Poke it... I dare you!

Never show someone something on your laptop. No matter what you do, no matter how impressive what's on your screen may be, it's not worth the pain and torment you will experience afterwards. When you pull out your laptop-- whether it's an adorable iBook or a thick and heavy HP-- and turn that thing around to show an audient, they will almost immediately, and inadvertantly, poke your screen. When they do, a piece of your soul will die.

Why people have the urge to poke at LCD screens I shall never know. Perhaps it's because they are so much brighter and nicer looking than a CRT. Or maybe it's because people enjoy the ripples that come from that brief little jab from your index. Or perhaps it's just because people know they aren't supposed to. For whatever reason, everyone does it.

Since I do so much design work on the road with my iBook, I'm often showing my wares to passers by. Each one of them reaches out to the screen, as if touching it will reassure them that they are merely looking at a picture, and not the actualy flyer or brochure that I've created. Sometimes I move the laptop out of the way, other times I distract them with a loud "yelp," or maybe I'll just swat their hand away like a nasty bug.

I'm not the only one having this problem either. My friend Chris is adament about the celebacy of his screen. Dr. Jerz, just the other day, mentioned his outrage after a fellow faculty member took a jab at his LCD. It's one of those things that happens to all laptop owners, you just don't find out until you start complaining yourself.

But why do you get so upset when people poke the screen? After all, it does look really cool to see the images ripple like a clear pond in the summer time. Each and every time you press your digit into the soft liquid crystal, you are actually killing those crystals! Pushing them around, confusing them, and leaving them for dead. It's like God sending down a bolt of lightning into a beautiful field of unicorns! And of course, this will lead to a shorter lifespan for your laptop, and some permanent dark blotches down the line.

So next time your friend says, "Hey you, come here and check out this sweet pic I made in Photoshop!" Don't stick out your finger and charge toward his screen.

This Guard Has Holes in Him

For the Pope's funeral, the Vatican brought in Italian fighter jets, warships, and soldiers from a bunch of different countries to ensure that everything went safely. But these high security measures aren't always present at the Vatican. During the funeral you may have noticed those folks with the red-plumed helmets... those aren't Spartan soldiers who happened to travel back in time to attend the services. Those are the Pope's first (and only) line of defense, his body guards, and his mery band of mercenaries: the Swiss Guards.

How did these ridiculous looking soldiers from the most well-known neutral country in Europe come to protect His Holy Pontiff? Well, let me tell you...

Part ninja, part gladiator, part award-winning seamstress, the Swiss guards are not to be trifled with. They are a highly trained group of warriors from the land of Swatches and anonymous bank accounts who stand proudly at the gates of the Vatican, swearing their lives to the protection of the Pope.

This all came about in the late 1400's when the Vatican held an alliance with dirty, dirty France. France was constantly getting their ass kicked by invaders, and because they couldn't defend their way out of a paper bag, they began looking for some mercenaries. It was back in this time when Switzerland was but a small, mysterious, land-locked nation who didn't really know too many people. But one day France saw in the European Gazette an ad for Swiss Mercenaries. Feeling bad that no one liked to talk to the Swiss (rumor was going around that they smelled bad... but this turned out to just be the French the whole time) the French hired 1,500 soldiers to defend Basle. According to legend, and a diary by Louis XI, the guards not only kicked ass, but they killed 20 times as many men! (It's still unknown how many that number is...) And so after seeing this hella-cool display, the French sent a recommendation over to the Pope.

In 1497, Pope Sixtus IV brought in the guards as mercenaries. He built some barracks for them, gave them a cask of wine and a toasted sub and set them up for the night. It was at this point in Church history that the Vatican found itself under constant attack from the Polish Cossacks. These Cossacks, while absolutely terrible at stealth (due to the amount of pots and pans they strapped to their belts in those days), managed to wreak havoc months earlier at the Vatican's annual Induldgence Carnivale. And so to test the Swiss waters, 150 guards were brought in to fight off the Cossacks. Turns out they did so in amazing fashion, using their long staffs to disarm the Cossacks (and making their pants drop in traditional comic fashion), and defended the Vatican in under an hour.

In 1506, Pope Julius II brought in more Swiss guards and made them the official Pontifical Swiss Guard. They would forever protect the Pope and Cardinals from crazed invaders which may include, but are not limited to, ninjas, mummies, large squids, and various Evangelical Protestant solicitors. The guards have been doing their job with a smile for about 500 years now.

But what makes these guards so special? Why are they so darn good at what they do? Well, the novice humorist may say "Because they use Swiss Army Knives, eat lots of chocolate, wear Swatches and K-Swiss shoes, etc..." but come on, you and I both know that's about as true as the Swiss Navy. The truth behind the guards lies in their training regimen, their weaponry, and their optimistic attitude on life.

Every morning the Swiss guard is awoken by a splash of fresh, chilled Alpine Water. Sitting upright, they hop out of bed and do 12 jumping jacks (one for each Apostle) and go get some breakfast. On their way to breakfast, however, they are ambushed by several forms of sand-filled enemies. Punching bags drop from the ceilings of their barracks, forcing them to react with lightning quickness. After breakfast, the guards watch four hours of MadTV. This gives them the urge to kill. The rest of their day is spent watching the gates of the Vatican, posing for pictures, and letting kids know how tall they have to be to ride the Pope-coaster.

Their weaponry consists solely of a flexible pole with a pointy knife at the end. It is with this staff that they are able to disarm any enemy in a matter of moments. A few quick swipes and the intruder is defenseless. Then the Swiss soldiers finish them off with a series of forceful kicks and slaps. A force only comparable to the Russian Orthodox Metropolitan Swordsmen of Croatia.

The Swiss Guards have a great sense of humor and a very uplifting outlook on life. Each guard, upon entering the service, is given a copy of "7 Habits of Highly Effective Swiss Guardsmen" and a cassette tape of the Broadway Recording of "Anything Goes." It's always been a tourism legend that if you go up to them at the gates and say "Knock Knock" they will tell you one of the funniest priest jokes you will ever hear in your life (but it's not a sin for them to tell the joke because they protect the Church.)

And so if you ever get a chance to visit the Vatican, check out these excellent gentlemen. Next year should be their 500th year anniversary of service, and if you are lucky you may just meet one of the original mercenaries.

Concession

So, by now you've probably all heard that Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger has been elected the new Pope. I'd like to take this moment to extend my congratulations to the new Pope and wish him luck in his upcoming papacy. It was a short but none the less intense campaign. In the end I guess Ratzinger simply ran a better campaign than I did. I hope that now that the Cardinals have voted we can forget the ugliness of the campaign trail and move forward united. I know that Ratzinger will make excellent Pope, and will fill the pope mobile well.

Now, I want to thank all the people who supported me in my campaign and those Cardinals who voted for me. I encourage all of you not to become discouraged. We knew going in that it would be an up hill battle to Rome. After all, I do not speak Latin. I am not a Cardinal. I am not even Catholic. I guess the Catholic church just wasn't ready for its first openly Protestant pontiff. But we will continue this fight. If nothing else we have proven to the fat cats in Rome that a small grass roots campaign can thrust itself to the forefront and make some serious ecclesiastical noise. Now, it is important that we maintain this structure and energy we have forged on the campaign trail. Let Rome know that even though we lost this round, we are going to be a major voice in the Church for quite some time.

Finally, allow me to reiterate the importance of unity. We must not grow bitter in this defeat. We must not allow ourselves to make snide, sarcastic, remarks toward the current administration. Even if Ratzinger did choose the ultra-homo name Benedict, when I would have gone with the super cool Pius moniker. It is important that we do not lose hope. Even if this is the latest in a long line of crushing defeats after failing to be elected student body president, treasurer of the English Honorary in college, and most likely to succeed. Despite all this, remember we must work hand in hand with this new pontiff.

And chin up my little soldiers. Benedict is only a buffer pope. It is only a matter of time until we gird up our loins for the next papal election. Until then I wish you, my followers, and the new administration, good luck and godspeed. Bless you.

Shalom

My Tax Dollars at Work

Since September, I've been living in a truly swinging bachelor pad smack dab in the middle of hip, bustling New Brighton, Pennsylvania (official motto: 'Always within walking distance of a bar'). Now, I like my adopted hometown just fine, although I have noticed a few tiny aspects of the town which are not quite up to snuff. For instance, while you are technically always within walking distance of a bar, sometimes the bar is over a whole block away, making it quite a precarious trip on foot. Also, the town could use more hot chicks, hot chicks with low standards, hot chicks with James-low standards. So, imagine my joy when I found out New Brighton has been awarded $1 million from the state for improvements.

Of course, my joy was short lived when I discovered that this money was not going toward moving in bus loads of lonely and confused co-eds from the University of Miami beach volleyball team. Apparently the money's for renovating main street, and that doesn't mean putting in more bars. The grant will be used to add new lighting, replace sidewalks, plant trees, put in benches, bicycle racks, and blah, blah, blah. The list goes on. What waste of a million bucks. I mean couldn't they think of anything better? A million dollars falls into their laps - Courtesy of the taxpayers of my fair state - and the best they can come up with is this stupid little downtown beautification project.

Just think about it. What would you do with a million dollars? That's right. You'd do the same thing I would: Something completely stupid (Don't bother arguing with me on this one. Face it, if you're reading this blog you're already prone to making bad decisions.) It's just more fun that way. For instance, if I had ten extra dollars right now, the chances of me putting it in the bank toward paying rent or student loans would be pretty slim. The odds of me buying a new wiffle ball bat on the other hand are much better.

So, why should the municipality of New Brighton look upon this extra $1 million any different. Instead of spending this money on some boring been-there-done-that renovation project, why not blow the whole wad on something completely ridiculous but fun. Here's my proposal. First, obviously, forget the whole main street fix up deal. Second, take all the money and throw a big, totally bad ass party. That's right, a huge, town wide no holds barred party. I'm talking par-tay. And with $1 million it would really rock. We're talking kegs of good beer, not beast. We're talking about name brand party mix, not generic dollar store brand. We're talking about getting good music, not that drunk guy with an out of tune guitar who always shows up at parties.

Just imagine, an entire town wasting $1 million dollars of tax payer money in one drunken orgy of frivolity. I know that a lot of you might be a little disturbed by this, but you know you'd be there, drinking government beer and getting your freak on, New Brighton style.

Shalom

Oh, and in case you were wondering, any money left over from the party would go toward building a water slide...a huge, sweet ass water slide.

Shalom (again)