Monday, July 16, 2012

Cuddle Uppets and Other Strange Occurrences



Cuddle Uppets? Really? Do we need blankets that are puppets? Or are they puppets that are blankets?

Okay, Purple Monkey might be fun. You could dream about The Purple Lagoon where Brooke Shields is purple; and the bananas are purple; and the purple monkeys laugh all night long.

That might be a sweet, sweet dream. Especially if Brooke bakes purple banana cream pies.


But what kind of horrendous nightmares will be induced by a Green Crocodile?

"Sorry, Mate. Me Green Crock just ate your Purple Monkey. No worries. I'll put some shrimp on the Barbie. At least Brooke's all right."

That's true. At least Brooke is all right.

But who's this Barbie girl; and why does everyone always put shrimp on her?

I'll bet she's a big fan of Febreze.


Isn't a giant cupcake just a cake?

The whole point of a cupcake is that it's a cake, get this, the size of a cup!

So when you make a giant cupcake, you've simply made a cake.

If a cake's too big; and a cupcake's too small, consider making a soup-bowl-cake.

Oh sure, you could make a cereal-bowl-cake, but let's face it, most cereals are already sweeter than cakes.


Uranium Ore for sale on Amazon?

Riiiiiiight. Why make terrorists and other radical extremists waste their time, energy, and resources breaking into government-guarded facilities, when they can just Buy Now with 1-Click®.

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Sunday, July 15, 2012

Food Phobia

Food Phobia

I’m afraid to eat food. The last time I did, didn’t go so well. Even though it was delicious, I’ve felt ill ever since. I feel so sick, that National Geographic explorers keep coming to my house. Apparently, when I don’t feel well, I make the exact same sounds as a dying yeti.


I just hope I’m not Patient Zero. You know, the schlep who’s the first to get sick with a major pandemic that wipes out half the Eastern Seaboard before the next commercial break.

I don’t want to be remembered for that! Instead, remember me for my sense of humor, thoughtfulness, and great legs.

Perhaps I should’ve asked if the Chocolate Coconut Pecan Cookies have pecans in them.

Oh sure, now everyone tells me they do. Why were they so secretive yesterday?

How was I supposed to know that the Chocolate Coconut Pecan Cookies have pecans in them? I thought that was just the name of the cookie; I didn’t know that was the recipe too.

So now I’m super dee duper hungry, but I dare not eat.

Fool me once food; shame on you. Fool me twice; and I don’t wanna be the putz who cleans up the mess.

Yikes! Found out the hard way that even a glass of water will cause incidents. I can’t not drink. But if I do stop drinking; and you find a pile of powder where I used to be, just for kicks, ‘cause it just might work, just add water; and stir! Instant Dean!

If hunger, thirst, and birth pangs aren’t bad enough, I don’t understand how I could have a 103 degree temperature; and still have the chilly shakes. How hot does a person need to be to escape the chilly shakes?

My fever was so high, my eyeballs felt hot. Made me think of the episode of Smallville where Clark gets heat vision.


I was like, “Really? Heat vision? All the powers of Superman; and You’re gonna give me one that’s easily replaced by a book of matches?”


I feel bad that I can’t go to church this morning, because my fever’s still 100.6. But at least my eyeballs don’t hurt.

The church needs me to attend, because my presence reassures everyone about the existence of Eternal Beauty.

Their words; not mine. I would say, as humbly as I can, Everlasting Handsomeness.

And they don’t say “Eternal Beauty” out loud, but I can tell what they’re thinking by the way they look at me. Of course, that’s true wherever I go. I’d be a multi-multi-billionaire if I got a quarter for every time I had to tell someone: “My eyes are up here.”

Did I not yet mention the delirium caused by such a high fever?

Not only does my high fever make me delirious, it also makes me forgetful too. Sadly, I feel like those characters in “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” as their memories get erased. 



In fact, the whole point of my writing this blog is to ...

?

Can’t remember now. But I’m sure it was important.



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Friday, July 13, 2012

Getting Ready for the End of the World

Have a Happy Friday the 13th!
Enjoy Today's Topic:

Getting Ready 

Uploaded by  on Mar 16, 2009
Music video by R.E.M. performing It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) (2003 Digital Remaster).

Since it is The End of the World As We Know It, R.E.M. better stop Losing Their Religion.

I haven't seen this movie yet, but I hope to. You know, before the end ...

Uploaded by  on Feb 9, 2012

How can you go wrong with Steve Carell and Keira Knightley?

Proof that the end of the world is near: I called my ex-girlfriend.

No one in their right mind would call my ex.

If you're my ex; and you're reading this, you should know that I mean a different ex. Duh!* It's just a coincidence that I called you too. So then, no need for the ax, ex.

Sure, she's a little high strung. But we always made each other laugh.

I mean, when she wasn't trying to kill me.

I don't think she meant to try to kill me; she just doesn't know how to cook.

And she likes to chop.

Chop till I drop. 


I could write a county song: "All My Exes Swing Axes". 


Who knew lumberjacks could be so cute? 


Or are they called lumberjills? 

My exes are cool with me joking about them being ax-murderers. 'Cause they can always joke about how most of their exes always lose their heads.

Most. But not me.

So far.

So the world is ending, but on the bright side, the chipper-dipper bright side, at least it's not my fault! (As I feared in my blog post: Eyewitness Proof That Life Existed on Other Planets!)

But on the dark side, the chumper-dumper dark side, the world is coming to an end.

In the meantime, I'm doing all I can to prepare myself for a cataclysmic crisis of this magnitude: 


Repenting, praying, and eating chocolate. 


Well, at least two out of three. Unless groaning, "Man! I shouldn't have eaten all that chocolate!" counts as repentance. 


Or at least one out of three, if shouting with glee: "Thank You for the chocolate!" doesn't count as a prayer. 


Another point scored for the chipper-dipper bright side is that having the world end can be very liberating. You no longer have to diet. You can order seconds of your favorite treats. Thirds even! 


You become free to explore options you might have otherwise ignored. But be careful, you still have to give an account of yourself when you get to the other side. 



Photo Source: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002M5DCII
Koppers Dark Chocolate Covered Ginger, 5-Pound Bag
What? You think I'm gonna start watching my weight now?! 


I'm also pondering women with whom I can elope. 


Might as well get married. "Till death does us part" doesn't sound so intimidating when it's only gonna last for a few months at the most. 


Of course, if the world doesn't end in a few months, then yikes! Right? 


That would be like a nagging hangover that never ends. 


Plenty of lovely ladies work out at the gym! But if all I wanted was looks, I'd already be with them. But alas, I have an array of soulful, emotional needs: Sense of humor, heart of gold, ownership of a chocolate factory.

You know, the basics.

I'd also prefer someone who can juggle and play the harp. But I don't want to come across as too picky. At least not this close to, gulp!, the end.

Now that I think about it, I should look for someone who can stop, or at least postpone for another century or two, the end of the world.

That would make sense. But if she doesn't own a chocolate factory, I don't think I'd be interested.

I have to draw the line somewhere.

Hmm. I wonder what the Hershey heiresses look like?

Or what about the Dove Chocolate Divas?

One of them must play the harp.


Should I get back with my ex? The world's gonna end soon anyway. Right? 


But even the sounds of forthcoming cataclysmic events can't silence the inner voice that readily reminds me: She's your ex for a reason. 


On the other hand, during a Zombie Apocalypse, I could use a sexy sidekick adept at wielding an ax. 


"Go for the head, babe. Go for the head. The zombie's head! Not mine!! Babe?"

Blessings & Joy,
Dean

    

* Speaking of the word "Duh!", I formed a scientific theory: The older a person is, the more he/she/it hates to hear the word "Duh!" said to him/her/undecided. 

That's "The Dean Theory for the Word Duh!". Everyone in the scientific community agrees with me too. Because when they hear my theory, they always say: "Duh!" Which is science speak for: "This is most certainly true."


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Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Why I Should Be a Billionaire


What would I do with a billion dollars?

I'd become a superhero.

No billionaire is doing that!

No one is doing that.

At least, not to the degree of a billionaire.

The Viper calling the local police station at the first sign of danger doesn't count. (No offense to the Viper. Even he will admit billions of dollars would up the ante of his crime-fighting efforts. Maybe get him unlimited texting and data. But then again, he may have already retired. A change in phone plans may have foiled him.) 



The Viper


The government should charge a hefty Non-Superhero Tax to billionaires who aren't superheroes, to fund folks who want to be superheroes, but can't afford the exorbitant costs of costuming and gadgetry. 

Okay, sure. Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, and other billionaires fund foundations and make donations to help others. And thus, they save countless lives. But none of them do so while wearing Spandex!

No mask. No cape. Probably not even matching boots and a utility belt.

Okay, maybe a utility belt. But not a cool utility belt. Nothing with web fluid or bat ropes.

I'd have the obligatory Burkey Manor mansion/estate with the Dean-Poles hidden behind a secret revolving bookcase that would let me slide down to the Dean-Cave at a moment's notice.

I would also have the super-fast, fuel-efficient, nuclear-powered (if need be), bulletproof, bombproof, laser-firing, missile-launching (only when necessary), knockout gas-spraying Dean-Mobile.


* What? 
A quick tank with a mortar launcher would be better
than a slow Corolla with a slingshot. 

And, of course, the Dean-Mobile would have patent leather seats. A mini fridge stocked with various forms of chocolate. And a spacious trunk for hauling evildoers to justice.

And maybe a built-in Blu-Ray player for when I get bored on stakeouts.

I'd also have the Dean-Plane, the Dean-Boat, the Dean-Submarine, and the Dean-Space Shuttle.

And maybe a nice hammock in the backyard for my days off.

With the extra billions I'd make from Burkey Enterprises and Dean-Man merchandising rights, I'd produce family-friendly sitcoms and hilarious movies to bring clean comedy to the world. Make a hundred billion dollars to end famine in Africa. And create a delicious chocolate candy that cures cancer. Or at the very least alleviates hunger pangs.

I'm fully aware that wealth is a super power in and of itself. I also understand that "with great power comes great responsibility," as Stan Lee stated in Amazing Fantasy # 15. That's why, besides becoming a superhero to inspire the masses, creating clean comedy to entertain the world, ending disease with chocolate, and eradicating global famine, I'd do what every billionaire should do. I mean, this should be the whole point of becoming a billionaire! (Besides the aforementioned benefits to mankind.) ... 


Create supermodel clones!

Once I've accomplished all that, I'd want to hurry home to my trophy wife Colbie Caillat, so we can make beautiful music together. ;o)


** What? 
Any woman who sings "I Do" 
obviously wants to marry a superhero. 
That's just common sense. 

And then we can retire on a remote private island where the beaches are made of pancakes; and the ocean waves are maple syrup.

Blessings & Joy,

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Monday, July 9, 2012

Eyewitness Proof That Life Existed on Other Planets!


I can tell you for a fact that there is life on other planets.

Or, at least, there was.

Small part of the Cydonia region, taken by the Viking 1orbiter and released by NASA/JPL on July 25, 1976.
Photo and Caption Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cydonia_(region_of_Mars)

Having had so much fun with my homemade portal to other dimensions (see Jacko, Elvis, and The Albino Bigfoot), I traveled through it again and wound up on the far side of the universe where I found a planet of eerie beings, who each looked a lot like E.T., only with Nixon’s face.

(That’s what made them eerie.)

And that was just their women!

The “handsomest” of their men resembled Bigfoot. Only with ZZ Top beards and a Snidely Whiplash mustache. Strange race indeed. 

Somehow they created a portal to our dimension too, not so they could travel, but so they could watch our television shows. An advanced race would have developed Dish Network. 


Having had so much fun with my homemade portal to other dimensions (see my previous blog), I traveled through it again and wound up on the far side of the universe where I found a planet of eerie beings, who each looked a lot like E.T., only with Nixon’s face.

(That’s what made them eerie.)

And that was just their women!

The “handsomest” of their men resembled Bigfoot. Only with ZZ Top beards and a Snidely Whiplash mustache. Strange race indeed. 


Somehow they created a portal to our dimension too, not so they could travel, but so they could watch our television shows. An advanced race would have developed Dish Network. 


Their viewing of said shows via said portal had a delay of a few decades. On the plus side, they could watch “Get Smart” and “The Monkees”. But instead, they chose to watch only one show, viewing each episode over and over again, memorizing each line and gesture. The show? “HeeHaw”! 


The top priority of their leading “scientists” was forrmulating theories proving the reality of wrestling. 


Their idea of a harp of gold was a banjo of tin. 


Their global anthem was the “HeeHaw” song “Where Oh Where Are You Tonight?”. Which they sung at least seven times a day. By choice! I would have admired their patriotism if only they had chosen a better anthem. 


Uploaded by  on Oct 15, 2010


Sadly, if you can imagine this getting any sadder, they didn’t use their mouths to create the sound made before singing “You was gone”.


Still, for inferior superior beings, they sure were hospitable and cordial. Too bad that when I left, I just happened to say: “Nice to have made your acquaintance.” 


How could I possibly know that those exact words were the vocal code to self-destruct their planet? 


Fortunately the two minute detonation sequence allowed me to leave in time. Just barely, but obviously I returned home okay. Shaken, but not stirred. 


Maybe a little stirred. 


Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, none of them survived. 


What kind of planet would foster such a silly global defense plan? 


Obviously, a planet where the people all loved “HeeHaw”, thought wrestling was real, and their anthem was “Where Oh Where Are You Tonight?”. 


So they weren’t “intelligent” in the strict sense of the word, or rather any sense of the word, except for their nifty portal, and some kind of zero-calorie snack chips bursting with cheesy flavor that were still user-friendly for those who are lactose intolerant. 


But their lack of brains and forethought didn’t mean their whole planet needed to die. Actually their whole solar system, or rather galaxy, since their planet’s destruction set off an interstellar chain reaction. 


The ramifications of which still continue. Echoes of destruction resounding throughout the universe! 


So, in effect, my little moment of polite cordiality may eventually destroy the entire universe. Including us. 




But in my defense, I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t compliment their choice of a favorite TV show. I couldn’t encourage the primary pursuit of their so-called “best brains”. And I couldn’t applaud their global anthem, catchy though it might be, the first time or two. 


So my act of honesty’s ending the universe. 


We should be fine. We’re billions of light years away. So our destruction shouldn’t be for another thousand years or so. 


Unless Einstein’s theorem about interstellar speed increasing exponentially turns out to be true. 


Or was that Murphy’s Law? 


Either way ... Oops! 


So you think the destruction of the universe is bad? I’ll tell you what’s bad. Wireless phone companies charging hidden fees. 

Blessings & Joy,
Dean


P.S. And what if I did destroy the universe by being honest and polite? I wouldn’t want to live in a world where we can’t be cordial and forthright. Like when I say hi to people; and they ignore me, I think: “If that’s the kind of world you want to live in: Where people aren’t friendly. Don’t complain when people aren’t nice to you, if you’re going to ignore those who are.”

P.P.S. If it makes you feel any better. The interplanetary space travel event might’ve just been my stopping by my neighbor’s during a “HeeHaw” marathon. Sometimes I encounter difficulty distinguishing between my back door and a portal to another dimension. Especially after a heavy rain. But in my defense, I warned them not to double my dosage. 

PLEASE NOTE: This is a work of humor/parody. (If I don’t post that notice, space aliens steal the prizes from the bottoms of my boxes of sugary breakfast cereals.) 



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Friday, July 6, 2012

Jacko, Elvis, and The Albino Bigfoot


Photo Source: **

While waiting for the download of a lengthy, but vital, video about how to defeat a certain Reptilian Race of Space Aliens (as explained in my previous blog: As You Celebrate Independence Day, Ask Yourself This:). Or it may have been an insightful documentary about mud-wrestling supermodels. 

Either way, I found myself with time to kill, so I did what I always like to do in such situations. Maybe you do the same thing too. I’m sure everybody does this. ... 

I opened a portal to another dimension. 

Some people hijack UFOs. 

Others plunge through wormholes (which I find to be too tiny). 

But I just used a bobby pin to attach a rubber band to a particle accelerator, twisted the band real tight, and let her whirl! 

And maybe I attached some high-grade plutonium I borrowed from MacDill Air Force Base, but I admit nothing. 

Especially since I plan to return it. 

Eventually.  

Okay, it’s not always another dimension. Sometimes it’s glimpses of our own world. So I’m not sure if this was our world. Or another. But here’s what I found: 

Jacko hiking across the Himalayas with Elvis and the Abominable Snowman. 

A.k.a. The Albino Bigfoot. 

That is, the Abominable Snowman is also known as the Albino Bigfoot, not Elvis. 

Or maybe Elvis is the Abominable Snowman! 

That would explain a lot.

Like, why is the Abominable Snowman always humming and shaking his right leg? 

And why does his breath always wreak of peanut butter banana sandwiches? 


Yet he would be a little less abominable if he ate Altoids or chewed Eclipse gum. 

That is, the Abominable Snowman, not Elvis. 

Although at his age, even Elvis should chomp on some Dentyne to mask his denture stench.

Elvis being the Abominable Snowman would also explain the Albino Bigfoot’s mysterious Southern accent and his pronounced proclivity for gratitude, as he’s often quoted as saying: “Thank you. Thank you very much.” 

With Jacko tagging along, I now know how the Abominable Snowman learned the Moonwalk. 

Silly yeti! He almost fell off a couple cliffs dancing backwards so much. Obviously trying to impress Jacko. 

Which also explains why the Abominable Snowman kept saying the word Thriller.

Seriously, if he wasn’t growling, he was saying this is a Thriller; and that’s a Thriller. Doesn’t he know that if everything’s thrilling, nothing is thrilling? 



In the meantime, I’ll have to get my multi-dimensional portal fixed. Something’s wrong with the Locator Device. I wasn’t supposed to locate Jacko, Elvis, and the Albino Bigfoot; I was supposed to find Emma Stone, Rachel Bilson, and the Loch Ness Monster.

Blessings & Joy,
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