Tag Archives: Humor

iChat Tagline Wars

I’m outing two Addison Road regulars here, including our respected founder.

Everyone’s familiar with iChat, right? Oh, just the cool kids? Ok. Great. For the rest of you, iChat is the mac native version of AOL Instant Messenger, but.. well… you know… much better.

One of the things that has become a mainstay for people who operate much of their life online is the all important status message. It’s a little text window just below your name that tells people how you’re feeling, what you’re doing, or if you’re not there. When you sign onto the program, you get your buddy list, complete with their status lights, (green or red) and you have a pretty good idea about with whom you might or might not chat.

Many of mine are my favorite movie quotes, like, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” or, “NOBODY STEPS ON A CHURCH IN MY TOWN!” Currently, it’s set to, “I’m blogging about you right now.”

Well, this past Sunday, as I engaged in my 2nd service ritual of taking a moment to catch my breath in my office during the message, (which, music pastors of the world, is only acceptable if you’ve sat for the first one… I feel very strongly about this) and I noticed that Matty’s status indicator was green and read: “I hate you. You know who you are.”

Now, perhaps it’s just that I’m in the headspace that I’m in, but my first thought was, “Is it me?” So, of course, I typed that.

“No,” the bubble says, “You’d know.”

LOL. I can hear the preacher winding down and I sign off.

Flash forward to today (Tuesday), and his status message is the same. Now, again, perhaps it’s just where I’m at, but again I start to wonder… “Wow. I wonder if Matt had some client that screwed him out of money or something. I hope everything’s alright…” I hit him again.

“So who do you hate?”

“Mike Lee. He knows why.”

The all important other-person-is-typing indicator flashes onto the screen and then the bubble that represents a person whom I have known half of my life and lived with longer then anyone outside my wife or family says…

“His tagline read, ‘Dance monkey dance,’ so I changed mine to, ‘I’m not your monkey,’ and then I came back to work and his read, ‘Matt is my monkey,’ and well… it all sort of went downhill from there.”

I had walked headfirst into a tagline war.

Ladies and gentlemen, between them, Mike and Matty are respectable, upstanding members of society. They both earn good livings doing things are legal and that they enjoy and at which they are talented. They are each married, and have 3.3 children between them. They also have been engaged in an alpha-male feces-slinging contest since the moment they laid eyes upon one another about a decade ago. It’s a brave new world, but some things never change.

I love my friends.

Since we’ve gotten all personal this week, I’ll take it a step further. I’m on AOL instant messenger like… all the time. chadapu is my screen name. Yes, that screen name dates all the way back to college, when the tubes were new. And smaller.

Put me on your buddy list, if you like. I know that there are about a hundred people who read this blog via feedburner, and I know we don’t have that many friends. I’d be very interested to know who you are, and where you’re from, and why you like hanging out here. Feel free to interrupt my day. If I can, I’ll get all chatty.

Maybe someday we’ll have a tagline war.

911 Emergency!

bk-girl.png

Burger King jacks up your order, and can’t seem to get the replacement right. Do you 1) get your money back and go to another restaurant, 2) call Burger King’s customer complaint line, and maybe get a letter of apology along with a gift certificate for free fries, or 3) call 911, insist that they send a police officer down to force the manager to make the right burger at gunpoint.

(hint: the incident takes place in South Orange County)

W.W.J.D?

“W.W.J.D.”

Seriously. What would Jesus drive?

Every day, I see about five or six bumper stickers asking this exact question. I had no idea that Christians were so concerned with the Son of God’s chosen form of automotive transportation! Let’s see if I can figure out, just What Jesus Would Drive…?

SUV: Well, he could certainly carry all of his apostles in one vehicle with a big-ol’ SUV. I imagine for that he would choose the Hummer H2. The last time I checked, the H2 has 27 bench seats, a stadium theater with Dolby Surround, a jacuzzi, and a fully-equipped bathroom. Talk about travellin’ in style! Sandals and wooden carts be damned, the J-Man could haul his power boat (and all the honey’s) to the lake every weekend! And with that V-24 powerplant, he could leave the A/C on while truckin’ up the grapevine! But wait just a OPEC-Luvin’ minute – what about the gas mileage? The H2 doesn’t “get bad gas mileage”, as so many people think. Form the Hummer PR Campaign, the correct term is: “The Hummer H2 destroys everything in it’s path to move itself down the road. Gas Mileage is not our concern. This vehicle is designed to murder the environment, and any liberals who get in it’s path.” This vehicle actually drills for oil while it drives, eliminating the need to fill up the 40,000 gallon tank! That’s right, it actually drills and refines it’s own oil while it drives, leaving a trail of destroyed habitats in it’s wake. But there’s one thing I think Capt. Christ wouldn’t dig on: This thing is wasteful. The apostles only want to go to the club one, maybe two nights a week. For the other days of holy errand running, the H2 is just a waste of precious resources. Maybe something environmentally friendly, or at least socially acceptable….
Hybrid: Now we’re talking. 45 miles per gallon and a smaller ecological footprint. Envious stares from others at the gas stations would be awesome. Jesus would tell everyone what his gas mileage is every week. Whenever anyone says, “Man, the gas prices are just killing me!”, Jesus can say, “Listen, my son. My Prius averages more than 40 miles per gallon. It may not be much for the ladies to drool over, but it leaves me with more cash to buy that Pioneer 60″ Plasma. Know what I’m sayin’?” Heck, Jesus could use the carpool lane BY HIMSELF! That’s right. In California, hybrid vehicles are allowed single-occupant carpool access. No more waiting for the traffic on the 170 to move, just to get on the 118. He can zip by at a top speed of (maybe) 70 miles per hour, downhill, of course. But as we all know, even the carpool lane can get backed up with traffic. Because not everyone is smug enough for a hybrid…
So, what would be the perfect vehicle for Jesus? The answer:

A motorcycle. “Wha???” you say? Let me explain…

A motorcycle is built to do one thing: Carry and individual to their destination. No gadgets, no traffic, no compromising junk. 50 miles per gallon average, and style to boot. Jesus can make it to every appointment on-time and invigorated. He can split lanes on the 405 with ease. He can fill up the tank for a paltry ten bucks. On Sundays, he can do what I do – attend church in Malibu Canyon. Personally, I’ve never felt closer to God than I do every Sunday in Mullholland Canyon. Dragging one’s knee on the ground while cornering at 60 miles per hour requires faith. (And skill, and leathers, and knee-pucks, and a few loose screws.) There’s no windshield or airbags (or doors) to separate Jesus from the people. He can wave and give high-fives to anyone he pleases. He can park just about anywhere. With a motorcycle, he’ll never have to pay to park in a parking garage ever again! He can just go around the gate! All in all, I think the reasons are too solid to ignore:

J.W.R.A.M.

Jesus Would Ride A Motorcycle

Phreaky Phriday: Clash of the Skin-Tite Gospels

Everybody remember our friend Carla Rolfe, from EmergentNo, the one who’s pretty sure that we’re all going to hell because we’re not pre-millenial dispensational, truly reformed inerrantists? Well, apparently, she’s trying to raise some scratch for her fancy web-site thingy, and she’s doing it by selling skin-tight camisoles with the 5 “Solas” emblazoned across the bossomly area. Seriously. Go buy yours today. (Anybody wanna custom one for me that ends with “Sola Hot!”

Picture 1-21

Let it never be said that we younger folks don’t learn at the feet of our elders. Stephanie Woodward at Oh Me of Little Faith has posted the first in her new line of designer jeans for emergents:

I know what somebody’s getting for Mother’s day!

Why You’re Not My Favorite Student

Yes, I do have favorites, and no, you’re not one of them. This is why:

1) You ask bad questions. You ask questions designed to make you look smart, not to advance your understanding. You ask questions that have nothing to do with the subject at hand, simply to let other students know that you’ve already mastered these petty concepts, and are ready for something more challenging. You use big words that you learned just this morning, because you think it projects intelligence. It doesn’t. It makes you look like a pretentious jack-ass. I’m not smiling because I think you’re smart; I’m smiling because you just used that word wrong.

2) You are lazy. You ask me things that you could find by reading the syllabus. You turn in assignments with spelling errors. You leave out those segments of the project that are designed to make my life easier. You do this because you survey the world with lazy arrogance, and assume that the 3 minutes it would take you to format the project correctly are more valuable than the extra hour it takes me to grade 60 projects that ignore the formatting. You email me to ask for special treatment to accommodate your uniquely difficult circumstances, which look amazingly similar to the difficult circumstances of every other first year student at a University.

3) Your knowledge is bounded by your bigotry. I get it. You’re indie. You hate everything that reeks of formalism and conformity. You like bands with names like “The Decemberists” and “A3”, but you will immediately stop liking them as soon as you hear that I know they exist. Every time I give you an assignment like writing 4 part choral harmony, or programming a funk drum part, you have to protect your indie cred by informing the entire class that this type of music sucks, and that you don’t need to learn how to do this, because your own unique artistic voice will always only consist of poorly played guitar riffs layered 50 times and washed out in reverb. Two things: first, the fact that you think Coltrane sucks does not, in fact, make Coltrane suck. It makes you a narcissist with a myopic range of cultural influences, which is basically the exact opposite of people I like. The second thing is this. Your parents are spending $30,000 a year to send you to this school, where you chose to study music in a formalized setting, from people who make their living in this industry, and where a significant portion of your education will come from imitating the artistic masters who came before you. I don’t know what indie cred is, but I’m pretty sure that you lost all of it when you chose this path. Wanna be indie? Drop out, move to Silverlake, rent a room from a cross-dressing coffee shop owner, work at an organic grocery co-op in NoHo for minimum wage, and practice your instrument 9 hours a day. If you want to be the thing, be the thing, don’t just wear the clothes.

4) You only care about your grade in the last two weeks of the class. Here’s the thing. If you don’t care about grades, and just want to drift in and out of class to absorb the knowledge when it suits your whim, I can respect that. I honestly don’t mind it. But if that’s your mode, don’t come to me two weeks before the final and ask what you can do to raise your grade up from an “F” to a “B”, so that you won’t lose your scholarship. The answer is nothing. There’s nothing you can do. I’m not going to grade 15 projects that you turn in on the last day of the semester for late credit, and there aren’t enough points in the final to move your grade that much. I do sometimes allow students extra-credit assignments, but I reserve it for students who have worked their asses off all semester long, and need 1 or 2 percentage points to bump up to the next grade. I like students like that. I don’t like students like you. If getting an “F” in my class means you lose your scholarship, there’s a damn good chance that you shouldn’t be here on scholarship.

5) You assume that your approval is important to me. It isn’t. I don’t need your approval, or encouragement, I don’t need to be hip in your eyes, I don’t live or die by how you rank me on www.ratemyprofessor.com. I couldn’t care less what you think of me: I have friends for that. When your response to my policies, assignments, teaching method, whatever, is “that’s so uncool”, I silently laugh inside at the idea that you think I might care. I’m 30. I teach at a University. I’m a dad. I listen to Jazz. I’ve played keyboards on songs for Radio Disney. I’m the opposite of cool. And guess what? I’m at peace with it. My job isn’t to make you like me. In fact, sometimes my job goes better when you don’t like me. Sometimes, there are students who get that, and they respect it, and we end up being friends after they graduate. I think that’s cool.

Please, be assured that none of this will affect how I teach you. I’m quite adept at swallowing my own bile and doing unpleasant tasks. I also realize that sometimes, my least favorite students end up maturing nicely, and actually become decent human beings. Here’s to hope.

Until then, please stop IM’ing me at 2:30 in the morning to ask when the next project is due. It’s due tomorrow. And no, you can’t turn it in late.