Project Ice Tray

In a hyper-progressive city like Portland, it can be fun and easy to make fun of conservatives and Republicans, but I actually agree with them about one thing: I give exactly zero fucks about climate change.

Don’t get the wrong idea. Obviously, climate change is real, and yes, it’s highly accelerated by human activity. But in the short term, if we’re truly concerned about melting ice caps and rising sea levels, we can take tankers to the glaciers, gather up all that melting ice, and put it back. I call it Project Ice Tray.

And in the long term, we’re a resourceful, resilient species, and there’s a certain depth underground where temperature has remained constant. So, all we have to do is go there and live like mole people, communicating via Morse code by banging our heads against the wall. We can illumine the whole thing with advanced LED technology. It’ll be all Crystal Caves and shit.

What I’m saying is, we need to fulfill the dream of Fraggle Rock.

Now, some of you might be thinking, “But Daniel, how will we power this spectacular, subterranean apparatus of yours?” The answer is simple. We cover the surface with solar panels, which’ll work like gang-busters without an atmosphere. Plus, we will have effectively transformed our small, island home into a cosmic disco ball within the orbit of which advanced civilizations can throw raves.

Truly, we will have done the LORD’s work.

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Psychiatric Freeze Frame

You know what’s better than depression? Suicidal depression.

It’s like manic depression, only during my highs, I just don’t actively try to kill myself. That’s the entire point of me going to see a therapist. I’m not trying to build elaborate hopes and dreams. I just want to board a train in the morning without wanting to jump in front of it first. If I can do that, my psychiatrist and I get to jump in the air, give each other a high five, freeze frame

… and when the freeze frame ends, we fall to the ground, gripping our stomachs with laughter, and give each other a mutual swat on the ass.

It’s beautiful; truly beautiful.

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Hierarchy of Art

I’ve come to realize there’s an hierarchy of performing arts, and at the top of that totem pole dances the stripper.

Think about it this way: If you tell a friend you’ve joined a band and invite them to a show, they’ll always say they’ll attend, but you know they never will. On the other hand, if you tell a friend you’ve become a stripper, not only will they come to see you, but they’ll cancel any plans they had, to see you that night, and pay for a lap dance in the champagne room. But only in comedy can you tell a friend about a free show and not only will they not attend, but they’ll tell you to your face that they don’t approve of what you do.

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Hunters and Gatherers

I was thinking about our evolution recently and how we started as hunter-gatherers, which means, we all recognized the need to eat, but the female solution was to take a pleasant stroll through the Savannah, gathering fresh fruits and veggies. The male solution, however, was to waste other resources in an attempt to kill shit. And ever since, men have referred to weapons as tools.

And it’s a good thing the women of the tribe had gathered those fruits and veggies, because even if the hunt was successful and more than a third of the hunting party survived, we couldn’t do anything with the meat, having thrown all the decent flint and firewood at megafauna.

I’m pretty sure, if left to their own devices, men would still be hiding in bushes, attempting to steal scraps from superior predators. Whereas female civilization would have progressed just as it has. The only difference being, if a woman did choose to reproduce, she would have to trap a fit male, allow him to mount, and send him back into the wild, before he got too attached and pissed on her carpet.

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God’s Call Center

Most people don’t know this about me, but I do personally believe in a Supreme Being. I just don’t attend any sort of religious observances, because I believe that to be God’s will.

Think about it. If you were the eternal, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent creator and ruler of all things seen and unseen, don’t you think three million years of human patronization might get a little old? Week after week people begging your forgiveness for things they’re about to do?

I imagine God working in a call center, eternally on hold, head down, dejected, thinking, “Really? This song again? Can’t we just skip ahead to the part where you ask me for things and I say no?”

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