but she insisted on coming to get me because of the rain. I didn't realize at the time that she had gotten roommates by now because none of them were home when we got there. She lingered nearby to make sure I didn't access her novel or do anything that would contract malware. She apologized for the slowness of her computer, but that was all right because I was in no hurry to leave. When I did, she insisted on driving me again. As soon as she dropped me off I took an eight block walk just to spite her.
The next day I remembered some more things I needed to do, so I went over again, and this time she did her makeup in the kitchen right next to me. I asked, "Do you always do your makeup in the kitchen?" She said, "No, but it isn't polite to desert a guest." Then she came over into the living room where I was to plug in her curling iron and do her hair. With all this going on I found it difficult to remain focused on the tasks at hand, as I felt fascinated to observe what seemed like forbidden and secret rituals. I saw her putting makeup on a guy's face in a talent show (and I so desperately wish I could post it on YouTube without engendering his lifelong hatred) but this was the real deal. But I also felt betrayed because all this time I thought the curl in her hair came naturally. I wonder how many other things I thought I knew about her are just smoke in the wind.
A couple days later, normal computer access restored, I had the temerity to call and invite myself over just because I was having a horrible day and wanted to talk. This time her hair looked different and she was glistening all over. She said that was from running on a treadmill. We talked about the horrible thing that was going on and then shifted to more pleasant topics, like psychology. She talked about things like how if the doctor consistently rings a bell before tapping someone on the knee, they become conditioned to kick reflexively whenever they hear the bell, without the tap. "So," I said, "stuff like that is accessing the more primitive parts of human brains." "Yep," she agreed. So, I thought but didn't dare say, that's just one more proof that we're a product of evolution. She doesn't like the idea of human evolution because she thinks it precludes morality. Someday I will build up the courage to gently correct her misconceptions about that.
Adam Sandler - Love Stinks
This is my second favorite scene/song from "The Wedding Singer" (my first favorite is not appropriate to share with a family audience). I think the fat man looks like Paul McCartney. Am I the only one who thinks that? Also, whoever did the Spanish subtitles took some creative liberties with the refrain.
"Guys. Chris's blog is the stuff of legends. If you’re ever looking for a good read, check this out!"
- Amelia Whitlock
"I don't know how well you know Christopher Randall Nicholson, but... he's trolling. You should read his blog. It's delightful."
- David Young
About the Author
C. Randall Nicholson is a white cisgender Christian male, so you can hate him without guilt, but he's also autistic and asexual, so you can't, unless you're an anti-vaxxer, in which case the feeling is mutual. This blog is where he periodically rants about life, the universe, and/or everything.