humans are funny

Category: the future

  • Let’s shoot up! Or smoke up! Or however you injest meth! I actually don’t know.

    I went for a run last night on the Venice boardwalk in the dark, one of my favorite pastimes.
    I passed a group of homeless meth heads (yes, I know they were meth heads because they looked like [THIS]), and the bald one yelled out to me:

    Hey, baby! You ever see a grown white man naked before?

    This sounded strange to me. I didn’t know whether to be:

    1. Excited because he must have thought my supple skin to be of virgin quality.

    2. Insulted because he must have thought I hadn’t been able to get anyone to undress in front of me before.

    3. Insulted because he must have thought I was a pedophile and had only seen non-grown naked white men before.

    4. Flattered because he must have thought I was a lesbian (I’ve always felt I’m not edgy enough to be a lesbian.).

    Involuntarily, I screamed, ‘Yes! Yes, I have.’

    The group burst out in meth head laughter.

    But then I thought about it.
    That meth head knew me so well.

    Methy was almost correct in his skepticism.
    Now, I’m:

    5. Amazed that he could tell I have a black/brown man fetish.

    I have actually only seen one grown white man naked. (If you’re reading this, yes it’s you. [see how I did that to make him feel special when I’m actually just covering my ass in case I missed one?]) Genius.

    Meth heads are so brilliant. I need to get me some of that. I’ll age prematurely, but I’ll be able to see into the sexual partners of others, an invaluable talent. If this blog gets incoherent and choppy, you know why. But if my face skin starts sloughing off at dinner, can someone please get me on that intervention show so I can have a miracle recovery and then finally get a book deal?

    Shit. My future just got so bright. Meth for everyone! On me!

  • I’m wrong. I admit it when I’m wrong.

    Wait. Wait. Wait. I spoke too soon. I hang my head in embarrassment. Robots will not take over every job. They might commandeer our postal jobs and our salesperson jobs, but now I’ve seen an error in my report: Robots will never ever be able to replace the sign spinner. These guys are too original. Too creative. Too much of a necessity to be obliterated by a mechanized piece of plastic.
    This guy, especially. When I see him on the corner every morning, he reminds me that I’m alive. His energy is contagious. And his uncanny resemblance to the actual Statue of Liberty just baffles me.
    I like to think of Mr. Liberty’s kids. I’m sure he’ll reminisce with them about his first job as a sign spinner and boast proudly about how he got to stand on a corner every morning and wear the regal seagreen robes of an American icon, topped with a matching foam crown. Just like I’ll reminisce to my offspring about my first job at Ken’s World of Video. I’ll tell them all about the stale smell of popcorn and the nice men who would come in to rent Cool Runnings on pizza-sized laser disks or Debbie Does Dallas VI on VHS. Just to return them two hours later. I probably won’t tell them that someone pooed on the floor of the 21-and-over room though. Sometimes details are meant to be left out. Especially the fact that it was me who pooed on the floor of the 21-and-over room. Not really. But whoever did is really gross and probably didn’t use toilet paper. And probably bought some popcorn from me right after. Oh, first jobs.

  • Need not be human to apply

    Sometimes an outcome is so predictable that an ‘I told you so’ is rendered unnecessary. China is one example. The government gave families a one baby limit. Of course most Chinese families wanted their one baby to be male in order to pass on the family name. Or maybe just to avoid shopping for prom dresses.
    Either way, when the Chinese ended up aborting baby girls, it seemed like the obvious thing to do would be to repeal the law. Or at least let the people have 2 babies. Or 1.5.
    Maybe because I’m an outsider, I see it clearly. But I’ll argue that it had to be a bit obvious to the government or to a three-yr-old that a population of boys would lead to problems. Major ones. I am baffled that a government wouldn’t foresee the disaster of social engineering. You just don’t mess with nature. In the last Chinese census, there were 13 million more boys under 9 than girls. By 2020, there will be 40 million Chinese men with no one to marry, causing even more population problems.
    And I just want to say to China: DUH!
    I mean, DUH!

    Every day Chinese men pray that they will one day see what they’ve only read about: girls.

    I mention this because there’s something over here brewing that will surely elicit some ‘duh’s in years to come. I’m telling it now, so that I can actually say, ‘I told you so’ instead of ‘duh.’ (more professional).
    I noticed the problem when I went to the Santa Monica post office the other day. The helpful postal worker directed me out of the endless line and towards a machine. I told the machine that my box didn’t house anything explosive, and it was on it’s way to Chicago. Through a machine!
    MACHINES ARE TAKING OVER OUR LIVES. For some reason we’ve been putting up with it. We cringe but still deal with those horrifying automated systems we reach when we call corporations. You know– the ones whose “ears” pick up the tiniest sound in the room and tell you that your response wasn’t on the main menu. If those machines had nipples, I would pinch them with my toenail clippers, I would.
    But those now archaic machines were just the beginning. I recently went through a McDonald’s drive-thru (as a favor to a friend, I assure you) and guess who took my order? A machine. A MACHINE! McDonald’s thinks machines are better at saying, ‘Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?’ than a human. (Again, I was only there for a friend. A very unhealthy person who begged me to get her some fries. Not for me. It was for a friend.)
    At first I liked machines. The ones in the supermarkets especially. I always felt like cashiers were too slow anyway. And I happen to prefer purchasing my ice cream, glossies and bottle of wine on Friday nights without anyone knowing.
    But this has gone too far. What I saw this weekend has confirmed my suspicion that the end is near: a vending machine in Macy’s. And I wasn’t in the employee break room. That’s right. The one-time regal sport of dressing up and heading out to Marshall Field’s has now been replaced by a machine that spits out an acne solution or an iPod when you stick in a credit card.

    What is happening?
    We’re laying off humans left and right yet investing money in technology that will further obliterate even more jobs. There. I said it. Robots are taking over our jobs.
    Mark my words: January 20, 2010.
    So in 2050 when we’re all unemployed, sitting on stoops day in and out, buying dehydrated food pills with our electronic food stamps from the robotic ‘restaurant’ that drives by, I’m gonna have to say ‘I told you so.’
    You still don’t believe me? Check out this robot teacher in Japan. Yeah, a robot teacher. Who seems to have the same plastic surgeon as Michael Jackson. I’m guessing you’ll be able to pass a few notes in her classroom. Or maybe even pass an STD to your boyfriend in her classroom. Or shit on her desk before the bell rings.
    What is the world coming to? Say NO to technology. And NO to STDs and desk shitting in schools. Say NO to robots.