Archive for June, 2012

Sugar Cane Witchcraft

Posted: June 19, 2012 in Humor
Tags: , ,

I nervously stand in line with my 3 yr. old daughter at the school festival.  She, eager to feast upon the coming sugary concoction. Me, nearly terrified by the fuckin’ witchcraft voodoo I am about to see.  The line moves and we come to the front.  I hand the man $3 from my sweaty palm.  My stomach churns.  I shift from foot to foot.  My daughter pulls on my hand and squeals in anticipation. The man behind the counter stands in front of a large, circular dome made of clear plastic and a metal cylinder beneath it.  He takes my money with a grunt and begins his age-old dark art.  He opens a carton of what appears to be colored sugar crystals and pours it through the center of the dome, into a hole in the metal cylinder.  He quickly closes it up and turns the infernal device back on.  The sound of a small motor whirring beneath, but no other mechanics or tubes or liquids or devices of ANY kind can be seen attached to this tool of the devil.  And yet, within seconds…colored wispy strands of fabric start to shoot from the tiny holes on the inner side of the metal cylinder.  The strands quickly meet together in the center of the cylinder and begin to clump together in the familiar cotton-like shape.  With a quick twist of his hand, the man waves a cardboard cone around the inner cylinder and the colored strands of sugar fabric wrap around it like insects at the speed of light.  And he pulls it out, now crowned with the colorful mass of cursed sugar, deformed by dark forces known only the blackest of hearts.

No, I do not trust nor understand cotton candy.  The process that creates it does not seem possible.  The near total lack of any even slightly sophisticated mechanical equipment any rational mind would assume it would require to turn fine, powdered sugar into goddamn fabric is NOWHERE TO BE SEEN! It’s a fucking metal cylinder with some holes in the side…and you pour colored sugar in the middle. Suddenly, it’s fucking strands of cotton candy flying around in a bowl.  Nothing happened.  It’s just there. That cotton candy machine has like three parts: a bowl, a cylinder with holes in it, and some little fan motor underneath.  Yes, I’ve read about cotton candy and the machines and how it works….BULLSHIT.  Really look at those things, you idiots!  We are through the Looking Glass here!  It looks like something my daughter just stacked together while going through my wife’s Tupperware drawer, something she just put together and pretends that it makes cotton candy.  Only this contraption actually works.  It’s like cartoon logic.  But it works.  But not through science.  No.  No, my ignorant friends…

Yes, feast upon the flesh of Satan…

I’m not one known to be religious or superstitious.  The supernatural is just a bunch of horse shit for the weak-minded.  But this…this machine and the impossible that it achieves without the slightest struggle…the cotton candy “machine” is the chink in my armor.  That’s the one thing I just don’t get…the place where science seems to fail us all.  It’s like stacking a bunch of couch cushions together to make my daughter a fort…and when we go inside, it’s a spacious, 4,500 sq ft complex with fine decor and a butler waiting to take our coats.

The man hands the stick to my ignorant child who hungrily snaps it up and begins ingesting the physical manifestation of evil.  I am helpless.  I’m sure many who read this blog are wondering why I didn’t slap that blob of evil from his hands and put his head through a wall.  People, I know when I’m beat.  If he can manifest simply, sugary treats from nothing…imagine what this guy can do if he really gets pissed.  His car probably runs on nightmares.  I bet he grew his children in Mason jars.

Plus, my daughter is 3.  She’s old enough to make her own decisions on the consumption of the black arts and its consequences.  That’s on her.

Just a warning, dear ignorant readers.  Cotton candy is the work of demonic magic.  Imagination made real by something few understand.  It may taste sweet and look adorable…but it does not come from this world.  Consider the source of that glob of sugar you hold on a stick before you.

And keep it the fuck away from me.

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Okay.  We are going to take this as a learning experience.  And rather than delete that last post, I am going let this be a learning experience for us all.

Apparently plastic zip ties are not the wisest choice to keep a steel wheel assembly in place during vigorous mowing.  Those zip ties will tend to snap, and the wheel assembly may tend to collapse and fall into the spinning blade, and metal shrapnel may tend to go flying across the neighborhood.

But this is how man learns.  This is good.  And this is also how Mrs. Ames cat was just killed by a stray piece of steel pin.  But I’m pretty confident Mrs. Ames does not read this blog…and I’m sure none of you WILL SAY A GODDAMN THING!  YOU HEAR ME!? KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH’S SHUT!

Yes, definitely a learning experience and a fine example of how great things can come from catastrophe.

Because I hated that cat.  It peed in my bushes.

NOT…A…WORD!

Okay, I want you to take a look at this photo.  Take a good, long look:

              You know what that is?  Five plastic zip ties keeping a rear wheel assembly of a lawn mower together?  NO!!  Well…yeah, it is.  BUT YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT!  What you see there is pure, human ingenuity at its highest form.  That is man using his wits and the tools available to him to defeat the evil trials of the gods!  When that right wheel snapped in the middle of the lawn, I could have just thrown my head back and screamed a stream of vulgarities to the heavens…which I did…but that’s not ALL I did (And I heard you laughing at me behind your fence, Jake Holtus. Go fuck yourself! You can lick my scroat before you get your adjustable pliers back now, asshole.) I looked at that assembly, saw where the steel bracket had finally worn away, recalled the paltry balance of my checking account, rubbed my stubbly chin, and thought “Yeah, I think I could tie a bunch of plastic fuckers around that for now.  That might work.”  And BEHOLD!!  The lawn is nearly finished, our bank account remains unmolested, and the human spirit has once again shown a light on this dark world.  I will return shortly to bask in your praises below.  Please, keep them short and pithy.

The following is a one-man, one-act, play written by myself…inspired by every fucking morning when I’m driving to work late.  Please enjoy:

[scene]

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!  YOU’RE GOING TO GO 45 ON THE HIGHWAY!? GET IN THE RIGHT HAND LANE, IDIOT!  NO…NO…NOT THE LEFT!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?  DON’T FLICK ME OFF YOU PIECE OF SHIT!  I WILL…ooohhh…I’M SO GONNA FUCKING BACK END YOU. I AM GOING TO HUMP YOUR TAILPIPE WITH MY GRILL!  MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!”

“Jesus christ…..people are so fucking stupid…and why are they ALL DRIVING 20mph SLOWER THAN ME?! SERIOUSLY…EVERYONE!  IS THIS SOME KIND OF FUCKING CONSPIRACY?  DID YOU ALL WAKE UP AND SAY ‘LET’S FUCK WITH RICK TODAY!  LET’S PLAN A COORDINATED HIGHWAY ATTACK ON RICK AND FORCE HIM TO DRIVE UNDER THE SPEED LIMIT THE ENTIRE RIDE IN! IT WILL BE AWESOME….LET’S GET LIKE 200 PEOPLE TOGETHER AND MAKE THIS HAPPEN!’  Unreal…unreal….”

“Fine. I’ll right-lane it all morning…fuck you all.  Oh MY FUCKING GOD!  WHY DO YOU HAVE TO COME TO A COMPLETE STOP TO MAKE A RIGHT HAND TURN?  SERIOUSLY!?  A COMPLETE STOP?  ANY MORON WHO HAS BEEN DRIVING FOR AT LEAST 6 MONTHS SHOULD BE ABLE TO MAKE A RIGHT-HAND TURN INTO 7-11 WITHOUT SLOWING BELOW 15mph! WHAT DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO HAPPEN?  YOU’LL SPIN A 180º INTO THE MOUNTAIN DEW STAND?  Not hard…not hard asshole…oh YEAH, GIVE ME YOUR LITTLE TOUGH-GUY FACE. GO AHEAD.  I’M SHAKING OVER HERE!   Piece of shit Chevy Cobalt…who drives a Cobalt?  Stupid fucking name.  Cobalt…’I drive a Chevy Cobalt. It’s affordable and fuel-efficient and looks snazzy. I come to complete stops in my Chevy Cobalt to make right turns.  I wear protective eye-wear when I mow my lawn…’ ”

“AND THIS GUY…THIS FUCKNG GUY!  REALLY!  YOU’RE TEXTING?  YOU’RE GOING LIKE 60 WITH YOUR HEAD DOWN AND TEXTING!  WHAT? ARE YOU TEXTING THAT GUY BACK THERE IN THE COBALT ON TIPS TO BE AN ASSHOLE DRIVER?!  Oh don’t even look at me.  Jesus you got a face only a mother could drown.”

“Ha…another guy driving a Cobalt.  Do they not know those are chick cars?  I am really the only one who understands that?  Shit…cop.  Slow down Rick….slooooowwwww down…..okay….he didn’t clock me.  We are good…WE ARE GOOD!  LET’S CRANK IT!”

(5 minutes later)

“Yes, sir…I have my license and registration right here.  One second…..and no, I have NO idea why you pulled my over to tell the truth.  Tail light out?  Is it because I’m not driving a Chevy Cobalt?  Never mind…just a little…inside joke.   Yeah..not funny…”

(15 minutes later)

“Okay, only 25 minutes late for work today.  Not bad.  I think I beat my own record.  Just pull in here.  Did my boss get a new car?  Holy shit….it’s a Chevy Cobalt…”

[end scene]