Rafa's Corner of Nonsense

Moving to Wordpress!

2006-08-23T07:16:00.000-05:00

I've decided to move my blog to Wordpress.com, and I've cleverly renamed it "Rafa's Corner of Nonsense, Part Deux" (because I needed some French on the title to make myself sound even more pompous than usual).

Fear not: all the old content has been migrated, including all your insightful comments, so from now on make sure to check out the blog at http://rafaeln.wordpress.com!

Children: blessings from God, or de-- TIMMY, I TOLD YOU TO GET OFF THAT TABLE!! NOW!!

2006-07-06T12:25:00.000-05:00

Whenever I am in a public place, I always get the impression that parents, contrary to being happy to be with their children, seem peeved and ill-tempered.

Aren't children supposed to be a gift from God? A blessing most sublime? I mean, how long does that honeymoon last? How long does it take to go from "She is the most beautiful baby in the whole world and I am the happiest person in the world!" to "OHMYGODWHYWON'TSHESTOPCRYING?!?!?! LORDPLEASETAKEMENOW!!!"?

Sure, you may say that we are more likely to notice someone in a bad mood than someone being loving, especially since a shouting parent is harder to miss than a quiet, loving embrace (and, if you were the one who said this to me, you can re-state it). :-) I agree that there may be some truth to this, but in today's society I'd be more likely to notice parents being loving and sweet to their children than parents being impatient and in a bad mood, simply because I see it so seldom (plus, emotional displays are something I am quite likely to appreciate, since I scored 29/30 in the "Feeling" scale of the Myers-Briggs psychological test -- which means I am always one forlorn violin solo away from bursting into tears).

So, which is it, folks? Are children, much like everything else in our lives, things we really want and when we get, the magic "wears off"? Or is there something special about children that even those parents who seem to be plotting murder are, underneath it all, actually happy to have their kids?

If I had wanted to listen to an instrumental solo, I would've gone to a Yanni concert

2006-07-03T17:42:00.000-05:00

Well, the summer concert season has finally started (for me, at least), as I went to see Huey Lewis and the News and Chicago (yes, I am an old man: now shut up and get off my lawn, young whipper-snapper!).

Anyway, attending this concert reminded me of two of my concert pet peeves: the first one is that the band inevitably never plays the one song I want them to play (regardless of how famous said song is). For instance, Huey Lewis didn't play "If This Is It" and Chicago didn't play "Glory of Love." I swear to God, I could go to a Right Said Fred concert and they still wouldn't play "I'm Too Sexy" (not that I'd go to a Right Said Fred concert, even if they weren't currently employed, sadly, as Right Said Fred impersonators in the Hollywood Walk of Fame).

But on to my second concert pet peeve (and what prompted me to break my months-long absence from the blogosphere): long-winded instrumental solos in rock concerts. I mean, really: we get that you're all awesome musicians, and that only the vocalist gets all the glory and all the chicks (although my favorite bands are getting so long in the tooth that nowadays the vocalist probably just gets the juicier incontinence medicine endorsements). However, do we really need to hear a 10-minute drum solo? If you've heard one drum solo, you've pretty much heard them all (actually, after hearing one minute of a drum solo, you've heard them all!).

How about if the audience, when purchasing the concert tickets, signs an affidavit stating that every band member is as important as the next, and that each one rocks in his own right? If we do that, could we do without the boring, lengthy and unnecessary solos? For instance, in the Chicago concert we were "treated" to a flute solo. A f-l-u-t-e solo. In a r-o-c-k concert. I'd understand that if I had gone see a concert for Yzman, Master of the Ocarina... but a rock concert?

So, where do you, ficticious reader, stand on this whole concert solo business? Is it a part of the concert experience, or is it an evil that must be eradicated with bloodshed, if necessary?

Are there are any real Christians out there?

2005-11-24T07:38:00.000-06:00

In an earlier post I had mentioned my inability to understand how religious fanatics cannot leave personal and religious prejudices at home when they go to vote.

This reminded me of just how much these Christian zealots bother me. I would consider myself a Christian (if more in the way I conduct myself and treat others than in the dogmatic beliefs I hold to be true): I think most Christian fanatics in this country behave in a way that is so utterly un-Christian that I'd like to be right there during the Second Coming just to see them get a disapproving "tsk tsk" from Jesus Himself.

Fanatical Christians in this country do not "love their neighbor as they love themselves," they do not "do unto others as they would like to be done unto them," they "judge though they be judged" (OK, that last one was hard to rephrase, but you get my drift). An outsider to the faith would be hard-pressed to understand how these fanatical Christians could consider themselves to be Christians at all, and how they could possibly pretend to draw people to their faith if their most salient representatives seem to be divise hate-mongerers.

Reading the New Testament you should get a warm, fuzzy feeling about Jesus and, thus, His followers. You should feel that you would be embraced and loved by them, just like Jesus said He'd embrace and love all of us. Why isn't this so? Why can't these so-called Christians follow their Master's teachings, and love everyone equally, including those they personally find unpalatable? Loving cute little kids and embracing your best friend is easy: loving and embracing those who behave in a way that is contrary to your own is what's hard, is what separates the wheat from the chaff: it is, in fact, what should theoretically separate a Christian dilettante from someone who truly leads the life Jesus said we should lead.

To wit, I pose the following question: how would have Jesus reacted if one of His Apostles had been gay? Would He have shunned His follower, calling him a sinner, denouncing his lifestyle, ensured that he would be treated as an outcast, and if possible, have less rights as a citizen? Or would Jesus have embraced him, told him that he would be loved anyway, and furthermore told the rest of His followers that "he who is without sin cast the first stone"?

I know which one I would like to believe... but I guess everyone, including myself, writes in his or her head the version of the Bible that he or she finds more palatable.

What do you think Jesus would have done?

A sad day...

2005-11-24T07:08:00.000-06:00

For those of you who don't know, Texas (my home state) was one of the states where a Constitutional amendment was being voted on this November to determine if same-sex marriages should be forbidden or not. Needless to say, it passed. It wasn't so much that it passed, but that it passed with such an obscene majority of 76%.

I knew it would pass: I wasn't kidding myself. What saddens me is that it passed with such vehemence, with such a mandate; that so many people either hate homosexuals, believe them to rightfully belong in a lower class of citizenry (with less rights than heterosexuals), or truly believe that two people of the same sex getting married somehow diminishes the meaning of the marriage of people of opposite genders.

Same-sex marriage was already illegal in Texas: as far as I knew, that wasn't even being under threat of being repealed. Making this into a Constitutional amendment just seals the vault with concrete, and by writing into the state Constitution just says out loud: "We don't want gays here in Texas" (which may very well be true, come to think of it).

What I can't fathom is how people can't seem to leave personal and religious prejudices at home when they go to vote: regardless of whether your church says same-sex relationships are (to quote the Bible) "abomination," or whether you "like" homosexuals, what does that have to do with what your secular State should allow within its citizenry? What can't more people make the distinction between what they like, and what should, fairly, be written into law? If everyone could make their pet peeves into law, believe me, no one would be able to do anything anywhere!

This is the relevant part of the amendment (you can read the full text here):

"Sec. 32. (a) Marriage in this state shall consist only of the union of one man and one woman.
(b) This state or a political subdivision of this state may not create or recognize any legal status identical or similar to marriage."

By the way, I find it hilarious that the State cannot "recognize any legal status identical or similar to marriage" because, unless basic algebra has also been repealed in the state of Texas, marriage is identical to marriage! (This means, I guess, that Texas can no longer recognize marriage, same-sex or otherwise).

I guess I'll have to wait for a fair, level-headed pundit to explain to me yet how two people of the same gender getting married (and having all the legal benefits thereof) is an affront to our society, or how it hurts "family values." Family values should be about unconditional love, about companionship, about caring for someone else, sometimes even at the expense of your own well-being: when someone can convince me how this can intrinsically never be the case in same-sex marriages, I'll be the first to vote against them.

Thoughts? :-)

Movie theaters: black hole of capitalism

2005-11-24T06:52:00.000-06:00

My friend César had an interesting post regarding movie theater seating, which reminded me of another rant of my own (thanks, César!). :-D

I think the movie theater business is one where the laws of capitalism and supply and demand totally break down.

Think about it: every movie, regardless of how much it cost to make, regardless of who made it and how much (and how many) people want to watch it, costs exactly the same to watch at the same theater.

Let me put this another way: regardless of whether I am watching Star Wars: Heir to the Empire [not directed or touched in any way by George Lucas], Spy Kids 2: The Reckoning, Schindler's List 2: Electric Boogaloo, or Harry Potter [insert number here], I'll still shell out the same amount of money if I go see it at the same movie theater and at the same time of day.

Why is it that the only difference in movie ticket price is determined by the theater you go to, and the time of day (matinée or not)? Surely the investment of millions made in the creation of each movie and the amount of anticipation it creates in the viewers should be more important in price determination than whether the theater has new seats and doesn't (yet) smell like stale popcorn.

The movie industry is the only one in which the quality (or perceived quality) of the product has no bearing on the cost to the consumer. While you may argue that a sucky play may be overpriced, and thus its price will not reflect its quality, plays are priced according to more natural capitalistic rules: tickets for Broadway plays with critical acclaim and well-known actors, for instance, will surely be more expensive than an unknown play at Coco's Casa de Acting featuring the acting prowess of the best community college drama students.

So, faithful readers (yeah, both of you), what do you have to say on the matter?

Heterosexual couples: Nature's greatest practical joke?

2005-10-05T08:52:00.000-05:00

The other day I was forced to witness a guy and a girl shamelessly flaunting their Godful lifestyle and making out in front of me, and it got me thinking: aside from their mutual desire for each other's genitalia, what binds these two people together?

I know I am not the first person to note that men and women are very different: I won't belabor too much the point that while women like to surround themselves with pretty (but perhaps useless) things, men pretty much like to destroy them. This is why I think it is hilarious that Nature forces these two very different creatures to be physically attracted to each other, and to eventually get married and live together for the rest of their lives (or until they get a divorce). I mean, they should by all means mate and keep the race going, of course; but after that, why don't men just go back to their caves to play Halo all night, and women just go back to their nicely-decorated homes to paint rooms with made-up colors such as "chartreuse" and "taupe"?

Now, I realize that, like they say in Italian: "Il cuore non si commanda" (which, loosely translated, means "Rafa is a pretentious prick"). You may say that Love (capitalized for greater pompousness) is the thing that unites men and women, but it seems to me that Love has the cards stacked against it from the get-go if men's idea of fun is watching white trash NASCAR drivers ride ad-festooned cars in a circle over and over and over, and women's is watching a movie where everyone dies so she can have herself a good cry and then take a jojoba-scented bubble bath.

I am not saying homosexual couples have it made, of course: there are always many differences even between people of the same gender. However, I would say that, in general, between people of the same gender there will tend to be more agreement in terms of mindset, priorities, and what is considered fun (although I'm quite sure many gay men are no strangers to the cry-fest followed by a bubble bath).

So, what say you? Does coming from entirely different points of view strengthen heterosexual relationships, or are they further proof that God has a sense of humor (as exemplified by the existence of the platypus, and Him putting our balls on the outside)?

What makes you... you?

2005-08-24T21:50:00.000-05:00

As almost all good philosophical arguments, this one was borne out of watching TV, "Battlestar Galactica" to be precise.

For those of you who are not watching this truly awesome show (you know who you are... and shame on you!), let me recap the basics: humans created the Cylons, a race of robots meant to serve mankind. They (of course), rebelled, and turned against humanity. Here's the twist: the Cylons created human-looking Cylons that are indistinguishable from flesh-and-blood humans: they look, feel and sound human, have the same biological components and behavior as humans, seem to experiment human emotions, and some of them truly believe themselves to be human.

My first question is: why would they not be considered human, then? If they experiment human emotions (whether these are part of some "software" they are programmed to run, or the result of some electrical activity in neurons), doesn't that make them human? If they truly believe they are having these feelings, and act accordingly, how are they any different from flesh-and-blood humans?

Another plot point of the show is that there are multiple copies of the same human-looking Cylon: some of them believe themselves to be the "real one." So, the second question that arises from this is: what makes us who we are? Is it our memories? Is it our behavior? Is it our reactions to stimuli?

For instance, let's say you have a friend who is 25 years old; if you could travel back in time and meet him when he was 8, and discarding any physical resemblance, how could you "tell" it's the same person? Your friend at 8 years of age has different memories, different behavior, different reactions to stimuli than your 25-year-old friend. Is there any set of tests, quantitative or even qualitative, that you could administer to his 8-year-old self, that would yield the same result if you administered it to his 25-year-old self?

Is the 8-year-old version of your friend, then, a different person? If so, when are we ever "the same person," if we are constantly gaining new memories, and being shaped by our experiences? Are we just a continuum of ever-changing selves that travel in time, shedding our previous incarnations at every infinitesimal moment, forever destined to being ourselves for only an instant?

Ok, I think I just wore out my keyboard's question mark: now it's time to hear your thoughts on this matter (knowing full well, of course, that once you reply you'll be a different person than when you started writing). :-D

New term: "Str8jacket"

2005-08-24T21:16:00.002-05:00

In my never-ending quest to coin a phrase (see my previous, and seemingly failed, attempt at coining the term "booger argument"), here I come again (like Whitesnake, but with less drug-induced brain damage) to introduce the term:

str8jacket: n. self-imposed constraint that prevents heterosexual men from showing emotion, feelings for anything other than sports, or affinity towards cleanliness or fashion

Case in point: the straight-man hug. Have you ever seen two heterosexual guys hug? It's a delicious exercise in awkwardness and unintentional entertainment factor. The chests, if they touch, must be separated by the arm they keep in front of themselves; the pelvis juts out to prevent any kind of potentially sexual groin-area contact; the arm on the other guy's back must never hold tight, but only pat the back in a pattern that, if you listen closely, seems to be Morse code for "I like poon-tang."

Another good example is the organic impossibility of straight men of admitting they find other guys attractive because if they did I can only assume they think they'd automatically become rabid pillow-biters and would have to like flavored coffees and listen to Erasure. How is it that gay men can objectively find beauty in women, having grown up, after all, in the same society and having the same "ideals" of beauty reinforced throughout their lives, while straight men are unable to?

At least now there is this concept of "metrosexuality" (whose origin and etymology I find somewhat mysterious), which is some modern men's outlet for expressing their appreciation for cleanliness, fashion and grooming without having people assume that they watch baseball just for the tight uniforms. Metrosexual men have truly broken free of their str8jackets (more likely than not to further confuse most gay men's gaydar)!

Anyhoo, if any of you can think of other examples of men confined to their str8jackets, please post them! :-D

PS. I spelled it "str8jacket" instead of "straightjacket" because:

(a) It's shorter and I'm lazy, damnit
(b) It can be considered "l337" and thus, immediately cooler to geeks, and I'm a geek, damnit
(c) I felt like it, and it's my blog, damnit

Parental twinge

2005-08-15T23:24:00.000-05:00

On my last flight I was seated next to a little boy, around 10 years old, that was evidently travelling alone (he was escorted to his seat by one of the flight attendants). He was wistfully looking out the window, and after a few minutes he started crying quietly. It wasn't the annoying, attention-seeking cry of a spoiled little kid, but rather the mournful, dignified crying of a boy that's old enough to feel shame for crying in public, and yet not old enough to be able to do anything about it. As his big sorrowful eyes welled up with tears, for the first time I felt what can only be described as a parental twinge, this notion that this boy needed taking care of and that I should somehow do just that: I felt this urge to put my arm around him, hold him tight, and tell him everything was going to be all right, or to at least ask him what was wrong.

Of course I did none of those things: the Rafa rooted in reality is as cowardly as he is not destined to be a parent. I glanced at him once in a while, watching him regain his composture, and wanting desperately for him to engage in conversation so I could try to make him feel better. During the flight we did talk a little bit about what he was seeing through the window and about just how many swimming pools people in Orlando have, but after he had calmed down it almost seemed cruel to bring up the subject and ask him why he had been crying. I could not tell if he was sad for someone he was leaving behind, something he was going to have to face after landing, or some deeper sorrow that would have inexorably followed him to the farthest corner of the earth.

After we deplaned, the thing that struck me was that all through the flight, even after he had stopped crying, I never once saw him smile.

A ten-year-old should always be smiling.

Travelling while Puerto Rican

2005-08-15T23:00:00.000-05:00

Having flown to and from Puerto Rico this past weekend, it occurs to me that, as air travellers, we Puerto Ricans have several distinguishing features. I shall try to list some of them:

1. Every member of the family needs to come to the airport to say goodbye -- if the aisles in a Puerto Rican airport seem crowded, it's because 90% of the people there are not travellers, but actually their families and extended families: they will accompany the actual travellers to the security checkpoint and stand there watching until the traveller has completely disappeared from view or landed at his or her destination, whichever occurs first

2. Puerto Ricans never travel light. Ever -- this whole FAA mandate of allowing only one carry-on luggage and one "personal item" clearly doesn't apply to Puerto Ricans: we need 4 bags per person, since we're bringing pasteles and quesitos to no less than five relatives on the mainland

3. Everyone must travel with a baby -- presumably since Hispanics are dead-set on taking over the United States one unwanted teenage pregnancy at a time, all Puerto Ricans must travel with at least one crying baby: note that it doesn't matter if the Puerto Rican in question doesn't even have a baby: it's a little known fact that 90% of kidnappings in the country are a direct result of baby-less Puerto Ricans with an upcoming flight

4. The right time to board the plane is now -- it doesn't matter whether the airline is trying to board the plane by row numbers, or more quaintly, by group numbers: Puerto Ricans will stand up as soon as they start announcing the boarding process and will try (repeatedly if necessary) to board the plane regardless of the section currently being boarded (someone, after all, may take their seat if they don't board right fucking now)

5. Everyone must clap upon landing -- to thank the pilot for not smearing their bodies on the landing strip, Puerto Ricans will clap after the plane has landed (to the embarrassment and chagrin of the younger generations)

All that said, on my last flight this was an older gentleman that made a cellphone call to someone (presumably his daughter or grand-daughter) just because he hadn't been able to properly say good-bye to her, to wish her well and give her his blessing: I found that to also be a typically-Puerto Rican gesture that kind of made me nostalgic for my long-gone grand-parents.

So, did I miss any? :-) I'm sure I did, so post away!

No longer a bastard! Weeeee!

2005-08-15T22:24:00.000-05:00

I went to Puerto Rico this past weekend (just a short Friday-to-Sunday stint) to be at my parents' church wedding (well, technically a vow renewal, as they got married by a justice of the peace 30 years ago). I guess this means I am no longer the Hell-bound bastard fruit of a Godless marriage, yeay! Well, I suppose it's still debatable whether I am still Hell-bound, or a bastard for that matter (feel free to post your opinions on either account). ;-)

The ceremony was nice, short, and just for the handful of close friends and family that attended. The day before the actual wedding, during the rehearsal, the priest roped my sister and me into doing some readings during the ceremony: and I thought I just came to walk Mom down the aisle and eat good food and cake! I guess God moves in mysterious ways (mainly because His representatives on Earth are quite sneaky)!

The funniest part of the ceremony was when the priest read a passage that insinuated that my Mom, over 60 years old, was "fertile soil," which I guess is priest-speak for "barren rocky terrain where not even cacti would grow." I think some of the passages should be tailored to the people being wed (the whole part about raising their children in the Church was particularly laughable: I am sorry to say that that ship has sailed, gotten lost at sea, and eaten by a sea serpent).

The reception was held at our house and I have to say I had a good time, as I got to see many relatives that I barely get to see anymore (the worst of which, in small doses, are still fun to be with). I did get plagued by the same question over and over: "So, when are you getting married?" Ok, let me state this plainly: that is ostensibly the stupidest question ever. Unless I had an actual fiancé, a wedding date, and the law on my side, the inevitable answer to that question is "I don't know": what answer are they actually expecting?

I am used to being asked that question by elderly folk: it seems that after a couple of generation gaps there are really very few topics of conversation that may be broached, from the banal (like the weather) to the horribly personal. I was surprised, however, that I was also asked the same question by other unmarried cousins, some younger, one about my age, and one even slightly older. My staple answer (since with the younger relatives I could afford to be more of my own smart-ass self) was: "Five days after you get married" (hopefully by then they will have forgotten all about it)! It was funny because, since my sister is getting married in December, even the priest had asked me: I felt quite tempted to say: "Well, never, if your Church has anything to say about it!", but visions of fire and brimstone danced in my head and I decided to keep my trap shut.

I also found it curious that whenever an older relative asked and I said, as politely as I could, that I don't know (not being a prescient seer and all), they always seemed a bit embarrassed to have asked and quickly replied that it was all right, that there was no hurry, and that I should just enjoy my bachelorhood (as if I had indicated any discontent in not being married), which leads me to ask why they were so intent in asking in the first place... but what can you do, right? Family: can't live with 'em, can't kill them and bury them in the cellar because there are no cellars in Puerto Rico.

And with that lovely murderous thought, I bid you adieu. :-)

Bad Paragraph! Bad Paragraph!

2005-08-08T18:48:00.000-05:00

I was reading this year's winners of the 2005 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. If you are unfamiliar with this contest, they basically challenge people to write really really bad first paragraphs for a potential novel or short story (apparently Edward George Bulwer-Lytton was the pretentiously-named novelist who gave us that staple of suspense novels, "It was a dark and stormy night"). Many of the paragraphs were indeed very funny, and I particularly liked this entry for the "Vile Puns" category:

Falcon was her name and she was quite the bird of prey, sashaying past her adolescent admirers from one anchor store to another, past the kiosks where earrings longed to lie upon her lobes and sunglasses hoped to nestle on her nose, seemingly the beginning of a beautiful friendship with whomsoever caught the eye of the mall tease, Falcon.

Jay Dardenne
Baton Rouge, LA

I shall now try my hand at this, evoking the spirit of Agatha Christie if she had been a pill-popping crack addict:

The butler served the afternoon tea to Lord Nigel Thurpleton III, and gave him a smile clearly saying "The Butler Did It!" that went unseen, which explains why they found Lord Thurpleton III dead four hours later with a dagger in his heart with a note saying "Go fetch your own damn tea!" written in perfect penmanship.

Can you come up with a bad first paragraph, too? :-)

Murphy reads my blog!

2005-06-02T11:37:00.000-05:00

So, less than a month after my proclamation that all was quiet and all was good, a bomb-shell was dropped that left me once again in singlehood, and after a week of absence from work I also had a couple of pretty stressful and miserable work days. Ok, Murphy, I take it back: all is neither quiet nor good anymore, you win! :-)

I spent a couple of days in an (understandable) funk, but after thinking about it for a bit I realized that I could not see our relationship lasting until our sixties, after having adopted our third Vietnamese baby (Po Dân) and our fourth cat... so it was probably for the best that it ended sooner rather than later (although I was having a lot of fun).

Don't worry, after the initial shock things have been talked out and I'm sure we can still be friends; not being able to see each other anymore would have been much harder to bear.

But, just to be safe, I will never again discuss my personal life on my blog (call me supersticious!). ;-)

All is quiet, all is good...

2005-05-03T21:45:00.000-05:00

You might have wondered, if you are the sort to wonder about such things, why I haven't blogged in about a month.

Well, since you asked (shut up, you did too ask!), I'll tell you: things are good! :-) Things at work are busy but I'm having fun (against all conceivable logic) with the extra responsibility I've been given. Things at home are even better! :-D (If you have problems guessing what I meant by that, you are entirely too naïve to read this blog: go away and read web cartoons or something).

Of course, my guy doesn't read my blog (he apparently took exception to my scathing wine rants, which is a shame because that wasn't my intent and because it's unfathomable how anyone could take anything I say or write to heart): I guess this means I can talk about him all I want and he'll never know, hehe. But I wouldn't do that, of course. ;-)

I guess when something else upsets me enough to rant about, you'll be hearing from me again. I know, I know: "Be still my beating heart," right? Well, try to contain your excitement in the meantime and see you later! :-)

More on the wine rant...

2005-03-08T17:39:00.000-06:00

I forgot to add, amidst all the rantiness of my previous post, that I don't hate wine in and of itself; true, I don't like its taste, but then I'm not ranting against olive juice or some other decidedly repugnant drink I don't like but that other (not-quite-as-sane) people do like.

What I dislike is the cult towards wine in our society, the way something which is nothing more than a drink has been elevated to some élite status, to where it's a symbol of style and sophistication. What's the big deal about wine in particular?

I also hate how it seems impossible to have any kind of "romantic interlude" without involving either wine or champagne (which is nothing more than wine with soda farts floating in it). Who was the pompous lush who decided that for it to be romantic it must involve spoiled grape juice in some form?

So again, my rant is not due to the fact that I personally dislike wine. For instance, I like coffee; however, the way some people talk about coffee (where the beans are from, the way they're ground, the process of making the coffee, the things they add to the coffee), they make it seem as though it's rocket science and makes me want to bash in their heads with a big ceramic mug and then just blame it on a caffeine overdose. It's just coffee, people!

Follow along if you can:

Coffee beans + boiling water = coffee

Just like:

Grape juice + lack of refrigeration = wine

Drink up if you want, wine lovers, but really, get over yourselves!

News break, wine-drinkers: wine's just rancid grape juice!

2005-03-06T23:03:00.000-06:00

I've never quite understood the fascination some people have with wine. If some extraterrestrial came down from the skies from their home planet, Fernobulax Prime, and you had to explain to him what wine was, you'd be hard-pressed to say anything that doesn't boil down to "it's rancid grape juice." Of course, Fernobulaxian's grasp of English is tenuous at best, and they get testy pretty quickly when they try to understand something and cannot, so I'd recommend avoiding this situation altogether.

But I digress. My point is, what's so damn special about spoiled grape juice, where there are people who study wines for a living and make it sound like it's such an important thing, and who come up with annoyingly hoity-toity terms to describe it, such as "earthy" or "fruity" (whereas only one adjective, "rancidy," is actually accurate, even if the word doesn't actually exist).

I guess the answer is that people are sheep. Someone in olden times (where they didn't have refrigeration and drinking rancid juice was just a normal occurrence) decided that this wasn't spoiled grape juice, mais non, Monsieur! (I've decided this person was French, and I defy you to contradict me): this was WINE! Nectar of the Gods! Heavenly ambrosia suckled from Mother Nature's liquor-engorged teats! Succulent spirit that makes you gently caress the face of angels! Rancid grape juice! Sorry, what? Too much truth on that last one? My bad!

The point is that once people got it into their heads that drinking old grape juice was not disgusting, but actually chic, then everybody started doing it to feel cool, to belong to the élite who drinks something they would have thrown out of their fridge if they didn't have a whole culture dedicated to savoring it instead. I mean, really folks: one-month old grape juice? Disgusting and trash-bound! Decades-old grape juice? Delicious and veneration-worthy! Baaaaah!

My question is, why grape juice? Can't you pretty much ferment any juice, make it alcoholic and get it to taste like ass? I will now try to see if I can get enough idiots to start drinking spoiled mango juice: I'll just give it a snobby-sounding French name, such as "manginé," say I've been aging it for decades in barrels made of wood from Noah's Ark, and that instead of tasting "fruity" or "earthy" people should notice it tastes "pious," or "religiousy" (and you'd be surprised how many people would start using those very same adjectives to describe it, too!).

You know what would make my day? If someone came up and announced to the world that this whole wine-drinking thing had been a giant practical joke, cooked up by those feisty Romans thousands of years ago, and that all wines in the world are just Welch's grape juice left out of the fridge for a month. White wine? They just added some water! Rosé wine? They added some water AND some red coloring #11! Yup: you are all ignorant, pompous asses, and nothing more than sheep for declaring which wine went best with which food or which wine should be drunk in what season of the year. It's all spoiled Welch's grape juice, morons! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

What say you? Are there any wine-lovers in the hizzouse? If there are, I must inform you that giving me money is chic and all the cool people are doing it... and you wouldn't want to be "uncool" and not give me money, would you?! ;-)

New term: "The Booger Argument"

2005-03-05T08:33:00.000-06:00

I've always wanted to coin a turn of phrase. I envy the guys who made up the site for "jump the shark" and turned the phrase into a well-known reference being used by people who probably have no idea of its inception.

To wit, I offer up a phrase I invented, which I shall then proceed to explain and give its origin.

Presenting:

booger argument: n. something said during the course of a discussion which is so ridiculous that it is evident it is pointless to continue arguing with that person

I shall now give the etymology of this phrase:

I had caught my sister picking her nose and then happily proceed to bite the nail of the same finger she picked her nose with: I called her on it, and told her that was gross. My sister is loathe to concede defeat, so obviously she started arguing with me, asking me what was the big deal. I pointed out the rather obvious fact that boogers are dirty, and thus she could get sick. She then proceeded to shock me with what will henceforth be known as the booger argument: she said that even though I didn't eat my boogers when I was little and she did, I got a lot more strep throats in my youth and she didn't, so maybe eating boogers boosted her immune system and that's why she didn't get sick so often.

Yes: in order to win an argument, my Cornell-graduate, law-student sister actually advocated the eating of boogers. At that point I just held up my hands and said: "You know what? I can't argue with someone who has said something like that. So you win."

That, my friends, is a booger argument.

Please feel free to look for other "booger arguments" in your daily life, and if you find any, please post a reply to this post and share the wealth! :-)

I wants me some human meat!

2005-02-14T18:47:00.000-06:00

I heard somewhere that a poll of cannibal tribes (and please don't ask me whom you have to piss off to get the job of "Cannibal Tribe Pollster") revealed that human flesh tastes most similar to pork (I would have guessed "chicken," if only for comedic effect, but oh well).

Could this be true? Is that why once a wild animal tastes human flesh it has to be killed, because it always tries to eat more humans? I'm sorry, but I've had ham and bacon, and if we humans taste anything close to bacon, I not only perfectly understand these animals, I must confess I'm kinda curious to try me some human meat!

"Oh, Rafa," you might say, "that's disgusting! How dare you say you'd eat another human being!" Ok, first of all, who the hell are you, and how are you writing directly to my blog?! Second, I never said I'd eat another human being: that's way too much meat for me; I just wanna try me a slice! Plus, I'm on a diet, and judging from the average American, I would get a coronary if I ate an entire human being. So no. Not so much.

Also, I'm sure if I could convince you that the person the meat came from was a total asshole, or at the very least, occassionally rude, your mind would be at ease and you wouldn't feel so bad about your wanton, Godless flesh-eating.

Finally, two words: Atkins Friendly. Need I say more?

If the military ever sells this shit, I'm buying it!

2005-01-22T17:06:00.000-06:00

In keeping with the gay theme of my previous post, I wanted to comment on the following unintentionally hilarious report by CNN mentioning that the US military has rejected a project to develop an aphrodisiac to "spur homosexual activity among enemy troops" (and sadly enough, I didn't even need to make that up). I would call this weapon "the Gay Bomb," partly because I find it very à propos and also because I don't usually get to just coin terms and darn it, it's my blog, so I'm gonna do it! :-)

The report goes on to state that Lt. Col. Barry Venable of the Army, a Defense Department spokesman, said: "This suggestion arose essentially from a brainstorming session, and it was rejected out of hand." Hey, not so fast, Mr. Spokesman! Wait just a tick! Can you imagine the great marketing potential this has?!

I can envision the development of something called "G4Y SPR4Y" (hey, it rhymes, so it must be good!), which can be packaged in small aerosol cans like mace. I can imagine the following exchange:

Gay Guy: [to handsome Straight Guy] Hey, sailor!
Straight Guy: Err... I'm not gay, dude!
Gay Guy: Well, you will be for the next three hours! [sprays Straight Guy in the face] Now, here's your Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt and a pillow to bite on: let's go!

I'm sorry, but if they ever sell this, I'm buying it! ;-)

Spongebob made me gay (retroactively)!

2005-01-20T21:40:00.000-06:00

There seems to be very few things in this world in which religious nuts (or "Christian Activists," as they call themselves presumably because "Retarded Fucking Morons" was taken) do not see the looming threat of the "gay agenda." Really: it seems gays have nothing better to do than try to turn people's kids gay by luring them with anthropomorphic characters that have no apparent gender and engage in nothing that even remotely ressembles a sexual relationship, homosexual or otherwise!

Proof of Christian activists' obsession is the following CNN article where one of them denounced a cartoon featuring Spongebob Squarepants, Barney, Winnie the Pooh, the Rugrats, and other children's characters, which was conceived to impart the concept of understanding people's differences, as a thinly-veiled attempt to promote "celebrating homosexuality."

I don't know, but unless Winnie the Pooh was frenching Eeyore behind a tree or Spongebob was giving a dirty Sánchez to Barney, I find it hard to believe anyone would see any gay subtext in a children's video! Unless, of course, they were raging closet fags.

Why is it that these "Christian groups" have to proclaim their Christianity in their names? Maybe it's because if they didn't, judging them solely on their actions and attitudes no one would know they're Christian! If their behavior is to be taken as becoming of their faith, it seems the answer to the age-old question "What would Jesus do?" is "Act like an intolerant, hateful prick." Who knew? They must have read their own Bible, titled "Jesus Loves Everyone (Except The Gays)," or perhaps "If You Are A Religous Nut, Feel Free To Judge Others."

My favorite part is that Jerry Falwell not only "outed" the purple Teletubbie, Tinky Winky, but went further and declared him "a gay role model." Really? Is the gay ideal to be purple, have weird antennae, carry around a purse, and have no penis? Sorry, but that hardly seems like any fun!

Yes, Céline, a baby burst forth from your poonany: get over it!

2005-01-05T13:51:00.000-06:00

I'd like to know why is it that every artist that has a baby suddenly feels that something mystical and magical has occurred, and feel compelled to talk about it obsessively. The "miracle of life" happens countless times a day, every day: I don't know about you, but I prefer my miracles to occur more sparingly, like someone walking on water, seeing the image of the Virgin on a grilled cheese sandwich, or the Red Sox winning the World Series.

One of the latest such artists (or artistes, as it has previously been explained by my friend César in this post) is the English-as-a-second-language Céline Dion. It seems Céline was impregnated by a man's seed, and 9 months later, c'est un miracle!, a baby came out of her vagina. She has now written a CD about it (festooning it with a creepy collage of baby pictures), and recently even published a book (demurely titled "Miracle: A Celebration of New Life") full of pictures of her and the baby in several gag-inducing poses. This, for your enjoyment, is the book's cover:

Really, Céline: if we all sign an affidavit stating that your baby is the most precious baby in the world, and that its conception and birth were the most miraculous occurrences in the modern world, will you stop writing songs about your baby and force-feeding us pictures of him? If so, I know a lawyer and I'm sure he'd gladly draw up all the necessary papers!

When did this turn into a nation of pussies? (Part II)

2005-01-05T13:23:00.000-06:00

In my last rant, I said:

I'm sorry, but I couldn't sit in silence any longer: when did the United States turn into a nation of crybabies and pussies? I am talking, in case you've been living under a rock for the last few years, about the recent fanatical political correctness craze that seems to be plaguing our country.

I used to think that in a democracy, where people have freedom of expression, citizens should be able to, you know... freely express themselves. Silly me! It seems you can only express yourself if what you're saying doesn't offend some constituency with political or economical clout behind it.

For instance, the show Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher, where controversial topics were discussed in a frank manner, was cancelled after Bill Maher made a comment stating that he was tired of the 9/11 terrorists being called "cowardly," since he thought it took courage to get into a plane with the purpose of crashing it into a building and killing yourself in the process, and that in fact it was more cowardly to go into a war where you could just push some buttons and bomb far away targets without getting yourself in danger (I am, of course, paraphrasing from memory, but that was the gist of it).

While I think most rational people would be able to see at least some logic in that statement, in any case the remedy is simple if you disagree with Bill Maher: change the fucking channel! It only takes one push of a button (or turn of the dial, if your TV set is ancient) to change the channel and vow to never see that show again (to which I would say: "Why in God's name were you watching a show called Politically Incorrect if you did not want to hear politically incorrect statements, you idiot?!").

But no, this wasn't enough for some über-sensitive individuals: they made a stink about it, called the show's sponsors, made a big issue out of it, until some sponsors decided to bow to the pressure and state they were no longer going to advertise themselves during the show (and thus hurt it financially); the show was eventually cancelled.

I cannot fathom how people that say they love democracy and the freedoms it provides its citizens could do something like this; it's as though they're saying that people can freely express themselves as long as what they're expressing is exactly what they themselves feel. In my opinion, "freedom of expression" is only significant if it means you tolerate the existence of opinions different from your own; if everyone thought the same way, what would be the big deal? True freedom of expression is, and should be, hard for all of us; if it were easy, it wouldn't be worthwhile.

People have a myriad of opportunities to be good Americans and demonstrate their love for democracy, but squander them by acting this way, like overly-sensitive babies crying because their feelings were hurt and trying to impose their sensibilities on the general population. Sure, the advertisers that withdrew their support of the show had every right to do so: it's their money and they can choose to support whichever shows they like; sure, these angered viewers had every right to express their disapproval of the show to its sponsors... but why go through all that trouble, if it was just easier to change the channel, and more democratic to let opinions different from their own coexist with theirs?

Now, feel free to express your opinion on this matter... :-)

When did this turn into a nation of pussies? (Part I)

2005-01-05T13:20:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry, but I couldn't sit in silence any longer: when did the United States turn into a nation of crybabies and pussies? I am talking, in case you've been living under a rock for the last few years, about the recent fanatical political correctness craze that seems to be plaguing our country.

Case in point: Janet Jackson's black booby. Who, exactly, can be that offended by a booby? Boobies nourish us when we are little, and for many it's also the source of entertainment during adulthood. True, they usually are not wearing sun-shaped metallic pasties, as Janet's was, but still, what's the big deal?

The truth is, in this country, sexuality and profanity are vilified while violence is seen as commonplace; we can see Rambo (I to III, take your pick!) or any gory horror film in our TV sets, or see horrible violent images during the 6 o'clock news, but perish the thought of a naked breast or even the slightest hint of a penis tarnishing the screen! For most of us, seeing someone being beheaded, shot, or otherwise killed, is not part of our daily lives, or, if we're lucky, not part of our lives at all. However, sexuality, nudity and profanity make up a part of almost everyone's lives; more likely than not, you either have a penis or will get to see one within your lifetime (unless you're an uggo); you either have breasts or will get to see some within your lifetime (unless you're an engineer).

So why is it that it's OK to see violence and gore on TV, but not sexuality and nudity? And don't get me wrong, guys, I'm not arguing against having violence on TV: our parents grew up watching shows and movies where cowboys slaughtered indians for less-than-noble purposes, and few of them are out there making bloodbaths in reservation casinos.

I'd like to hear your thoughts on this... make me proud. :-)

I'm all for PETA: People for Eating Tasty Animals

2004-11-21T13:33:00.000-06:00

I likes me some meat. I won't deny it, and I won't apologize for it. I don't necessarily feel animals should be flogged just for fun; they do have a place in my heart, but also in my belly.

Some strict vegetarians make it sound like theirs is more than a dietary choice, but rather a transcendental way of life. They won't eat "anything with a face," yet have no trouble eating a head of lettuce! ;-)

There's also the concern of eating animals that some people consider pets (like pigs, rabbits, horses, dogs, etc.) Why should I stop enjoying a little gerbil fricasé just because some idiotic 5-year-old seems to like to keep gerbils as pets? It's not like I'm eating my pet, anyway (not that I'd be necessarily adverse to the notion; Fido is looking rather scrumptious lately, and that cough of his doesn't seem to be going away...)

But I digress! I propose that the only way it somehow seems "better" to eat plants instead of animals is because we can't hear them scream. Really! People would be less gung-ho about eating salad if we discovered that whenever you crunch on a leaf of lettuce it's actually yelling: "FOR THE LOVE OF IVY, STOP CRUSHING MY BODY WITH YOUR TEETH!!!" [Note: "Ivy" is the God of the plants, revered because no one seems to like to eat it; it is also noteworthy that lettuce is surprisingly fluent in English].

Let's face it: we humans are meat-eaters. And it works out like that for a reason: we're nasty motherfuckers and Mother Nature wants us out of the planet pronto! Think about it: some plants can live for decades, nourishing themselves with the soil and crapping into the air (it's crapping if you think about it, really); they harm no one. Then come the herbivores, who are animals that last a long time because all they do is eat plants which taste like ass, but which do not raise their cholesterol level or clog their arteries; they can last a long time since they only eat plants, which can re-grow in just a few weeks.

And then there's us, evil, resource-depleting, nuclear-bomb-building, murdering, environment-destroying humans, devouring animals that took decades of nutritional resources to grow... obviously we can't stay around too fucking long, or we'll eat Mother Nature out of house and home! So, we have a penchant for fatty meats, our cholesterol rises, our arteries get clogged, and we die at 40 while having a torrid extra-marital affair with a Vietnamese hooker named Bambi Nguyen who charges $5 for suckee suckee.

So, it all works out: we humans eat meat, die soon, and don't detonate that WMD some maniac may or may not have stored somewhere, and the planet lives to see another day.

Do your part, fellow hoo-man: EAT MEAT! :-)