BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Somewhere back in ancient history, that being 2009, I had myself a crisp stack of “Office Depot Rewards Dollars”… Okay, so it wasn’t really a stack. It was more like a gift card looking thing. However, the point is I had this handful of  their somewhat free money that I had received in exchange for spending a whole lot more of my not so free money in their stores.

But there was a problem… The “free money” had an expiration date  and it was rapidly approaching. Compounding that problem was the fact that I didn’t need any office supplies at the moment. I know, totally effed up, eh? I mean, I suppose I could have bought another case or two of paper, but my cabinets were pretty much stocked and I didn’t have anyplace to store it.

So instead, I went out and bought myself a webcam. Why? Because it was free money… Well, free in a Miracle Max sorta way. You know, mostly free, but I already explained that. And since I didn’t need any office supplies, and I didn’t have any room for storing extra supplies, I needed to get something small. And a webcam is pretty small. I should also note that I picked up a couple of flash drives and some stuff for the o-spring too. In order to offset the frivolousness of the webcam, of course…

But anyway…

After setting up the little plastic ball housing a CCD and a cheap lens, then farting about a bit, I used my new webcam to create my profile pic on Facebook. Soon afterward I ran off at the mouth about how I had done this really cool thing with my new bit of technology…  “Born Again Luddite” that I am, although I know about, understand, and in most cases can repair  all of this “new technology”, I’m way behind the curve in the ownership department where tech toys are concerned, and I know it…

At any rate, it wasn’t long before someone suggested I use this toy to do a daily picture, just for the sake of posterity. You know, one of those progressive “Murv Gets Older” sort of things. Well, since E K uses me as her “picture in the attic” so to speak, I already know I’m graying prematurely and don’t need any reminders. Still, the idea had some merit if one applied a bit of warpedness to it. And me being me… Well… I couldn’t leave it at something as mundane as posterity. I had to step across the line, stick my tongue out at everyone, then go all willy nilly with knees bent running about advancing maneuvers on the other side of said line.

By that I mean The Daily Swervin’ Project was born. An new profile pic each day on my Facebook Page – with a few exceptions when I was out of town and didn’t have access to a computer. When conceived, the plan, much like the mostly free money, was given an expiration date – that being 1 year from inception. And so, it began on November 14, 2009 and in keeping with the date stamped on side of my head, November 13, 2010 was the final Daily Swervin’.

What may come next in the realm of Facebook Profile Pics remains to be seen. However, for now, as promised, a flash presentation has been created. A retrospective of sorts. 365 profile pictures all in sequential order, complete with a bit of classical music from Handel.

“Why with classical music?” you ask.

“Simple,” I reply. This way the 6 minutes of your life that you’ll never be able to get back won’t be completely wasted…

The Daily Swervin’ Project

I am old enough to remember when “Mister President” wasn’t just an honorific from days long past for Jimmy Carter. What I mean by that is I was not only alive, but I was also functioning and capable of rational thought that went beyond strained green beans and pooping. In fact, I was in high school,  so I was more interested in irrational thought about the “little red haired girl” in the second row of my 5th hour creative writing class. Or was she a blonde? Brunette?

Well… We just won’t go there…

The thing is, I remember Jimmy Carter’s presidency, and oddly enough this blog has next to nothing to do with that. Then why mention it, you ask? Well, I said “next to nothing” not “absolutely nothing.” Confused yet?

You see, back when the smooth talking peanut farmer from Georgia was in office, lusting in his heart after beautiful women; and trying his damndest to get his brother to stop taking a leak on the tarmac at the airport in plain view of TV cameras – (after drinking two cases of his self-named signature beer, of course); and making concessions to save hostages, but that would undoubtedly guarantee him being only a 1 term president; and touring a nuclear facility that narrowly avoided a core meltdown; and having the White House mail room re-package and send back the red, white, and blue chainsaw a company had shipped to his daughter because she wanted one for Christmas…

Well, I think you get the point. As is usually the case with anyone occupying the oval office, the man couldn’t sneeze without it being on the evening news – and, on Saturday Night Live. Of course, this was back in the day when SNL was worth looking at, and Aykroyd did a great Carter.

So, where am I going with this?

Simple. Dave Barry.

Now you’re REALLY confused, right? Good…

You see, Dave Barry wrote a great column about having a colonoscopy. He took a somewhat gross topic and made it funny. I know, I know, you are still reeling and trying to figure out what this has to do with Jimmy Carter. Well, I’m not going to talk about a colonscopy. I’m still a year or so off before the insurance company will pay for my alien anal probe, so stop hurting yourself trying to make the connection. I am, however, going to talk about hemorrhoids. President Carter had himself a nasty case of them while in office and the news media jumped all over it. Of course, that simply led to SNL bending it over the desk and getting to know it in the biblical sense.

Thus far, my ‘roids have not made it to the news. Nor has any improvisational comedy troupe performed a skit around said affliction as it relates to a mid-list suspense-thriller author living in Saint Louis. I did, however, make an innocuous and roundabout comment about them on Facebook – the gist of that being that I needed something stronger than Preparation H.  No graphic details or descriptions. Not even a mention of the word “hemorrhoid”… Just, I need some Preparation I or J ’cause H ain’t cuttin’ it…

What did that get me? A whole lot of “TMI, DUDE!” comments.

Well, I’m not embarrassed to tell you that I’m a bit inflamed by this. I mean, it pretty much tells me that people don’t believe my ass is anywhere near as funny as Jimmy Carter’s, and that’s just constipated thinking. It also says that my ass isn’t as funny as Dave Barry’s, which sort of  pains me. Now, while I am willing to concede that Dave’s ass is pretty damned funny, my blog has actually been compared to his – and his column – so I would think my ass should be bleedin’ funny too. Trust me, I don’t have a swollen head about this. It just burns me a little. I know that it’s uncomfortable to sit here and talk about this, but as you can tell I’m itching to say something. Yes, I suppose a story like this is bothersome, but don’t shrink away from it and leave me dangling. That’s not soothing in the least.

You know, maybe it’s all just a matter of marketing. I think I’ll have my publicist contact the media when I schedule my hemorrhoid-ectomy. Maybe The Early Show will want to broadcast it live on TV, just like they did for Harry Smith’s colonoscopy…

I just hope the cameras don’t make my ass look too big.

More to come…

Murv