An Open Letter to The Airborne Toxic Event

I don't think you guys really thought things through when you christened your band. When I first heard the name, I assumed you were some sort of hippie jam band, like The String Cheese Incident, or Uncle Jethro's Psychedelic Flapjack (a name I just made up but you can't even tell, because hippies name themselves things like that). I saw you guys on Conan the other night and discovered that you not only are not a hippie jam band, but that you seem to be a legitimate band and not just a bunch of goofball jokers who you would expect to name themselves The Airborne Toxic Event.

There's no way to put this delicately, so I'm just going to say it: the name of your band sounds like a euphemism for a fart. Was that the plan? Naming your band after a bodily function might work fine when you're a bunch of slackers killing time in college after class, but you guys are releasing singles and going on talk shows now, and the name of your group still sounds like a description of a particularly lethal dose of hot & spicy curry flatulence. Do you realize that if you are successful, you could be recording for years under that name? You guys are all in your 20's now, I assume, but if things go good for you, you could realistically find yourself in your late 40's and playing in a band seemingly named after a fart.

In your 40's. In a band named after a fart.

Pretty short-sighted of you, The Airborne Toxic Event. With any luck, you guys will all go mad with fame, wind up hating eachother and break up, so you can bury this idiotic band name and we can all agree to never speak of it again.

This Is Why I Hate Most Memes

(Except for the ones I invent that nobody else participates in.)

There's a meme bouncing around right now that goes like this: hit the random article button at Wikipedia, and whatever comes up is the name of your genitals. Haha, right? Everybody's posting stuff like "Yangtze river" or "strike force" and other funny stuff. What did I wind up with?

1965 All England Open Badminton Championships.

Hey! Where's my funny penis nickname? Then I realized something: most people are cheating, just hitting the random button until something funny comes up, which really defeats the entire purpose of the meme. And really, isn't that what everybody does when a meme like this rolls around? Just fake it to make it, right? That's what the Internet is all about. If you're gonna do that, you might as well just make something up.

In that spirit, I'd like to announce my new totally legitimate Wikipedia random article penis name:

Godzilla Vs. Mechagodzilla.

Please use this name when referring to my penis from now on (it comes up in your personal conversations all the time, I'm sure), since it was totally accurately named by Wikipedia with no assistance from myself whatsoever.

Well, Okay, Then

I just received this email, obviously in response to the phone call I got this morning:

Dear Kevin Stone,

 

Thank you for contacting Network Solutions Customer Service Department. We are committed to creating the best Customer experience possible. One of the first ways we can demonstrate our commitment to this goal is to quickly and efficiently handle your recent request.

 

Based on your request, we are removing your name from the Network Solutions E-Mail and Call Lists.

Of course, I never really "contacted the Network Solutions Customer Service Department". I just told their sales guy to never call my house again. But still, kudos to them for taking the hint, even though they never should have had me on that list the first place. I guess they're not total creeps. Still, though, I wish companies would get something through their heads: when customers don't buy extra services from you, it's not because they didn't know about them, or because you weren't being pushy enough with your sales pitch. It's because that's exactly what they intended to do. I don't need hosting; I don't need hungrylikekevins dot-biz through dot-xxx. I purchased exactly the domain that I needed, and nothing more. Just like when somebody goes into a 7-11 and buys a Heath bar, you don't try to sell them a 24-pack of Hamm's on top of it.

Okay?

You need to understand this, American companies.

Anyway, thanks for taking me off your call list, Network Solutions. I promise not to say anything else bad about you (unless you screw up again).

Age, Digestion, Etc.

I am lucky enough to be one of those guys who is not aging particularly poorly, at least, externally. Here is a pic fresh from the bathroom:

Mirrorme
People tell me all the time that I don't look 40, and I'm starting to believe them. I still have a full head of hair, my face is not super wrinkly, and I still walk with fairly youthful pep (I give myself away, though, by using words such as "pep").

Internally, however, it's a whole different story. For instance, I can't eat chorizo sausage without taking a dump within the hour that smells like a tire fire. And I like chorizo sausage. I'm not going to stop eating it. Also, I can't drink caffeine past 6 or 7 in the evening, because it keeps me up all night, whereas I used to be able to play D&D all night long, swilling terrifying volumes of Coca-Cola the entire time, and drop right to sleep as soon as I was done. I also love spicy food, but my body apparently doesn't like it quite as much as I do, since I have a vague heartburny feeling in the evenings about four days out of seven.

This is all new to me. I don't want to be one of those sad old guys, sitting at Chili's with his friends, shaking his head while he peruses the menu because there's nothing on there that doesnt give him gas, heartburn or diarrhea (or perhaps all three). I still want to eat what I like to eat. I don't want to have to stick to an inflexible diet of white, flavorless gruel. I already gave up salt: that was easy.

Please don't make me give up flavor altogether. Okay, guts? We got a deal?

I need my flavor.

A Terrible Realization

My challenge to myself to avoid the big-time profanities for month and a half are going to make it really difficult for to to get further attention on the Internet, right when I'm actually trying to get further attention on the Internet.

Which kinda sucks, you know? Tumblr, especially (which is not where I prefer to be but where all the interaction really is), really rewards people for being obscene. Half the pages over there seem to include the phrase "f--- yeah" in their titles, and another 40% are porn blogs.

Is there room on the Internet for a funny guy who's just challenging himself to be funny without cursing so much? I wonder.

Hm.

I never said I wouldn't flash my penis, though. I always have that option.