CI #16 -- Bad People

Flipping back and forth between Letterman and "Conan" (still not comfortable with calling it "The Tonight Show") last night, I realized that the most interesting part of the New Late Night Comedy Wars is not the comedy itself but rather the guest booking. In this category I think Letterman has clearly been winning very recently, but last night it was a dreadful tie.

There was Mike Tyson on Conan for this new documentary and Rachel Ray on Letterman for having had some sort of cyst removed. I have to admit I've always been amused by Mike Tyson. But he's best enjoyed when taken out of context and cut into a montage that is so absurd you kind of trick yourself into believing A) that did not just happen and B) he is not an actual human being, and therefore gets some kind of pass.

I'm not a huge fan of Rachel Ray these days either (her segment failed to change my mind), and so that led to the curious question "Who is the less bad person, Mike Tyson or Rachel Ray?"

I decided to tackle this with a classic con/con analysis. Here's the breakdown. (Click on the picture if it's hard to read.)


And after all this I'm still undecided, but I think we all learned a little something in the process

CI #15 -- Grape Jelly

Plain old grape jelly. We pretty much take it for granted. Perhaps that's because it's most commonly found on sandwiches alongside peanut butter or on English muffins if you're fancy, or simply English.

But what happens when a mundane, everyday object like grape jelly appears in an unusual or interesting place? It gets elevated to a whole new level and suddenly becomes a lot more exciting. Like cheese, for instance. On a plate, it's cool but no big deal. On some dude's head, it means "I'm at this Packers game, and I came to party!"

A situation just like this recently presented itself to me when Katie and I were watching TV. She was eating a PB&J sandwich when, all of a sudden, a glob of jelly fell out of the sandwich and onto her chest. She was wearing a V-neck shirt, and it landed north of a "crevasse," if you know what I'm sayin' but was definitely bordering interesting territory. And Katie, always the courteous Earth-dweller, had decided to forgo a napkin. Needless to say, we had ourselves a quandary.

I silently began to think "Oh man. What should I do? Should I... Dare I lick it off? That's not usually my style, but then again..." And then I realized that the question "Should I lick grape jelly off my girlfriend's chest?" is really like asking oneself (cq) "Hey Greg, do you enjoy being alive? Or do you just want to go ahead and start the painful countdown to your ultimate demise?"

So I licked it off and we kept watching TV.

CI #14 -- No-nonsense Equestrianism

Let's say you like to ride horses. You've been an avid equestrian for quite a while, perhaps since you were a wee tot. It's stress relief for you. You'll trot around your prairie/dell/meadow, maybe check in on the fox hunt, but not necessarily participate. You don't see much need for showy galloping without proper cause (or proper attire), but you'll canter. Oh boy, will you canter. You most certainly will not, however, ride bareback or even think about shouting "Woo doggie, ride 'em cowboy!!!"

In colloquial terms, when you're in the saddle, you're all bidness. So, (cq) what kind of literature is available for you, the no-nonsense equestrian?


Who says print is dead?

CI #27 -- My Appointment With Death

I found this pamphlet on the windshield of a car down the street from me. Presumably, its goal was to get me to consider the end of my days, and I did. But what I didn't realize was how hilarious this pamphlet would be.

If you do indeed believe you have an appointment with death, is it possible to have a sense of humor about said appointment with death?" The answer is a resounding and apparent yes, at least with respect to the clever prose of Harold S. Martin. Consider the following:

- [Ed. note: Ever hear the one about] the man who said to his wife, 'Begorra, I wish I knew where I was going to die. If I knew that, I'd never go there."

Woody Allen, I know you're Jewish, but eat your heart out. On second thought, that's all the more reason to eat your heart out.