Portrait of a blogger as a young focus group participant

Recently my dinner was interrupted by an invitation via a telephone solicitor who invited me to take part in an advertising survey. Because I find the number of people in the world who value my opinion is constantly shrinking, I jumped at the chance to share that opinion with someone who cared.

The concept was simple. I agreed to accept a video tape in the mail, watch it and answer some questions in exchange for entering a prize drawing. I'm a pragmatist so I don't see myself winning a prize, but just the fact that I cut the muster for their focus group made me feel special so I said yes. Sure enough within a few days of agreeing to participate, I received my package in the mail from Audience Studies, a marketing research firm in Cincinnati, complete with a VHS tape, some questionnaires and two prize booklets.

It surprised me how explicit the instructions I was to follow were. First I was to go through the green prize book and circle whatever brand of various items I would want to receive as a prize. The booklet contained 17 different categories of household products and pictures of different brands in each. Most of it was crap. I wouldn't have wanted to purchase most of this stuff, much less receive it as a prize. No plasma TVs, wireless gadgets or nubile virgins to be had here. Instead facial moisturizer, scented candles, Mexican dinner kits, fabric softener, peanut butter, tea bags and cereals were all among the things I had to discriminately ponder over and select.

Having no opinion on most of it, I asked Elaine which of these things she'd want to receive. She happily obliged and, to my surprise, had definite preferences when it came to all of these things. Who would have known she preferred Aveeno skin moisturizer over Curel, Noxema, St. Ives or the 22 other brands shown on the page? I didn't even know there were 25 brands of skin moisturizer. Now I understand why I hate being sent to the grocery store. Filling this thing out felt like taking a timed test in school, one for which I was obviously ill-prepared.

I had hoped the fun part of this exercise would be watching the video. That the tape was of a show that according to the instructions "was not new but never appeared on TV" should have clued me in. Turns out it was a pilot for a failed show called Dads starring C. Thomas Howell, Rue Mclanahan, some hey-it's-that-guys and some child actors who, if there is a God, will never find work in television again. Elaine actually recognized a couple of the "actors" as former tertiary recurring faces on Friends.

From watching the program I got the impression the three dads were divorced and their kids all played together and attended the same preschool of which Rue Mclanahan was the director. She put on a German accent for the show which really added nothing to her character but I suppose made her sound less like a Golden Girl. Even still I couldn't stop thinking Why is Blanche Devereaux talking that way? The show sucked dog's ass and the only chance it ever has of seeing actual airtime in my opinion is on the Torture Channel as a tool to coax information out of would-be terrorists. It was that bad. Painful to watch. Through the magic of modern technology the tape erased as it played. Originally I thought this was for research purposes, but now I wonder if it wasn't done at the personal request of C. Thomas Howell. I hurriedly completed the second prize booklet, filled out a questionaire about the show and went to bed.

The following evening I received my anticipated phone call from a tele-drone working at the research agency. She sped through her list of questions as though she had a 30-minute interview to give and was scheduled to clock out in ten. I tried to keep up with her fast-paced strongly disagrees, somewhat disagrees, neither agrees nor disagrees, somewhat agrees, and strongly agrees. It was obvious by her monotone that she couldn't possibly care less about my answers and after ten minutes of having to give one-word responses to the same question rephrased different ways I began to share her enthusiasm. I especially found it tedious that after I answered no to her question regarding whether or not I take a multi-vitamin she went on to ask me what brand of multi-vitamin did I prefer, how often I buy them and whether I or someone else in the household purchases them. Furthermore the whole thing seemed like it was geared toward shaming me for not remembering details about the commercials I saw during the program. Did I mention my dinner was getting cold all this time?

Just when I thought the whole thing was about to come to an end, she instructed me to put the video back in the VCR and watch a commercial before answering yet more questions. When those questions were answered, there was still another commercial to watch. These were both commercials I had seen the previous night but had totally forgotten. After 25 minutes of interrogation I found myself just coming up with shit to say off the top of my head. When asked what I liked about the Chase commercial, I said I liked the bright colors. When asked what I didn't like about the commercial I said the hug scene. How was I supposed to know she was then going to ask me what about the hug scene I didn't like? I said it wasn't genuine; she struggled to hold back her guffaw.

All I'm saying is I better get something out of this besides painful memories and cold shrimp alfredo. Bring on the prizes. Can't you just imagine the fun I could have with $100 worth of Johnsons 24-hour moisturizer and a few sticks of Mazola? Knowing my luck though the whole celebration would be tainted with inescapable images of Rue Mclanahan. If you want to check and see whether or not my margarine fantasy comes true, you can actually view the list of prize recipients at www.audiencestudies.com. Who knows, I just might win.

Do you strongly disagree?

Somewhat disagree?

Neither agree nor disagree?

Somewhat agree?

Or don't give a shit?

Coworker looks like Encyclopedia Britannica guy

There's this guy where I work who looks like that kid off the old Encyclopedia Brittanica commercial. Well, he looks like how I imagine that kid would look today anyway. You know the kid I mean? He was on two commercials back in the 80s. In the first one he played a guy who needed encyclopedias because he had a report due on space. And when the second commercial came around a year or so later, it started with him in a stark white room in front of a set of encyclopedias. Then he would get up from his roly chair and say, "Remember me? I'm the kid that had a report due on space." Like any of us really would have forgotten such an annoying child actor as he.

You know the kid I mean? The one that had the report due? On space? His hair was kinda mullety and he wore smart kid glasses. He looked like the kid in class who ruined the bell curve for the rest of us stoops. Kinda cocky. Probably a member of the Beta club or the debate team. Maybe president of both. Just from looking at him you knew he was the kinda guy who, while the rest of us were picturing Justine Bateman naked (or Justin Bateman depending I guess on your orientation) that kid was working on the fourth draft of his report and making sure he had accurately quoted all his sources. Hell, he was the kinda guy who had sources.

As a high school stoop who went on to teach high school sophomore English for a year, I gotta say this kid wasn't as bright as he tried to let on. Rule one of researching and writing a report is narrowing your topic. Did this kid's teacher really let him think he was going to successfully write a report on something as broad as space? Hello? McFly? You're not going to be able to write succinctly on your topic unless you come up with something more specific than just space. Dude, you’re talking the final frontier. At least whittle it down to space travel or space aliens. Something that only occupies a few pages of one of those encyclopedias is best. Otherwise if you’re like me (which we’ve already established he probably wasn’t, but I’m just saying) you’re going to end up the night before this report is due scrambling to find some easily copyable information that sounds vaguely like your own words, all while the end theme song to the Letterman show plays in the background. Yeh, if at all possible, try and reword one of your old reports possibly from another class and make it sound like a new report on whatever aspect of space you decide on. Admittedly this would be difficult to do with a paper on Macbeth or something like that but desperate times call for desperate measures. Be creative.

For my first year of teaching there weren’t enough French classes to fill up my schedule so I got assigned two periods of Academic Sophomore English. The class name’s a misnomer if there ever was one. You see kids either took the advanced class or they took my class, and intelligence and ability in high school students are like income distribution in Third World countries. There’s no middle ground. The elites take the advanced class and those who likely aren’t going to make it through their sophomore year because of crime, drugs or unplanned pregnancies take the “academic” Sophomore English class. I secretly referred to it as English for the Living Dead. If you’re one of my former students who’s stumbled onto my blog because you googled teacher burnout or asked Jeeves Whatever happened to that asshole Mr. Black? I have two things to say: 1) I’m probably not telling you something you don’t already know, and 2) I’d appreciate it if you not spit on my fries.

Anyway, back to the guy that had a report due on space, or rather the guy at my work who looks like the guy that had a report due on space. Part of me wants to go up and tell him he looks like the guy in the old Encyclopedia Britannica commercials who had a report due on space, but two things keep me from doing this. Working in a totally different department from mine, he occupies a cube way on the other side of the building, so I really don’t even know his name, much less know him well enough to tell him he looks like some 80s cocky child actor with a bad haircut. Secondly I used to be told that I looked like the judge from Night Court or Shaggy from Scooby Doo so I know the annoyance of being told you look like somebody who’s not as easy on the eyes as, say, Leonardo DiCaprio or Brad Pitt.. I guess I’ll just stick with pointing out to my next-cube-neighbors that the guy who works in that other department looks like the kid that had a report due on space.

Speaking of that kid, you can actually see a video of his commercial online by visiting http://www.x-entertainment.com/downloads/. The site hosts that and several other 80s commercials from back in the day. Additionally there was a hilarious write-up in The Onion about him that you can read by clicking here. Once you read it, you’ll notice I thought the article was so funny that I borrowed a line or two from it here or there. Oh well, at least I quote my sources. No way you’re getting me to write a fourth draft though.

No way.

This just in: As I was searching for the link to the aforementioned video I came across a slew of information on the actor in the commercial. He has an extensive web presence, a Wikipedia article and two -- count them -- TWO blogs. Click here to see the tamer of the two. From there you can see a link to the other and find some nude photos that far surpass Justine Bateman in terms of masturbatory quality. I'm talking everything from artsy black and whites to good ol' trash.

Which blog is better?

Number 1

.

Number2

My Ballot Box Which blog layout do you prefer? Number 1 Number 2 View Results

It's high time I pimped my blog

When I first discovered blogging almost a year ago, I knew I wanted a blog but had no clue how to start one. Having purchased a domain name (see remnants of my first attempt at a personal webpage including photos by clicking here) I then needed the nuts and bolts to comprise my online diatribe. I searched computer stores for software related to the subject but couldn't really find any. Now I know that's because any monkey can start a blog provided he has an internet connection and a browser he can use to point to Blogger.com. I know the cooler peeps use things like Moveable Type or WordPress but I could no more make shit sense of their installation software than I could a set of stereo instructions printed in Aramaic. So here I am several months later with a blog on my own domain that I update via Blogger.com. There's only one problem: My blog looks blatantly amateurish if not just plain boring. I need someone to pimp my blog.

The template you see before you was a doctored up version of the Dots Dark template I picked from the Blogger site. Many people are happy with a generic looking blog, but I wanted something that showed a little more originality. I don't remember where I snatched the purplish background from, but the guy holding the glass was a graphic my wife and I had used on an invitation for our annual party we like to call Cocktails with Kevin. I went on Colorschemer.com and, having picked out a color from the graphic, found some corresponding colors for text, link and hover colors. Lately I've been reading up on what makes for poor blog design and learned of what cardinal sins I've committed. Let's confess, shall we?

When you google poor web design or poor blog design you get a slew of things that everyone from professional designers to cantankerous biddies find reprehensible in blog design, and one of the first things on most of their lists is the use of light text on a dark background. Yes, I admit that there are some sites out there that quickly make me click the Back button because their designer's poor choice in font color is temporarily blinding. But is my cyan lettering on this dark background really all that bad? I like it because if you're huddled in a dark room with all the lights off at night because you've found it's easier to just wait for a sleeping baby to wake up as opposed to having her wake you up after only two hours sleep, the site doesn't illuminate the entire room the way some do. But that's just me. I'm curious what you think. Go on, you can level with me. I need to know.

Another thing I'm guilty of is making links that look like this with no indication as to where they lead. I'm one of those people who thought it was quaint to do so. Sue me. I'll stop if for no other reason than because for every mystery link I make, I pass over someone else's assuming if they didn't care enough to tell me where it leads then why should I bother clicking on it?

Other people have cited unreachable authors as a pet peeve. Come to think of it, I do not have my email address on my blog, but anyone is welcome to email me at cocktailswithkevin@hotmail.com. If I do get around to pimping my blog, I'll add my email address. I actually know a few bloggers, the Black gay blogger for instance (how much more descriptive could I be with that link?) who solicit their PayPal account. I've yet to toss any money his way, but you gotta give the guy props for trying.

Some people niggle about the number of ads or buttons on a site. I don't do ads because I can't say I've ever clicked on one, and I don't know anyone who's life was turned around because they did. Maybe it's my own paranoia but most of them look like they have the credibility of an online personal ad and so once you click on it, you really never know where you're going to be taken to. Does anyone really line their pockets that much by using ads? Pimping your blog is one thing; whoring it is another.

When it comes to HTML coding I am near clueless. I can scoot things over, make them different colors, maybe even make them a little bigger or smaller but when it comes to blog skin design -- even one I try and vary from a template -- I just don't have the skills. I've tried a few different templates but having me design a blog template is like having a heterosexual interior decorator redo your living room. It just looks . . . not put together.

Is there anyone out there who wants to take on a new design project? There are several blogs out there who's look I like. Blonde Vigilante for instance has something neat and simple. The focus is clearly on her writing . . . and the knockout blonde in the banner. The End is Now is another simple but crisp blog skin. If you've never visited Faggoty Ass Faggot, you really need to check out his site just to see the template. A friend of his did that, and you gotta love it. Gays have that queer eye though, and apparently even the ones who don't know one who does. So if there's anyone out there who wants some recognition for putting together a little sump'n-sump'n for me, shoot me an email. And if anyone finds an ad that says queer eye for the straight blogger would you please let me know?

Cocktailswithkevin site feed is up and running

WARNING: The following entry contains mildly technological terminology and may be considered boring by most audiences. If dullness offends you, you are encouraged to discontinue reading this entry and instead check out this guy or this guy. You have been warned.



Just when I thought my computer skills peaked during the era of the Commodore 64, I seemingly successfully probably maybe but not sure managed to get my site feed up and running through Blogger. I was only vaguely knowledgable about site feeds to begin with and frankly I'm still not sure how much I really understand the whole process. Because I pull up my news and blogs the old fashioned way, i.e. surfing and clicking, I never really concerned myself with a site feed. Even when I first started tampering with the settings I successfully created a site feed but then had no link to it, so the site feed was of little value. Kinda like having a brand new car with no motor. For those with even less technological savvy than I (Amish readers with a bootlegged hard copy of my blog maybe?) let me back up.

Some people read their blogs via a news reader which is a software program that goes out to whatever sites you want and looks for any new postings and articles. Specifically it looks for a file stored on the site with an xml or rss extension (if you don't know what an extension is at this point, you probably are getting through life just fine so I won't bother explaining.) My problem was two-fold: At first I didn't know how to create such a file; and secondly once I had created such a file, I didn't know how to put it where people could find it. Just when my frustration level reached an all-time high trying to figure this whole thing out and I was ready to throw in the towel, one of my beloved readers hits me up with a comment wanting to know if I've ever gotten my site feed up and running. I think I can finally say yes.

Provided your happy with the Atom format, you can point your news reader to my site feed at www.cocktailswithkevin.com/atom.xml. I've tested it with Newscrawler and it seems to work for me. You even get to see the favicon I created several months back. If you don't know what a favicon is, good. It's really more hassle than it's worth. Currently I provide the full post in the site feed, but please do pop in to cocktailswithkevin.com every now and then via your browser because my deflated ego requires seeing my hit counter go up periodically, and I don't think using a news reader to get the atom file will cause the counter to bump up. I don't know. I'm just guessing.

If on the other hand you prefer the rss feed like Feedburner uses, you're just going to have to deal with not getting it. Sure, if I feel so inclined, I might try and tackle it later, but right now I'm just happy I got the one up and running. Got it? Do you understand? I don't mean to be the rss gestapo but if you came here looking for rss I'm gonna have to say No site feed for you!

Additionally I've started writing for Metroblogging Atlanta. They claim to be somewhat selective in that you have to apply to write for them and for a long time they weren't looking for any additional writers in the Atlanta area, but their standards must have dropped because they let the likes of me in. Then again it could be because much of the postings that were being left were one- or two-liners that even the aforementioned technophobic Amish would find mindnumblingly dull. Anyway, if the website you're currently viewing and the cyber vanity within don't give you the Kevin fixings you require, click over to the Metroblogging site and check out some of my latest ramblings there. Metroblogging discourages authors from merely copying and pasting from their own blogs so if I continue to adhere to that rule, you'll see fresh stuff there.

No real closure to this article. Just this:

As Seen On TV Store covers all your needs

Isn't it a tad ironic that the types of must-have merchandise you see advertised on late-night television along with the disclaimer not sold in stores are now sold in a store called the As Seen on On TV Store? I stepped into this walk-in closet sized boutique today and spent a good ten minutes ogling the strange and unusual merchandise that was to be found here. Apparently that's all anyone does that comes here is ogle because most of the boxes, which are printed with the garish primary colors usually seen on children's toys and political campaign signs, are covered in an inch of retail dust. The kind emigre who greeted me at the door would have done well to take a feather duster or maybe even an industrial strength Shop-Vac to the whole place. But once you blew away the dust and cleared away the cobwebs from the shelves, oh what treasures did abound.

Some of the stuff was pretty tame like tool kits and lint rollers but other things were somehow odd or just plain disturbing. One item that for whatever reason bothered me most was the Play-Doh Fun Factory style butter dispenser. It works like a caulking gun but with butter. You unwrap a stick of butter, toss it in, and depress the lever in the back to "squeeze out a ribbon of butter." If you don't think ribbon of butter is a gross enough expression, you might be interested to know that with the butter dispenser you can turn an ordinary stick of butter into a ribbon that's over ten feet long. Can't you just see some lame-ass duck-walking backwards down the street while he's testing to see how far he can get his butter ribbon to go? Why risk losing your way home behind a half-eaten trail of bread crumbs when you can just take along a few boxes of Mazola and your trusty butter dispenser? And yes, it also works for margarine, cream cheese, peanut butter and cake frosting. I'd be tempted to try other things in it as well. Don't just toss an ugly ol' heaping tablespoon of shortening in that pan. Make a ribbon. You could add a touch of class to that cracker with a star-shaped dollop of either tapenade or deviled ham (depending on the width of your home, of course.) Just think of what fun you could have with moist cat food.

As I circled the store, my eyes glued to the strange titles of these items, I did see that there was an order to the store's layout. To the left as you enter there are some larger items which catch your eye and lure you in. Then it goes to household products like the all-in-one pasta pot that lets you both cook and drain the pasta without that hassle of changing bowls or the Salad Blaster Bowl which, with the magic of push-button technology, allows you to dispense dressing on your salad while it's still in an enclosed bowl. The back wall of the store has manlier playthings like the mega-sized tool kit and shake-powered flashlight. Then on the other wall are more personal items, which incidentally get increasingly personal as you approach the register.

Oddly enough just above the spray-on hair was the Dare To Bare Erotic Shaving Kit. And lest you think this one is just a sexually charged way to market an ordinary household razor and shaving cream, let me tell you: It also comes with the Dare to Bare DVD. Yes, you heard me right. A DVD! If you don't believe me, check it out on AsSeenOnTV.com where we're told "Whether your partner watches you shave or you choose to shave each other, it's a fun fantasy that is refreshingly clean and easy to try." Still not convinced? Order now and just let these five real couples show you how the art of sensual shaving can lead to wonderful erotic encounters. The store also contained a small selection of personal massagers, all of which you can find advertised on the site. Don't miss the 5X (yes, that's five exes!) FingerVibe Massager. Much like the butter dispenser, this massager too came with a few attachments justly named Bumper, Spiral and Tickler and Nubby Lover.

Parenthetically let me add that because my daughter is now six weeks old it means my wife has gotten the go ahead from her doctor to resume the evening antics. I may just have to head back to the As Seen On TV Store and bring home a few items. I wonder if I could use that butter dispenser to dispense the Better Sex Shaving Mousse.

Pictures to follow.

The serial killers I-Can read series

Normally I try and refrain from making impulse purchases, but recently when I was wandering the consumer wasteland that is Gwinnett Place Mall, I stumbled across a rare find sitting atop a discount display outside the Waldenbooks. This book was huge, like the size of an art book you might diplay on your coffee table to show people how pretentious in vogue you are. Two words in the title, "SERIAL KILLERS", stood out in big bold capital letters and "KILLERS" was written out in an eerie blood red 1960s Smith Corona font. I gravitated to this book as though it advertised free money and after only a cursory glance at the black and white pages depicting pictures of John Wayne Gacy and Jack the Ripper, I proudly carried the book inside the store and placed it on the counter for purchase. Did I mention this book was marked down from forty-something to only ten dollars? Ten dollars! They were practically giving it away.

Once I got the book home the dilemma arose as to where to display it. Unlike the two books I'm currently reading that sit on my nightstand, this one has a readability level on par with that of a sixth grader's Social Studies report, so it lends itself to some light reading or maybe even just an objet d'art. Originally I thought the coffee table in the living room would be a good home for it, but we already have several bobbles on display there. Just a bit too many notes. Don't you think?

Our stereo cabinet, a pressboard jewel of a find from Ikea, also was a potential spot for display. I put the book there and rotated it at different angles trying to find the right look. The problem with this spot was that the cabinet sits just under a ledge people walk by as they enter our front door. Somehow seeing the words "serial killers" doesn't make for a warm invitation to someone's home. Unless of course you have a twelve-foot well dug in your basement and you take pleasure in telling plus-sized women to rub the lotion on their skin lest they get the hose again. Why my cat Ambrose wanted in this picture, I have no idea. He's such an attention whore.


In our sunroom we have this low-sitting leather chair we scarfed up from my wife's parents when they moved to Florida. My fat ass has a hard time getting in and out of it, but once I'm in it it's incredibly comfortable. It makes for the ideal place to curl up with a good book on mass murderers and read 'til you fall asleep. A footstool beside the chair usually has some of Elaine's lighter trashier reading material like InStyle or Vogue. While this seemed like a good place for The Visual Encyclopedia of Serial Killers, the book overtakes the stool because of its relative size and the creepy red typewriter font doesn't blend with our color scheme in that room.


We live in a modest three-bedroom home and use one of the back bedrooms as our TV lounge. Incidentally one of the best moves we made (in addition to getting rid of cable) was getting our television out of the living room. You would be surprised at the mixed responses we get when people walk in and realize there's no tv in the main living space. Some people applaud us while others think we should be committed. Anyway, I thought maybe the creepy red font would work with our mega-bright red couch and playful leopard print throw. The only suitable spot would have been on the pleather foot stool. We got that thing at Target after having cashed in some gift cards we got at our various baby showers. Speaking of which, don't register at Target unless you'd be 100% happy with anything in the store. Their return policy is essentially non-existent. Anyway, here again the book's size dwarfs the footstool which already has to double as a dangerously soft place to rest our drinks and a storage area for the various remotes we requre to enhance our viewing pleasure.

My wife's nightstand is really out because . . . well, she's not really all that hip to serial killers. Babywise is her current bedtime reading of choice, and I'm sure Girlfriends' Guide to the First Year is next on the list. No room for cannibals and masochists when you've got nursing and parent-centered households to study up on. Note to self: Put sheets on the bed.

Would this book scare the shit out of you? It almost works in our guest bathroom underneath those Kleenex, but since the scale in our master bathroom doesn't get used much except for occasionally being the object of hatred, maybe the book could rest on top of the scale. Or do you think people would rather read up on Janet Jackson and "How She Got Thin"? Note to self: Change toilet paper roll before it's "too late."

Is it just me or does this book somehow belong in the nursery? Though don't get me wrong. Some of my best friends are serial killers and I think they should have equal protection under the law and all, but I wouldn't want my daughter marrying one. I do however think maybe the chilling tales of Hansel and Gretel or Little Red Riding Hood pale in comparison to such classics as "the butcher of Hanover" and "the killer clown."

Goodnight Dahmer. Goodnight Gacy. Goodnight noises everywhere.

Just kidding. I wouldn't read my daughter stories about serial killers. I'm not that twisted. But we do have someone in the house who is, as is evidenced in the following pictures.

It's Intermittent Explosive Disorder Awareness Month so bite me

As I was riding around on lunch today I was taken aback by a radio news story that suggested people formerly thought to be reacting to road rage might actually suffer from something newly dubbed Intermittent Explosive Disorder. At first thought, you might suspect this new age infirmity is gastrointestinal in nature, but it's actually much different from the silmilarly named Intermittent Shart Disorder. Allegedly people suffering from intermittent explosive disorder are prone to sudden outbursts of violence or anger. The degree of aggressiveness in these fits of rage is usually way out of proportion to whatever supposedly provoked them. Didn't we used to just call these people assholes? Allow me to opine on this dreaded malady and the news story.

Thank goodness those bespectacled and goateed hoodwinkers are still coming up with some diagnoses for the guiltless and victimized to adopt. Weren't we experiencing a shortgage of disorders there for a while? I mean when Attention Deficit Disorder hit elementary school playgrounds it caught on like wildfire and spread faster than the latest clothing trends but others like Codependency Disorder and Manic Depressive Disorder seem to have lost their oomph and fizzled out somewhere in the early 90s. Or maybe we just eradicated them like polio. My guess is actually that the pill pushers at places like Pfizer and GlaxoSmithKline have come up with a miracle treatment for the latest conditions and whatever this new pill is, it's just more profitable to market than the cures for those outmoded conditions.

How convenient for the drug companies, defense attorneys and psycho-label-phyliacs that the media ties this new disorder to a modern mass phobia like road rage. I just got through reading The Culture of Fear: Why Americans are Afraid of the Wrong Things by Barry Glassner. In it he talks about various fears Americans have taken on in spite of the lack of statistical evidence showing the fear is merited. He dedicates an entire chapter to the theory of road rage. Apparently the most alarming threats are the ones we can do very little about. Short of staying off the roads or driving armored vehicles, there's not much we could do to stop someone else from shooting us in our car if they wanted to. It doesn't matter that highway shootings are extremely rare. Because the odd case gets such substantial media coverage these fears are quick to take off with the stamina usually reserved for urban legends.

This disorder mania has gotten so far out of hand. It's as though we're expected to act like cookie-cutter automatons and anyone who steps out of line has a disorder. I was joking earlier about the Intermittent Shart Disorder, but it wouldn't surprise me if that's the next one to come down the pike. Also look out for Abnormal Sense of Humor Disorder, Poor Money Management Disorder and Failure to Obey Stop Sign Disorder. Some highschoolers will suffer from Fourth Period Erection Syndrome while others will struggle with Caught Without a Tampon Syndrome. Sure as shootin', psychaitrists will associate these with a chemical imbalance so that, joy of joys, the pharmaceutical companies can come up with a pill to treat them. Just imagine the money to be made all around.

I'm sure all this may sound harsh to some but just chalk it up to my Irreverent Rambling Disorder. My family and friends have long hoped for a cure. Maybe they need to adopt a ribbon or bracelet in recognition of my state of mind. In the meantime, do you think I could get away with parking in the handicap spot?