There’s a trend in social media called “confess your unpopular opinion” where people say things like “I like mayonnaise on a hotdog” or “The Beatles are overrated.” I usually go with, “’Back to the Future’ movies stink.” Like most things on social media, this trend has zero significance. Disliking something popular isn’t “edgy.” Music and art is a matter of taste and if you don’t care for the Beatles, then that is a perfectly fine reaction to art but it doesn’t make them “overrated.” People love to use Carrot Top as an example of a hack comic. Hack comics don’t make $10 Million a year; they make your $5 Footlong at Subway.
A popular opinion among people who have no idea what they are talking about is that Ringo was a lucky bystander, swept up in the storm of Beatle mania and allowed to undeservingly succeed from it. Or if they were participating in the above trend, they would tweet “Ringo was great.” Ringo is great; you are the one who stinks. Continue reading →
Next week most Americans will participate in one of the country’s dumbest traditions. No, it’s not picking which one of the two numbskulls we want to head our government. It’s setting our clocks back to “standard” time. In our increasingly connected world, can’t we do away with this practice?
Most of the articles I read on the subject suggested we should quit Daylight Saving Time, but those people are just annoying contrarians. I figure most of us like when the day is longer. So instead of fooling with our internal and external clocks, let’s set DST and leave it alone. Continue reading →
Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Looking back on my younger school days, I can remember the lame way we were taught about the first Thanksgiving like it was a wholesome party on top of Plymouth Rock. They ignored the fact that the Pilgrims had no business being there and the Native Americans would have been perfectly within their rights to shove a hot spear into thou’st rectums; but they didn’t.
Blue cheese is slopped on everything. It’s in your salad, it’s on your wings, it’s smoldering in some rich lady’s fridge waiting to be inhaled at the next art council fundraiser. People would rather hear that you hate puppies before blue cheese. I tell people I’m allergic to it, that way they won’t be tempted to try and slip it past me for fear of me swelling up like a blowfish. I guess I’m not cultured enough to like it, but I’d rather suck on loose change than a hunk of Roquefort. Blue cheese has more reach than the FBI and it’s time for it to die. Continue reading →