Not One Word, And I Hope a Polar Bear Eats You
Had an awesome idea.
This really old ugly guy was staring back at me from my bathroom mirror. He had Beethoven’s hair…at least, in volume. Lots of split ends, and I don’t wanna know what kind of thin spot he had up top. Nick Nolte’s face, and the Ayatollah Khomenei’s eyebrows. You could hide ball-point pens in those things if you tried. Black anti-Obama tee shirt covered with sawdust from the day’s woodworking projects…
Not the picture of a tree hugger by any stretch. And yet I had five CFLs above that mirror. Two of them unscrewed. And, downstairs, my car has four cylinders — so a thought flashed through my right-wing wood-carving old-man-head.
This video might have contributed to that thought. But I had the thought. I have a new campaign in mind.
Next time I’m asked to make a personal sacrifice to save the planet, I want the very first subject in that conversation to be bathroom lighting. I want to know how many light bulbs the enviro-lecturer has in his bathroom. Then I want to know how many of them are unscrewed.
There is no reason for a bathroom to be fully lit. Seriously. If you’re doing that to keep mildew and mold from growing so you don’t have to clean as often, that’s just gross. Nobody in his right mind wants all that light during the two a.m. tinkle…and you damn sure don’t have any call to go lecturing me about conserving to save the planet.
You want to lecture me about saving the planet — you have some light bulbs in your bathroom unscrewed. And your car has four cylinders or less. You do those two things, you can talk. That is all that buys you, the privilege of talking to me. Changing my mind is the next hurdle, and that one might be a bit tougher. But there’s no point you even worrying about that, before you reach the first step.
To say word one — word one — you need to bring those two things. Unscrewed bathroom light bulbs and a four-cylinder car.
Otherwise, not one fucking word and I hope a polar bear eats you.
I like this. I like it a lot. I might have a new tee shirt printed up. A black or dark gray one, for my woodworking projects.
Update: Come to think of it, if you’re going to bitch about tax cuts costing money…aside from qualifying as a clueless dipshit according to Item #7 on my list of ways to give yourself away as one…I want to know how much extra money you’re sending off to the IRS each year since you think it’s so outrageous that your taxes are too low.
Dollars, cents, maybe even the check number and date. Or else Not One Fucking Word And I Hope a Polar Bear Eats You.
Cross-posted at House of Eratosthenes and Right Wing News.
[...] Cross-posted at Washington Rebel. [...]
I’d skip the conversation if I could watch a polar bear eat them.
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Irish Cicero, Irish Cicero. Irish Cicero said: Not One Word, And I Hope a Polar Bear Eats You http://goo.gl/fb/aWtGw [...]
Nice. What if your car has four cylinders and a BF turbo? What if your bathroom is lit like a porn set, but all the lights are $30 LEDs that use no juice at all. (Hell, those babies actually make electricity, they’re so good.)
These damn issues always have so much nuance. I never get the nuance right. The Beethoven hair I recognize, though. I used to have that of a morning. Now I buzz it off … uh, oh, I wonder if my little Wahl clipper is energy efficient?
Are there Grizzly bears in the Cascades? Seems like there should be. Keeps down the hippie population.
I’m prepared to give ‘em the benefit of any doubt, Kenny, and I doubt it will change the situation very much.
The car thing is a regional thing. Here in NorCal, the buzz about “going green” is mostly corporate, as in, it’s a new way to market products and services. The East Anglia scandal has done little-to-nothing to slow it down, and the cars you see in parking lots are still freakin’ leviathans. Fourth Q of ’10, they’re just starting to shrink a little bit. Everyone likes to sit way up high…and do their bit to fight “climate change”…and do a lot of lecturing to everybody else about it. When they have to climb a stepladder to get into their commuter vessel. No acknowledgment or recognition of any contradiction, or even irony. Absolutely none. It’s really amazing.
Four cylinders, three cylinders, two cylinders…or get out of my face, and I hope a polar bear eats you.
No argument from me, I agree with you completely. Here in Texas, green propaganda is limited to the usual suspects … the schools, the media, and hippies (even if they live in a $2M house and drive a Prius, they’re still hippies).
The mothers at the grocery store with their unsanitary re-usable bags are clearly brainwashed by their children who are radicalized in the schools. How else to explain such ridiculous behavior? Corporate advertising plays to that demographic as you might expect. Disposable income, a desire to feel good about themselves, and a willingness to be led by children. Perfect advertising target.
The schools as engines of radical social change … now there is a topic for another day.
It’s sickening.
[...] Not One Word, And I Hope a Polar Bear Eats You [...]
Dude, aren’t you the same age I am, pretty much?
We don’t know “old” yet, except as relative to being children. And I hope we both get to know “old” in a free country.
I’m thinking a pair of lips zipped up with a zipper, and a polar bear floating on a chunk of ice, sitting on his butt, with a leg hanging out of his mouth.
Not One Word, and I Hope a Polar Bear Eats You.
I like it.
Here’s an alternate. Sarah Palin’s face with a shush finger over her lips…. and the same sitting polar bear with the leg hanging out on the other side.
Maybe with a Birkenstock hanging precarioiusly from the foot, and a chain with a peace symbol hanging out of the mouth over the bear’s belly.
The Hooter’s girl picture at Morgan’s Clues to Cluelessness is priceless:
http://www.peekinthewell.net/blog/what-gave-you-away/
It’s just lots of different factors. When your bathroom has lights over the mirror, the light source is overhead which accentuates the bags under your eyes. I went bike riding after a big company shindig involving white meat with red wine…which is something I really can’t handle even if I’m not exerting myself. I’ve got a three day weekend here but I’ve allowed it to really mess up my sleep schedule, plus when you wear dark clothes while sanding down a pinewood derby, you end up looking like crap.
You are blessed if you aren’t running into this in your forties, Phil. A bathroom mirror, almost by definition, reflects us as we are before we’ve got ourselves all made-up and pretty for the day. In this case it got me to thinking, I’ve always had some of my light bulbs unscrewed in the bathroom and it has nary a damn thing to do with cuddly polar bears or living green. James Cameron, meanwhile, is out there lecturing and he’s living in three homes that total twenty thousand square feet.
Hope a polar bear eats him. And he can shut his mouth until it happens.
It ain’t pretty.
Well, I think we have 4 bulbs in our bathroom, all CFs, and none of them unscrewed.
But then again, I’m also not trying to tell you how you must behave to save the planet.
Because George Carlin and I … yeah. I know you’ve seen the routine.
Got the 4 cylinder car, and the regular bike rides to work. But that’s really to save money and stay in shape, so I can drink beer when I get home. Good beer. Not that bubbly water crap.
And it might have something to do with the not aging as quickly as some, though I suspect you’re right. Fortune probably has at least as much to do with that. Besides, with me it’s the things you can’t see … like joint pains and injuries that take forever to heal.
On the other hand, I like the “so what was your extra check to the IRS written for, and when did you send it in?” bit.