BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Not a day goes by that I don’t say something that belongs on a QUOTE A DAY desk calendar.

Seriously.

Yeah… Okay… So maybe not. However, I do say stuff, and some of it seems sort of quotable. At least, I think it is. My Facebook and Twitter “peeps” have been subjected to my daily musings for some time now. Why? Because the Daily Picture cycle was over and I needed a new “schtick.” Relevant – and often wholly irrelevant – quotes seemed like a good idea. I figure if I keep spewing them long enough I’ll eventually say something that really does belong on a calendar, and once I do, look out. I’ll be the next great philosopher of our age.

Trust me.

I will.

Really.

So anyway, having reached the end of the first quarter, and quotes being a little harder to condense into a 5 minute Youtube presentation than the 365 low-res webcam snapshots of my fugly mug from the daily pic project, I figured maybe I should put them out here in smaller chunks. Especially since folks keep asking me to aggregate them somewhere.

As with anything else, feel free to borrow them, just give credit where it’s due. My bills aren’t in any danger of not needing to be paid, ya’know…

The Whizzdom Of Merp

November 2010

Merpizm 11/01/10: “I am neither legally nor morally obligated to cure you of your stupidity.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/02/10: “Even Occam’s Razor will eventually get dull.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/03/10: “Unbridled activism, of any type, eventually becomes annoying to everyone – even its supporters.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/04/10: “The actual profundity of any statement is directly proportional to its timing divided by its delivery.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/05/10: “Stupidity is much like a cough. You should cover your mouth whenever you feel it coming on.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/06/10: “Opinions, like advice, should be graciously entertained. You can always kick them out when the party is over.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/07/10: “Much like wax fruit, hotel room coffee is only there for show. You aren’t actually supposed to drink it.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/08/10: “In my personal experience, melodrama is rarely all that mellow.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/09/10: “Unbridled passion is good. Bridled is too, as long as my wife isn’t too overzealous with the buggy whip.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/10/10: “Never attempt to write a daily quote before you’ve had your morning coffee.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/11/10: “Having an opinion in no way makes someone an expert on a subject. In fact, it probably just means they have gas.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/12/10: “Just because you can read a book that does not mean you know how to write one.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/13/10: “If you were happy ALL OF THE TIME, how would you know it?” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/14/10: “Nobody is immune to stupid, and unfortunately there isn’t a vaccine for it just yet.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/15/10: “If you aren’t supposed to use adverbs, why the hell does “Lolly” sell the damn things?” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/16/10: “Improper nouns throw wilder parties.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/17/10: “I’m actually old enough to remember when ‘crack’ was only available from plumbers.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/18/10: “Think before you speak, because thinking is sort of like a condom that will keep you from spreading stupid.” ~ MRS

(And if you forget to think all is not entirely lost. Just remember that biting your tongue is sorta like a diaphragm.)

Merpizm 11/19/10: “Forced humor is kind of like an inflamed hemorrhoid. Painful and not really funny at all.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/20/10: “Periods are multipurpose. Not only can they end sentences, they can also abruptly end an otherwise pleasant evening.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/21/10: “If you say something stupid, I’m going to make fun of you. I expect no less when the roles are reversed.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/22/10: “As with brain surgery, sarcasm should be left to the professionals who know how to do it properly.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/23/10: “For the most part, Facebook is really just public exhibitionism performed from the comfort of your favorite chair.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/24/10: “Time is a unique commodity, in that you often seem to have both too much and too little at the same time.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/25/10: “I’m not actually a wise person. I just play one on the Internet.” ~ M. R. Sellars

Merpizm 11/26/10: “A light at the end of the tunnel isn’t always a good thing, especially if it’s coming closer and you’re standing still.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/27/10: “If stupid grew on trees, we’d be living in an orchard at the peak of the season.” ~ M. R. Sellars

Merpizm 11/28/10: “Everyone is entitled to their own big, steaming bowl of stupid. The trick is to not spill it on anyone else.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/29/10: “A bonus of Online Social Networking is that your *friends* don’t care whether or not you’ve had a shower.” ~ MRS

Merpizm 11/30/10: “Overinflated egos are a lot like dying stars. They just keep getting bigger until they eventually implode.” ~ MRS

More to come…

Murv

Over the years I have held several titles.

Not the wrestling or boxing sort, mind you. Although there was that one bar fight, but we don’t talk about that. Still, titles and honorifics come with professions and accomplishments, and I’ve collected a few. Senior Field Service Engineer… Systems Administrator… Husband… Father… Best-Selling Author… Award-Winning Writer…

And those are just a few of the meaningful and the not so meaningful titles ascribed to my name.

I’ve never really been all about titles, to be honest. But I will admit that there are a few of which I am somewhat proud, even if only for a moment. Allow me to explain…

You see, I recently picked up a new title. I didn’t even know I was in line for it, but sometimes these things just happen. At any rate, imagine my excitement when I was notified by the Canadian Ministry of Titles that I had been anointed “Douchebag.” (See the official letter informing me of such in the image below, or view the original HERE)

I was ready to throw a party. Seriously. I mean “Douchebag?” That’s one hell of a title to have bestowed upon oneself. Of course, after looking up the criteria for the title I discovered that I didn’t (and still don’t) actually meet any of the requirements, therefore I figured it was just an honorary sort of thing. After all, that would lend even more credence to it being an honorific, right?

But no. According to the Canadian Ministry, it was beyond honorary. I was, in point of fact, being anointed as a full-fledged, officially certified “Douchebag.” On top of that, I was given the supporting degree of “F*cktard.”

I was an official “Douchebag F*cktard.” I realize that this may seem like a Douchebagatelle to most of you, but for me it was like a dream come true.

A party to celebrate this title became a moral imperative. After all, it’s not every day one is bestowed with such honors – especially from our neighbor to the Great White North. (BTW – No Canadians were harmed during the creation of this blog entry. Not even the Minister of Douchebag who conferred the aforementioned title. Oh, and no moose were harmed either, unless you count that case of Moosehead I killed off while writing this. )

I picked up the phone and started calling all of my friends. I really wanted to invite some military folks I know, but unfortunately they were stuck in DoucheBaghdad and couldn’t make it. I was, however, able to reach my friend in DoucheBagshaw. Even though airfare from England to the US wasn’t cheap,  she told me she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she missed a good Douche.

Next I called Anastasia. She was in Dublin, Ireland at that particular moment, on DoucheBaggot Street trying to find a suitable Douchebaggery. It seems she had already heard about my good fortune and wanted to buy a gift for me. Since I travel so much she figured Douchebaggage would be a good choice. I thanked her, and gave her the details of the party, then moved on with my invites.

A few more calls to my Douchebaggiest friends and the guest list was all set.

Of course, that was just the beginning. If I was going to throw a party I needed a few things, so I headed out to do some shopping.

I stopped at the bakery and picked up some Douchebaguettes for the sandwiches. Of course, we would also need some snack foods, so I picked up some vinegar potato chips. Since this would be an all day affair and some folks would be arriving in the morning, I thought some breakfast type foods might be in order, so I also picked up some Douchebagels. And, for those who might want something a little sweeter I grabbed a couple of boxes of F*ckTarts. After all, I wasn’t just being anointed a “Douchebag.” I was a full-fledged “Douchebag F*cktard.”

Since every party needs a little entertainment, when I left the store  I stopped in at a local booking agent and arranged for a group of Douchebagpipers.

Upon arriving home I called a few folks to help me out with getting things all set up. Once they arrived we took all of the snacks and party favors, lined them up, then began to Douchebag them in individual Douchebaggies. It took some time, but once all of the Douchebaggers were done with the Douchebagging and had all of the party favors Douchebagged,  it was time to get ready for guests to arrive.

I ran off to change into something more comfortable. Since it was going to be a long day I decided that something loose and Douchebaggy was in order, because to me Douchebagginess equals comfort. On the way to change I happened to notice that the evergreen outside our window had Douchebagworms, and made a mental note to call someone about that.

Finally, it was time for the fun to begin. Unfortunately, that’s when I received the call.

“Hello,” I said.

“Murv, this is George Takei,” said the voice at the other end.

“Mister Sulu!” I shouted.

He groaned. “Don’t call me that, okay? Just George.”

“Umm, okay,” I replied. “George it is. So… What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve been given to understand you are throwing a Douchebag party.”

“Absolutely! Would you like to attend? I’m sure everyone would be all excited to meet Mister Su… I mean, THE George Takei.”

“Actually, no.”

I paused. “Umm… Okay… So what’s this about?”

“You can’t have the party,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because I checked the list. You are NOT a Douchebag.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the Canadian Ministry of…”

He cut me off mid-sentence. “Listen, I have the list right here. Haven’t you seen my NO H8 video?”

“Umm. Yes, actually, I have. Great vid and my sentiments exactly.”

“Well then trust me. You are NOT a Douchebag. I have the list right here, and your name isn’t on it.”

“Damn…” I muttered. “Okay, so what about F*cktard? They also told me I had…”

“Nope,” he interrupted me again. “I checked with the director of the Grand Lodge of F*cktards on that one, and if anyone knows F*cktards it’s him.”

“I don’t know what to say…” I mumbled.

“Sorry,” George said. “I know how excited you were about this, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel your party. Or at the very least change the theme.”

“But… But everything is already Douchebagged for the guests convenience…”

“You know, Murv. If you keep doing nice things like that for your friends, fans, and guests, you will never achieve your dream of being a Douchebag.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

And so, my elation came crashing down around me. I was no longer a Douchebag. Nor was I a F*cktard, much to my dismay. In fact, I had never been either one, nor did I stand a chance of becoming anything remotely close.

So, that’s the story. I don’t mind telling you that I’m devastated.

Srsly.

I mean, what the hell am I going to do with all of these vinegar potato chips?

More to come…

Murv