Mystery #111 - Global Warming

About a year ago I subjected you all to a rather graphic rant about Santa and projectile vomiting (Mystery #137!!!). It's been a long time, so I figured I owed ya'll a blog. Merry Christmas from me to you.

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #111 - Global Warming

Just last week I was standing on my porch wearing shorts and a t-shirt and watching the rain. My Arizonan readers will know, of course, that rain outside of the summer months is extremely rare. My sane readers will know, of course, that shorts weather days before Christmas is a ridiculous thing. “My,” I thought to myself, “This certainly is a Great Mystery.”

These days you’re always hearing the cons of Global Warming: “the glaciers are melting”, “we’ll all get skin cancer”, “the polar bears are dying”. You need only turn on your TV and be flooded by propaganda. I just can’t help but feel it’s all just a touch one-sided. 

“But Joey... polar bears!” cry the zealots. Well you know what? Polar bears terrify me. Sometimes, I wake up in a cold sweat, thanking my sweet Lord for his ongoing protection from the White Menace. If you ask me, any enemy of the bears deserves our gratitude.

And know what hasn’t done a thing to protect us from polar bears? The freakin’ rainforest. Lame.

Mystery #112 – Fire Safety

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #112 – Fire Safety

The fire alarm in the MU went off today.

Now, most of you will remember the Great MU Fire of ’07, a particularly nasty blaze which threatened tens of thousands, few of whom managed to escape with their lives [citation needed]. I myself was inside at the time, diving through the flames just as the roof collapsed with no less than twelve asphyxiated orphans clinging to my back, all of whom I single-handedly resuscitated before reuniting with all their long-lost families (most of whom were wizards).

Well, I can assure you that when that fire started, we knew it. Flashing lights and blaring alarms sprung to life throughout the building; the grating RRRGH- RRRGH- RRRGH sound most of us associate with lining up on the basketball court. The MU was closed for a long time after that, during which administration assured us the building was being remodeled and outfitted with a new, improved fire alarm system.

There is a distinct possibility that I am partially deaf, my handicap only being the exact pitches emitted by new, improved fire alarm systems, but I doubt it. When the alarm went off today, a flashing light began to blink every few seconds. From the basement there was an automated announcement I could faintly hear as I passed the stairwell, but on the main level… nothing. Some people looked around, confused, and most didn’t notice at all.

It finally took a woman in an ”ASU staff” polo to get people moving, “Fire alarm, everybody out of the building!” She yelled it over and over, kind of like, you know, a fire alarm. I didn’t check her for a control panel or a power cord, but I probably should have. It is, after all, a new and improved fire alarm system.

I was already headed out, so I suppose I’ll have to wait and hear how the Great MU Fire of ’08 panned out, but I’m not that optimistic. While “whisper quiet” sounds good in a car, vacuum, or bulldozer commercial, I’m not sure it should be the selling point for a new, IMPROVED fire alarm system. I imagine the singed, exhausted robot woman going home to her robot family. It’s been a long day at work, and she’s not sure she did her job to the best of her ability. She’ll cry oily robot tears as her husband gingerly clamps her shoulders. “It’s ok, wife-bot, you couldn’t have saved them all. That place needs four, five robot alarms minimum. They’re completely understaffed.” But she’ll just keep blaming herself, keep thinking... if only…

I mean, heck, the boy’s bathroom! She can’t even go in there.

Mystery #114 – Mosquitoes

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #114 – Mosquitoes

I enjoy the weather in Arizona. It’s hot, but in the way my oven is hot. China, however, is hot like a hobo’s armpit: it’s warm and sticky and there are bugs here.

Which of course means mosquitoes. Like every other sane person on the face of the planet, I hate mosquitoes. They drink your blood and give you pimples without the silver lining/pastime of popping. Did I mention the blood? They also, I sometimes fear, might have the power to turn me into a mosquito vampire, which would be like a regular vampire except I’d be repelled by DEET and my castle would be in a bayou, which is lame. If I’m going to be transformed into a creature of the night for all eternity, I’m not spending it in Louisiana.

To protect against this (and, you know, itchiness) I’ve developed a talent for snatching bugs out of the air with my bare hand and crushing them. I used to do the same at home with flies and gnats, only without the crushing. However, I feel obligated to kill the mosquitoes – and quickly – lest my pastime become counter-productive.

It’d be kind of like an all you can eat buffet violently abducting a passing fat man, it’s magical forces depositing him before a silently whirring soft-serve machine. “Feed,” it would command him, it’s voice cold and metallic, “Drain me, and find sustenance.” His trembling, flabby hand would reach for a waffle cone, apprehensive but all too willing.

So yeah, crushing it is.

This was all well and good until the other day, when a mosquito made it through my defenses to score a direct hit. I was so angry, I caught him, grabbed a lighter, and held him by the wings with a pair of tweezers while burning him alive. That prompted a good look in the mirror. Just, ya know, FYI. Don’t bite me.

Mystery #115 – Supercalifragilisticexmymomidoceous

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #115 – Supercalifragilisticexmymomidoceous

As far as Greek Mythology is concerned, there is no greater status for a mortal than to be the offspring of a god. All the cool, trendy Greek kids would have told you that only half-human was the way to be. In fact, any myth not exclusively concerning gods was pretty much reserved for these guys. They were human, but they were still way better than you. Hercules was really strong, and eventually ended up being 50% the god of asbestos. Achilles was raised by centaurs, freakin centaurs, because no man was hardcore enough to be his teacher. I mean we’re talking a populace at near this-is-Sparta levels of testosterone, and they had to bring out the centaurs. When you were still getting action figures and legos for your birthday, Perseus’s relatives gave him a sword and some magic armor, and then sent him to go kill a gorgon. The closest I’ve ever come to that was finally beating the goron race in Majora’s Mask. Sure, that’s almost the same, only I didn’t get a dismembered head out of the deal.

But like Spider Man’s dead uncle once said, it ain’t easy being king (or something like that). Hercules, having pissed off his stepmother by existing, had to… uh… lift a bunch of stuff. There were goats in there too. Achilles inherited his mother’s superhuman powers in the “being a stuck up jerk” department, and had to not die while simultaneously pissing off every soldier in Troy. We won’t even get started on Phaëton. Basically what I’m trying to say is that having a golden chromosome may have benefits, but you get a whole load of other crap to deal with at the same time.

This has been on my mind a lot, as it was recently brought to my attention that my mother is the goddess of awesome. I probably should have gotten wise when she blew through nursing school, which I assume she accomplished by arm wrestling every test into submission while the Rocky soundtrack blared in the background. After ripping MCC a new one - literally - she proceeded to land her dream job in a local ICU, presumably by jumping through a skylight before announcing to the terrified staff, “bow before me, mortals, your souls are mine”. Then she shot lasers out of her eyes. At a bear. No, strike that, at an undead army of bears, which she then defeated and made her slave minions. Also, she’s good at yahtzee.

I’m working on living up to that legacy, which unfortunately probably means less days spent watching cartoons and eating Captain Crunch. Dang.

Mystery #113 – Yankee ingenuity

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #113 – Yankee ingenuity

I didn’t sleep much last night, which meant I was up at an ungodly hour today (see Appendix C: Dawn). My dad is an early riser, the poor man, and so we found ourselves awake, together, and in need of morning foodstuffs. Being a great and devoted lover of pancakes, and knowing full well my father had purchased syrup and bisquick last week, I reckoned I’d fix me up some pan to the cakeses. My dad took off to run some errands, leaving me to my kitchen hijinks.

Background. When my dad moved from Suzhou down here to Dongguan, his things got shipped back to the US until he could re-establish residency with a new visa. However, the Olympics are like high-grade antiheroine for China’s bureaucracy, which means the drawers of kitchen supplies with which I would make my sweet morsels are currently trapped like flies in a web of Chinese red tape.

Dramatic irony: I had freakin’ pancakes for breakfast today. My first step was to fashion a griddle out of a metal tray found in a cupboard. That part was easy. We don’t have measuring cups, but I did find a water bottle with ounce markings on it. Luckily we did have a spatula, so I didn’t have to rig one out of hemp and banana peels or anything fancy like that. I mixed my ingredients in a beer mug and stirred them with a chopstick. When all was said and done I had a plate full of funky, deformed, delicious friends. Like most of my other friends, I decided to smear butter on them and drizzle them with syrup.

That’s about when I realized we didn’t have clean forks. 

I earned that pancake.

Mystery #116 – Wisdom teeth

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #116 – Wisdom teeth

I’ve known for a week now that I was going to write about this, but I had to give myself some time. When I first heard from my dentist that I had to get my wisdom teeth out it was just kind of an “eh, no biggie”. They weren’t bothering me, but preemptive strike and all that, I understand, and I figured getting them out now would get it over with.

Having (pretty much) gotten through it all, I’m now wondering why a loving God would have given me wisdom teeth in the first place? If I was of latino descent, I would probably feel the urge to fall to my knees and shout this question to the heavens, but I don’t even own a bumble bee suit so that’s not really an option. Left, then, to contemplation, I fail to see how wisdom teeth could either...

a) have evolved through natural selection (nothing about chipmunk cheeks will get you laid) or…
b) be the product of intelligent design. More like “inattentive, if not vindictive” design. Maybe God just procrastinated on the whole mouth thing and pulled an all-nighter the night before it was due. Yeah, He told his mom he had started last Wednesday, but really he had wasted all his time on that dang World of Warcraft. He knew it was important... but those Sparkle Orcs weren't going to slay themselves! 

If that’s the case, I guess I can’t really point fingers. Except I will point out that my English essays don’t bleed for a week when I leave out a quote. All in all, I guess it comes down to common sense. They’re called wisdom teeth because anyone stupid enough to pay another person to cut their mouth open doesn’t deserve to be called wise.

 

**BONUS MYSTERY: SOLVED!!!**

In old movies, “tooth ache” is always signified by a character having a bandage or white cloth wrapped around their face, under the chin and over the top of the head. I never really got this until the day after my surgery. By then, the swelling had set in and when I walked my cheeks were jigglin’ like slutty cafeteria girl going for seconds at the salad bar. It got to the point where I would hold them in place to keep them from moving (one word, stitches). So, I may be wrong on this, but as far as I’m concerned it isn’t just a fashion statement. It’s a face bra!

Mystery #117 – Subconscious

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #117 – Subconscious

As many of you know, my nose has recently gotten me into trouble (see Mystery 118). Here’s a review for you guys real quick: my dentist cut a little too deep when taking out my upper left wisdom tooth and poked almost into my sinus. I blew my nose, raising my sinus pressure, which ended up breaking this thin remaining division. Now I’m stuck at home sniffling and taking antibiotics.

Obviously, it’s a situation I’d like to end as soon as possible, and so when Dr. Heap says “no blowing your nose, sneezing, etc.” I take him VERY seriously. The last thing I need is for this to nearly heal and somehow land myself with another two weeks. No sneezing, got it.

This morning I woke up and I had to sneeze. I panicked. I tried grabbing my nose, kind of massaging it to get the tickle out, but nothing happened. I thought of how you can “ruin” other people’s sneezes, grabbing their arm a split second before it comes out so they get distracted. The sneeze just goes away. But how do you distract yourself? I had a second to act. I knew I had to do something to stop the sneeze. Before I could realize what I was doing, I was yelling out loud.

“There are bees in the merchandise!!!”

…I know, right? Freud would have a field day with that. I just yelled it, loud and proud to my empty room. Going back after the fact, I can kind of deconstruct my thought process, but this all literally happened in a split second and I really only had time to pick it apart once it had happened. I’m pretty sure… and I don’t know here, but I think I may have cycled through some word association. I think I got “bees” from “distraction”, because, I dunno, bees are distracting or something. And then I’m pretty sure my lightening wit decided something random about bees would do the trick. All in all it probably looked something like this.

Sneeze?
Nooooo sneeze
Stop (grab)
Not working
Sneeze stop?
Distraction?
Bees.
There are bees in the merchandise!!!

On one hand, I’m REALLY glad I found some way to avert that crisis. On the other, I’m more than a little troubled that there’s stuff like that floating around in my subconscious. I swear, being alone in this house is driving me crazy…

Mystery #118 – Karma

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #118 – Karma

Apparently, in a former life, I liked to punch kittens in the face. My recent pre-China follow-up appointment at the dentist went perfectly. Not so perfect was the sudden flow of nasty goo that started leaking from one of my healing incisions after I got home. Turns out, I have a badly infected puncture wound into my sinus cavity, and cannot travel for at LEAST two weeks.

On the plus side, I can now blow my nose out of my mouth. Awesome.

Mystery #119 – Adventure

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #119 – Adventure

So, dear friends, the time has come for us to part. For those of you who do not know, the day after tomorrow (which is Wednesday, but "the day after tomorrow" sounds more dramatic. That's probably why they called the movie that, instead of just "Wednesday") I'll be getting on an early flight to China, and won't be coming back to you until August.

I know a lot of you guys have family in other places who you go spend summers with, but for me that's never been the case. This trip (three months!) will be the absolute longest I've ever been away from good old Chandler, AZ. It’s a little exciting and a little scary, but I think I’ve finally gotten myself psyched up for it. Plus, I’m just really excited to have some time to spend with my dad. This may be a good time to mention, for anyone not yet aware, that my dad moved to China last summer for his job. He’s been back now and then for the holidays and stuff, but I still really miss him a lot.

Now, some important information for ya’ll, and the real reason for this blog.

1) My phone won’t be working in China (duh), and we may disconnect it altogether to avoid paying buttloads for it to sit, off, in my pocket. So just in case don’t call or text anytime after, say, noon on Wed (I’ll be flying to Cali first, but once I get on that second plane I’m as good as gone).

2) There are other, non-phone ways to keep in touch. Facebook is a great example. For those of you looking for an actual email address, mine is nerd7863@cox.net. I don’t IM much, but if I did that first part of my email is my sn.

3) This one is important, so it gets a special tab. www.skype.com has a WONDERFUL free video chat/IM software. I vote you download it and find me, which you can do by clicking “add contact” and searching for my email address. Skype works almost exactly like AIM, only you get to choose to talk in a chat box, video chat with webcams, or even video chat with just microphones (like a telephone, but free).

4) Skype does this other nifty thing that may be harder to explain, but I’ll try. When I’m in China, I’ll be getting a Chinese phone. Through skype, I can set up an account with my phone so you guys can call me. Basically, skype sets up a number here in AZ and you call THAT number (so it isn’t long distance, see?). Skype also sets up a Chinese number, and connects the two through the internet. Your call goes through the AZ number, through the internet, comes out through the Chinese number, and calls me on my Chinese phone. Just like that, we’re chatting on the phone from different countries, but it’s as if we’re both making local calls (basically, you won’t have to pay a finger per minute to say hello). I’ll be posting that number as soon as I get to China and get it set up.

So there ya go. Between email, skype, and my skype phone, anyone who wants to keep in touch this summer can. I’m going to miss all of you guys like crazy, so please do. I’ll be going on some pretty crazy adventures to some places I had never dreamed I’d go. I promise you all I will post pictures, video, and blogs about all the stupid stuff that I get into. But there’s one more thing, which is extremely important.

CHINA TIME IS OPPOSITE AZ TIME! I love you guys, but please do not call me in the middle of the night to tell me that one show is on that we both like and you thought it was cool. I’m especially worried about this happening once I get my cell phone hooked up, so please listen carefully. China time is 15 hours ahead of us. The trick we use to figure the difference is by adding 3 hours to the time in Arizona, and then flipping am for pm. So, for instance, as I write this it is 9:27 am here in Chandler. Adding two hours makes it 12:27 am, and so it is 12:27 pm in China. Obviously the times aren’t COMPLETELY opposite, and there are plenty of times to talk (generally mid afternoon to early morning) so you night owls can call whenever you want. General rule of thumb, though: if you’re eating lunch, I’m probably asleep. Call me, and risk losing souvenir privileges.

Mystery #120 – Annoying Lecture Guy

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Mystery #120 – Annoying Lecture Guy

I have several friends with this same individual in their class. I know it’s the same person because the description is always the same. This is that guy who interrupts the teacher with stupid question after stupid question (half of which they just answered). This is that guy who decides halfway through class would be a great time to loudly talk to his friend about how wasted he got last night. And that guy who always shouts out the answers to the teacher’s questions, which are wrong every time? Yea, that’s him.

It’s amazing just how many lectures he seems to be in. According to the stories I hear, he’s taking both upper and lower division classes in almost every subject. Heck, he even has different lectures at the same time, which probably means he got permission from the Ministry for a time turner. That is the only explanation, as any alternative means I have to admit there could possibly be more than one person in the world this obnoxious. And I… I just don’t know if I could handle that…

Mystery #121 – Perspective

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Mystery #121 – Perspective

I wrote my last Human Event paper on perspective. It was really awesome. Basically five pages on this poem, where at first the narrator sees everything around him one way, before suddenly arriving at this whole new interpretation. Just like that, perspective shifts and the picture changes altogether. It's like the first time you see an Escher drawing, or when you finally get the knack of a Magic Eye. Swirls and chaos collapse into something as simple as a rose, and you realize it's been there all along.

Our dorm is blank. I took down posters today, which leaves me, JD, Artemus, a fridge and a microwave. It's odd seeing the walls this white, all the nooks empty, because it's the first time it's felt this way since move-in.

Looking back, it's funny to imagine how different everything seemed. Not big differences, but broad experiences. That feeling you got the first time in a new place that now is so familiar, or the way you used to orient yourself based on landmarks that you've since replaced.

It reminds me of the time I found out the park our cross country team trained at was the same park my friends lived by. With the team, I always approached from the opposite end, and from that corner everything looked so unfamiliar. It wasn't until that revelation that those two parks collided into something with more than one side to it, something I had experienced in more than just one way.

I had a funny blog for today, but Word won't open and I had to write a new one. At first it seemed like a huge inconvinence, but having written it, I'm not so sure.

Mystery #122 – 9:40 MWF Chemistry 116 in PSH 150

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Mystery #122 – 9:40 MWF Chemistry 116 in PSH 150

I have Chem 113 at 8:40 on MWF in PSH 150. It’s a pretty good class, and I will admit that, of the lecture halls I have experienced here at ASU, PSH 150 is pretty cool. I mean, there are… chairs? And fold out desks? Oh, and the real icing on the cake, that good old stadium seating. Yea, PSH 150 has… all the things that every other lecture hall in the entire school has!

You see, it’s actually rather confusing. As much as my class enjoys PSH 150, no one in the world could love it like the Chem 116 class after us. According to ASUInteractive, there are currently 186 students enrolled, and let me tell you, 186 people have never loved a room more. Why else would they stand at the ready every day, eager to push against the current of exiting 113’ers in their excitement to claim a seat? Sure, on the surface it seems silly not to wait until there aren’t a hundred people leaving the room to try and shove your way into it, but there has to be some totally great reason… right?

Mystery #123 – Slutty cafeteria girl

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Mystery #123 – Slutty cafeteria girl

Hey you,

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? I haven’t seen you at the dining hall all week. I thought I saw you Tuesday, but it was just some guy in a tank top. I thought of you, though. It’s good to see you’re back. This place is always so dull without you.

Oh, was that a shiver I detected? I see you’ve noticed the air conditioning. They’ve been totally blasting it lately. I can only imagine how cold it must be over there in the corner. That tube top doesn’t seem to be very insulating (spandex rarely is, though, isn’t it? Which just makes no sense, what with the hot pink and all. You’d think that would count for something…) Still, it does go nicely with your lime green mini skirt. That was the first thing that I thought when I saw you waddle through the turnstile, was, “My, how those two completely opposite neon colors complement each other.” And it’s true, too. They bring out your eyes.

I’m not so sure about the shoes, though. Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate bright yellow as much as anyone, but are you sure they’ve got enough of a heel? I mean, four inch pumps are nice, but my mother always told me there never was a winner with heels less than six inches. I suppose I understand, though. It’s finals week and we’re all making sacrifices. I guess, all things considered, I should be wondering how you pull off looking as good as you do. Anyways, I’m off to class, but you don’t be a stranger alright? I’m telling you, another week without seeing that delightful little leopard print bag of yours and I’d just be beside myself. Ciao!

-Joey

P.S. – Your makeup looked especially nice today. I swear, you do things with purple eye shadow and glitter I’ve never even imagined.

Mystery #124 – The Math Dungeon

Friends and fellow students, today begins that most dark period of the school year known as Finals Week. In honor of this horrible, horrible time in all of our lives, us here at Great Mysteries have prepared a special series to help get you through the hard times.

Special Edition: Great Mysteries of the ASU-niverse
Mystery #124 – The Math Dungeon

I wrote you a story. I hope you like it.

Once upon a time, in a magic world of sundevils and wonderment, lived a little Math Department Head named King Blinky. Now, King Blinky was a kind and generous Math Department Head who ruled over the Math Department with a fair and merciful hand, until the day he died in a tragic vegetable soup accident.

Now, King Blinky’s assistant, Dr. Misery, was the exact opposite of his humble boss. For years, Dr. Misery had watched the Math Department sink in popularity. In fact, Dr. Misery hated nothing more than losing students to what he called “the wimpy classes”. Once upon a time, students from far and wide had learned powerful calculations in the Math Department’s hallowed halls. But now, the students were mostly visitors fulfilling a required college algebra credit before walking out the door forever. “These traitors!” thought Dr. Misery to himself, “They think they can escape the grasp of the Math Department?! Well, some day I will have my chance, and when I do, we’ll see who gets off with just an easy semester!”

Dr. Misery was a patient man, and so when it came time to replace King Blinky, he knew his opportunity had arrived at last. He commissioned a pit be built at the very heart of campus, deep beneath the foundations of the tallest tower. At the bottom of this pit, he ordered another, even darker and deeper pit dug, until there reached a portal from the surface down into the depths of hell itself. Inside the shaft, Dr. Misery’s workmen built a series of dark stairwells and long, foreboding hallways, with which to instill fear in all who dared enter. And at the very deepest point, at the end of the most gloomy hallway and the very darkest stairwell, they built the Math Dungeon.

Only when the construction was complete did Dr. Misery proceed with the next part of his plan. Into the Dungeon he ordered all sorts of evil things, dragons and goblins and trolls and really uncomfortable desks. Great posters of rules were hung on the walls, and many fluffy bunnies were sacrificed to instill the chamber with dark curses against joy and happiness. Only after all manner of evil had been put into the Dungeon was Dr. Misery satisfied.

And so it was decreed that henceforth, all Math Students unlucky enough to descend into the deepest pits of campus, to the Math Dungeon itself, would know the full measure of Dr. Misery’s hatred for humanity. Sometimes, if you are quiet as you pass down Palm Walk, you can hear them. They are the tortured souls, confined within the walls of their own doom. Pray, children, pray to whatever gods you can that their fate does not befall you, for the Math Dungeon breaks more than a man’s body. Aye, it has power to cleave thy very soul in twain.

THE END

Mystery #125 – Cheese

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe

Mystery #125 – Cheese

For some reason people have been requesting personalized Mysteries lately. Whatever. This one is for Rachel Mammen, because she makes me think of sunshine. Also, Rachel, if you’re reading this, I think you should give up on Mark and find yourself a guy with the last name “Banamen”, and then hyphenate that sucker. Think about it... Anyways, given the choice between writing about Nashville, Cheese, or “some combination of the two”, I decided dairy was just more my thing.

At first glance I don’t find much all that mysterious about cheese. It’s delicious, especially when it’s on my sandwich, and sometimes there are holes in it. My only qualm, really, is that there aren’t more options open to the fervent cheese fan. What we need is cheese in new and exciting ways. E-Z Cheese is good start (everything should be in a medium where it can be conveniently sprayed onto a cracker, even crackers) but I want more, dramatic cheese innovations available to me.

Perhaps a cheese soft drink of some sort? Before you start exercising your gag reflex, think about it. They already have cream soda, so dairy isn’t necessarily taboo, and there are crazier flavors out there. Root beer technically tastes like Sassafras bark. To boot, actual Sassafras bark has been banned because it’s carcinogenic. That’s right, cancer flavored soda. Now who wants an ice cold can of Dr. Munster?

Mystery #126 – Bulbasaur

There is a cycle to these stupid, pointless blogs. I write a bunch of them in some manic/procrastinatory spree of comedy and then post them, assuming that there may actually be someone out there who cares that I laugh whenever I see a palm tree or something. A month or two passes, no more blogs are posted, and then I start getting emails. Apparently, there ARE people in the world with nothing better to do than to read my stupid jokes. Good to know as always :) So, for those of you out there who seek order and meaning in a mysterious universe, I present:

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #126 – Bulbasaur

First things first: Pokémon is awesome. If you are under the totally lame and/or incorrect delusion that Pokémon is NOT awesome, then I pity you, for your world is a cold and dark place, your reasons for living few and far between. I recommend drugs.

That being said, let’s continue! Bulbasaur has always seemed like kind of an enigma to me. Of the three traditional starting Pokémon (mention Pikachu and incur my wrath. We’re talkin’ straight up Red and Blue version here, sucka’) Bulbasaur was the biggest stretch of the imagination. Squirtle, a turtle who liked the water, wasn’t unrealistic until his third form, where he grew water guns out of his shell. This was easily accounted for because it is “awesome”. Then there’s the whole Charmander/dragon thing - never much of a problem. But here we have the humble little Bulbasaur, who right off the bat just seems… off…

The idea of a plant/animal hybrid insults the freshman bio student deep within me. I just can’t stop wondering if Bulbasaur’s cells would have a cell wall? A large central vacuole? I’m willing to assume the plant growing out of his back photosynthesizes, but what about the green spots on his body? For the love of all that is good and innocent I will avoid detailed musings about Bulbasaur reproduction and creative uses of the word “pollination”.

From my remaining fourth grade knowledge of dinosaur nomenclature, I recall that the suffix –saur comes from the Greek word for “lizard”. According to some Greek-English dictionaries I Googled, the word “bulba” is either a type of folk dance or the Ukrainian word for potato. For the sake of comedy I will assume they based the name on the latter. Another Google search supports this, as I find that potatoes indeed have buds, and Bulbasaur sports a large bud growing out of his back. Bulbasaur (or potato lizard) is obviously a potato-dinosaur hybrid. This explains why Bulbasaur was always weak to “fire” type Pokémon, not to mention “tin foil”, “sour cream”, and “bacon bit” types.

Mystery #127 – Jell-o

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #127 – Jell-o

When I was a kid I read a lot. Because of this, my vocabulary grew much faster than other kids my age. In the fifth grade, when asked to describe ourselves with one word, my classmates used “fun” and “athletic” and “smart”; I wrote “conservative”.

It was from a book that I first learned the word “congealed”. On its own it’s a pretty nasty word - just saying it forces your face into a disgusted snarl. It didn’t help, then, that the exact context of this introduction was in describing a corpse. I remember to this day reading “congealed blood”, scratching my head, and heading to a dictionary. What followed was a horrifyingly detailed mental picture. Admittedly, the book was probably a little mature for me (the back cover had a dragon on it and I had assumed it was a kid’s book. I didn’t yet understand that some grownups are still nine inside) but the damage was done. To this day “congealed” brings to mind rotting corpses, their jellied fluids pooling around them like animal fat put into the fridge.

Understandably, Jell-o was never my favorite. Most things you have to cook, but Jell-o prepares itself. How is that not dismaying to anyone but me? Anything that behaves like week-old bodily remains with only the aid of a refrigerator should never be consumed, period. It’s probably ironic or something that this detail grosses me out more than what gelatin is actually made of. Feed me bone dust all day, just make sure it doesn’t jiggle.

Mystery #128 – Pick your own rock!

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #128 – Pick your own rock!

I don't know what it is about the Southwest, but a lot of souvenir shops down here have some strange stuff. Nothing, though, beats the "pick your own rock" experience for weirdness. For those of you from more, um, sane parts of the country, let's draw us a mental picture. Usually the stereotypical P.Y.O.R. setup consists of a cart designed to look like a tiny little prospector's wagon (either a tiny wagon for a prospector or a wagon for a tiny prospector, however you'd like to interpret that phrase) with a basket full of colorful rocks. To the side are several bags and usually some sort of key for identifying the assorted stones in the basket. Now, random bored tourist A is supposed to take a pouch and put a certain number of rocks in it to be paid for by parent B so they can be lost at the bottom of junk drawer C as soon as the family gets home.

I was always the kid who just didn't get it. My only thought was how disgusting those rocks must be. That's a lot of snotty kid exposure for my taste. "Forget that," I'd think, "I'll go with a t-shirt." Sometimes it's worth it to pick your own rock though, like in Harry Potter. If, on my family's road trip to New Mexico, they had been selling Sorcerer's Stones in the Albuquerque gift shop, it probably would have been a more interesting trip. Also, I could have made the Elixir of Life, which probably tastes really good. Like root beer. Root beer and magic. 

Mystery #129 – Martin Luther King Day

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #129 – Martin Luther King Day

I wrote a blog about Labor Day and figured I should probably write one about today as well. It’s called equality, people, and that’s what this day is all about. That, and not having to go to my chemistry Lab.

I see a flaw in Martin Luther King Day, however, a tiny little flaw, an abbreviated flaw, if you will.

See, Martin Luther King Day is often written as MLK Day. This makes a lot of sense to me, as just now typing both versions I can tell you the second is much easier. But this isn’t a problem of writing; it’s a problem of reading. See, when I see “MLK Day” I don’t think “Martin Luther King Day” so much as “Milk Day”. Those are two completely different ideas. One is the celebration of a man who championed civil rights; the other is probably just a holiday for dairy farmers and a really sad day for people with Osteoporosis.

But worst of all, this situation shows me just how far we still have to go. When I think “Milk Day”, I think milk, and when I think milk my bigoted mind can only imagine white milk, “normal” milk. It sickens me that even I, in this day and age, can be host to such prejudices. I can only hope that someday the word milk will mean more to me: a harmonious spectrum of milks of every shade and hue. To me, that’s what today is really about.

Mystery #130 – The Tuck School of Business

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #130 – The Tuck School of Business

This one goes out to Wikipedia's article of the day.

For the record, I saw the title of said article and then decided to write this without any further information. A name, according to certain Verona youths, is super important (or was it the other way around… ah, well). That being said, we should be able to tell all there is about the institution based solely on its name, no? Yes.

The Tuck School of Business was founded by the Tuck family, making it the country's only immortal school of business. As far as eternal institutions of learning are concerned, it is second only to the Mt. Olympus Veterinary Academy in pure excellence.

This is about the part of the blog where I realize I hated Tuck Everlasting, and I really don't remember anything else from the book. I do remember that there was a girl named Winnie in it, which is worth noting, but other than that I'm empty.

Happy Weekend everybody.

Mystery #131 – My Birthday

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #131 – My Birthday

Why is it so awesome? Why is it such a day of joy and celebration, on which untold masses the world over come together in peace and harmony?

Some mysteries are too great even for me to ponder.

Mystery #132 – The Light in the Pizza

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #132 – The Light in the Pizza

This great mystery goes out to Caitlin Morgan, a great mystery herself.

Caitlin dropped by today after giving blood. Which is to say, she was bleeding for fun and the reasonable follow-up activity was to come see me. Awesome. She brought with her a CD, the soundtrack for A Light in the Piazza, which she had gotten for Christmas. I had heard of the show, but knew nothing about it. As she showed me her favorite song, she gave me a brief summary.

“They’re in love, but he doesn’t know that she has the mind of a ten-year-old.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not sure. I think she got kicked in the head by a pony or something.”

This intrigued me, mostly because I thought it sounded stupid and assumed she was wrong. However, the internet comes through yet again.

“she was kicked in the head by a pony at age 10”

The whole thing is a lot like the movie Jack, only that kid really was ten, and also he was Robin Williams. Instead we just have the typical love story formula: girl meets pony, girl meets mental retardation, girl meets boy, boy and girl live together creepily ever after, roll credits. My favorite part is the title. I don’t think “piazza” is Italian for “American tourist’s head”, but if it was I think it would be fitting. The lights are on, but nobody’s home.

Mystery #133 – New Year’s

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #133 – New Year’s

This summer my family and I went to China to look for apartments. My dad had just accepted a three year position in Suzhou, a career-making opportunity. And so I found myself in one of the most exotic countries in the world, looking at real estate. Once I had to go with my aunt and uncle to look for apartments, and it was really boring. Part of me hoped the Chinese equivalent would at least involve ninjas, even one ninja would have made a difference. Alas, there were no ninjas to be seen (typical) and apart from the slippers we had to wear to go inside, the process was perhaps more dull than before.

During our trip we flew to Beijing to see the sights. At the Forbidden City gift shop, the Chinese zodiac got brought up. “Do you know what sign you are?” asked our tour guide, Becky. I told her I was a snake, but just barely because I was born so early in the year, and would have been a dragon had I not been late. Becky then pointed out that the Chinese New Year isn’t the same as ours, and sure enough it turns out I really am a dragon after all.

Right off the bat this invalidated a lifetime of staring at placemats in Chinese restaurants. I’d sit and read the entry under snake and try to identify. “Wow, I am a deep thinker. I really am self doubting (or am I?). Hey, elegant, that’s me alright… I guess” Now I had a whole different personality, at least as far as placematology was concerned.

But there was something more than just that. The calendar is something so basic we take it for granted, mostly because although it’s not something that ALL people use, most do. Some languages have different letters, others use different sounds, but most of them have our same twelve months to learn. I had known there was a Chinese New Year, but for some reason didn’t realize in China people actually thought the year started a month later. “No, friend, my calendar says you are mistaken. We had fireworks and everything. You and your big dragon puppet are late.”

I guess it’s all supposed to be a lesson in open-mindedness or something. You say tomato, I say tomato (Yeah yeah, they’re spelled the same. Keep the jokes to yourself Bozo). If not that, there’s certainly a lesson to be learned from the people my dad works with. In the spirit of Western civilization, they take off for both American and Chinese New Year’s holidays.

The land of the free and the home of the brave. Happy New Year, everybody.