Witz Pickz: Soy Milk, His Balls Where They Currently Reside, and the Potential or Nonexistent Power of Oregano

It appears the comments and my readership has dropped off dramatically with the beginning of summer, and I can't say I've done much to fight it. But today is TUESDAY! And with TUESDAYS come VAST LEAPS OF SUCCESS AND PROACTIVITY! Mondays...not so much. Wednesdays through fridays? Not at all. Saturday and Sunday? Why even ask! No, TUESDAYS are really the days where stuff gets done. It's like it says in the fake, imaginary, always shifting Bible,

"On the first day, God thought about what to do. On the second day, God did as much as he could do while also downloading and watching Showtime television shows (even God wasn't gonna pay for showtime). The rest of the week God found reasons why his other ideas weren't actually that good, like making humans breath underwater, and resistant to fire. He also decided that other people would probably take care of some stuff better than he could, so he let the Japanese invent the SARS mask and Mario Cart 4. THEN...he spaced out a little. When Saturday came, he woke up early in the hopes of doing SO MUCH WITH HIS DAY-- but then he invented Saturday Morning Cartoons, and the Saturday Afternoon Movie, and suddently it was nighttime, and he had kind of a headache. He arose on Sunday, the seventh day of the Lord, and thought, "I ought to do something with my day. Get some work done." But then he remembered that it was Sunday, and Sunday was the day of rest. So he started drinking early, and took a nap from 2-6pm."

So you see that Tuesdays are the day things get done. Here are some posts and being Tuesday, you really ought to comment (although comment kudos go to A-Money for stepping up big in the last few weeks with his comments).

Soy Milk: A curious string of circumstances led to my purchasing a small Trader Joe's box of Soy Milk last week. I never trusted the stuff, but decided I would have some with my cereal. And you know what? IT'S GREAT! Mixed with some cereal, I can't tell the difference from regular milk, which is more expensive, apparently creates more mucus when you're sick (or allthe time?), and goes bad really easily. So I've been using it. This does, however, raise the problem that when it finally does go bad, I will have absolutely no idea! Never having experienced curdled Soy Milk, I won't know until it's too late that I have started consuming an expired product. This, some refer to as, "the spice of life," but which I simply refer to as, "Gross." As for what the hell soy milk is or how healthy or awful for you it is, checkout this blog with all types of stuff I don't understand: SOY MILK!

My Balls Where They Currently Are: I don't even know how to discuss this story. I read about it HERE, but there are articles all over the net. Basically, in Liverpool, UK, a man and woman who were in an open relationship, got into an argument at a party, and she "pulled hard" on his testicles. Here's his response: “That caused my underpants to come off and I found I was completely naked and in excruciating pain.” The pain was due to the fact that she RIPPED OFF HIS BALLS! Apparently she, "tried to swallow the testicle, before spitting it out. She maintains, 'I am in no way a violent person.'" AHHHHHHH. Couple things here. First, I'm a bit confused about how she ripped off his underpants/balls without pants being involved in the equation-- I mean, they were at a party with some friends. Second, she tried to eat the testicle, but then wasn't able to and handed it back to him saying, "This is yours." That's pretty hardcore, but do you think she failed at eating the testicle because she realized that SHE WAS EATING A TESTICLE??? That's my theory. Finally, this begs for a band to name themselves Detachable Balls. or Nuts On the Loose. or ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Testicles. I'm gonna go throw up now.

The Potential Power of Oregano: While being sick for almost three weeks, my Mom did a lot of research online once all the obvious solutions failed. I was taking these Good Immune System pills which smelled and tasted ike garlic, black olives, and chemicals, and needed something else. What did she find? OREGANO! Apparently, wild oregano has incredibly potent healing potential. The oil in wild oregano was used in lab tests with various bacteria and viruses, and within 20 minutes, most of the bacteria and viruses were dead (though due to the oregano oil or boredom is unclear-- I also don't know if bacteria and viruses simply die after 15 minutes in a pietri dish). Wild Oregano is far more potent than commercial oregano (they'd have me believe), and so I spotted up the thirty bucks for a bottle of OregaMax (of the Oreganol) family, and started taking them. They call for 2...OR MORE (shrug, whatever you feel like) per day, and unlike the "Toppings HodgePodge" of the Immune Health pills, these smell exactly like pizza and are DELICIOUS! So I've been taking them, and now I am "healthy." Oregano. Who knew. Or who knows....if it's even effective at all....

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Creepy Factions of Pop-Culture

Apparently I've been either in a good mood or haven't wanted to accrue any negative karma recently, because it's been a while since I "DIDN'T Pick" anything. So here to kick off the week are some things Witz DOESN'T Pick:

Hilarious Bathroom Stories: I'm not saying that I watched "The View" while I was sick, but I somehow saw Steve Carrell and Wanda Sykes on the program and then saw this little bit: "Do you have pictures of your child getting all wrapped up in toilet paper? How about doing funny things in the bathtub? We want your hilarious bathroom stories and photogaphs!" WHAT??? So many problems here. For starters, what the hell is The View thinking? Have they lost their minds? Is that the usual level of quality? Maybe I'm crazy, but isn't the only difference between child pornography and hilarious bathroom photos the "creepy basement" aspect? Oh, but there are other problems. A) Nothing in my bathroom experience has ever been HILARIOUS. Confusing? Sure. Disturbing? Of course. Borderline disastrous? On occasion-- like this one time in elementary school when I had a bad case of the flu, and was sitting there while holding a trash can to throw up in, and had such a high fever that I PASSED OUT and slammed my nose against the bathtub, causing my NOSE TO BLEED PROFUSELY, but not negating the first two fun activities (I'm not above telling you a story like this)!! But HILARIOUS? No. I would say not hilarious. B) Why do these hilarious pictures exist? Who is snapping or videographying all these hilarious bathroom moments? But they must exist-- so either someone walked in with a camera just at the right moment, or was there to begin with and told their child to "hold on just a minute" while they acquired a camera in order to traumatize their child later in life. Either way, that's not good parenting. The View is idiots.

Charmin' Ultra Strong Toilet Paper: I truly did not intent there to be a theme when I started this post, but it seems today's post will not win any prizes for "Distinguished Journalism." Having said that, I was shopping the other day and came upon Charmin' Ultra Strong Toilet Paper. Lingually, I object to this product because while Charmin' is pronounced "Sharmin" it's definitely spelled like CH-armin', as in charming. So that's weird. But more specifically, I have a problem with this toilet paper because IT EXISTS. Someone used toilet paper and didn't say, "too soft, too rough, not plied enough, or needs lotion", but said, "NOT STRONG ENOUGH." First imagine the scenario and consequences leading up to that statement. That's a hilarious bathroom story (from our perspective). Now think of the fact that the product exists and what that means. Why would anyone need their toilet paper to be "Ultra Strong?" Ultra. Like-- really strong. Was there an accident involving acid and their ass, thereby creating a craggy sandpaper gorge of resistance? Do they wipe with the fury of a thousand beasts? Or is something else entirely going on here that I just straight up do not understand? Am I the weird guy and everyone else is strong-use normal? Please, please tell me.

This Is How We Do It,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Oats, Boats, Moats, and MORE

Some of you more clever and involved readers might notice that today is Friday. What's more, you might notice that I haven't posted since Monday, which is to say, "In a few days." In the last 3 days, I have driven the monster drive from Seattle to Palo Alto, where I will now live for the next year. In fact, I drove down in one fell swoop, the 13.5 hour Extended DVD version of the Drive (not to be confused with the short lived tv show "Drive" which lasted about 3 episodes and involved lots of driving-- although my drive ALSO involved lots of driving, Nathan Fillion was far less involved, which made it significantly less full of witty banter) which was both glorious and exhausting. But you know what they say, "after the first 12 hours, you really get your second wind and barely notice the last 1.5." How specific a saying! The big news here is simply that I defeated mapquest and google maps. They spoke of a 13.5 hour drive, which I beat by a ten minutes (it was actually 13 hours: 20 minutes here), and included three short breaks for stretching and gas, and one 20 minute opening credits detour through Seattle when the hood of my car popped open (the latch thankfully held) and I had to pull off the highway in order to...well...not die horribly. But now I'm here, alive and well, finally feeling good, and with a bunch of pickz to present to you. Here they are:

Barbara's Shredded Oats: Purchased for $3.23 at Trader Joe's, these little suckers come in a large box and actually taste really really good. I can't explain it, but the texture and taste are perfect, and they're good for you, which is nice. More so, I really enjoy the idea of Barbara sitting at home watching her "stories" and shredding oats into a big pile while yelling, "When will you learn that he won't treat you right!" at the television. Barbara also has the cereal "Puffins", which thankfully, are not shredded.

Boats: and airplanes for that matter. Has it occurred to anyone that we have created vehicles that are able to FLOAT IN WATER AND TRANSPORT PEOPLE ACROSS THE OCEAN and FLY THROUGH THE AIR AT RIDICULOUS SPEEDS??? Because recently those facts occurred to me and blew my mind. What arrogant fools we are! Wilbur and Other Guy Wright (this is the epitome of my education-- I remember about half of all historical and scientific facts, making them mostly useless, but certainly mildly present. I am able to prove that I did, in fact, go to school and know about the Wright Brothers, but would be entirely incapable of holding a legitimate conversation about them. Same goes for, "Oh, I know how to make this bubble up-- just mix baking soda with--.....) were cocky bastards, but I'm sure, if they saw what we do now they'd say, "Oh my, well we didn't mean for you to fly hundreds of people in ENGINE based planes across MASSIVE CONTINENTS! That's a bit much, no?"

Moats: I guess I just like moats a lot because first people built something of worth such as a village or castle. Then other people wanted to go to that place and/or take it over. Then said towns/castlefolk decided they didn't want those other admirers/aggressors in their location, so they BUILT A GIANT HOLE IN THE GROUND AROUND THE ENTIRE THING! And then, after they did that? They FILLED IT WITH WATER! I love it. I just want to see the reaction they got the first time some guy at a meeting brought up:

-Well, what if we build a hole around us? We can use like, a retractable board to come and go.
-What, like, made of balsawood?
-I dunno, oak perhaps?
-That sounds sturdy.
-And what of the porcullis? Can we keep that?
-Of course we can, the porcullis is inexplicably awesome.
-But what of this hole? It sounds difficult.
-Who will dig this hole?
-And won't it be expensive?
-And what if the tide rises?
-.......

And then moats existed.

Some bands to check out:

The Blue Scholars - great hip hop out of Seattle. They have a brand new album, "Bayani" that you can probably get online.

The Blakes - great rock-ish group out of Seattle via a bunch of other cities including LA and Vancouver, BC. New album out now or soon.

Aiden - Goth punk group reminiscent of Alkaline Trio and currently Bayside. These guys have some good stuff worth checking out.

Beirut - I would call this my top musical pick of the bunch. Beirut sounds like a drunken orchestra striding through the streets playing the soundtrack to their own march out of tragedy and depression. The lead singer said that he wanted his vocals to sound like he may or may not be drunk (probably because that was the case), and in a local live radio performance from SXSW, the lead guy is very cool and friendly. Check em out.

Returning With Consistency Soon,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Ichiro Suzuki Quotes

This isn't much, but it's a speck to cover Monday. Did you go back and read Friday's monster post? Did you RE-read it? You probably missed SOMETHING. I mean, your boss entered the area, you got distracted by incoming email, you sneezed and lost track of things. SOMETHING. So go and do that. In the meantime, here's a quote from Ichiro Suzuki, center fielder for the Seattle Mariners:

"To tell the truth, I'm not excited to go to
Cleveland, but we have to. If I ever saw
myself saying I'm excited going to Cleveland,
I'd punch myself in the face, because I'm lying."

There are probably plenty more great Ichiro quotes. Just altavista "Funny Ichiro Quotes"-- er, I mean google it. But that's EXACTLY WHAT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE IF ALTAVISTA WON THE SEARCH ENGINE BATTLE!

Now here's a funny picture:








"Are You Not Entertained?",
Witz

Witz Pickz: One Post to Rule Them All -- An UberPick

When a Witz post kicks it off with a Lord of the Rings reference, you know ish is going down. I've meant to post all week, but various things have kept me from doing so. Thus, I give you the UBERPOST. A post involving so many different things that you will be saited for the entirety of the previous week...or something like that.

In fact, this post will reference so many previous posts that you will be forced to stay on the site for more minutes than ever before, which I will then see on Google Analytics. This will be especially true for you "Google search keyword 'that Lever 2000 song' Boy." And don't think I'm not talking about you, "Person who searched for 'Little pussey' and came up with a story about my tonsils Guy." That's right folks, with Google Analytics, I can see where my hits are coming from, and it turns out I actually get some hits from Google searches. In fact, I can now honestly answer the question, "Witz, do you get a lot of people browsing for porn on your site?" with the answer, "Yes! Not only do I get the ones searching for porn, but I get the ones searching for porn who can't spell correctly!" And really, isn't that the general audience I'm going for? Here's my thinking: If even one person who is searching for "LITTLE pussey" ends up at Witz Pickz instead of the alternative-- then I've done this world a LITTLE good. So I would like to now nominate myself for Humanitarian Website of the Year Award (that phrase might get some google keyword hits). In addition, I'd like to add "The Office, Paris Hilton, Bill Simmons, Tiger Woods, Mulch, Donkey Kong, Mr. Show, Donkey Show, FREE QUIZNOS COUPONS, and The State."

So check it. You know my Substantially Below Average Human Immune System? Well, since quitting my job and being Unemployed (emphatically), I've been sick about 30 out of the 40 days. As you, well informed, consistently curious reader who doesn't jump ship just because Witz has been missing for a day or two weeks, know, I had tonsilitis right after quitting my job which led to Airline Mis-Adventure and ultimately resolved itself around Day 8 or 9 of the Penicillin process. I was then healthy for a bit of my time at home before getting a weird feeling in my throat and nose, and probably tonsils and sinuses. This happened the day before I left to return to the West Coast. Now, this might not have manifested into much of anything if I hadn't then had one of the worst travel days ever.

Flying Continental Airlines, My flight from Hartford to Newark (a 30 minute flight), was delayed from 1:20pm to 4:45pm (we boarded, parked the plane in the far reaches of the airport, then drove back and deboarded about 2 hours later) due to storms approaching vaguely from the west. The plan was therefore to WAIT UNTIL THE STORMS PASSED US. AWESOME. So we waited and eventually got to Newark at 5:25, the time my connecting flight to Seattle was supposed to take off. So I sprint off the plane, hoping for a few minute delay that will allow me to reach to flight and arrive in Seattle on time. No worries, mate, because when I arrive at the DEPARTURES Board, I see that the flight has been DELAYED until 10PM! That'll gimme a few extra minutes to buy some water. Luckily, back in Hartford, they had also booked me on the 8:10 out of Newark in case we missed the connection, so I wouldn't have to wait until 10 PM after all. Phew.

Feeling worse and worse as the day went on, I tried to stay hydrated, but was unable to sleep at all since they refused to delay any flights outright, but only in 15 minute increments. I needed to actually get a ticket for the 8:10 flight, so I couldn't even sleep in between the 5:25 and the 8:10 timeframe, I had to wait until somebody manned the booth so I could jump in line. 7:30pm was the time this happened. So I get in line and talk to the Continental rep who doesn't understand why I would be booked on two flights to the same place, but does look like George Lopez, so I trust him. I explain it several times and finally he gets me a ticket, says the flight WILL leave on time and that my luggage will still be coming in on the 10pm flight. Fine. I don't care. Get me to Seattle.

8:10 comes around and all of a sudden we find out that our flight is ready to go, but.......now before I say this, I need to have you all think of what is important for a plane to have in order to fly anywhere.....think you've got it? Good. Here's what they say, "We're all set here, ready to go, but we don't actually have A PILOT!!!" They don't have anyone to FLY THE PLANE. Oopsies and whatnot. So we wait. Once again, they don't give us hard times, they just say, "We'll have an update in 15 minutes" as if once they find someone they will just have us hop in and take off right away. As 9pm approaches and I hear, "We're currently trying to locate a pilot in the greater NY/NJ area," I decide I'd better beat the rush and head over to the 10pm flight to see if I can get back on with my luggage. I sprint across the airport to the other gate where a much younger, off-the-cuff girl gets me a seat back on the plane with my luggage. She entirely understands my situation, gets me a better seat than I had before, and assures me that the plane HAS A PILOT. Sold.

10pm comes and goes for the 8:10 flight, and we board the 10pm flight anxiously. All night we've been hearing announcements of runway delays of upwards of THREE HOURS from pushback to takeoff. That phrase has become a nightmare for me. Pushback to Takeoff. In a completely unreligious and aetheistic way, I pray to God to get us off the ground and to Seattle. Non-God grants me this wish, and with only a 30 minute runway delay, we take off, make up time in the air (which is always so money. The pilot always says it so cavalier, like he's gonna do us this solid despite Air Traffic warnings, because he's been around a bit and he's not like those other stodgy pilots who brake for pigeons. HE'S...gonna make up some time in the air), and get to Seattle by 1am which of course feels like 4am. by 2am(5am) I get my bags and am home and ready to go to sleep by 6am Standard Body Time. Fun.

For the average human being this wouldn't be a problem. People go without sleep. They just do. It's ok. People "don't feel good" and manage to "heal" because they "have to." Me? I get some vague disease that lasts for ten days straight (fingers crossed, but I'm feeling a lot better today. Not BETTER, but at least more specifically NOT ALRIGHT, instead of the vagueness of THE DISEASE which I have dubbed "Cancaidsabetes-- yes, a theoretical combination of cancer, AIDS, and diabetes. Am I bad person? Yes. Does Cancaidsabetes kinda sound like a breath mint? Yes. Does this mean I don't have it? NO). So that is why my posts have been both very consistent and very sporadic over the last few weeks.

AND NOW FOR A STORY OF VICTORY!

Remember when my teeth were imploding and Asshole Dentists wanted to charge me unholy amounts of money to take care of my Naturally Defunct Teeth? Well, Witz Pickz Dental Victories, readers, because I did what any unemployed, broke, procrastinator would do-- I ran home to my childhood dentist. That's right-- the dentist who's opinion I like. Who says things like, "It's not getting any worse, but it might get better," instead of, "I think I could fit about 375 of your dollars in there, yeah!" So while I was home, I went back to my old dentist for a FREE CONSULT which was amazing considering my new dentist charged me 20 bucks for a tube of toothpaste and 21 bucks for them to EMAIL my records to my other dentist. So they check out my teeth and here's what they say, "I can't say that they are absolutely wrong, but there is no way I would tell you to get those filled. I wouldn't tell my own kids to have those things filled at this point. You've only had one cavity your whole life, and now suddenly you have FOUR? I think they were trying to just get as much money as possible out of you while you were there." HA! And then he said this, "You were right to trust your instincts." MY INSTINCTS! The ones that say, "Pizza is ALWAYS a good idea," and "Health Insurance isn't important! You don't get SICK very often, right?" were actually right in this case! HA! He also told me that $350 was WAY high for WHITE FILLINGS (see), and that nobody uses silver fillings anymore (good idea). He pointed out another tooth that he had mentioned before could use a filling ("It's not getting any worse, but it won't get any better") and offered to fill it sans insurance for $190. Look at that. Look. At. That. Now obviously there's the possibility that my old dentist is massively incompetent and always has been. BUT. I have never experienced any tooth pain in my years, and am happy to believe that I can make do with only 1 filling instead of 4.

A Victory Nonetheless (should be a band name),
Witz

P.S. "Gigantic Crocks, Newd Girls, XXX: Not the Movie"

Witz Pickz: "Man vs. Wild"

You better believe I pick The Discovery Channel's "Man vs. Wild." I pick it almost as emphatically as unemployment. You know how BAD my immune system is? This show is as GOOD as my immune system is BAD. "Uh-oh, Witz is sick and watching The Discovery Channel again-- don't listen to him..."

NO. Incorrect. Well, no, I mean yes, I am under the weather and yes, I was watching The Discovery Channel, but not like you think. You see, I was watching on a tv that didn't have cable, and so after a few minutes of watching the Mariners get their asses kicked, I was flipping channels and struck on "Man vs. Wild." I knew it was MvW because the television from 1986 that I was watching it on inexplicably had the capacity to tell me so-- I assume it's the cable that told me, but it only gets like 5 channels, why would it also include the TV GUIDE BOTTOM LINE feature?? Whatever. So I'm watching the show, flipping channels, when all of a sudden, this guy says in a British accent, "And although I've now made it over the waterfall and into the snake basin, I'll need to build a fire quickly, because I'm chaffing, and that's less than pleasant."

SOLD.

SOLD PEOPLE. I. Was. Sold!

For the next EIGHT HOURS, I watched Bear Grylls (former British Special Forces thirty-ish who has climbed Everest at 23 yrs old). You see, the premise of the show is simple: Bear Grylls, an affable, optimistic, understated guy with a little Christian Bale look to him gets dropped via parachute or rope in the middle of various dangerous terrains. The idea is that he goes into places where tourists get lost and killed. He then uses his survival skills (he brings only a knife and clothes, and sometimes a flint) to find his way to "Rescue" which usually means a tiny village. The flint is clearly extraneous as he makes fire about 50 different ways and can tell direction just as cleverly. He's basically just the man, and it's very fun to see him get back to civilization, especially when he casually eats snakes, turtles, grubs, etc. along the way. What gives the show it's appeal, however, or at least it's ultimate appeal, is Bear's quirky Britishness. I was 100% sold on the show after hearing Bear say,

"Listen, listen. Can you hear that? Bees! I can definitely hear bees! And if I can get to their hive, and to their honey-- well, that would be ace!"

He's in the middle of the Costa Rican jungle, avoiding snakes, bugs, and dangerous terrain, but he hears bees and loves honey, so off he goes. You see, he already had food, and this shows how cool he is. He just says, oh yeah, if I can just find the bees, find the hive, fight through the bees to the hive, and steal THE HONEY, that'll be tops! And of course he does it. He creates a torch that he makes smoke to calm the bees so he can approach and then steal the honey out of the hive and then eats it like a five year old child with honey dripping down his face.

Since watching the show just yesterday, I've been wanting to get dropped somewhere and have to try and survive. But maybe like, Costco instead of Costa Rica, or The Connecticut Coast instead of The African Plains. The public pool instead of The Florida Everglades...stuff like that. I guess mostly I just want to have to feel good about eating a Chipotle Burrito for lunch far too often. God they taste good. And only five dollars-- what was I saying? Right. Man vs. Wild. Awesome.

MvW is now on their second season. The show airs 9pm on Fridays and repeats on Saturdays.

Bear Grylls Would OWN Survivor,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Sunday Stories -- The Price by Neil Gaiman

I mentioned the other day a new feature on Witz Pickz that I am calling Sunday Stories(z). People like readin', Sunday's are lazy, and Monday's sometimes need a little extra punch to get you through the day. So I will try every Sunday to post a story of my own, someone I know, or a link to a story by someone else. Part selfish, part humanitarian act, this is Sunday Stories.

This week's story is The Price by Neil Gaiman, one of my favorite authors (Neverwhere, American Gods). The Price is from a collection of short stories, and every time I read it, I get chills and wish I had written it. Since I don't really know what copyright laws are all about, here's a link to SOMEONE ELSE who has it online. Enjoy.

The Price by Neil Gaiman

Witz

Witz Pickz: Season 4 of Rescue Me

Here's a quick one for Friday folks: Rescue Me season four started wednesday night and it is still worth watching. It's been a while since season three of the Dennis Leary/Peter Tolan firefighting/womanizing/alcoholizing/jokifying stunt spectacular, so it's interesting to remember what happened and see where they are taking it. There is a lot of drama to live up to and sort through, but this season kicks off with an almost playful feel and a much larger jokes to drama ratio than in previous seasons. That bodes well for the whole series, because the past few seasons have gone way too far on the drama tip and left a lot to be desired from the cast and writers that are brimming with talent. Maybe it has been too long for me to remember, but this season seems to have a much FASTER and SNAPPIER approach, and I'm excited to see what they have in store for the season.

That's all for Friday. Check out Rescue Me on FX Wednesday nights at 10pm. And enjoy the weekend-- look out for a new feature on Sunday (pending remembering).

Witz.

Witz Pickz: Baffling Scientific Happenings!

Yes I watched Mr. Wizard as a child, and No I don't understand much about science. The closest I've come in recent years to being able to explain a scientific process or system was describing how the Fraggles and Doozers co-exist in a symbiotic relationship. Other than that....

So you can imagine my confusion yesterday when I encountered an incredible and baffling scientific happening while driving my car and talking on my cell phone. Unlike most assholes, I was on my cell phone as a joke. I was driving back from a soccer game when my friend ended up in front of me at a stoplight. We goofed around for a minute and then I promptly drove past her. She retaliated with a phone call and a biting quip regarding my car's transmission (those are the best kind of quips, aren't they?) and as I heard her talking on my cell phone, she pulled up next to me in her car. THIS IS WHERE THE SCIENTIFIC MYSTERY TOOK PLACE! I was able to hear her saying things on the cell phone BEFORE seeing her mouth form the words in the car next to me. I immediately thought up the problem:

Two cars are travelling at 40 mph on a parallel path heading north. The driver of each car is on their cell phone with the other. If a cell tower stands several miles away, at a height of approximately 100 feet, and images travel at the speed of light-- HOW THE EFF CAN I HEAR THE WORDS BEFORE I SEE THEM???

Please, somebody tell me! Because I literally heard the words and then looked over to see them being formed. We were three feet apart! Light moves fast! The sound had to travel to a network tower and then to my cell phone right? At the very least, it had to travel from her mouth to a cell phone receiver, to my cell phone receiver, out my speaker to my ear. That's a lotta ways for sound to go. Light's just BAM, THERE.

When I mentioned it on the phone, she said she noticed the same thing. So, assuming I'm not crazy (50 to 1 odds) and assuming we are not BOTH psychic (5000 to 1 odds) and assuming we both do not have Nicholas Cage's ability to see "a few minutes into the future" as in his new film "Next" (500,000 to 1), WHAT WAS GOING ON??? Somebody must know, because I, clearly, am baffled.

Who Will Be the Science Sleuth?,
Witz

Witz Pickz: A Day Off OR DOES HE??

There have been 80 posts on Witz Pickz, and after finally arriving back on the west coast after a marathon day of airports and flying, exhaustion and brain deadedness drained me of a post today. Since it's 9:30pm PST anyway, no one's readin' this on Wednesday, but I wanted to let you all know that I didn't forget about you-- just didn't have it in me. Perhaps I will think of something clever by the end of this paragraph and will pick it but I doubt that'll--

--Anti-Oxidants RULE! They're like the Musketeers of the vitamin world. They go through your body and round up all the free radicals floating in your midsts and then lead them to their death. They are the ultimate vigilante's in that they strike BEFORE the free radicals have time to do things like give you cancer or sunburn (who knows!?). For some reason, Free Radicals remind me of two things: the Neutrinos from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon back in the day, and of the movie 12 Monkeys. I don't know why this is, but somehow I see them as this backwards hippie group that means well but ends up setting free caged animals who then spread disease, mess up the environment, and die in the wild. But back to Anti-Oxidants. AO For Vendetta. Titan A.O. In French Ne-Oxidants-Pas. I like them also because they aren't afraid to say what they mean. You know what they stand for. It's like if the Jews were called the No Christs. Or if models were called The Foodless. You know what you're getting up front. Anyway, I've been on an AO kick for a while now, pounding green tea like it called me names. There's something satisfying in knowing that I'm not just fulfilling my liquid thirst requirement, but also setting free roving bands of no-holds barred avengers into my system. That's something to be happy about.

Attention-Craver,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Nature Enhanced Blog Diligence

This Witz Pickz is brought to you by: Massive airline delays!

So I'm sitting on the floor of the airport wondering how long it will take for my oversized heater of a laptop to set the carpet on fire and waiting for the latest update on when my stupid half hour flight to my connector flight will be actually leaving the air. Good thing I woke up this morning wondering "when will I get to post for Witz Pickz this fine Tuesday?"

So I'm going ahead and picking Nature Enhanced Blog Dilligence. Ordinarily, I would have said, "oh well" and missed a post. But thanks to events entirely out of my control, I am now entirely capable of writing this post-- thanks Nature! This should happen more often in our lives. For instance-- I wasn't able to acquire my favorite pizza while I have been on the east coast. My reaction? "Oh well." Nature should have stepped in, dropped a mini tornado into my town and whisked me away to City Pizza for me to eat. Or when I say I'm going to write a book or movie review or screenplay and don't-- Nature should make it snow or hail or sleet or WINTRY MIX (worst ever) forcing me to stay inside and write...or watch movies....

But this is silly-- here are some other pickz:

Whipped Cream -- Never a downside.

The Terminal -- Being here reminded me that I kinda liked that movie. I'm getting my gear ready for the long haul now.

Mangos -- If you don't want one, you're probably mistaking them for something else...like gringos.

Forts -- Again, airport got to me, but I love forts, and anyone NOT at The Alamo will tell you the same.

Chicken -- THE white meat.

Polar Ice Caps -- If the ice caps melt, nobody will be able to refer to their bling'd out teeth as "ice caps." The reference will be lost.

Thunderstorms -- I AM WAY AGAINST THEM.

Possibly talk to you later.

Airborne Is No Longer Just A Medicine-- It Is My Dream,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Quick Pickz

My goodness-- why would they put another Monday right after Sunday?? Here are some quick picks to give you some search engine fodder for the day.

Big Papi: The Book -- If you care at all about the Red Sox and Big Papi, this book is worth reading. It's a fast read and you really understand the guy, which helps when he is in a bad stretch, you can remember that he is working hard and used to HIT BOTTLECAPS WITH BROOMSTICKS as a child!

John From Cincinnatti -- Ok, no, I don't know how to spell Cincinnati and no, I don't care to look it up. This will be the one time I have to write it. Now listen-- this show is going to be awesome. After watching the premier episode last night, I was enthralled by the dialogue and characters and would bet money that this show will happily surprise and entice many the off-beat viewer. I give it one to two seasons tops, though.

The Sopranos -- for those of you who saw it and care, the Sopranos season finale can be summed up as this. David Chase* = Worse Than Hitler.

Big Love Season Two: Starts tonight and I really don't care. That show is overhyped and I've already seen all the goods that Bill Paxton plans on showing me (aka a lotta BP's ass).

Driving Barefooted -- Illegal driving style or delightful treat? I say the latter.


Keepin' The Streak Alive,
Witz

*David Chase was originally posted as "David Kelly." David Chase should be so lucky...

Witz Pickz: Visual Onomatopoeia

It occurred to me during a conversation online the other day, that there is such a thing as visual onomatopoeia. And this makes me very excited. You see, usually words like SLAM! and SMACK! and BAM! and DANNY GLOVER! are known as onomatopoeia, or, for those of you who didn't graduate 3rd grade, words that sound the same as what they mean. That's probably not the dictionary definition (I looked, something about words formed from the sound that they make...which is basically the same thing only it doesn't give enough credit to the words), but it's what we're working with. "Is DOUCHEBAG onomatopoeia, Witz?" Whoah, ok, I here ya Reader, let's keep moving.

Visual onomatopoeia, as I am deciding it, is, therefore, when a word LOOKS like its meaning. I think this is very exciting. For example:

OGLING

is visual onomatopoeia. According to dictionary.com means "to look at amorously, flirtatiously, or impertinently." We all know that it really means "to stare at ones boobs or buttocks." To ogle. Clearly, OGGLING, esp if you spell it incorrectly like I originally did, looks exactly like boobs or buttocks. Visual onomatopoeia. Incidentally, BOOBS is another one. Hehe, yeah it is.

What are some others? Hammock has the \____/ letter formation, so that's sweet. MORMAN feels very dead on, though I couldn't tell you why. SNAKES could be one. How do I know? There's no manual for this sort of thing, no wikipedia...I don't think. But I'm glad it's here now-- it makes life way more interesting and titillating (there's one).

To conclude, I would just like to say that no matter how much you enjoyed or did not enjoy this post, I bet none of you saw "visual onomatopoeia" coming. And I think that says something. After 78 posts, I can still pull something like this out for you all.

Thought of some more examples? Post them in the comments!

Ogle This,
Witz

Witz Has No Idea If He Pickz: "Six Feet Under"

By all accounts, Six Feet Under is/was an amazing television show. It ran five strong seasons on HBO and is having incredible DVD sales including the 100+ dollar complete series set that came out just before last Christmas. I recently pounded my way through all five seasons (which is to say, watched all within a one-month time period, finishing up the final two seasons in less than a week) and really don't know what I think of it all. Here's why:

I went into the show expecting it to be great, so my expectations were probably already high-- but then, everyone says that shouldn't matter because IT IS that good. Unfortunately, while I RECOGNIZED that the writing was great and the acting well done, and the characters perfectly cast, I kept becoming consistently BORED. For the most part, I think it's because I didn't thoroughly enjoy any of the characters. In fact, every character in the show pissed me off for some extended period of time and had me hoping they'd "Shoot each other in the face." I couldn't really invest myself in any of the characters and that meant that all of the DRAMA that was supposed to pull me into the show, really just had me frustrated, wanting something to actually HAPPEN to speed up the pace. I'll go through the list:

Claire: I get it, but I'm not seventeen anymore, and while I did my share of whining and bitching in my day, it's tough to feel for ya. Ruth: "..........BAH!......." was mostly your schtick, and while you contributed some funny and meaningful moments, most of the time, you were just really really dull. Nate: Ya started out interesting to watch, and progressed into a super annoying repetitive mope that was validated by the plot, but terribly uninteresting to watch. David: The Great White Hope-- your character came around and just as I was ready to hate Nate and Claire, I came to like you. Especially when you were the one character that had something HAPPEN TO THEM TO MAKE THE PLOT INTERESTING. Keith: Redundant. Brenda and Billy: Shoot each other in the face simultaneously. Lisa: Agh. Federico: You held out the longest before annoying the hell out of me. Thanks for keepin' it together the first three seasons.

Now part of why I dislike a lot of these characters might be because I cared about other characters at various times in the show and they were creating problems for each other. But here is my ultimate problem with the show-- In real life, people create problems for each other, are stupid, selfish, do good and bad things, and move a fairly mild pace-- I really can't have my television show doing the same thing. An inordinate number of bad things happen to these people and they never manage to recover to a state of even relative contentment. It wasn't difficult, but simply dull to watch a family and group of people where only bad things happen to them. When something goes right, they make it bad. Sometimes, random shit happens that plunges them BACK into a state of grief or sorrow right after rebounding (i.e. a misc relative we never heard of dies by getting hit by a falling toilet). I think part of investing oneself in a series is being with the characters and feeling invested when the GOOD things happen in edition to the BAD. Like you're in it all with them. When only bad things happen, even if it is supposed to reflect on life and ourselves, there's not much of a reason for me to be spending my time empathizing. I already have problems.

But then something happened.

I watched the last few episodes and starting getting very choked up by them. Then the series finale came and I was floored by it. At first I didn't notice much more than feeling the usual choked-up-ed-ness at the end of an emotional episode, but afterwards, I realized that I was actually very physically and emotionally upset. It felt like I was grieving. And for what? For a show I didn't really like? This makes me think that I actually DID truly care about the characters in the show, and their lives. And yet, I was honestly bored most of the time, if only by the pacing. My only conclusion is that everything I said was wrong with the show, actually was what unconsciously drew me into the show-- it's like another life. With these other people I know and am privy to. I might not have liked them, but they were there, just like some people in all of our lives. They were like those relatives you don't like, but keep on seeing on holidays. Maybe I didn't hate them all as much as I thought, or maybe I did, but they were still very very...PRESENT.

Ultimately, I think Six Feet Under is one of those shows you have to see for yourself and judge. Maybe it's right up your alley. The writing, acting, directing were all great, and I think it was a combination of the three along with the music selection that made the series finale so powerful. I would even go so far as to say that all five seasons are worth it JUST for the series finale. All of the emotion and depth they tried to get across so many times in the course of the series finally comes through full force in the last episode. They finally make you get it and feel it and be a part of it.

Under Six Feet,
Witz

P.S. I think I was partial to Michael C. Hall (aka David) due to having watched the series directly after having been introduced to him as Dexter in the showtime series "Dexter." If you watch the shows in this order, you will LAUGH A LOT at the start of Six Feet Under. If you watch in the opposite order, go back and checkout Six Feet Under after watching Dexter, if only for a few minutes, it's incredible. What do I conclude from this? Dexter Season Two in October is going to be awesome.

Witz Pickz: Unemployment (Emphatically!)

"Man, being willingly unemployed must suck-- all stressed out about not having a job, not knowing where your future's headed, or what you'll do each and every morning when you wake up into your bland, lacking, miserable existence."

....NOPE! IT'S SWEET! It's been a few weeks now since quitting my job in preparation for a big location move to Northern California, and no worries readers, this Witz is completely at ease with it all! You never realize how much working sucks until you sit in rural Connecticut doing absolutely nothing, sweating profusely, bored out of your mind and think, "This is still better than working." Granted, working means income, and income means housing and health insurance, etc., but with my life savings slowly beginning to diminish, I couldn't be happier. I used to actually think during days off or pseudo-sick days that I might as well try and go into work for a few hours just to get some stuff done and not feel worthless while the rest of the world was earning and bustling-- but now I realize that was all wrong. It is totally alright to do nothing and be thrilled about it, not worrying about "wasting free time" or "not making the most out of each and every day." Ya know what's worthwhile? Watching SportsCenter so many times a day that you can call out the plays along with them when someone walks in the room. Even coming up with a single clever line that one ups the announcers makes you feel like you could be doing their job, and that's one more reason why there's no reason to get off your lazy ass to make that happen-- you're that good.

Not working also allows you to come up with crazy ideas and methodically turn them into alternative life strategies. If anyone asks me?:

"Yeah, I'm unemployed, but I have a lot going on. I'm actually planning on running a marathon sometime in the fall or early winter, so I'm going to be training for that pretty extensively. There's a 12 week pre-training program and then an 18 week training program that I have to implement, so that's good. I've also been working pretty steadily on the "Rome" season one DVD's and would love to get through all of "House" and "The Wire" if possible before the end of July. After that, I dunno, I have some "My So-Called Life" episodes that I downloaded, and, fingers crossed, those 'The Larry Sanders' show DVD's will come through on my Blockbuster Total Access 1-Month Free Trial queue. Plus, I'm actually putting out this independent magazine-- yeah, it's the third issue, should come out late summer-- uh-huh, so that's a whole project in and of itself so...I mean, to be honest, I don't see how I could possibly fit in a day job, let alone a 9 to 5-er. And that's before we get the band back together..."

I mean, see how much stuff is on my plate here sans employment? Granted, the first time I get an ear-ache I'm totally effed seeing as how I don't have healthcare. And getting my wisdom teeth out seems like a longshot currently. Those fillings will have to wait, mercury or not. But with my training for the marathon, I won't be eating as much food as I'm used to, so I'll save there, and have enough email addresses and credit cards to last me another six months of free Netflix/Blockbuster trials.

For serious, folks, I will say this; it's pretty cool that we live in a time when if you are able to save up a chunk of money through a decent amount of employment, and are single and living within your means, it is entirely possible to quit work and spend several months doing whatever you want to do, be it travel, relax, write that novel, or tour with that band you love. There is cheap health insurance to be found, car insurance that is affordable, and rent is what you make it. Thanks to the internet, we are all able to stay in touch with more people than ever before, and then take advantage of those friendships and their couches to tour the world on a budget. Granted, one day this will result in the most commitment-phobic looking resume EVER, but for a generation that values free-time over money more than ever before, that's not the worst thing in the world. After pounding through all five seasons of Six Feet Under (post pending), one thing has been made very clear and rang very true-- we're only here for so long, so if there's something that you feel you need to say or if there's something in your life that you really need to change, now's the time to do it, because we're all only here for so long. I've also learned that sometimes carpe diem translates loosely as, "Double-header on NESN."

Can't Wait To Read This Ironically In August When I Can't Find A Job, My Money Is Dwindling, And My Girlfriend Is Screaming At Me Because I Haven't Had To Wake Up and Go To Work In Three Months While She Has Had To Go To Grad School For Ten Hours Each Day,
Witz

Witz Pickz: "Red Box" DVD Vending Machines!

I couldn't believe my eyes the first time I saw one in a supermarket-- a vending machine that allegedly provided DVD's for 99 cents. That couldn't possibly work. We went over and tried to get a movie-- it was all out. It didn't possibly work.

Then, the other day, we tried again. My girlfriend ran into the store to rent "Music & Lyrics" (look, I'll pay 99 cents to see it and I'm a sucker for the new Hugh Grant) while I waited in the car. She runs into the store with a dollar in hand.
...
She runs back out. "It's 1.06," she says. Damnit. Taxes. I give her 6 cents.
...
She runs back in.
...
She runs back out. "It only accepts credit cards." Ah, right, of course. That way I'm not BUYING a DVD for 1.06. I give her my credit card.
...
She runs back in.
...
She runs back out...AND SHE HAS THE MOVIE! 1.06 and we have a new release movie for 24 hours. We watch it that night and return it the next day. You get emails saying that you rented the film and, after inserting it back into the machine, that the film was received again and you won't be charged outrageous fees for losing the DVD.

Overall, a very amazing new way of getting new movies cheap and easily. They had about 100 DVD's in the machine, and are conveniently located where I acquire food which THEY KNOW I have to get to survive. Saves me money and a trip to the blockbuster assholes (seriously, has a franchise failed more miserably over the years to be helpful and affordable?).

"DVD VENDING!",
Witz

UPDATE: After seeing another one of these in a different town, I'm pretty sure that Red Box is really racist. Actually, I don't know if it's racist or intelligent marketing-wise, but in my town where ya don't see that many minorities, we have movies like "The Fountain" and "Little Children." In this other town, where you don't see many white people, "Norbit" is presented first and foremost. "Norbit" is not anywhere in my town's machine.

PS. When you rent a DVD you get to click on the "VEND DVD" button. I love any chance I get to use "vend" as a verb. It sounds like I'm speaking "robot."

Witz Pickz: "Blood Diamond"

So much for that whole, "posting regularly while having time off" thing. Let's be honest though, no one thought that was gonna happen, right? So here's to another week (weak) of efforts.

I finally saw "Blood Diamond" and I definitely think it's worth a watch. Leonardo DiCaprio does a kickass job of speaking with a South African accent and Djimon Hounsou does some great acting. Jennifer Connelly continues to baffle me as her career advances towards its end. I guess the old adage is true-- "Once you're in a scene where you're grinding a dildo-laden ass against another chick, you're on your way down the rollercoaster ride to retirement." Just ask Tom Hanks. Ever wonder how he's had such a prolific career? No ass-dildo scenes, that's how. Now all I can do is imagine this conversation:

Tom Hanks: I'm telling you, it's not a good career move!
Colin Hanks: Dammit Dad, let me live my life!
Tom Hanks: Just look at Jennifer Connelly--
Colin Hanks: --You said the same thing about Orange County!--
Tom Hanks: --That was only because I was upset you dissed The Terminal...
Colin Hanks: 2 hours in an airport! All my friends made fun of me.
Tom Hanks: Did you do what I taught you to do?
Colin Hanks: You mean crumple up hundred dollar bills and throw them in their faces while laughing and telling them that they'll never be as rich as we are?
Tom Hanks: Yes.
Colin Hanks: Yes.
Tom Hanks: Good boy.
Colin Hanks: Thanks, Dad.
Tom Hanks: Now go return that dildo.
Colin Hanks: Alright.

Umm...what the eff was I-- Blood Diamond! Right! The movie mixed up the action with the plot with the political exposition really well and kept me interested all of the way through. Leo does an awesome job being cool and a horrible person slash likable soldier of fortune, and, to be honest, the whole thing got me really amped up to read "A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier" by Ishmael Beah which is lying next to my bed waiting get read. I'm hoping the story isn't all made up like in that Veronica Mars (RIP) episode.

Aside from providing enjoyment and interest, "Blood Diamond" made me realize one thing: I really wanna see Leo in a war-flick. As a general rule, I'm tired of war-films, especially WWII war-films, but I just got the feeling by watching Blood Diamond that seeing Leo run around a city under siege, doing some good, looting some homes, and ultimately dying quickly and unexpectedly with the sounds of war behind him would really hit home for me and get the tear-ducts working. Leonardo DiCaprio is one poignant surprise war-death away from a career. Let's get Spielberg on it.

So yeah, go see "Blood Diamond" if you haven't already. You can find out more about where in one of my upcoming posts on those new "Red Box" DVD vending machines which may or may not actually get written for the upcoming week.

Blood Diamonds Are Forever,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Airline Mis-Adventures!

It really began at the Doctor's Office--er-- hospital. You see, I was sick. Not a shock, given that my immune system is one breakdown away from an HD Special on The Discovery Channel. So I'm sick again, and this time I have a fever and some real pain, and I'm 24 hours away from a cross-country flight where my health insurance will be useless. So I call up Group Health and find the soonest appointment possible-- 11 AM (I call at 9AM). Now, granted, I should have been concerned, given that "the guy with the earliest open appointment" probably is not also "the guy with the best medical school education and interpersonal skills." What am I gonna do, though? I'm sick, and I need help stat.

I have this thing, and it's not a plus-- it seems that every single time I make an appointment with a new doctor, I sit in the room, waiting, and then the sketchiest, least professional, worst spoken man I've ever seen comes stumbling into the room. In fact, I'm pretty sure I haven't been to a doctor in years, but a series of Psyche Ward patients who have stumbled into my room in an attempt to dodge some pursuing attendants. They always arrive skittish and confused, and tend to have one eye on me and one eye on the door the whole time they're working, often times literally. This was one of those literal cases, as my lazy-eyed MD, Brent Lewis stumbled into the little room and shook my hand with a pudgy mitt.

"What seems to be the problem?"

I explain to him all my symptoms and he proceeds to check my ears. He spends about five minutes painfully jabbing my ear with what I'm pretty sure is a dentist tool, and removes the smallest piece of wax I have ever seen. "Now I can see," he says, with one huge eye showing through his magnification eye-lens. "Now I'm deaf," I want to tell him. He looks in the ear, but gives no sign that there is an issue. He moves to the throat and I do the obligatory "Ahhhh's" awkwardly aka without enough prompting. "It, uhhh, it uhh, looks like, a uhhh, you might have a little case of tonsilitis," Brent tells me. My Doctor. Whose name is BRENT.

"That means my tonsils are enflamed right?" I ask, faintly recalling that tonsilitis is a horrible problem that must be solved by REMOVING THE TONSILS."
"Yep. Minor case. Tonsils look a little pussey," he replies, and I wonder two things-- one, if the guy is making it all up and two, how you spell puss-y without making a post socially uncomfortable.

So I leave the office with a penicillin prescription, which is also suspect, since I'm pretty sure they don't just give out straight "penicillin" anymore. Isn't it usually mixed INTO another medicine? I dunno, all I know is that our man the doctor got the hell out of my room quickly, telling the nurse to take my temperature, but I was good to leave. I have a 96.7 subtemperature, but apparently that wasn't his concern.

Fast forward. This pick isn't about doctors or penicillin or swarthy RN's who don't appreciate a good, "I'm glad to see that temperature taking technology has make advancements in the last ten years," joke when she uses a new fast-actin' ear thermometer on me. This pick is about AIRLINE MISADVENTURES, of which heretofore, there have been none. So here it is.

I take my penicillin the whole rest of the day. I feel alright. The next morning I feel a ton better, my fever appears to be down or gone, and I take another dose of the meds with some toast and peanut butter. We get to the airport, I take another dose at noon, and eat a bagel from a Starbucks that apparently does not have a toaster oven-- freakin' homeland security. At noon, we board the plane, settle into our seats and prepare for take-off. The plane takes off fine, I smile, remembering how insane it is that WE CAN FLY IN PLANES ACROSS THE COUNTRY, and start to read my book.

An hour in. That's when it happens.

I'm feeling good, reading my book, nothing having changed from when I got on the plane when-- SNAP!-- I feel nauseous. Like NAUSEOUS. In a split second, I go from feeling happy to be here, to feeling like I'd been riding the Pirate Ship ride at Six Flags for the last twelve hours. NAUSEOUS. I'm tucked in the window seat, with my girlfriend next to me, and a pleasant older man reading a Hunter S. Thompson book on the end. My girlfriend has already had to slip past him once for the bathroom, and I'm number two er-- number three? Is number three "vomiting until your brain pops out and your toenails shrink? If so, yeah, number three. "Uhp, your turn!" he says to me and I try a smile as I force my way past.

"Where's the bathrooms?" I ask my girlfriend.
"In the front and the back, but the one in the front is in use." I look to the back and see the snack lady blocking the aisle. No way I'm making it there.
"I gotta go to the front," I tell her.
"You can't stand there while you wait, you have to wait at your seat."
"I'm going to throw up," I explain and force my way into the aisle, aiming for the front, which seems to be getting further away and I stand up.

My vision starts to darken and whirl, flicker, and fade, and I know this isn't just about throwing up anymore, I'm definitely gonna pass out. I place each heavy foot in front of the other as I stumble and make my way towards the front. I look up and see the flight attendant shaking her head at me. She's probably in her fifties, tiny, and wearing a frown on her face as she shakes her head and makes it abundantly clear that my girlfriend was not lying about the waiting thing.
"Nooo," She says and pantomimes, waving her hands back and forth to block my path.
"I-m-go-ing-to-pass-out," I mouth and continue my headlong charge up the aisle. My body feels like we must be flying straight up and each step is a journey. I'm also tumbling back and forth like I just pounded a fifth of tequila, so that's fun. I press forward, the air darkens, the flight attendant shakes her head "No" and I shake my head "Yes" just so she'll understand when--
...
...
...and I'm on the ground. I'm at the front of the plane, on my knees, with three of four people crowded around me talking and all I know is that my name is Jon W itz and I think I'm going to pass-out. "We know honey," is what I get back and water is handed to me. "I swear I left my water in my seat," I think, and drink it anyway, completely baffled by the fact that I'm sitting on the floor of an airplane, but knowing that it's much more comfortable than one might think. "I need to--"

"We know, honey, we know," I hear all around me. "Now sit down and drink this. How's your head?"
"My head?"
"You hit it pretty hard."
"My head feels fine, but I don't remember hitting anything....wait a minute, have you guys seen Flight Plan?"
"No."
"The Forgotten?"
"Nope."
"Red Eye?"
"Sorry."
"Snakes On A--"
"--We don't watch any movies starring Jody Foster, Julianne Moore, that chick from the Notebook, or anyone who was ever in Goodburger. Besides, this is all in your head, you're not saying this outloud."
"Whew-- you're all pretty snooty film snobs for flight attendants who have to watch crappy movies all day long."
"This is Southwest Airlines-- we don't show films."
"Touche."
"What's your name honey?"
"Still Jon Witz," I say outloud, hopefully answering a question posed audibly by someone.

Apparently, this is what happened: I blacked out about halfway down the aisle, stumbled forward, clipped about five people on either side of the aisle as I went, barrelled through the flight attendant who spun around as I charge headlong forward, slammed into the wall at the front of the plane, and hit the ground like a sack of rocks.

So now I'm lying on the ground in the aisle, the old flight attendant at my feet, a nice younger woman talking to me and checking my weak pulse, wet towels on my head and neck, sweat dripping down my pale white and green face, passengers on either side of my head (one of whom is a midget, which makes the whole thing even more surreal), and the rest of the plane staring at me from their seats. The nice lady asks me if I want some oxygen.

"No thanks, I don't want to make a scene."

She stares at me for a minute and tells me just to lie there and breath. I talk about my meds, she tells me she's a sports trainer who saw me stumble by and knew something was wrong. She talks about how medicine soaks up liquid so fast that I'm probably really dehydrated and need some food and sugar in my stomach. No, I'm not hypoglycemic or allergic to penicillin. Yes, I would like some pretzels and Sprite. The floor IS very comfortable all things considered, and no matter how many times you say it, flight attendant, nobody is gonna laugh at your joke that I tried to dance with you.

So I lie there for a while, my savior with a slight southern accent coaching me through my recovery, and in a matter of fifteen minutes, I'm sitting up, and standing a few minutes after that. The sports woman tells me that I went into shock and my body had the fight or flight response and, naturally, my body selected flight. This knowledge is slightly embarrassing, but not as much as knowing that I have to walk back to my seat in a few minutes. I take a second to wonder what I would have done if I had made it to the bathroom intact. I'm pretty sure I would have just starting pounding on the bathroom door repeating, "I need to use this now!" over and over until eventually vomiting on the person right as they came out to see who the crazy-person was. Passing out was the better option.

The time comes when I have to get up and go back to my seat. The flight attendant walks in front of me, but I'm much taller, so it's not a helpful shield. It's essentially my first Walk-of-Shame, and I have to keep looking at people staring at me as I walk back and giving them the "Whoah, How Bout THAT Little Fiasco But Now I'm OK" face, which is a combination of a half-smile and a grimace slash wide eyes. But I make it back to my seat, where I sit back down and am welcomed by the friendly old man.

"Want something to eat? We got an assload of peanuts," he imforms me and he is right. Apparently my aisle got "Sorry someone in your row went batshit crazy and passed out" snacks. Nice.

I settle in, eat as much food as I can find, and fall asleep for as much of the flight as possible. As we exit the plane (looking forward to my next three hour stint to Hartford), I am greeted by all sorts of people staring at me, saying they're glad I'm alright, and patting me on the back. In line, while getting pizza, a gentlemanly man behind me strikes up a converstation about how he's glad I'm ok, without my ever turning to know that he was talking to me. Everywhere I go, people look at me, and I know they know. All the same, I got to waste a good half hour of a four hour flight, and had the chance to lie down on an airplane, which, once feeling better, was incredibly comfortable. So yeah, all things considered, Witz PICKZ Airline Mis-Adventures, because with any luck, I will forever be able to refer to this one incident as "My flying story." Hopefully. But I can't help but think that somewhere back in Seattle, Brent Lewis is hiding in a janitorial closet, sniffing chemicals, and trying to avoid the attendants trying to get him back in the psyche ward.

You Know, We Fly High, Ballin--,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Actually Posting On His Blog

Whew, it's been a while. I have to apologize for my lack of posting, but I've been "between apartments" for the last few weeks and not having access to much internet. Plus, it's kinda tough while staying in your friends' apartment to say, "Sorry guys, can't hangout now, I have to 'NOT Pick Laffy Taffy.'" So there was a lull, or as I call it, "a time to go back and read all the posts you missed and appreciate what I have written instead of dwelling on when I haven't..." But that's only what I call it.

Anyway, I'm back, to some extent, and totally jobless, so while I won't be sat down in front of a computer everyday without choice, I'll try and post as often as possible. So without further ado, I will now post my first return post-- a post of recent mis-adventure and a post that will actually appear before this one...which is kind of a problem...that we ought all pretend doesn't exist...like creepy handshakes and fat ghosts.

Witz

Witz Pickz: When A Good iShuffle Comes Together

I have a ton of random crap on my iPod, from hip-hop to punk, to some waaaay emo stuff to some waaay Siberian Surfer stuff. So I don’t put much faith in the shuffle feature. I don’t feel the iPod SHOULD be able to mix all my music, especially when I’ll have full albums on there with only one or two tracks I’d like to listen to individually (as opposed to being alright with as part of a full album). I also don’t need a rap skit about “rolling a Seven-Eleven” falling between M. Ward and The Zambonis. So I don’t put much stock in the shuffle.

Which is why yesterday was so awesome. I decided to give the iPod shuffle feature a shot while driving the last load of boxes and assorted crap out of the apartment we’re leaving. It kicked off with a moody song by Explosions In the Sky and I tensed up for what would come next for my soundtrack. The result was perfect, here’s what I got:

Explosions In the Sky – Six Days At the Bottom of the Ocean

Bright Eyes – Stray Dog Freedom

Beirut – Scenic World

Johnny Cash – The Last Time

Sufjan Stevens – Seven Swans

The Minus 5 – All Worn Out

It was at this point that I arrived at my destination. It was obviously a very contemplative trip, but each song flowed perfectly into the next and matched my mood (or my mood decided to match the music) exactly. Here’s what came next, on the ride home:

Rancid – radio

Voice In the Wire – Follow the Trail of the Psyched

The Mountain Goats – Dilaudid

Rufus Wainwright – Sally Ann

It was as if the iPod knew that I had arrived somewhere, changed moods, and was ready for an uplifting ride back—either that, or they legally can’t play more than six slow, possibly depressing songs in a row so that people don’t kill themselves and sue Apple. Either way, the ride back was enjoyable and also clearly faster, and the trip on the whole was an enjoyable experience. So yes—Witz pickz a good unexpected mixz (silent z).

Mmmm Brownie Mix,

Witz

Witz Pickz: Edward Scissorhands: The Theatre Production

I was offered complimentary tickets to go see Edward Scissorhands at work the other day. I jumped on the opportunity because a) Free shit gets me through the day and b) Edward Scissorhands anything could be sweet. So I replied to the email as quickly as possible, figuring I was going to see one of three things: Edward Scissorhands: The Musical, Edward Scissorhands: The Ice Show, or Edward Scissorhands: The Ballet. After getting the tix and searching online for the production, I figured out that it was the ballet.

Ok—this is ok. My girlfriend used to do ballet, and free tickets are free tickets. Besides, the main character has scissor-hands, so it can’t be terrible—and I’ve never been to the Fifth Avenue Theatre before, so I get to do that.

We pick up the tickets sans ID which I feel is a bad sign (ain’t nobody stealing tickets to this show), and get to our free seats. They are nice balcony seats, and it is when I see the translucent “Edward Scissorhands” backdrop onstage, in “Tim Burton Font” that I decide I am pumped.

And it’s a good thing I was because two hours later, I was extremely pleased with my decision to attend. This was no “Never-Mind: The Nirvana Interpretive Dance.” This was ballet—or, as my benefactor (donator? Whatever, I want a benefactor goddammit) informed us, Modern Dance Theatre. I like that description. They danced. They were modern. I was at the theatre. Perfect.

Well, it turns out that Modern Dance Theatre has severe issues with conflict and resolution. The performance rarely introduced conflict without solving said conflict through a series of spins and twirls almost immediately. Example: Edward just pissed off EVERYONE and alienated girl he loves. MOMENTS LATER IN A CEMETERY: Edward is sad; he dances and wilts; Girl loves him and is ready to party. There is no explanation as to WHY this change of heart occurred, but we’re all pretty glad it did.

There were definitely some moments when the theatre part was outweighed by the dance part. Twice during the performance, dances involving plot devolved into extended group dance sequences, where Edward was barely present. They reminded me why I got bored at dance/musicals, but the stage design was amazing enough to capture my attention and keep me entertained. I would say see this production, if only for the stage design. Amazing. And Edward trims a hedge onstage. Awesome.

We were left with two questions that I don’t know the real answers to at the conclusion of the play:

1) From Girlfriend: “Why did the man think it was a good idea to create a boy with scissorhands?” GREAT QUESTION! In the production, the man’s boy died when he was little and also thoroughly enjoyed scissors. Years later, the man appeared to have found a way to animate a constructed body, and in honor of his child, give him scissors for hands. Now, I liked baseball and soccer as a kid, but I would not want my Scientist Father to animate a creature with my namesake and give it cleats and a catcher’s mitt in place of feet and hands. “Then what would you want??” I can hear you asking. The answer is obvious—I loved nerf weapons. I would require a nerf cannon on one hand, and a nerf bow and arrow on the other. My feet would be detachable Nerf Whistle Footballs, so I was always ready for a pickup game. Ultimately, my weapons would be useless, but I can imagine so many times it would be hilarious and comforting to shoot someone who is annoying me in the head with a nerf arrow and then see how they react (you can’t yell at the guy with nerf weapons for hands. He’s not REALLY doing any harm).

2) From Me: “How did the townspeople know that his name was Edward?” They put up “Welcome Edward” signs and “Edwardo’s Salon” signs, but how the hell do they know his name? He doesn’t talk, he dances. So I can only assume that there is a morse code of dance that I am not aware of. My program should have included the keystone for this language of dance.

Overall, the show was great and I’m glad I went. Edward Scissorhands is cool in any format, and the music, stage design, and performance itself was worth the time. Also, it was free. Check it out if it’s in your area.

Witz DOES NOT PICK Scissors For Hands,

Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Teeth!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about having and maintaining teeth. They do good work. They stand out in a crowd. Easily one of my favorite 2000 parts. But what the fuck teeth? Wasn’t there a time when teeth were capable of standing up to the world? When they weren’t brushed, flossed, capped, sealed, drilled, filled, or bridged?

I understand that our life spans have gotten much longer. I understand that teeth fallout less now. But there had to be a time when teeth were able to stand up to the test of time without massive care. Why did nature create teeth so incredibly weak and pathetic as we evolved from creatures who I have never heard of having tooth problems. Apes have amazing teeth. They are big and sharp and….in existence. I never hear any National Geographic Specials saying, “And here is the ape, he has been crippled by tooth pain.” Then again, I don’t watch too many National Geographic Specials.

I brush my teeth daily, which I feel like should be the minimum effort put into teeth. If there’s old thing old people tell me on a regular basis that we should listen to it’s, “Take care of your teeth!” So I try. And yesterday I go to the dentist and find out I need fillings. “Just slight breakthroughs that we should fill and seal up,” they said. What the hell? Why doesn’t my body have a natural process for sorting out minor cavities of the teeth? Is the enamel and sealent they put on their when I was a kid really the only line of defense? Mystery Person #1 who I know is an even better example. She brushes three times a day when she can, uses an electric toothbrush, flosses maniacally, rocks the Listerine, and cares for her teeth like there’s a tooth fair for you later in life who pays based on quality. AND SHE HAD TO GET A FILLING. TEETH SUCK.

The dentist I went to wants to charge me 325 dollars per filling. They use “White fillings” which are chemical bonds and are much better, but insurance only covers “Silver Fillings.” I asked what the difference was:

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, first, Silver fillings contain mercury,” she says. WHAAAAAT???? That sounds like a) the biggest lie I’ve ever heard followed by b) the best selling point for white fillings ever.

“Wow.”

“And they don’t bond chemically like the white ones—it’s like packing sand into a hole.”

“Hm.”

“And—“

“—I’m sorry, did you say MERCURY?”

“Yes.”

“Like, brain damage Mercury?”

“That’s the stuff.”

“So you would say—“

“—I would say the white fillings are the way to go.”

“Are there any other kinds of fillings?”

“Not really.”

“Nothing cheaper?”

“Nope.”

“What about…creeeam filling?” zing.

“Cream filling is 450 dollars and your insurance doesn’t cover it. Plus we’d have to import it from Boston, which is an added expense. Also it contains mercury. Give us all your money, asshole.”

“Eff.”

So yeah, I’m screwed. My stupid unevolved teeth are falling apart and all of a sudden I’m thinking like an eighty year old man: “If I hadn’t decided after a year to go to the dentist randomly, I never would have known about the tooth problem and I would have gone on living just find until I felt some pain. So this isn’t an issue. I’ll ignore it and be happy and healthy like I was before!” The logic is so simple, yet so flawed. Now that I know what’s there, I FEEEL it. I feel the problem growing, manifesting its stress and doom in my mouth. Taking over my body. Goddamn you my teeth—what happened? Was it the lack of flossing? You know you didn’t want to be flossed. Was it the lack of Listerine, who’s sting I spared my taste buds? Or was it the forty chocolate bars I ate over the last month, stacking pile of sugar on top of pile of sugar in every crevice of my never-saited maw? I’m going to blame the liberal media, for propagating the dentists’ lies of necessary tooth-care that have been woven into our very society and culture. OVER CLEANING! That’s what I blame. We have scrubbed the resistance right off the teeth. Left our gums exposed. They wagged the dog with “Gingivitis” and “Root Canals” and now we are suffering the consequences. We have gone against Evolution. We have gone against Nature. Our teeth are weak. And it might be too late to do anything about it.

Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Scarring Children For Life

I know, I know-- it's big move for me to NOT pick Scarring Children for Life, but since I haven't posted on the subject before, I thought I ought to make my position known. I'm against it. And because it's Friday the 13th, I'll tell you why.

When I was young-- younger than I ought to have been-- my friends and I watched the "Friday the 13th" movies during a sleepover birthday party. I don't know if it was actually Friday the 13th or if it was just some USA/TNT marathon, but we saw at least 3 full movies. Turns out that mental patients going crazy and hacking other people to pieces and then having Jason enter the picture and kill everyone else was not something I found UNfrightening. The whole mirror shot of someone is behind me "reveal" has always freaked me out, and this might have been the first time I saw it. 6 hours of terror later, we went to bed, or as I liked to call it, "Turned off the lights so I could glance around at the pitch black room, hearing every noise as a psychotic killer come to chop me into pieces." We were goofing around and making some noise, so instead of a psycho, it was my friend's mom who entered the room angrily. And let me tell you-- she almost got karate chopped/kicked by a dozen of her son's friends. I did not sleep that night.

After that night, I had a number of nightmares and when I was still envisioning monsters in closets and killers on the loose, it was always Jason Voorhees who was coming for me. It also led to this fun little nightmare:

Mulder from the X-Files is walking alone in old-town Europe-- I'm thinkin' Prague, though I've never been. Somethin's up, I know that for sure, and I can feel the evil, so my nightmares are apparently cliche. Anyway, Mulder steps on some bricks at an excavation site and suddenly the bricks break away and fall down a hole into some water. The splashing of the bricks (and checkout this sick Physics tie-in) against the water causes a body to float to the top, and that body is revealed to be...JASON from Friday the 13th. I see his eyes open and wake the hell up, because I don't need that shit.

So anyway, that is why I am against scarring children for life. Abuse, sexual, mental or physical I'm also against. The whole fake leaving your kid in a Supermarket also isn't spectacular, but I'd take it over the whole unseen murderer thing. I still occasionally think I'm going to look up into the mirror after shaving and have someone there, waiting to kill me and steal my shitty over-heating laptop and scattered coinage while my body drains into the bathtub. Here are some other things that I/we now fear thanks to horror movies:

-A hot naked girl randomly showing up in my home (possibly the worst consequence of a film ever)
-Camping
-The Ocean
-Flesh eating bacteria-- alright, you got me, I always feared that one.

I wish it were Fry-day the 13th-- I'm hungry!

Witz

Witz Pickz: Lever's Incredible Gall

"For all your 2000 parts," they say. They tell us this and we say, OK, that seems convenient. And frankly, I think I'm alright with 2000 parts. I figure, if Lever 2000 cleans 2000 of my parts, I will be CLEAN ENOUGH. You know? 2000 is a big number, and as long as some MAJOR parts are covered, I feel like I can easily get by with 2000 parts being clean at any given time. The question must arrive, at some point or another, however, of "Do we really have 2000 parts? Are there more? Less?"

This question is important. I'll say that up front. I mean, what if we have 2008 parts and one of the parts the 2000 DOESN'T cover is your ass?

"Did you bath today?"
"Yes."
"Huh. Then why do you smell TERRIBLE?"
"Oh, haha, that's just my ass. I use Lever 2000 and it doesn't include my ass part. Also, you're very up front today and apparently have none of the same social folkways as the rest of us."

This would lead to me having to purchase ANOTHER brand of soap to take care of my non-cleanliness insured parts. Probably Irish Spring (new marketing slogan, "For your ass and pits.") or Dial ("Cleaned your pubes lately?"-- yeah, that's the first "pubes" reference on Witz Pickz-- clearly I'm running out of things to say). Anyway, it just seems odd, "For all your 2000 parts." It's too round a number. There's no way Nature was like, "1998, 1999, aaaaand 2000. There. Done." I mean the Appendex issue alone should void the 2000 belief. At the very least Lever should say, "Lever 2000, for your 2000 or 1999 parts." Or just keep it vague and say, "Lever 2000, for your 2000 or so parts." That I would buy. Lucky for me, I don't have to deal with the issue at all. I can't afford Lever 2000. I use, like, Target brand soap. Their slogan is, "Target brand soap: honestly, you couldn't spot up the extra buck for something that works?" When I'm lucky I use Dove soap. Their slogan is, "Dove: For guys who forget to buy soap and are ok smelling like their girlfriends." And you know what? I AM ok with that.

Witz

Witz Pickz: DEXTER (the TV Series)

This is a Monday pick. Meaning this is something worth kicking off your week with, indulging in all week, and integrating into your life. This will get you through the day. Then, when it's gone, you will sit alone, trembling, itching your arms, wanting more.

The show is Dexter. I have not trusted in a show so implicitly since the fifth season of The West Wing. From the first episode to the season finale, I placed my faith in the writers’ hands and did not doubt them for a minute. I haven’t been able to say that about any show in a long, long time. I would go so far as to say this is the best show I’ve seen, from start to finish of the first season in at least 8 years.

SO WHAT IS IT ABOUT??

Honestly, I’m not even going to tell you. I mentioned a small bit about it in a previous post, but having now seen the whole season and gone back to think about it, I don’t want to ruin ANYTHING. I can sum it up and give you a general plot outline, but then you wouldn’t get to experience the coolest details as surprises. Going in completely blind, with only a vague notion of what the show is about made it even better and more enjoyable, so I will leave you with the same. I will say that is can be creepy, it can be hilarious, and it can be very interesting in its examination of human character. As I said, the writing is superb, the acting spot on, and the whole direction and sound is fantastic, too. I was bored for maybe 15 minutes total out of….well….12 times 48 minutes of watching. You need to see this show, at least give it a shot.

SO WHEN IS IT ON??

That’s the funny part. First of all, it’s on Showtime, so you’re not gonna get to see it. Secondly, it’s in the interim between season one and season two, so you can’t even watch it, although they probably have reruns out of order or it could be OnDemand. It hasn’t been around long enough to be released on DVD yet, so you can’t get it there either. Your best bet is to use a downloading client such as Bittorrent to acquire the episodes and watch them, but I’m sure you could also buy homemade DVD’s of the show online for like 20 bucks. Not that I endorse either of those practices. I’ve just somehow seen the show. I do have all of the episodes if you live nearby and would like to “borrow” them. Look, just email me is what I’m saying—we’ll talk. The next season IS happening and is slated for later in 2007, so that’s ambiguous as all hell. I’ve already lost Huff to Showtime’s non-following, so I just pray that we don’t lose Dexter as well.

Witz

P.S. It appears that Dexter is based on a series of books written originally in the early-mid 80's by Jeff Lindsay which are now being reprinted with a new novel coming out soon. If they are anywhere near as good as the show, I will be reading them soon.

Witz Pickz: Inadvertent Hilarity in Commercials

Ok-- I know, I've been slacking..BARELY! Get over yourselves! What, you think that just because I now know I have a reader in Tally Ho, Australia that I'm going to feel responsible and write on a daily basis for the rest of my life?? HARDLY.

Now that I've laid down the law and set lower standards, listen to this pick!

There's this one commercial that I'm sure is a national commercial and that everyone has seen. It's the Credit Score commercial. The first one went, "85. Do you know what that is? It's my credit score. Do you know your credit score? Want to? Do you like being inappropriate with small children? I do. Is that wrong? Let's talk," or something like that. Anyway, a new commercial came out that gets me every time.

The guy sits on the chair with his screen and says, "I'm thinking of a number. Do you know what it is?" And this is where the punchline comes in, "It's two-million," he tells us-- completely straight faced. TWO MILLION!!! Who is supposed to guess TWO MILLION. THAT'S ABSURD. "Is it twenty-three?" Nope! TWO MILLION. The guy didn't even give us any parameters. Then he has the gall to continue, "That's the number of people who got their free online credit report last year." It's like he's never played guessing games before and is working in the reverse order. Here's how sane people talk: "Guess how many people got their free credit report online last year? (Pause) Two million!" And why do we have to guess? Just tell me. If you want me to know your product, don't involve me in a guessing game where I'm speaking to the television. You don't need to pause for my response. I probably am not going to guess above 1,000. It's like the Mitch Hedberg joke, "My lucky number is 4 billion. It doesn't help me out very much." At least both Mitch and Credit Report.com have provided us with some humor.

Witz (is borderline getting sick again!!)

Witz Pickz: Mozilla Firefox & The Google Pack

"Witz has gone so fucking corporate."

I can hear it now. The new look. The search bar. The Firefox download link and the Google Pack download bar. Witz has sold out.

UNTRUE READER-- WHY DOTH THEE STAB MY BACK SO GLEEFULLY?

Truth of the matter is that Witz has gone way uncorporate. So uncorporate that I needed a well-established corporation to provide me with the assistance necessary, because only they have the resources available for me at a reasonable price.

You see, first there was corporate. Then there was post-corporate, when corporations became horrible beasts and counterculture revolted against them. Now there is post-post-corporate, when disliking major corporations and rebelling against them with our counterculture has actually spawned counter-culture corporations such as Google and Miramax, and MTV1-9 + MTVespanol. These, in turn, have become mainstream cultural corporations. Now, if I've done my job correctly, you will either a) so mind blown or b) so confused by my unlogic that you will simply agree with my thesis and move on. So let us move on.

While I have recently added additions to the website which I hope will increase some revenue without ruining the browsing and reading experience, I ACTUALLY VOUCH AND SUPPORT the products I have added. After using Mozilla Firefox, as millions have by now, I have found it to be absolutely fantastic. Tabbed browsing, tons of plug-ins that allow for awesome features such as FoxyTunes (music player control built into your browser so you don't have to minimize anything-- plus it has a sweet search feature that you can click on the song and search for numerous info on the band/song/album/lyric-- very cool), or IE View (view a page as if it were in IE), or FileGrabber (download YouTube video files for keeps). There are tons of these sweet plug-ins that make browsing easier and appease your OCD cravings, and the whole browser works without tapping into your operating system files that make windows viruses so potent and plentiful. So it's safer AND cooler. Also, Mozilla sounds like a mythical monster, and you want that monster on YOUR side! Plus, I get 1 dollar every time someone follows the link from my page and downloads the free browser.

The Google Pack has all sorts of useful freeware (do we still use "freeware" or did that die with Defender of the Crown?) and plug-ins to make searching better, adware and spyware destroyed, and your computer virus protected. You should definitely check it out. I say "definitely" because not only is it a good product, but I get 2 dollars for every download and install via the site. Clever, huh?

So don't take this as self-profiteering madness/genius, but simply as Witz picking something else that I always would have picked, while actually managing to find a way to profit from it. Because you aren't always the ones who profit from my pickz. It's not all cinnamon and Weeds. Sometimes it's Mozilla Firefox, Google Pack, and post-counter-corporate reverse-guerilla marketing pseudo-hobbies.

"I still think Witz has gone fucking corporate...",

Witz

Witz Pickz: Baseball

I don't know how it happened, but the rainy, cold, and bafflingly snowy (if you're on the west coast), or bafflingly un-snowy (if you're on the east), or...who the hell knows what the weather's like in the mid-west (unless you're from the midwest), suddenly turned into-- well it's still cold here, but the point is, it's April 2nd. I feel like it's a postmodern April Fool's joke where for April 1st, they lie and tell you it's April 2nd and then somehow it's actually still February. But the winter is actually somehow over, and when I went home for lunch this morning, I watched my Boston Red Sox get their asses kicked by the Kansas City Royals-- with a smile on my face (well, and also I was really really pissed and yelled at my television)-- but that's why I love baseball. Very few things can both relax me and cause me severe stress and pain. One of these things is Taco Bell cuisine, another is baseball. The seemingly ubiquitous spring, summer, and fall weather, shining through the television or radio to your lazy ears and eyes. The sound of announcers speaking knowledgeably about their teams. Falling asleep to the crackle of static and the cracks of bats or the smacks of the ball hitting the mitt. Nothing embodies the coming warmth of spring or the sought after laziness of summer like baseball, be it in the forefront or in the background. Its existence is enough. I'm glad baseball is back-- any longer a wait and I would have had to ponder the timeless question of "but where will I bury the bodies?" Instead I can relax.

Baseball Cards:
Nothing is nicer than knowing that all the money my parents and I spent on my baseball card collection back in the day will come back to me gloriously as a wad of cash 1/3 the value of my collection at a local pawn shop. I might not get as much money as I spent, but I'm getting it now, when my brain functions and I am able to accrue debt.

Wiffleball:
Is there a greater lazy man's sport? I think not. Wiffleball was invented by a bunch of drunken fat guys. When one man hit the ball between the 1st and 2nd baseman and began to run, his friends said, "Wait just a minute, my friend. Stay right there. No need to run. We'll just call that...a single." The batter replied, "But what of my hit that rolled to the bushes?" to which the wise, large, clearly drunken men with hot dogs and nacho breath replied, "We deem it a triple-- yes, a triple sounds fair." And so it was.

Take Me Out To the Ballgame...Please?....I Can't Afford to Go.....

Witz