Witz DOESN'T Pick: Andy FUCKING Rooney

I’ve had it with Andy Rooney. Completely. He’s always the very last segment of 60 Minutes and consistently leaves me enraged, but not about the war crimes or the corporate crime or the super popular crappy country singer, but because this freaking old out-of-date ass crab says he doesn’t like watching football on Sundays or using whitening toothpaste. Or like tonight, when he felt the need to rant on for far too long about how products how far too many flavors these days. You see, he drank Vanilla Coke by accident and was disgusted by the flavors. He likes vanilla. He likes Coke. He just doesn’t like Vanilla Coke. He then explained that he liked peanut butter and he liked jelly as a child, but he hated peanut butter and jelly. I waited five seconds to see if he was kidding before smacking the television screen and letting out a frustrated “BAH!” for my family. That’s right-- Andy Rooney ruins family dinners. There, I said it. He went on about how everything is combined now: RASBERRY iced-tea, Cranberry Almond Crunch, Mango-Tangerine Vitamin Water…these were big problems for him. Let’s just say my brow was furrowed. THEN, Andy Rooney can’t understand why FAT FREE products COST MORE! HAHA—OH ANDY! Andy Rooney is essentially THE WORST stand-up comedian EVER, but he’s too old and dug in to get thrown out.

It’s made worse by the fact that he never lets you know he’s kidding. He just goes on about how everything pisses him off and then leaves it hanging. AWFUL OLD MAN! Multiple busses should hit him. Multiple. At least the show always ends with one of the semi-legit hosts looking at the camera with that “Fucking Old Man Makes More Than Me For Shit Like That At Least He’ll Be Dead Soon” smile, and a goodnight. I know they’re on my side.

I think it’d be great if they got Andy Richter to sit down next to Andy Rooney from now on. It can be called Andy Versus Andy or Andy On Andy or Andy R. You Fucking Kidding Me? Andy Rooney can rant about popsicle jokes or whatever else is ruining his cushy life, and Andy Richter can give him the “what the eff?” look that he does so well and follow up with one of those lines that made his show not so much of a hit, like, “Give it up Grannnpa, the Great Depression happened, get over it!”

Does anybody LIKE Andy Rooney? Am I way out of touch with what America wants? Does anyone else think it would be amazing to get Andy Rooney at a carnival in the dunking booth? Can anyone make that happen?

Fight Night: Andy Rooney vs. Mickey Rooney vs. The Band Rooney vs. Nit Romney on HBO—make it happen,

Witz

Witz Makes the Tough Pickz: Flying vs. Invisibility

It might be a Sunday for most people, and God might be resting, but this Witz is hard at work with the tough pickz. You may now accurately say that for at least one day of the week, "Witz worked harder than God." Pff. Lazy God. Speaking of which, do you think God aka G to the Izzo aka Young G-O shifted with the times like most people and decided he had to do business (not THAT kind) on Sunday to keep up? Or is He seriously just kickin' back with a brew while the technological 21st century broils around him? And if that's the case, doesn't that void most of all those "Thank Gods" that football players give when they score touchdowns and point to the sky? When they do that is God just like, "Ha! Not today effers! This is MY DAY!" Does He say "This is MY DAY?" like millions of mothers on Mothers Day and millions of others on their birthday? Is God a Jewish Mother? All of these are good questions, but they are entirely unimportant. The question today is:

Would you rather be able to Fly or be able to turn Invisible? This has probably been a question for ages, but has most recently been brought to my attention via a terrible commercial on the radio. The commercial asks, "Would you rather fly or be invisible?" and the other guy says something like, "I WANT A BIG MAC!" or, "GIMME THE SPICY CHICKEN!" or some shit. Clearly this guy is a moron (and would probably pick invisibility given some time to think, as he could then sneak in and steal all the fat foods he could want. Then it would be hilarious because he'd be this big fat invisible blob just knocking shit over wherever he went even though nobody can see him).

So now Witz has to make the tough pick: Flying or Invisibility? The Wikipedia doesn't look to be much of a help this time as it has been in the past, so I'll have to use my own thoughts and some comic book references.

FLYING:
The epitome of hubrus. The ability to ascend the heavens with only wings and sail willy-nilly around the sky, not a care in the world (until you run out of energy and die horribly). It would be tremendous. First, there's the freedom aspect-- cruising around and feeling ultimate freedom from the grasps of gravity-- able to go anywhere at a moments notice, no traffic or oceans to stop you. Then there's the heroic aspect; saving people from fires, floods, etc, and even cats from trees...or people from trees if need be. Then there's the creepy aspect; being able to fly onto people's roofs, balconies, or stare at them in their windows. That all sounds pretty cool, especially with the airlines raising their prices and making Chicago the hub for all travel even though Chicago is clearly the one place that cannot handle travel at all. Between the cold, snow, wind, hail, thunder and lightning storms, Chicago is the worst possible place to make a hub. It'd be like making Barry Bonds captain of the "Normal Sized Heads Team." (oooOOooo, what a timely reference, Witz!) So that's flying.

INVISIBILITY:
Let's not kid ourselves-- invisibility is cool for two reasons. 1) You can steal shit. And 2.) You can see people naked. If there is any other reason why you would want to be invisible, you're either a) a liar or b) probably going to vote for invisibility because you've clearly spent too much time thinking about the topic. But don't get me wrong, these two reasons are pretty brilliant. They both fall under the category of "general mischief" along with pranks and snooping. Invisibility pretty much lets you out of the social contract as we know it, and allows you to do whatever the hell you want. You can walk into any store and walk out with whatever you'd like, either not being seen or scaring the hell out of whoever sees you when they see their products floating through the air. I'm pretty sure that's the premise of those old ipod commercials where the shadow of a person is dancing around-- they just stole their ipod and then got sprayed with paint and are now visible. The commercials always cut off before they get shot multiple times in the chest. Which brings us to the downside of invisibility-- people can dump stuff on you, see you, and end your world. This is bad. Also, if anyone ever found out about it, you would probably receive endless "Hollow Man" jokes. Oh, but wait-- I forgot to mention the nakedness again. You would be able to pretty much see anyone you want naked, AND more than likely, BE NAKED YOURSELF almost all the time. I mean, either you don't need clothes (like in Naked Land, the failed children's game by Milton Bradley-- the boardgamers, not the baseball player), or can't have clothes on (like in the Fantastic Four), so what's the point? Naked time is all the time, and that would be hilarious. You would also be able to run around Naked Invisible, get really drunk, and then vomit on people and have them flip out at the nearest person, which would be ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS.

So which is it then? Flying or Invisibility? Both provide a freedom, an escape, and the possibility of using your powers for both great good and great evil. Which is it then? Well, of course I'm going to pick ADAMANTIUM CLAWS! Rip shit up and be one badass dude ready to get crazy busy on some vigilante action, like Jodie Foster in that new movie that's coming out where she shoots black people because they weren't given as many cultural advantages as her. ...But, since that's not an option, I must move on to something else. After careful deliberation, I have to pick Flying. While I love all of the hilarious and entertaining perks of invisibility, Flying is just too strong a curiosity. I would love to be able to just take off and zoom around for a while. Not fear falling anymore. Constantly hustle people playing basketball by being able to dunk from my own hoop (which is pretty much legal in the NBA nowadays anyway). I'd also like to potentially give the finger to people flying first class while they are in the air. So flying it is. It was a tough pick, but I feel as though I've earned my Sunday rest. Unlike Young G-O-Deezie, who is spending all of His time making people think that not all of Modest Mouse's songs sound the same, and having a good laugh doing it.

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

Witz Pickz: EvenLevel.Com & Sticking It to Car Dealers

I’ve had it with car dealers. The shear number of commercials alone drive me insane, with every odd-ball nobody getting a thirty second spot where they wander around their lot casually or kookily telling me how freakin’ awesome their deals are. Sometimes they act too cool for school with their prices. Other times they remind me how Hometown they are. At best they tell me they have a sale which might be useful to me, and at worst they tell me that some horrific event has occurred and for no reason in particular they absolutely positively must eliminate their car stock or all shit will break loose”!”.

I’ve never had to buy a car, but no matter what the commercials tell me, I know that they are making money off of selling me a car. That their, “Rock Bottom Prices” are still putting their children through college. Car Dealerships are not tax write-offs—they are making money off of me.

Which brings us to EvenLevel.Com, a new startup internet site that is sticking it to car dealerships. There is nothing I like more than a militant car mitigator—to quote their mission statement as found on their blog at evenlevel.wordpress.com:

“This is an opening salvo, a shot across the bow, of the car industry. For too long dealers have abused consumers from their legally protected position as the sole purveyor of cars to the public, they have wielded their influece to gain leverage over the consumer, to drive up prices, and to make the car buying experience as unpleasant as possible. Evenlevel is fighting back!

We, at Evenlevel, believe in the fundamental rights of the consumer to be treated with respect and to get a good deal. Evenlevel is fighting against the abuse of asymmetric information that dealers possess: knowing the car purchase price, the car condition, and the car history. We believe this information should be available to all, that the consumer should know as much about the car as the selling dealer.

We intend to liberate that information, display it to the consumer, and make the entire process transparent. By making the process more transparent, we will make the process more efficient, and drive down the cost of the car for the consumer.”

But why would a company do that? What do they get with such low, low prices? A flat fee. You see, evenlevel.com does not care how much the car is sold for, and by eliminating that greed factor, they are free to provide all the information to make a car as cheap as possible. They match up buyers with dealers who already have the car you are looking for, and get a flat fee when the transaction is completed. PLUS, they have a fantastic slogan:

EvenLevel.Com: Driving the Revolution

SOLD! While people might be a tough sell at first with the new way of doing business, I think that our generation understands the current paradigm well enough to know that change is needed and advantageous. So check out EvenLevel.com, who I promise is not sponsoring WitzPickz.com, and see if maybe it will work for you.

WitzPickz.Com: Writing The Revolution…..damn, that’s not as good…,

Witz

Witz Pickz: "Live Free or Die Hard!"

I overheard this conversation in Borders about six years ago:

Guy: You didn’t see Die Hard?
Girl: Nah…
Guy: Oh man, it’s so good, how could you not have seen Die Hard?
Girl: I dunno, I just never felt the need to see it…
Guy: But things blow up!
Girl: I’ve seen things blow up before.
Guy: Yeah…but not like in Die Hard.

While I’ve seen the other Die Hard films (Die Hard, Die Hard II, Die Hard With a Vengeance), it was not until today, when I watched Live Free or Die Hard that I agreed completely with the guy’s statement. I have always loved the Die Hard franchise, and was super excited to see this latest installment. I waited and waited for the right time to see it, and today, when it finally rained, I drove as fast as possible to the theater and bought a matinee ticket (for only 6 bucks which is pretty good these days!). AND I WAS BLOWN AWAY! I mean, I was BLOWN AWAY by “Live Free or Die Hard” unlike I’ve been BLOWN AWAY by an action movie in a long time—and I’ve seen BLOWN AWAY with Jeff Bridges and Tommy Lee Jones and Forrest Whitaker (Was it during Blown Away when the now infamous “Eye Incident” sent Forrest Whitaker from being a casual nobody to a standout Oscar nominee??).

Live Free or Die Hard aka Die Hard IV was just great. It matched every anticipatory expectation I had and gave me two hours of supreme action movie bliss. I laughed, I cried (well, because of the laughing), I ogled, and I was awed by the hugely unnecessary and complicated violence that took place. More than all of that, however, I was filled with warmth that only massively over the top movie explosions (and probably house fires) can provide. SHIT. BLEW. UP. Cars blew up. Guns blew up cars. Cars blew up helicopters. Helicopters blew up buildings, Buildings blew up people. People blew up buildings. People in buildings blew up other people in vans. Planes blew up trucks. SUVs crushed people. PEOPLE CRUSHED SUVS. The random action sequences were perfectly constructed and spread out between the dialogue, actual plot, and, of course, the one liners. In addition, while I didn’t think Mac (of the Mac and PC ads) was necessarily the best choice for the role, he did a great job and filled the role of “sidekick” well. Plus, he made me laugh, so well done.

Which leads us to the following statement: I believe that John McClane is the best action hero of all-time. He is four flicks deep, has yet to disappoint, has killed men twice his size with ridiculous resourcefulness. He makes us laugh. He makes us sit on the edge of our seat even though we know he ain’t gonna die. He always has a civilian sidekick who he brings out the best in. One of those sidekicks was Carl from Family Matters. He has killed someone with an icicle, an ax, grenades, lots of guns, cars, and, oh yeah, his bare hands. He is badass. And he never does wrong. He is the original Jack Bauer, but without the annoying daughter and with a better catchphrase (“Yippie kayay, motherfucker” waaaaay outdoes “we’re running out of time.”). He’s also been around for years, is now over 50 (right?) and still gets the job done. I mean who are the other competitors? Action franchises include, The Terminator, Aliens, Lethal Weapon, Indiana Jones (kinda), James Bond (but only one Bond per grouping), Rambo (massively one dimensional and out-dated), Batman, RoboCop (lamest ever), and numerous others that don’t quite make it to the top. Therefore, I must conclude that John McClane is number one. And if you don’t believe me, go see the movie. It’s been twenty-years since Die Hard I and still, nothing blows up like in Die Hard.

“That guy died…….that guy died harder….”

Witz

Witz Pickz: Airline Security!

9 times out of 10, I'm gonna say that Airline Security has its problems. They are reactive instead of proactive and often times ridiculous in their solutions. If you are scared of liquids mixing to form explosions, maybe you shouldn't have a "dump bucket" where all the illegal liquids are dumped together before going through security.

BUT CHECK THIS OUT:

This is one of those stories that sounds totally contrived; like when a standup comic says they were watching a movie the other day when in actuality, they've never seen the movie or at least not in the last ten years. BUT I promise this one is true. This happened and I realized it exactly when I say I did. SO, I was packing an extra bag to fly home for my friend's wedding. The bag was extra because I didn't need it, it was just a bag I wanted to fly back to the east coast for my parents to have. Since it was extra, I decided to get some stuff I didn't need out of my apartment, and throw a future extra items in for use at home. My bag contained these items before I put the books in: a pair of dress shoes, a cassette car adapter for an ipod, and a towel on top. I then put in the books which I've read and didn't need to read again. After putting them in, I looked over what I had and these were them: Choke by Chuck Palahniuck (ok), Wicked by Hack McGuire (getting sketchy), Now I Can Die In Peace by Bill Simmons (rut-roh, orange alert), and American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis (oh shit), all conveniently laid out on top of my College Yearbook. It was at that moment that I realized that if Homeland Security didn't inspect my bag, they weren't doing their job correctly.

Today, after the long flight, and subsequent long sleep, I opened up my smaller extra bag to grab the ipod adapter. And wouldn't you know what was sitting on top: a brochure saying that my bag was inspected by Homeland Security! THEY DID THEIR JOB! I have never been so reassured by a process in my entire life. I also think that maybe I'm qualified for that job now, and maybe I can get hired and then parlay that into a Private Investigator position. I've already gotten the first disc of Moonlighting from the library and have four awkward seasons of Veronica Mars behind me. Yes, I do see this working out.

Witz Pickz Private Dickz,
Witz

Witz Pickz: The Cob, Bitter:sweet, Kingdom Come

A few pickz to keep July groovin':

Corn on the Cob: Corn is a tasty, useful food that we've been eating for thousands of years. Some people prefer maize, but to them I say "Corn IS Maize!" But while corn gets all the good hype, The Cob gets nothing, and yet, no kind of corn is better than corn ON THE COB (except for candy corn, but that shit isn't natural-- it's baked by easter bunnies in the base of a subterranean mountain in South Dakota). Corn just tastes better on the cob. Now maybe this is because it's fresh or in season, but let us not dismiss the cob so quickly. Who are we to say that the cob and eating corn off of the cob is not the reason why corn on the cob tastes so good? NOBODY! WE ARE NOBODY! Give the cob its due.

Bitter:sweet: Do you enjoy Lily Allen? If you do, then have some more-- this time she's called Bitter:sweet and is a band from southern California. Same sound, different people, and from the myspace songs I've heard, such as Dirty Laundry, quite enjoyable. Clearly, however, there is the question of the : in the name. Some people might say that it's the divider between categorical opposites-- an analogy between the bitter and the sweet, as the music they create. But I think it's a typo that they didn't catch and are now stuck with. I mean c'mon, a collon? Who does that? It's almost too easy to accidentally hit "shift ;" after typing an "r" that I don't see how anyone could think anything else. Do you honestly even think the semi-collon existed before somebody with poor handwriting got lazy on the bottom "."? Not a chance. Did you know that a "?" does not actually mean "to inquisite", but rather, "I am not sure of my exclamating!?" it's like a spork in that respect. Is what I'm saying true? I dunno, do you take your grammatical and punctuational directives from Witz Pickz now? I would think not. If you answered "Yes," maybe it's time for you to re-examine your life and see where you might improve it; possibly while listening to Bitter:sweet.

Jay-Z's Kingdom Come: It's a bit after the fact, but I finally sat down and straight up LISTENED to Jay-Z's new album-- the one he came out of retirement for. Until recently, I had been telling people offhand that it was terrible and just not enjoyable to listen to. After listening closely, however, my opinion has changed-- or at least gained more depth. You see, the first 9 tracks or so are really really well constructed. They are intimate moments with Jay-Z in his life and they tell a story. Some of them are catchy, but most are simply interesting, and show off Jay-Z's massive lyrical talents. Around track ten, though, things shift. Maybe it's the fact that Dr. Dre produces much of the latter half of the album, but they suddenly stop being so intimate and connected (both topically and musically), and begin to sound like extra tracks that they used to fill the album. They become more gangster rap sounding and lose the intricacies of the earlier tracks. They sound like a bunch of individual tracks as opposed to one continuous musical movement. So while I would now say that the album is not terrible, I would say checkout the first half of the album and then do what you will with the rest. It's mostly Jay-Z telling us that he's back...which we know....because...well...he's back.

I'm flying back East again tomorrow, so I'll try posting again on Wednesday. Hopefully nothing about airplane fiascos.

Microphone Checkers Present: King Me,
Witz

Witz Pickz: Witzpickz! And Witzpicks!

Happy 4th of July people! I don't know why you're sitting there reading Witz Pickz on this beautiful/overcast/partly cloudy/rainy day, but if you are, you are among the first to know that Witz Pickz has gone to the next level! That's right-- eliminating what could have been a really thoughtful, insightful gift for my birthday in two months, I purchased www.witzpickz.com and www.witzpicks.com. You can now go to either of those sites and it will-- well, it will forward you back to here. But the point is, if you actually type it in, it's even easier and faster, and you can tell people verbally off the cuff to go to Witz Pickz dot com, and even if they don't get the z's thing, they will end up here. GLORIOUS! Here are some Fourth of July Pickz:

Grills: These wondrous devices cook up the most delicious of meats and veggies. How do they do it? Contrary to popular belief, it is not magical fairies flying around in circles so quickly they create enough heat to cook your food. No. In fact, it is heat produced by charcoal or gas or propane (which may or may not be the same as gas)! Anyway, I always assumed grills were massively expensive-- even the small charcoal ones I figured went for about 70-80 bucks. But guess what?? THEY'RE NOT! I found small grills with stable builds and legit looking cooking puts for 20-40 bucks. That's it. Amazing. And propane grills were selling for 100-200 bucks for really good looking setups. I can't wait to own a home.

Fireworks: Alright, here's the thing. I pick the idea of fireworks and the fact that they exist. People invented gun powder to kill each other and then some Japanese or Chinese guy (at least according to "Shanghai Knights" starring Jackie Chan and Owen Wilson, used the powder to make crazy designs and colors in the sky. Well played. HOWEVER, that was hundreds of years ago and I am now sick and tired of the same old firework displays. Big burst, small burst, sizzle, sizzle, Pop, Pop, Pop. Throw some Beethoven behind it and that's the works. COME ON PEOPLE! Let's get creative. There has to be other ways to make these things explode. Create new patterns. New designs. Explode them into the outline of Bill Clinton's head, and then make that head wink. How cool would that be? Play something hip for the kids behind it and you got yourself a show.

Independence: Independence is cool! No way around it. When I was little, I didn't understand what July 4th was all about-- I mean, those Brits seemed cool enough, and hey, who likes tea anyway? Stamps are overrated. But sometime after fourth grade I got it. Being independent is awesome. It's not about the taxes or the condescending attitude, it's about being able to eat ice cream for dinner, and stay up until four in the morning watching episodes of Dinosaurs you bought on DVD. It's about staying out late on a school night and making as big as mess as you want-- because only you have to clean it up. It's about not washing dishes right away, eating at a table that isn't set, and having pizza 8 nights a week. That's right-- EIGHT. It's that good. Independence is Pizza Eight Nights A Week. And nevermind having to worry about healthcare and getting a job, and not getting scurvy, because you, my friend, have your independence, and can listen to "Since U Been Gone" or "Beer" or any Three-Six Mafia as loud as you want, whenever you want. So how about that?

Wishing Healthcare, Rent, and Food were Independent-- I mean Free,
Witz

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