Scale model of Moscow, comissioned by Kruschev in 68 & then lost for 18 years
Archive for April, 2008
A growing chorus of Jonsonblog readers are raising the issue that recent posts are landing in a rareified “not so much funny as ‘disturbing/gross'” territory. A smattering:
“If the jonsonblog had existed before you two were married, I’m not sure I’d have introduced you” – a friend’s email to the missus.
“It seems like lately you’re working through some issues” – work colleague
“you can’t strike comedy gold every time” – long time commenter
The truth of the matter is, it’s a tricky position, writing when you’re aware of an audience. I can’t write about work, or family, or friends, and writing about quirky items in the news or wacky products I find on the internet isn’t something I like doing very much.
The whole point of the blog was to have a place to write down things that amused me, and along the way a handful of people started reading it. Fine, in as much as I love making people laugh, but eventually knowing who was reading (or that anyone at all was reading) started to color the things I wrote about. I certainly don’t want people I care about thinking worse of me because of some (seemingly) innocuous jokes I’ve told online.
Perhaps it’s time to slow things down a bit on the jonsonblog. I’m not saying “quit” per se, but maybe just take a break until something strikes me as so funny I can’t stand to not write about it.
My friends & I have developed such a disturbing conversational shorthand that sometimes it takes seeing it in writing to really get some perspective on it. This exchange from lunch today sums it up nicely:
Me: I wish I had ordered bacon on my grilled cheese sandwich. Hey, can I just have some of your bacon that comes with your pancakes?
Me: Just a little?
Friend: No. I need my protein.
Me: I will give you replacement protein.
Friend: I reject your offer completely.
Me: Really? You don’t find my offer to sprinkle my man-juice on your lunch an acceptable trade for the side plate of bacon?
This is such an absolutely typical example of our daily conversation that it’s surprising neither of us has been pepper sprayed by random people within earshot.
I’ve decided to start excusing myself from any undesirable activity by citing McCain’s time in prison. For example:
The Missus: Honey, the garbage trucks come tomorrow.
Me: Sweetheart, John McCain did not spend five years in a Vietnamese hellhole so that I would have to take out the trash.
It works; it’s universally applicable, and if you parse the meaning of the words, it’s 100% true. I look forward to the McCain candidacy, and I anticipate poor jonson behavior not seen since 1996 (“Officer, Bob Dole did not have his right hand paralyzed by the krauts so that I would have to wear pants in public”).
For years now, I’ve mocked my Pug Oscar, on all kinds of fronts, from his tiny walnut sized brain to his effeminate mannerisms, going so far as to emasculate him on camera repeatedly:
Well, he may be stupid, and he may be effeminate, but no one can say he isn’t sneaky. Yesterday as I was getting ready for work, he snuck out of the house, and wandered our neighborhood for hours. Some friendly neighbors found him pawing at the fence that borders the not very developed government land at the border of our neighborhood, thankfully, and called us when they saw the flyers we put up.
What’s troubling is that I can’t understand why he would want to run away. Oh wait, maybe it’s because of photos like this:
Hah! Sucks to be you, gay dog. Now you have to wear a collar every day!!
Back in high school, I was looking through the dirty magazine section of some liquor store when I ran across a magazine called Shaved Orientails (not a spelling error, it really did say “tails”). I was too young to legally purchase a copy, but in furtively thumbing through it I saw literally an entire periodical full of the same picture over & over again, with a different model on each page.
Upon thinking about the magazine later, I realized what a large world it was, because there’s apparently enough people who are specifically turned on by:
- Via still images
- Of Asian women
- Facing backwards
- With their genitals shaved
…to support a monthly publication. Of course, now in the internet era, print/paper/distribution costs are nil, and in fan sites, model costs & photography are donated by creepy lunatics hobbyists who all too willingly donate time & effort to their causes.
Which brings me to this. If Wishe(r)s were Horses is a site for people who wish they were human/horse hybrids. Not so that they could run really fast, or survive on a diet of hay, or add more prancing to their daily rituals, but for pretty much entirely sexual reasons. I could spend the rest of my blogging life writing about this site, so I will force myself to cut it short, but I wholeheartedly encourage each & every one of you to check out the art gallery.
Ah, Rule 34 (“If you can imagine it, there is porn of it”), you remain as true today as ever. Amusing sidenote: in Googling “Rule 34”, I found “rule34.paheal.net,” a site that in roughly one year has set about trying to prove the legitimacy of Rule 34 by having members upload the most unlikely & oddly inspired pornographic images ever. So far there are over six thousand four hundred pages with a dozen or more pictures per page. Favorites in the couple of minutes I spent clicking “random” include this image of the Pringles mascot getting intimate, this drawing of a guy having oral sex with Gizmo from the movie Gremlins (note the time on the clock!), and this picture of Mr T sodomizing Santa Claus.
It’s a big world, all right. A big, terrifying world.
So, I’m sure this has happened to all of you at one point or another, but here’s an amusing anecdote from earlier today:
I’m on a client conference call, and I’m using my iPhone to show an email to one of the people from my office. At that moment, a co-worker (not seeing that the phone wasn’t on mute) asked “what are you showing him, a picture of some dude’s vagina?”
I guess I have a reputation for showing people pictures of things like that.
So, that comment made me google Buck Angel, the female(ish) porn star who had a double mastectomy, pec implants, hormones & steroids and can now truly be said to have a “dude’s vagina.”
Which is why, later in the day, when someone mentioned the topic of women who sound like men over the phone, I had, already up on my iPhone, this photo.
You know, upon reading this back I’m forced to admit that explaining why I have a picture of a dude’s vagina already queue’d up on my iPhone doesn’t really make me seem less creepy.