This guy walks into a Psychiatrist's office...

Psychiatrist - What brings you here today?

This guy - Well, doc, I wanted to talk to you about these dreams I have. You see, I'm gay.

Psychiatrist - Go on.

This guy - I keep having these dreams about having sex with women. Sometimes it's just one, but sometimes more than one at a time. The other night there was an entire harem. It just doesn't make any sense.

Psychiatrist - Sometimes our dreams are manifestations of our anxiety about changes in life. How long have you been having these dreams?

This guy - Since I was 12 or 13.

Psychiatrist - That long? And are you finding any changes in your sexual desires while you are awake?

This guy - Nope. No changes.

Psychiatrist - Ok.

This guy - I just want to have sex with women.

Psychiatrist - Well, that's to be expect - did you just say you want to have sex with women?

This guy - Yep. All the time. Sometimes when I'm having sex with a woman, I'll be thinking of having sex with a different woman. In fact, sometimes when I'm alone I'll think about having sex with a women while fantasizing about a different woman. It gets very confusing.

Psychiatrist - And this is in addition to having sex with men?

This guy - No, I don't have sex with men.

Psychiatrist - Didn't you tell me you are gay?

This guy - Yep.

Psychiatrist - But you don't have sex with men?

This guy - Nope. I'm just not interested.

Psychiatrist - Then why do you say you are gay?

This guy - That's what they keep telling me.

Psychiatrist - Who is telling you that?

This guy - Different people. One of my neighbors, this woman I work with, there was even a woman I met the other night at a bar...

Psychiatrist - And why do they think you're gay?

This guy - I'm not completely sure - Something about hating professional sports, and watching 'Desperate Housewives', and some of the hand gestures I make. But they seem very sure of themselves.

Psychiatrist - But you only want to have sex with women?

This guy - Yeah, as often as I can. I was hoping to have sex with that woman at the bar, but she was so sure I was gay, and just didn't realize it yet. Something about her 'gaydar'. She said I was just in denial.

Psychiatrist - Do you feel an attraction to men?

This guy - No.

Psychiatrist - Well, then-

This guy - But that's exactly what I would say if I was in denial.

Psychiatrist - But by definition, you aren't gay.

This guy - How do we know that for sure? Maybe I'm about to come out of the closet any time now, and I just don't know it. I mean, c'mon I actually own an 'Erasure' CD [takes out CD, and shows doctor]

Psychiatrist - These kinds of things don't happen like that. And that's just music, that doesn't indicate anything.

This guy - Don't be naive doctor, what straight man listens to Erasure?

Psychiatrist - I think we're getting off on a tangent here. Why do you put so much faith in these people's opinions? You've obviously had women who slept with you, surely they thought you were straight.

This guy - Yes, but they had an ulterior motive; they wanted to have sex with me. These other people don't seem to want anything from me. They just want me to be happy.

Psychiatrist - So you aren't happy?

This guy - No, I'm actually quite happy. I'd be happier if that woman from the bar would sleep with me, but other than that I'm doing well. Unless it is all a well-crafted illusion created by my subconscious...

Psychiatrist - You need to trust your feelings. If you don't want to sleep with men, you're not gay.

This guy - Ok, but it is all right if I keep saying I am?

Psychiatrist - Why would you want to do that?

This guy - Ever since I started saying I'm gay I've had more women want to sleep with me.

My Lunch With Leon

We haven’t even ordered drinks yet, and already I am being baited into a ridiculously stupid argument. Leon is ranting about how important “spoiler warnings” are, and how careless people have become about revealing details. This whole conversation came about because Leon yelled at someone this morning for quoting Leviticus to him.

“I haven’t finished it yet! Jesus! – You’d think people would warn you before they give away all the details. How hard is it to preface the comment with a warning? It’s bad enough I already know the meek will inherit the earth, thanks to some loudmouth who couldn’t wait to spoil it for me, but now none of it will be a surprise to me.”

He could go on like this all day if I don’t interrupt him.

Now, it is well known that Leon can be difficult to get along with, but it is not nearly as well known why: Leon just likes to argue. It took me a while to figure this out, but once I did it became easier to get along with him. All I do is take a position that is the complete opposite of what I believe, and allow him to convince me of what I already know to be true. When I am tired of arguing, I just agree with him.

But on days like today I don’t manage to establish my position quick enough, and I’m forced to argue that Nostradamus wasn’t the moral equivalent of the guy in the back of the movie theater who shouts out the ending.

“Why can’t people just let me have my surprises?”, he asks, “How many god damn surprises does life really give you anyway?”

I resist the urge to tell him I was completely unable to predict this conversation. I try to change the subject, and make comments about how crime should never be punished, which gets me some strange looks from our waiter, but fails to derail Leon’s rant. I consider pointing out that he just took the lord’s name in vain, but can’t remember that prohibition’s location relative to Leon’s current bookmark, and so I start mentally going through the books of the bible. For some reason, the name “Deuteronomy” always makes me chuckle.

“This isn’t funny!”, his face is turning red, “We need laws to protect literary secrets, just like we have laws to protect government secrets!”

He usually doesn’t get this worked up, so I know this truly bothers him. But since this conversation is starting to bother me I see only one way to end it. I tell him I agree with him, since I felt the same way when someone told me that rosebud was a sled. Of course I apologize for my “unintentional” slip-up, but it is too late.

“You can’t unring a bell!”, he shouts, and gets up to leave.

I say to his back that he is over-reacting as he walks out of the restaurant. It’s not like I told him Darth is Luke’s father. His scream makes the whole conversation worthwhile.

Playing God

I have to admit I've been very busy. All this recent talk about stem-cell research and human cloning has me all excited, and so I have added onto my already expansive lab in the hopes of doing some cloning of my own. This should come as no surprise to those of you who know me, but I just can't wait for the opportunity to play god. Or even to be god. Hell, at this point I'll settle for being the guy who gets god his lattes, in the hopes that it is a position that has a chance for advancement. It's all about networking.

Of course, anyone who has seen "Swimming with Sharks" (an excellent film by the way, Kevin Spacey may actually be god...), would probably conclude that the hazing one gets from a studio executive would probably be nothing compared to the daily wrath of the almighty when you bring sweet-and-low and he asked for equal. Still, I'd be more than willing to endure multiple plagues for the chance to advance to a position where I can make the BIG decisions.

I'm sure the position would involve a great deal of screening prayers, weeding out the endless requests for money, beer and sex, and helping the big guy respond to the truly important issues, like saving good TV shows that are bound for cancellation, giving out Grammy awards, and helping sports teams win in a clutch situation (as I understand it, these sorts of things are usually resolved by which team prays harder, as displayed on the prayometer).

In the meantime I will continue to pad my resume with fictitious jobs and experience, since god must be way too busy to check references, and I bet he'd trust me. Maybe I'll even include a prayer or two in the cover letter. "...Our father who art in heaven, how's the weather up there? Just wanted to thank you for the opportunity to interview for the gopher II position (the one involving being a lackey, not a rodent, in case there is any confusion). Please let me know if I can provide any additional information that might assist you in making your decision, although being all-knowing you probably don't need my help. Your will be done. Amen."

And while I wait I have begun my work on cloning myself. If I am successful, I think I will call him "Ubryzan", since I am finding a 'Q' without a 'U' is relatively crippled.

And if any of you have any time on your hands, can you put in a good word for me? I promise to shut down my Global Warming Machine(tm), since my threats have fallen on deaf ears, and I don't think I'll be getting that $10 Billion ransom. Of course, they might start to take me seriously when those ice caps start to melt...

Today's Advice

Finally I have the Science to back up what I have been saying:

Crocodile Immune Systems Kill the HIV Virus!

So, as I have said many, many times before - Screw a crocodile. It's safer.

Open Letter to the Pacifist Army

As some of you may know, I am the Supreme Commander of the Pacifist Army, a group that doesn't fight, except over what to watch on TV Thursdays at 8pm, or who is more interesting: Ben or Jerry, or whose turn it is to take out the garbage. And as an army, we have had unparalleled success in our quest not to fight. So it is with a heavy heart and light head that I have to make some changes in our membership. The current economic climate has hit us hard, and since we are pacifists we are bound by our commitment not to hit back. But there simply isn't enough finger-paint to go around, and some tough leadership decisions had to be made.

The time has come for us to undergo some "Rightsizing", and let's face it; some of you are simply not the right size. One size fits all may work for thong bikinis, but this is an army, dammit, and we can't be caught with incorrectly sized soldiers in our war against war.

We had numerous proposals for cost-cutting measures, including Bob's suggestion for eliminating pants, which was initially well received until it was pointed out that our army does not contain even one supermodel. This problem will hopefully be rectified shortly through our aggressive recruitment of pacifist supermodels who enjoy going pantsless (it is fortunate for our cause that there are so many potential candidates).

If you are among the newly rightsized, please understand this in no way reflects on you personally, other that the fact that you aren't the right size for us. We hate to lose all of you, but we noticed so many companies doing this, and we just hate to feel left out. We hope you can understand, and if the situation improves we may consider having you re-enlist.

Your Supreme Commander,
Qbryzan

The Few, The Proud, The Peaceful

As many of you already know, I am the Supreme Commander of the Pacifist Army, a group that does not fight, except about who was the best Batman, or who has better hair: Penn or Teller, or which toothpaste is tastier. As a group we have been engaged in a long struggle against fighting, and we are looking for those exceptional people who will help us in our noble quest.

However, our recent recruitment goals have not been met. The current political climate has tarnished the good name of "Army", and has mislead many to believe that it represents a group of people who fight. I can assure you, in our case this could not be further from the truth. We have declared a war on fighting, and we will not rest until the whole world rests. As you can see, this quickly becomes a very confusing task, and one that requires a considerable amount of staffing as well as weed. Fortunately, we know a guy, so we've got the second thing covered, but we still need your help!

Finding the right recruits has been a monumental task. Only a select few have either the skills necessary, or the supermodel good looks to become one of us. Just yesterday I spoke with a very talented and eager young man who assured me that if selected he would give 110%. Obviously we couldn't accept him. It isn't possible for one person to give more than 100%, and his needless hyperbole would only invite trouble. Before long we would have to deal with those that declared they could give 112%, and in no time at all we would reach ridiculous numbers, with claims of "infinity-plus-one percent" or "a million bajillion percent". This is a serious business, and I have no patience for those that can't master simple math concepts.

But we refuse to give up, Peace is on the march, and those unprepared may be trampled beneath its caring boots. I have a dream, that one day no one will need to have a dream just to get people to stop hitting each other. But to make this happen I need your help. We need hugs and drugs, just please - no thugs.

Political Reality

There was once a time when television was only good for one thing - making you feel inadequate for being unable to live up to its unattainable standard of perfection. But times sure have changed. Television can now be used to solve many of society's problems. It has found a husband for Trista, a use for Omarosa, and as we speak is being used to help replace deceased members of famous bands. There may not be anything that this magical box cannot do, and it is high time we harnessed this power to fix one of our most broken systems - Politics.

Let's face it, our political process is fairly close to reality tv already. Why are we holding back on taking it all the way? Just imagine all the candidates for president being forced to live in a house, and have their lives taped, so that we could find out what happens when they stop being political and start getting real. We could make them eat rats, and engage in physical competitions in order to win "luxury" items. And once a week they could have their speeches critiqued by Randy, Paula, and Simon:

R - "Dawg, check it out. You did your thing, you talked about creating jobs, and fighting terrorism, and you had some problems with your pitch, but it was just a'ight for me."

P - "You are a bright shining political star, and America loves you. "

S - "That was appalling. You talked about reigning in spending, when your record clearly shows you vote on appropriations like Ryan Seacrest spends on hair care products. Listening to that speech was like being in a Turkish prison. I wouldn't vote for you if you ran unopposed."

"Ok, so if you want to vote for the democrat, call..."

It would be the most expedient way to get all the dirt on the candidates, since reality tv is designed to make everyone look bad. Let's face it, it can't be any worse than our current system, and it would be far more entertaining, even if it eventually leads to two words that should never be said together, "President Trishelle".