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Hyperion March 31, 2003

The Hyperion Chronicles

“Now with dominion over everything that is totally sweet”

#107 Potpourri, Volume XV

Wearing a flag is the new red ribbon…
I find strange and somewhat bewildering the process of jingoism (super intense patriotism). With war on, I can understand it a little more, but things have gotten out of hand. I saw this King of the Hill, an animated program about a Texas family, where the main character Hank Hill goes into major depression when he finds out that not only was he not born in the great state of Texas, but he was actually born in New York City (NEW YORK CITY! GET A ROPE!) This is catching on, it seems. On a recent trip to Ohio, I couldn’t help but notice how all the license plates read “Birthplace of Aviation.” Now, I’m sure Ohio has many things of which to be proud (I can’t think of any at the moment, but I’m sure they are there), but everyone knows aviation started in Japan in 4,500,000,000 B.C., when ninjas learned to fly and God gave them dominion over everything that is totally sweet.

But now I think I’ve seen everything. I ran across a Miss Universe web site the other day while researching a book on the globalization of world cultures and…um…oh, never mind; even I can’t pull that one off. I was just there, okay? Anyway, there are lots of great features, from learning about the history of the pageant to interviews with the contestants, but none of these items were going to improve the quality of my screen saver, so I spent most of my time in the picture section. (You can check it out for yourself here:

The pictures were very interesting. Each girl was shown in three poses: an evening dress, a black swimsuit, and a “national” costume. The dresses were a mixed bag, but most every woman looked fantastic in a black bikini, which just goes to strengthen my Hyperionic Code #156: Every women should be in a black bikini as often as possible. (Can I get an Amen? C’mon, where are my people?)

The real funny stuff, though, were the national costumes. They were, to a woman, howlers. I was laughing hysterically. Folks, if you needed proof that Liberace is alive and well, and working along with drunken fashion gnomes in the Miss Universe Pageant, you need look no further than this set of pictures, and I use that term loosely. With enough plumes, feathers, and giant peacock fans to keep San Francisco happy for decades, these poor girls were dressed for the cotillion from hell. Being American (and because there was no Icelandic girl), I went to the United States. This is the ultra-patriotism I was talking about (you’d thought I’d forgotten the point with all the talk of bikinis, huh?). The “national” costume for America was…a New York fire-fighter outfit. I’m not kidding. Now, I realize this was the 2002 pageant, and it took place only a few months after 9/11, but can someone say Tacky? Or, as my brother Achmed used to say, “That deserves a 9 syllable shallow: SHA-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-LOW.”

It still beats myrrh…
Speaking of ninjas, hysterically funny things, and my brother, Achmed sent me a website: I encourage you to check it out. It’s dedicated to the totally cool art of being a ninja. For those who don’t know, a ninja is, according to the website, a mammal, who spends his time flying, stabbing, flipping out, and “knocking people’s heads off and not even thinking twice about it.” Ostensibly written by a ten year old, the site is supposed to be a gag. And what a gag! I was laughing so hard I almost became incontinent on several occasions. What’s even funnier is that apparently there are quite a few people out there who take this seriously, and wrote in to complain. Be sure to check out the hate mail. (Although be warned some of the hate mail uses a little bit of bad language, but you’ll be laughing so hard you probably won’t mind). Perhaps the funniest thing, however, is the Timeline, which besides explaining when Ninjas were given dominion over everything totally sweet, tells us that in 0 A.D., the 3 Wise Ninjas visited baby Jesus, and imparted upon him ninja stars, a guitar, and a hot babe.

Another mattress tag dilemma

In Immanuel Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals he articulates the ethic of “if something is right, it is right all of the time.” Very few people practice this in every day use, but the logic is compelling. If we do wrong once and justify it by circumstances, then we have to allow that others can do this if need be. At that point, who is to say when a rule can be broken, a sin committed? Case in point: my mother once had a plane ticket that needed my signature to be valid, but there was no way for me to sign it; then we wouldn’t need the plane ticket. Now, I verbally told her to sign it and had full knowledge, but when that ticket was turned in the fact remained that there was a deception committed. Now, I think there is a world of difference between this and say, lying to Congress, but morally how can I condemn someone else for lying on anything when I participated in a lie myself, and would do so again? You see what Kant was getting at. Only when a rule is followed absolutely can it be truly valid. Of course, try to explain this to your girlfriend or wife: see how far you get.

But I still wouldn’t call her a heifer…

My friend Q-Dog told me that he was talking about his wife Teela to this Sudanese man. Back in the Sudan, they still have a dowry system, and the Sudanese man told Q that if Teela had been his daughter, he’d have charged 40 cows for her. Now, I am willing to bet that’s what every gal is just waiting to hear: that she’s a 40-cow woman. Go home tonight and tell your significant other that. But just in case, you might want to say it in French, because everything sounds sexier in French: une femme de quarante vaches.

Does anyone else think something’s up with Marcy and Peppermint Patty?

Do you have any comics you hate? Besides the soap opera ones I’ve trashed in the past, I hate Family Circus. That man hasn’t had a new idea in a decade, and I think we’re all impatient for Dolly to…develop, if you know what I mean. I’m reminded of a movie I saw, where the character laments reading the comics, and coming to Circus: “It’s always there, in the lower right hand corner, just waiting to suck.” For my friend Laureate, it’s Peanuts. He told me the last few years he found the strip pointless and completely random. I told him it’s a good thing Charles Schultz was dead, or Laureate would be killing him. Laureate responded that he thought Schultz’s dying was a last-gasp effort for sympathy for the comic strip. Ouch. At least I still like it when little Billy takes over for his dad.

It’s a good thing I said Hi…

Your not-so-humble writer is a happier man this week, because he is now on a quicker Internet plan than dial-up. While still not to the T-1 level of you office sheep, I have Cable Internet service, and life is good. I had a few snags getting it in, though. At first I called to get an appointment, and the lady tried to talk me out of the high speed and into the Light speed. I’m thinking to myself that nothing is faster than the speed of light (except Superman), so that must be a good thing. Alas, though, I couldn’t afford it. Which was lucky, because when my cooler-than-life cable guy showed up, he explained to me that light-speed was actually lite-speed, and much slower. Those haters at the cable company almost got me! My cable guy was also cool because his first and last names were both Scottish, even though he was clearly not. I tell you people, I am definitely in favor of getting to the day when names don’t have a connotation beyond that they are ours.

Speaking of which…

I heard Pat Robertson say the reason 9/11 happened is that God removed his hand of protection from America because of its immoral behavior. I know how most Muslims feel, reviled that they are associated with sick terrorists killing in God's name. That's how I feel. It turns my stomach to have such a bigot use the name of Christ to defend his views. That is why, in the spirit of being more like the cable guy and less like Pat Robertson, I am officially giving up my white status. It’s just time: I’m already so cool and deck I hardly have any white blood in me at all, but I am now going all the way. I refuse to classify myself as a color anymore (with the possible exception of Periwinkle, should that ever be a choice), because as my friend Jerrica pointed out, colors are stupid anyway. No one is actually black or white or red or yellow. From this day on, I’m just me. And that’s enough for anybody.

That’s all for now. Don’t shoot ‘till you see that whites…


March 30, 2003


Thanks to Achmed for the great web site

Thanks to Q-Doggie for the great story

Thanks to Teela for being worth 40 cows

Thanks to Laureate for sharing his bizarre hatred of Peanuts

Thanks to the Scottish Cable Guy for hooking me up

Thanks to Pat Robertson for giving me material and a push toward non-whitedom

Thanks to Jerrica for pointing out how stupid color labels are

Thanks to Tufloi for editing


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