Quasimofo Unmasked!

I'm afraid it's time to end this little charade.

I set up this blog for the purpose of getting a review from humor-blogs.com. You can read the details here.

My real blog is MattressPolice.com. I won't be updating Quasimofo any more, but you can read more of the same kind of semi-coherent nonsense at MattressPolice.com.

Thanks for the kind words and encouragement, everybody! It's been fun.

Diesel out.

I Do Mind! I Do!

The other night my family went out to eat at a local Mexican restaurant, and the hostess asked if we minded being seated "in the back." The way she said "in the back" made me think that perhaps we would have to crawl through a drainage pipe to get there, but being the agreeable sort that I am, I unthinkingly said, "That's fine."

I regretted it immediately. While we waited, I speculated as to what horrors would confront us "in the back." Would there be chairs? Tables? Exposed wiring hanging from rusted nails? Perhaps we would be expected to scavenge our own appetizers from the dumpster behind the meat-packing plant. I looked around for other diners headed for 'the back', anxious to form an alliance to ensure the safety of our guacamole supply.



"We should never have agreed to sit 'in the back,'" I said to my wife. "Now we have no one to blame but ourselves." There would be no point in complaining once we were back there.

"You say you don't mind," the waiter would snarl, befuddled and a bit put out. "Why do you say you don't mind, if you do mind?"

Why indeed? I would have no answer for that. And there we would sit, tossing tortilla chips at rabid monkeys and trying to build a table out of cardboard and packing foam.

As the hostess came for us I wanted to say something, anything, to get out of my commitment to sit "in the back." But what? It's not like she was unclear about what she was asking me. They ask you that question for a reason: Because most people do mind sitting in the back. They mind it one hell of a lot, to tell you the truth. But some people -- maybe they're a little crazy, maybe they have a death wish -- some people don't mind. And there's no switching sides. You don't suddenly go from being someone who doesn't mind to being someone who does mind, just like that.

What kind of explanation could I offer for my sudden conversion? A minute ago I was all, "Screw my family's safety! I want to be Mr. Tough Guy, hanging out 'in the back' with the crack whores and guacamole pirates!" And then just like that I develop an overwhelming need to sit somewhere with modern sanitation facilities and fresh salsa? No, that wouldn't fly. The fronters would never accept us. We'd always be the Table that Thought They Could Make It In the Back But Then Chickened Out.

We took a collective deep breath and headed toward the back. The fronters averted their eyes as we walked by. We passed the bar, the kitchen, the bathrooms... and kept going. As the bright light of the restaurant's main dining room grew ever dimmer, I silently whispered a prayer for protection against the hazards and travails we would soon face. Before I knew it, we were there.

It turns out that "the back" was a lot like "the front," but slightly further away. Hence the name, I suppose. I had the enchiladas.

A Slurry of Monsters

As my wife and I were walking through our cherry orchard the other day, inspecting the trees for blight, rust and urban sprawl, I caught a glimpse of a distant gathering of undead creatures. At first I thought they were zombies, but they could have been ghouls. They're hard to tell apart at a distance. Our orchard was planted on top of an Indian burial ground, so it's not uncommon for us to see various flavors of undead roaming amongst the trees in search of human flesh and a place to whizz. Well, technically it isn't so much a burial ground as it is a casino that collapsed due to God's punishment on immorality and a lack of sufficient sheer support. Efforts were made to rescue the trapped gamblers, but when their relatives were informed that the odds of anyone getting out alive were a million to one, they decided to take their chances elsewhere.

Anyway, now our orchard is plagued by the spirits and/or reanimated corpses of several hundred dead gamblers still trying to beat the odds.

I grabbed my wife's arm and whispered, "Look! A bunch of zombies!"

"A bunch of zombies?" She said disdainfully, barely glancing in the direction I pointed.

"Yeah, look! I think they're grazing...or something."

"I'm pretty sure it's not a 'bunch' of zombies," she said. "And zombies don't graze; they scavenge for carrion."

"What do you mean, it's not a bunch of zombies? There are like eight of them."

"No, I mean it's not called a 'bunch.' You know how it's a pride of lions, a parliament of owls, a murder of crows...."

"A trifling of meerkats," I added helpfully.

"Anyway, I think those are ghouls. They're not scavenging; they're menacing. Zombies scavenge; ghouls menace."

"That doesn't sound right," I said.

"Ok, you're the expert. It's not like I'm a fourth grade teacher or anything."

"Ok, ok," I said. "So what do you call a group of zombies?"

She thought for a moment. "A groan, I think."

"A groan of zombies? You're making that up."

"It's a groan of zombies and a chilling of ghouls. I think that's right."

"What about skeletons?"

"A rattle of skeletons."

"Poltegeists?"

"An annoyance of poltergeists."

"Mummies?"

"Tangle."

"Vampires?"

"Fang."

I thought for a while, trying to stump her. My wife's knowledge of the undead and cryptozoology is formidable. Finally I seized on one that I was sure she wouldn't know.

"What about sasquatches?" I said. "Tell me what a group of sasquatches is called, smarty pants."

She sighed and looked bored. "A blur of sasquatches," she said.

Damn, she's good, I thought.

"We should go," she said. "They look like they're menacing in this direction."

"Hey," I said, as they shambled closer. "I think that's just a bunch of drunk teenagers."

"A posse of drunk teenagers," she corrected.

"Still, they're menacing in this direction."

"Yes they are."

"How do you kill drunken teenagers again?" I asked. We didn't get many of those around here.

"Bullet to the brain," She said.

"Thank God," I said. "Beheading is a bitch."

We drew our sidearms and fired.

Crazy Like God

It is often said that there are no atheists in foxholes. This is undoubtedly true; what I find remarkable, however, is that there are no foxes in foxholes.

Interlude: Two French soldiers huddle in a foxhole.

Pierre: Any news from the front?

Jean-Claude: No. All is quiet on the western front.

Pierre: Any news from the back?

Jean-Claude: Quiet there too.

Pierre: Do we have any more croissants?

Jean-Claude: Let me check.

Pierre: Well?

Jean-Claude: Sacre bleu!

Pierre: What is it?

Jean-Claude: Foxes! A whole den of cute little baby foxes feasting on our croissants!

In unison: We surrender!

This, of course, never happened. French soldiers are known to have surrendered to marmosets, chinchillas and, in a particularly embarrassing incident, a small bit of dryer lint, but never to foxes.

I suggest, due to the absence of both atheists and foxes, that from now on we refer to holes dug for protection against an enemy in wartime "God-holes." In addition to being more technically accurate, this new appellation would also give rise to a renaissance in the area of battle-scene dialog writing:

"Get your head out of your God-hole and get me some ammo!"

"You call that a God-hole? I've seen 90 year old grandmothers with better God-holes than that."

"Sarge, have you seen Private Sandusky pretend to walk down the stairs into his God-hole? It's hilarious."

I guess you could use that last one with "foxhole" too. Still, just once I'd like to see somebody in a war movie do that pretend stairs thing. That gets me every time.

It was, coincidentally, a Frenchman who said that there is a "God shaped hole" in each of us. (It was either Pascal or Sartre. Google and I aren't sure which one, but either way, he's French. I'm pretty sure you could attribute the quote to either of them at a party and appear equally snobbish and effete.)

Now if there's one thing the French know about, it's their holes. I wonder, in fact, if maybe that "God-shaped hole" line was misinterpreted. French is a notoriously difficult language to translate into English, particularly for Americans who don't want to learn French. Perhaps Pascartes' statement was not an abstract philosophical expression but rather a very literal admonition to the French people to do what they do best: Run and hide in a hole.

In this light, Pascartes can be seen as advising his countrymen to find the nearest hole and hide in it until the trouble passes. What trouble? you ask. Well, the heaviness of being, for one thing, not to mention the whole problem of never being able to get that damn rock up the hill. Oh sure, maybe the danger is all in my head, but what do I have to lose by hiding indefinitely in a hole? Surely far less than if I were to risk being crushed by a large rock.

Wow, all this philosophizing is making me hungry. I feel like I've got a hole in me the size of a fox.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

It seems to me that there is a lot of unnecessary strife in this world of ours. I think this would be a good time to do what we can to eliminate the petty disagreements among us and live like the brothers and sisters we are in the great family that is humanity. This post is my humble attempt to encourage all of us, whatever our ethnicity, political persuasion, gender, or attitude toward pork products, to put aside our petty differences and focus on what unites us as a species. So here, for your considerations, are a few suggestions that I think could help us move in that direction. This is just one simple American's take on things, but I think if everybody would make an effort to follow these simple guidelines, we could make the world a better place.

1. Speak English. Imagine how many misunderstandings we could prevent if everybody would just speak English. Pretty much everybody important speaks English these days, so there's no point in sticking with whatever doomed language your parents are trying to foist on you. What language did Shakespeare write in? English. What language are the ten most popular movies of all time in? English. What language is the Bible written in? English. The other day I saw something on TV where two kids in Holland were speaking Hollandaise to each other. Now I know for a FACT they teach English in schools in Holland. So these kids were obviously just trying to be provocative. Speaking a foreign language when everybody knows you speak English just raises suspicion. You saw what we did to Iraq; don't be stupid.

2. Use dollars. Everything important is denominated in dollars these days, and frankly your hexagonal coins with the hole in the middle and your paper money with Queen Amidala on one side and a purple chicken on the other are just plain embarrassing. This is especially the case for those of you from countries that peg your currency to the dollar anyway. Your economy is too unstable to support your own currency but we're supposed to be impressed by the portrait of Jose What's-his-face on your peso? Do you know how big the U.S. national debt is? Five trillion dollars. So do you want a piece of that action or are you really going to stick with the purple chicken? Yeah, that's what I thought.

3. Drive on the right side of the road. You know why it's called the "right" side of the road? Because it's the right side to drive on. That's pretty straightforward. I don't mean to be overly harsh, but we invented cars, so we get to decide. If you invent something we'll let you decide how it works.

4. Be respectful of normal people's lifestyles. If you're gay, or Hindu, or vegetarian, or whatever, that's great. But keep it to yourself, would you?

5. Stop using the metric system. Our system is WAY easier, trust me. There are 12 inches in a foot, three feet in a yard, and a hundred yards in a football field. Simple, right?

6. Stop making us ask permission to fly over your country. We have important shit to do on the other side. You wouldn't understand.

7. Stop making Mexican food that tastes like crap. I am really tired of food in foreign countries not tasting like it's supposed to. You people in South America are particularly bad. You seem to think you can improve on Chevy's. Well, you can't. First of all, you don't use enough cheese. Good rule of thumb: You can never have too much cheese. Also, nobody likes corn tortillas. Chevy's would probaby fly somebody down to help you out if you're having trouble.

8. Stop making your own movies. You don't have enough money to make them any good. And nobody wants to read a movie (see #1). We don't mind making the movies for you. Also, music and TV. And books, magazines, and software. Consider it our gift to you.

9. Show some appreciation. We don't mind defending the whole free world from the Nazis, Communists and Islamofascists. But it would be a nice gesture if you would say thank you once in a while. Maybe have a parade for us. Oh, and you could pick up a check occasionally.

10. Use the term "American" correctly. I know that this is kind of confusing, so I thought I would get it out in the open for once. Here's the deal: People from the United States of America are called Americans. I don't make the rules; that's just the way it is. There's really nothing else you could call us. United Statians? No, we're Americans. Which means that nobody else can be Americans. If you live in North America and you're not American, then you're Canadian. And if you live in South America, then you're Hispanic or, more formally, Mexican. Pretty easy when someone explains it, right?

Peace and goodwill toward all of you, especially those living in backward countries where you don't have a bicameral legislature or Wal-Mart.

A Small Proposal

A lot of people ask me what, in my opinion, is the biggest problem facing the world today. I answer, without hesitation, "global warming." Why? Because I value a quick response over accuracy, that's why.

If I were given a little more time to think about it, I would probably say "overpopulation." Because think about it: If the population were a quarter of its current size, greenhouse gases could be cut to a quarter of their current levels, we'd have four times as much food per capita, and they would have to cancel Fear Factor because of the dropoff in viewership.

So, you ask me, how do you reduce the size of the world's population by 75%? The answer is simple: We assemble the earth's brightest minds in one place and assign them a single task: to genetically engineer smaller people.

If this doesn't immediately strike you as a good idea, just imagine how much better the world would be if we were all a quarter of our current size. Consider, for a moment, how impressive the world's largest ball of twine would be. That's right, it would be sixteen times as impressive. Wait, you object, don't you mean four times as impressive? No, intrepid reader, I do not. For as you may recall from high school calculus, as one's height decreases arithmetically, one's susceptibility to being impressed by mundane objects increases geometrically, making that one seriously impressive ball of twine. And holy crap, don't get me started on the pyramids, because they are freaking huge already. Speaking of which, why don't they put the big ball of twine in front of the Sphynx, so it looks like a big cat toy? OMG that would be SO cute!!!

Anyway, let's move on to the part where you say, "Ok, that does sound like a good idea. But is it technologically feasible?" To this I respond: Did John F. Kennedy pause to ask whether his plan was technologically feasible before committing 400 American "advisors" in an unwinnable conflict in Southeast Asia? No sir, he did not! And yet, JFK is revered as a hero for his exploits as captain of PT-109, demonstrating that if you have to go on a trip with a Kennedy, the surest way to avoid drowning is, ironically, to travel by boat.

You may object that there are logistical challenges to reducing the size of the population of the entire world by 75% simultaneously (my understanding of genetic engineering is that it works something like sorcery). I am way ahead of you on this one, which is why my plan is to shrink the population one geographic region at a time, starting, of course, with the Middle East. Now I'm aware the "Middle East" is a somewhat nebulous term, but I believe it can be roughly defined as the region between Europe and Asia whose geology is characterized by layers of shale and petroleum deposits, covered by a layer of sand, and topped off by a layer of crazy people who want to kill me. This combination of strategic importance and collective insanity make the Middle East a prime candidate for shrinkage. And if something goes horribly wrong, hey, dibs on the free oil!

Any questions?

Even a Traffic Whore Has Some Standards

I'm a traffic whore. I labor under the delusion that if some day my readers outnumber the teachers who wrote on my report cards "Not meeting his potential," my desperate hunger for approval will at last be sated. To this end, I occasionally submit my site to blog directories. I don't think this generates much traffic for me, but I figure it can't hurt, unless the blog directory is called "Blogs That You Should Never Visit Because They Are Hella Lame." And even then, I'd probably submit mine, because how much damage could it really do? Judging by the number of blog directories out there, somebody must be starting a new blog directory every time a Starbucks opens. Or maybe every time somebody orders a Venti Carmel Macchiatto. I think at this point there are more blog directories than blogs, and since every man, woman and child alive has 12 blogs, that's a lot of blog directories. Anyway, the other day I ran across a blog directory that didn't list my blog, let's call it Not Another Blog Directory. So I dutifully filled out the submission form and waited for the hit to come rolling in. Not long after, I received the following email:

Hello Quasimofo,

Your blog has not been added to the Not Another Blog Directory. Due to the amount of submissions, we cannot explain the reasons for each. Most likely it is due to one of the following:

• blog is listed more than once in the directory
• site is not a blog
• blog is offline
• blog is new (must contain 5 posts and be at least 7 days old due to excessive spammers submitting).
• site contains nudity
• site is a shill site intended to simply promote products/affiliates
• site construes something illegal If you believe your blog should be added, please contact us (be sure to mention what your blog URL is).

- Not Another Blog Directory Team

This, of course, hurt me deeply. In an effort to mask my pain, I fired off the following email:

Hello Not Another Blog Directory Team,

I don't care. Due to the amount of blog directories, I cannot explain the reasons for not caring about each. Most likely it is due to one of the following:

• Your blog directory differs in no meaningful way from the 17,000 other blog directories.
• Your blog directory contains too many other blogs. - Some of the other blogs suck.
• Your blog directory still has the price tag on it, and is wrapped in cellophane.
• Your blog directory uses a color scheme which reminds me of the wallpaper in my bedroom during 5th-7th grades. This was a difficult time for me. Thanks for bringing the memories flooding back.
• Your blog directory does not list my blog; ergo it sucks.
• You used the phrase "amount of submissions," when what you really mean is "number of submissions."
• Not a single blog about Jewish race car drivers.
• Tasteful nudity is what separates us from the animals.
  

If you believe I should care, please contact me (be sure to mention why I should care).

- Quasimofo "Team" (we haven't really been a team since we lost our power forward)

I'd give their real name and a link, but due to the amount of not caring on my part, I don't have the energy.