25 Facts About Me Part 2

6. When I am president of the United States, my first goal as leader of the free world will be to nuke Planet X. My second goal will be to form a task force whose sole function is to figure out who in sam hill is this Dyson guy, and why he is obsessed with vacuum cleaners.



Planet X is far more important than vacuum cleaners. You can't explain that to James Dyson. He's all about the vacuum cleaners. How to prevent a vacuum from losing suction as it sucks up dirt and Froot Loops? How to make a vacuum shimmy around living room furniture like a hula dancer on roller skates? The man dedicated his life one dusty day to building a better vacuum cleaner, and "a few thousand prototypes later, I had it." A few thousand prototypes. Am I the only one who wishes Dyson had become unreasonably obsessed with curing the common cold, or constructing a third political party that would replace the United States' current two-party system and usher in a new era of governmental excellence? Okay, James Dyson is British, but if he's going to peddle his highfalutin' vacuum cleaners to Americans for American dollars he may as well fix our political system while he's at it. A few thousand prototypes later.

Why didn't he become unreasonably obsessed with making sure rock 'n' roll never quit being good?

But before investigating Dyson's sense of priorities I must take care of Planet X. It's this giant space rock that's predicted to hit the planet Earth in 2012. Of course it won't do that. I predict nothing but peace and love in 2012, because everyone's expecting disaster and destruction. The universe never gives you what you expect. It has an attitude problem in that regard. Of course since I expect peace and love, the universe has to make 2012 about something else, just to spite me. So it'll probably be like any other old year, actually. But if I expect that, then the universe, in a state of exasperation, can't make 2012 about the status quo either. Isn't it great to know that I have the power to make stuff happen by not expecting it? Vote for me!

So 2012 won't be about disaster, peace, or the same ol' same ol'. The universe must be running out of ideas. That's why the giant space rock known as Planet X won't be hitting the planet Earth in 2012. It'll hit the Earth in 2017, the first year I am president of the United States. It's called revenge.

I expect it to happen, but the universe does not care. I laugh in the face of an angry universe that holds a personal grudge against yours truly. I just like getting attention. There is no point in running for president if you don't like attention. Why yes, the universe DOES revolve around me!

So I'll nuke Planet X mere seconds before it strikes the surface of the Earth, cementing my place in history as The First American President to Act Like the Presidents in Action Movies. Booyah! With that taken care of, it'll be time to look into that James Dyson character. Vacuum cleaners just aren't that fascinating, you know? Vacuum Boy is pulling something, I expect. Which, means, of course, he isn't.

My favorite season of the year is autumn. Autumn lasts five hours in Southern California, deftly replaced by a season known as Cold, or more formerly Cold as Fisheyes, Esq.

chestnuts roasting over an open fire
because we're snowed in and have no food except for these nuts and fun-size cheeses from this festive gift basket
and we must burn our kitchen furniture to survive
have another chair leg
Jack Frost bites off your nose and spits it at your feet

Year after year, Cold proves itself unworthy of welcome. Year after year, the naive public greets Cold at the door with gifts of song and low accountability. Don't you dare blame Christmas for your depression and stress and ugly relatives! Christmas is minding its own business, trying with valiant effort to bloom where it is planted. It is planted squarely in the iced grip of Cold. You know who to blame and it is time that we were all honest with ourselves.

But what's the point in crying aloud about Cold's treachery? Cold mindlessly flings snow down at the mortals of Earth and everybody goes "yaaaaaayyy!" In fact, when the masses feel that Cold hasn't gone far enough they spray white gunk on their windows to cover up for Cold's slovenly ways, making it look like there's more snow. Snow is very hard to walk in, you know. SNOW IS NOTHING TO JOKE ABOUT.

I hate Cold. I am intolerant of Cold. You might call me a bigot, but understand this. Cold hates me as well.

As does canned corn. On this matter we must again be honest with ourselves. Corn on the cob begs for our attention, crisp and fresh in its husks, but our industrialized society has turned to little yellow bland pebbles of corn steeped in their own water. This is proof that we also hate ourselves. I blame Cold.

If you do not blame Cold for all that is terrible and cruel in this world, you are brainwashed. It was the repeated airings of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" that radio exposed you to as a kid. It's okay, "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" has messed us all up to varying degrees. All that stuff about having "lots of fun with Mr. Snowman". No one in recorded history has had fun with a snowman. Oh, we think we should. We keep running out of our warm dwellings, and outside into the snow, eagerly waiting for the fun to begin. It never does. For one thing snow is very hard to walk in. The whole operation leaves us with an unshakeable feeling of deprivation. It's okay. Repeat after me. NO ONE IN RECORDED HISTORY HAS HAD FUN WITH A SNOWMAN. It's not just you.

Blame Cold. I do. Every day of my life. The time for crying aloud about Cold's treachery is at an end. The time for planning is at hand.

Would you like another fun-size cheese? It's smoky marbled cheddar. Chew slowly, this gift basket has to last us until March. Throw another chair leg on the fire there. Soon the resistance shall begin.