Language Lesson Pt.2: What To Say When Things Get Awkward

Time for our next Language Lesson. OK, before you moan and groan, remember that reading these posts (and doing the required homework!) will help you greatly in everyday life. Why? How? Because everything you do in daily life involves communication and language. You can't just go stomping into the donut shop after school, then grunt at the clerk and expect them to know what donut you want. You have to learn how to say, "Hello. I'd like a donut please." These Language Lessons will instill in you the linguistic sophistication that will let you smooth-talk your way into a free donut! 

Just remember: there are millions of words out there but really only so many possible configurations. So essentially, you can learn a handful of buzzwords, cliches, and phrases and just keep recycling them throughout your life. And you'll actually come off as charming and witty! Just imagine yourself as an actor, preparing for the role as a "real cool guy or gal". Learn your lines here on this site, and go use them out the world!

Adjusting the Awkwardness

People often say to me, 'You know, you're quite an odd guy. But for such a weirdo, you never seem uncomfortable or socially awkward. What's up with that?'

Thanks for the compliment! Obviously, I was blessed with a certain social grace, savoir-faire as they say in France. As a self-actualized, high-level thinker, I've evolved far beyond certain unflattering social traits of simpletons. Most folks have a propensity to ostracize and witch-hunt anyone that doesn't fall in line with their groupthink, which is a game I don't play. Some of the conversational games I do like to play include: rhyming everything the other person says, speaking only in puns, funny voices, and saying things I don't mean. But I'm never "awkward guy". You don't need to constantly come of as "uber-cool" and "trending" to be a good socializer, you only need basic manners and a few pre-scripted phrases.

That doesn't mean I don't recognize awkwardness when it occurs. I just don't let it get the best of me. And if I see someone else beginning to feel awkward, I'm great at sympathetically changing the subject so the situation is hunky dory again.

But sometimes situations are not awkward enough. That seems a bit subversive, but remember: life is all about entertaining yourself, by any means necessary. And since people have such thin skin when it comes to awkward social situations, you might as well give them bruises! 

Here are some examples, denoted by a color-coded Awkwardness Alert Level.

Example 1: Making it less awkward, reassuring and relating to the other person.

The premise is simple, and could be almost anything. Suppose you're at work or at the supermarket and somebody stumbles or falls, or maybe they drop something. It happens to everyone. And because of this fact, if you don't say anything, it can be awkward. Your silence allows shame to grow like a fungus in the other person's mind. This is why you should say something charming like:

"Whoops. There's one for the blooper reel!"
Awkwardness Alert Level: Cool

That is such a witty phrase; obviously, I invented it and I use it every chance I get. Like all great phrases, it references pop culture and makes everyone think of hilarious blooper reels, where even the stars goof up. After you say this, you and the other party will share a hearty chuckle and it'll be a good time.

Example 2: America, this is you!

Same situation as No.1 except you want to make it more awkward!

[Imagine yourself as Bob Saget hosting America's Funniest Home Videos. Re-enact what just happened to the other person; use sound effects and a high-pitched voice to do a play-by-play.] 

"Oh I'm just gonna walk into this.. OHH! SPLAT! CRUNCH!" 

[Back in the Bob Saget voice, holding an imaginary mic, and looking at an imaginary camera]

"Wow. That was brutal! And now our studio audience will vote on the most embarrassing moment. Do you want guy getting hit in the nuts, or (whatever just happened). Use the devices on your seats to lock in your votes"

[Use your hands to do a furious drum roll on any hard surface around you. If none is available, drum on the person who is having a hard time]

"And our winner is... You! You're our winner! Congratulations! The most embarrassing moment ever! We've got laughs from coast to coast..." 

[Continue singing the America's Funniest Home Videos theme song, shake the person's hand, and wave to the imaginary camera]

Awkwardness Alert Level: High. Incredibly uncomfortable. 


Example 3: It's so hard to say goodbye.

The supermarket can be an awkward place to run into someone, because no one is usually in a social mood--everyone's in survival mood, pillaging the shelves for the Cracker Jacks and Beenie Weenies that their bodies so desperately crave. When animals feast on a carcass or a bag of trash, they don't feel the obligation to say hello to one another in the name of social etiquette. And we're supposed to be the civilized ones?

Anyhow, what makes a grocery store social encounter more awkward is the wide array of acquaintances you'll potentially see. These are people you barely know, hardly can stand, and haven't seen in ages. Plus, sometimes seeing certain people in a different context can be horribly traumatizing. For instance, if you recognize a waiter or waitress away from their job--FREAKY! It's like, what the hell do you think you're doing outside of your exclusive context? When I leave the restaurant, you're supposed to stay until I come back!

The bottom line is, you need to speak to the person to rid the situation of the awkward air. But it doesn't take to long to empty your barrel of small talk, and that's when it's time to part and go about your business. Often times people get stuck in a stuttering and stammering fit of goodbyes. As soon as you get a "goodbye" off, the other person goes back starts a new topic--or worse--says, "Let's hang out."

But don't worry, you can end it all with a swift physical motion.

Step 1: Smile and take a step back. Say, "OK. Bye!"
Step 2: Wave goodbye. Be sure to completely eclipse the person's face.
Step 3: Now that you can't see the person's eyes, extend your arm all the way, while simultaneously pivoting your body 180° in the other direction. Walk away. Don't look back. 

It's like pushing the person away without touching them.

Awkwardness Alert Level: Cool. Cooler than the frozen aisle! That reminds me, I need some popsicles! 

Example 4: It's so hard to say goodbye again.

But sometimes you see the person in the same place, just a few minutes later again... Uhhhh... Ahh shit...

A common custom is to act like you don't see the person, but this is so obvious--you may as well just yell at them, "Fuck you! Don't wanna talk to you! Screw you!" But we're better than that, so acknowledge the person again and try a few of these phrases:

"Wow! Every time I come here I see you! What do ya live here?"

"Anything new? Haa! Hope not! I just saw you! If you're life was so fast-paced that it could change in a matter of minutes then you might need to slooooow the hell down, you know what I'm saying? It's like, hang on Hollywood! Just relax and smell the roses. Whoo! Well, I gotta go! See ya!"
(This line works best if you act a little like Kathy Griffin and enunciate the consonants so hard that you spit and sort of run out of breath.)

"We gotta stop seeing each other like this." (This one is actually pretty lame unless you do this gesture.)

Awkwardness Alert Level: Lightly awkward. It is what it is. 


Example 5: The internet, a perfect ice-breaker.

You will need a smartphone or tablet for this trick or for anything in life that's worthwhile. Suppose you're at a party where you know most of the people well enough to be Facebook friends, but not well enough to just call out of the blue. This means you can expect some difficulty as you try to carry a conversation. Good, comfortable convos flow like a pro basketball team smoothly passing around the ball, but if you're not in the starting lineup, small talk is like passing around a boulder. Ouch! 

Well here's a slam dunk into friendship. During a moment when no one is speaking to you, do some Googling on your phone. You can find some facts on Wikipedia or any sort of randomness on Reddit, but funny pictures work the best. As you operate your smartphone, your body language will communicate that you are a tech-savvy, trendsetting young person. Wait until you catch someone's eye and then show them what you're looking at. You'll share a laugh and before you know it, a conversation erupts and goes viral. You bring other people into it, and then everybody will click different "links", which will change the topic. It's just like surfing the web! When the conversation slows down, get back on your phone and find a new meme. That's how you communicate. What would you do without the internet?

Awkwardness Alert Level: Cool, you're cool and you broke the ice!

Example 6: Anything you say can be used against you.

Or maybe you want to go the other way and turn the party into an awkward catastrophe. Try this: open up the Facebook profiles of the semi-strangers on your phone or tablet. Now break down their wall! You should dig really deep, find some of the oldest comments or statuses they have and go read them aloud, directly to that person. Confront them verbally with their personal Facebook data. I mean, get all in their face and scrutinize them about their digital footprint; ask questions about their pictures and the context of their conversations, especially when you don't know the other people involved. 

Even though these socialites have made all this information public, they will feel so self-conscious and creeped out by you "re-tweeting" their info that they'll want to drop dead right at the party. That's why this is such an intriguing and exciting social experiment. It's like introducing a real person to their fake Facebook self; worlds collide, cognitive chaos ensues! Their egos will go completely haywire. It's such a strange thing to do, that nobody would ever expect, and that's why you simply must try it!

This is your chance to be a real detective and perform an interrogation. Bonus points if you act like Colombo. Here are some examples:

"Who's in this picture with you? Is that your mom? Is she pissed off in this picture or does she always scowl?"

"In June of 2011 you told Brandy Munson that you 'hope she feels better'. What's that all about? Who's Brandy? What was wrong with her? Did... Did she die?"

"It says here that you were 'so beat' after working a 10-hour shift, but looking forward but looking forward to going to Myrtle Beach that week. Wow that must've been cool!"

"According to your Facebook page you 'like' A&W Restaurant. Me too! I like their hot dogs! High five!" 
[Offer to high-five them, don't give up until they give in]

Awkwardness Alert Level: EXTREME! You are creating social havoc!

Example 7: Dodging the risque subjects

Sometimes in a multi-person conversation, topics are brought up without any regard to the sensitivity of others. If you know one of the people involved are going through a break-up or death of a loved one, you must avoid metaphors that refer to these unfortunate traumas. That's why the phrase "I would slaughter my whole family to hook up with her" should not be in your repertoire, if you have an ounce of class. One of your friends' girlfriends may have just dumped them for a mass murderer. You never know.

Here's another common conversational gaff: say you have fairly-conservative parents and you introduce them to your new boyfriend or girlfriend. So you're out at dinner having a good time, then out of nowhere, your significant other starts talking about obscene sexual details. They start spouting off about what gets them hot, what they've tried with their ex, what they've put where. Uhh. Not in front of my mom!

So when you feel the conversation slipping that way, there's a perfect segue you can use every time.

"So how much do you guys LOVE Arthur?!"

Arthur Read, the aardvark. That's right, from the PBS show and the children's book. There's absolutely nothing offensive or sexually-threatening about Arthur, his family, or his friends. Just share your favorite memory about Arthur and ask the others for theirs. Now the conversation has been re-calibrated for optimum wholesome integrity. 

Coincidentally, "Arthur Read" just happens to be very popular safe word for couples that enjoy rough, aggressive sexual activities. Of course, if they're always shouting "Arthur Read!", they probably don't enjoy those activities that much.

Awkwardness Alert Level: Cool, everything's peachy!

Example 8: Attention-grabbing hand gestures.

Hey fellas, next time you're talking to a pretty lady, and you want to hit the self-destruct button, all you have to do is make an emphatic and sexually-suggestive grabbing motion with your hands. It's that simple, it doesn't matter what you say verbally. Women will freak out over this 100% of the time.

The Creep-O-Meter demo reminds me of this hilarious commercial from the late-80s.

 Oh how I laughed and laughed as a young boy when this ad came on TV.

(Disclaimer: Although sexual harassment is no laughing matter, there is something inescapably funny about a woman shrinking.)

Awkwardness Alert Level: EXTREME! You're gonna get pepper-sprayed!

That is all for this Language Lesson. As you've noticed, many of these items focused heavily on body language; nonverbal communication, it turns out, is even more important than the words we use. So next time you open your mouth, remember to uncross your arms so your friends will truly understand what you're talking about. It also never hurts to point directly at the person you're speaking to, the entire time you're talking. It makes them feel special.

   

How To Get To Third Place

Clutching my laptop, I speed-walk down the sidewalk towards a small cafe. It’s cold and rainy, coffee shop weather, but there’s almost no one here. I yank the door open and stick my head in.

“Do you guys got free Wi-fi?”, I shout into the shop. I am able to enunciate this phrase in less than four syllables, just one big throaty boom.

There’s a lengthy silence and then a very soft “No.”

I slam the door shut and speed-walk back to my car. What a bunch of assholes. No wonder they have no customers.

It is absolutely dire that I get an internet connection soon. I’m currently in the middle of the probably the most intense eBay bidding war I’ve been in all month. At stake is a super-rare, near mint Great Gomito Magic Kit from the early 1960s. I have personally appraised its value at a conservative $220. As the high bid surges into triple digits, it becomes clear that I’ll be paying an arm and a leg for this treasure.

I make a mad dash to Starbucks, the largest and busiest one in the area. This time, more than ever, it feels like the absolute center of the universe. From the other side of the building, a man is walking in an exact parallel trajectory to my own. This man is the bizarro version of me. He’s talking on his cell phone as he tears down the sidewalk like a very important bull. If you were to classify our respective walking styles, his would be a “successful power-march”, and perhaps mine could be called “an uncomfortable scurry.” We are clearly from different worlds, heading towards the (0,0) axis that is the Starbucks entrance. I’m trying to time my steps to make it less awkward when he both reach the door. If we both continue at this pace, we will collide and probably recreate the Big Bang.

Mr. Wonderful then takes a big step forward to open the door for me; I guess he saved the goddam universe. This is a classic power-move that he’s pulled, and now I have to leave my masculinity outside.

“Thinks,” I say, instead of “thanks.”

“Sure,” the man says. He’s shorter than I am, but has the confidence of a shiny giant. He looks a lot like Greg Kinnear and probably has a six-figure salary, huge house, hot wife, et al.

As I join the long line at the counter, I’m surprised to see the man avoid the queue altogether. He swoops down to an empty table, his fancy trench coat blowing back like Batman’s cape. He sets up his laptop and makes himself comfortable, that’s when I realize my new predicament. This man has taken the last free table in the store--Damn! Another power-move!

The next customer is served and the line slowly inches forward. A blasé blonde barista steams milk and stares into space. This particular young lady was formerly the subject of some of my wooing techniques. Although she passed the pre-woo screening with flying colors, during the second stage it was revealed that she had a boyfriend. Either she had a boyfriend or she went on a break with a random male, with whom she engaged in aggressive PDA--a clear violation of the wooing process. So ever since, our relationship has been strictly customer-server.

The tempo picks up, and perhaps my luck changes. The store manager explodes onto the scene, personally greeting every customer at once with cheeky corporate friendliness. Loud and robust, he apologizes for the wait and opens a new register to hasten the ordering process. I’m fortunate enough to be a pioneer in this special new line.

“Hi! Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get you?”, he screams into my wincing face. He’s wearing a shirt that’s way too tight, a “Chaz” nametag, and several liters of cologne. Chaz is short with a big round belly, but to his credit, he does pull off the look pretty well. Oh, and he’s wearing a beret. In America.  

I tell Chaz the Manager my usual order: Venti Mocha with extra espresso, extra mocha, extra milk, and extra whip. And it’s ‘for here.’ When he hands me my debit card and receipt, he’s already making intense eye contact and conversation with the next customer. That’s kind of rude, no? Chaz seems to be finished serving me so I shuffle over to the side.

Finally my drink is finished. The barista pushes it across the counter, but it’s in a damn ceramic cup, rather than a regular paper cup.

“No! I need a lid! I need a lid!”, I exclaim. I didn’t mean to scream but I did need a lid. There’s no tables available, just a small leather chair, so I’ll have to manage my laptop and drink within a very confined space. I know it’ll be an inexorable test of my motor skills to not spill my Mocha all over the place.

As I sink into the broken springs of this cramped chair, the coffee shop seems to swell and throb like an allergic reaction. I’m borderline miserable. It takes only a few minutes before my laptop is blazing hot, sitting in my lap. I hate when I don’t have a proper surface for it. I’m worried that using my laptop like this will damage my privates. So I type in this embarrassing medical concern into the Google search bar. “Do laptops damage genitals?”

I move the cursor and over the I’m Feeling Lucky button, but then my gaze is magnetically lifted above the screen. A young girl walks into the shop; she’s nonchalant but still carrying so much grace, she might as well be floating. She’s dressed simply in a collegiate sweatshirt that, underneath her gorgeous, curly dark hair, almost seems like a cocktail dress. If you put a crappy attitude and a housewife haircut in that same sweater, you’d wind up with one dumpy chick.

But this girl is really something else. If beauty were a high-pitched vibration, her presence would shatter every mug and dish in the building. Even the plexiglass frames holding all of the hackneyed black & white photography on the walls--CLINK! BING! CLANK!--they too would burst into pretentious shards of polysynthetic matter. But the reality of the situation is cinematic enough on its own. An angelic sound, the opening chords of “I Only Have Eyes For You” spring through the speakers, pouring sweet syrup on the moment. It turns out to be Maroon 5’s version, the bad taste in my mouth returns.

I’d like to say that the pretty girl made all the other bums in the Starbucks disappear. If she could to that literally, like with magic powers, I would obviously propose to her. But even if she could give the illusion of making everyone disappear, just through juxtaposition, I’d be very happy. But the obnoxiousness of all the patrons is too visceral and superabundant to be ignored. It’s like an insane asylum in here, I feel like a prisoner that’s free to leave anytime. The analytical urge in my curious brain kicks in and I begin a 360° scan of the room.

At the table in the far corner, where I should be sitting, is the temporary office of Mr. Wonderful. He has a drink now because a barista brought it to him as if this were a sit-down restaurant. He sips the specially-delivered beverage while pacing around the table, evidently conducting business on his cell phone. Well that’s one thing he and I have in common, I always pace around when I use the phone. But I don’t have long phone conversations inside a Starbucks, especially so loudly with such big emphatic hand gestures. When he waves his arm around, I feel like I’m going to flinch, even though I’m more than ten feet away.

Also on the far edge of the room, is a young guy wearing a beanie and a striped sweater using a laptop. He looks like he thinks he’s really cool. Maybe he’s doing something fancy, like some kind of poignant journalism. He should be writing about all the losers in the café.

There’s a heavyset bespectacled older man at the next table. He has a laptop, that I’m not even sure he has turned on. This guy couldn’t possibly look more confused; he’s squirming around very slowly with his mouth agape, and occasionally pressing buttons on the computer. It’s as if he’s waiting on one of these youngsters to help him with his computer; I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s at the Genius Bar in the Apple Store.

Another male hipster, a thin Lincoln-esque fellow wearing a corduroy blazer, sits nearby. He’s also incredibly focused on whatever it is on his computer screen. He’s a very familiar stereotype, yet the absurdity of his existence is purely baffling. Who is this person? What is he doing? Why is he here? What’s the point?

Then there’s a young, well-dressed couple with a baby. Both are eating pastries and texting. They’re trying to have their cake and eat it too; they think they can be “dope” and “hip” and also be “parents”. Not on my watch. If I could start kicking people out of here, they’d be the first to go. Dorks.

There’s a strange anomaly in the center of the café: multiple people sitting at the same table, no technology present. Imagine, enjoying the company of another person, as opposed to a computer. I guess some people still do it. The cute dark-haired girl is sitting across from that table, perpendicular to my seat. I’m normally not thrilled about having to enjoy someone else’s company, but hers, I’d really like to. She seems interesting, enough for me to shut down my laptop. But only after I secure the winning bid of the Great Gomito Magic Kit. Last time I refreshed my browser, I was indeed in the lead.

My fascination with the dark-haired girl is intensifying. I should say something to her; I’m waiting for a good cue like organic eye contact or a smile. But I have to bend my head almost halfway around my chair in order to look directly at her, so if we made eye contact that way she would be totally, and justifiably, creeped out. Plus she’s not looking to meet guys, she’s just playing on her phone. Well I don’t know if she’s playing, per se. It’s weird that people always say ‘playing’ on a phone. Most people use phones to communicate, research, or receive information--that’s not playing. And of course, a lot of folks are strictly business on their Blackberries. I’m sure Mr. Wonderful is not playing; this is not a game.

The husky fourteen-year-old boy in the corner is definitely playing a game on his phone. He’s also listening to an iPod and has a laptop in front of him. That’s crazy!

I’m noticing a couple in the café for the first time. Both the man and the woman are tattooed and pretty beefy; large and in charge. They have a middle-aged alternative, vaguely biker look to them, like a suburban Sons of Anarchy-type situation. They’re both focused on an iPad, laughing and smiling but still maintaining an intimidating presence. I don’t want them to look at me, I’m going to start minding my own business.

Everyone in Starbucks is minding their own business. They’re posting status updates to Facebook, which is just a glorified way of talking to yourself. It’s about attracting attention to yourself without the hassle of personal, one-on-one communication. This Starbucks café is like a virtual Facebook (or a reality Facebook?) where everyone operates in one community and focuses completely on themselves. The various ways in which people represent themselves, in dress and in behavior, those are the status updates in the Starbucks newsfeed. How do I unsubscribe?

Is this what Starbucks wanted when they invented the “Third Place” concept? This is supposed to be the third special place in all our lives, along with work and home, in whatever order you choose to rank them. Starbucks, in general, is a lot better than home or work, that’s why people spend all day here. In another time in America, this would’ve seemed irrational, and a bit pompous. But obviously all of us Starbucks patrons have bought in, and that makes us a community. Yet we’re all discouraged from speaking to each other.

This is either a byproduct of antisocial groupthink, or it’s a microcosm of the inept, narcissistic culture that we’ve apparently degenerated into. I’m trying to imagine the ideal concept of community that we left behind in the middle of the 20^th century. A time when we cared about each other. A time when you could talk to your neighbor without the fear of getting dragged into his torture dungeon. A time when you could smile at a stranger without them molesting you in return. There’s only one person in the Starbucks old enough to remember those days, that confused old guy. Now he can’t even operate a freaking Dell. And Lord, it must have taken 30 minutes for him to order a drink. “Uhh what? A small is called a tall. Durr!”

If we could only act like the citizens of a proper community, the way Howard Shultz envisioned. If only we could actually engage one another. I could go up to this man and say, “Sir, do you need help with your computer?”, and perhaps he could tell me some enlightening stories of yesteryear. Like members of a community, inhabitants of the same third place. It seems the only way to truly know the Starbucks brand of happiness is to share it with one another.

Suddenly the whole room is shocked by the thunderous boom of the Frappucino blender. Well actually, no one is phased by the sound at all. But I’m going to take it as a sign: I need to break the ice.

It’s that simple, if I could loosen everybody up, we could get to know each other and stop being such pathetic hermits. I could learn about all of these oblique American lives. I could get business tips from Mr. Wonderful. And most importantly, I could get to know this adorable brunette.

Being sociable is all fine and good, but first I must take care of some eBay business. I plunge down into my laptop screen where the promise of great treasure awaits. The auction has ended, I have won the Great Gomito Magic Kit! It’s all mine!

Of course one good turn deserves another, and it seems that I will soon be a rich man. I’ve been hosting my own eBay auction, and much to my delight, the bids are starting to exceed retail value. The highest bidder will receive the Criss Angel Mindfreak Magic Kit that my mom erroneously bought me for Christmas. She needs to get a clue. Just because I like magic doesn’t mean I like that sleazy, leather-clad goon. Please, I’m an adult.

Now I feel like things are going my way and I can do whatever I want. I’m going to use the men’s room, and when I come out, I’m going to be a new man. I shutdown my computer and leave it on the chair in the meantime, because this is a loving community and I trust everyone in here enough to leave my laptop alone for a minute. No I don’t. I’m taking the laptop into the bathroom with me.

I take care of business and re-enter the café. I look casually over to Mr. Wonderful and nod respectfully. He nods back. Taking the initiative and speaking to somebody, that is the ultimate power move.

“Excuse me,” I say to the young man wearing a beanie.

“Hey,” he replies. He slowly tracks his head away from the computer screen and looks directly at me.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” I say, “But you seem like you’re working hard on something interesting. I’m just curious about what you were up to.”

“Oh well, like,”--he talks like he has a loaf of bread in his mouth--“I’m just looking at my Facebook. And I’m playing this real cool game called Cat-throat. It’s like Angry Birds except with cats and the cats are pirates.”

I wonder why he wanted to come all the way here just to do something so insipid. I guess he just wants to be part of a community. Nothing wrong with that, I’m glad he’s here. Although I wish he sat somewhere else so I could have that seat.

“Cool. Have a good one, dude.” I tell him, and I keep moving through the café.

I slowly approach the pretty girl sitting alone and the obligatory second-guessing begins in the anxiety region of my brain. Thoughts like ‘She doesn’t want to be bothered’ and ‘She’s too hot for you!’ echo in my head like the screams of Hades. ‘She’s going to get up and walk away!’

“Silence!”, I tell my fears internally. It’s all an illusion, I need to focus. Focus. I am tuning those worries out, just as I’m tuning out the Jason Mraz playing on the speakers.

Her dark almond eyes greet me warmly. I don’t think I’m bothering her.

“Hi,” I say to her politely.

“Hello,” she says.

“I’m Lou.”

“Hey, I’m Constance. Nice to meet you, Lou.” Her smile is like a light show.

“Do you like magic?”

“Yea,” she says, nodding enthusiastically. “I love magic.”

For my next trick, I will make this lady fall for me.

The End.

Talking Relationshits: How The Gays Are Destroying Marriage But Saving Love

I hope you all had a nice Valentine's Day. No I don't. If you happen to be in love with who you think is "the most wonderful man/woman in the world", congratulations! Not. No one cares. And if you're all alone on this Valentine's Day, you are the saddest person in the world. You are the only one that has nobody. But either way, get over it. This post is not about you, it's a highly analytical guide to the varieties of modern relationships, as well as an evaluation of how they evolved/devolved. Also, what does the future hold? Will love still be relevant in the 21st century? Or should you throw it out the window along with your CDs and AOL Trial discs?

In a nutshell, I am hypothesizing that men and women are becoming so psychologically different, it's become incredibly difficult to maintain a relationship anymore. Despite the perfect genital compatibility, it seems as if evolution is at a fork in the road, taking men down one side and women down the other. But this is not hellish Darwinian mischief, it is God's plan. Don't you remember how the different languages were created? Motherfuckers were messing around, trying to build a tower that lead up into heaven, and God was all like "Ah hell nah! Get up outta my shit!"--and BOOM!--just like that, everybody started speaking different languages and they could no longer communicate; damn sure couldn't collaborate on no tower.

I think that's what's going on in here

From the Holy Bible, The Book of Bruce 7:10: 

The Italian worker said to the Chinese man, "Please-a bringa me the hammer from my Mama Mia!". But the Chinese man shook his head furiously, not understanding his request. The plan fell apart completely.

The over-affectionate Italian began to make everyone that wasn't from South Europe very uncomfortable. They developed a serious aversion to his male-on-male kisses, even though they were sincere and nonsexual. The other cultures vowed to condemn this behavior for several centuries. And most of them were down to scrap or go to war, just about any time.

It was the beginning of xenophobia and homophobia, and a precedent to today's gender-centric cultural schism. Of course we could go back even further, to when Men and Women first came to Earth from Mars and Venus, respectively. But we're better off fast forwarding to today.



In a same-sex dance, who's supposed to lead?

Observe any dance party in the United States. In the jungle of beer cans and glow sticks, you'll find a plethora of heterosexual women dancing with other heterosexual women. It's sort of a counterintuitive mating call; groups of young, tempting sirens bump and grind with one another, a sexually suggestive act that most young men consider to be arousing. Yet there's another implication in this dance. Modern, hypersensitive women have an exaggerated sense of fear and discomfort when it comes to males, whom they refer to as "creepers". Masculinity is very threatening to the young women, so the girl-on-girl dance offers a palpable sense of security. Surely, if they were that insecure, the girls could just stay home, but then nobody would see how hot they were.

Not to be outdone, the young men of today's dance parties frequently engage in homoerotic displays. Under the guise of irony, the goofy guys mockingly dance with one another in a silly, yet still aggressive manner. Unlike the girl-on-girl dance, this would not be considered a mating call. In fact, ironic male-on-male dancing is a flat out girl repellant. Ironically, sincerely gay male-on-male dancing is more likely to lead to sex with a female. Do you see how twisted the psychology is here?

When my grandparents were growing up, men danced with women. Then they married them. Then they impregnated them. Then they divorced them.

Unfortunately, kids these days only want to rebel against pappaw and meemaw, they no longer want to follow in their footsteps. This is a major problem for society, that kids don't see their grandparents as sex symbols; it's a damn shame. When you take a look at the sicko superstars that today's kids admire, it's no wonder why their developing minds are growing all warped and twisted.

Justin Bieber

Lady Gaga

Seriously, who's who? Who's gay? Who's straight? Who's really a dude? You really can't make heads or tails of it anymore--or should I say--you can't really make penises or vaginas of it anymore. Society is just one big pansexual swing party; anything goes in Obama's America. By the way, I don't see why people are so attracted to Justin Bieber, she's hardly got any boobs.  

Comparing Couples: Grandparents vs The Gays

Now let's examine the two most prominent relationship paradigms; we'll consider their internal happiness, cultural context, and those cute little inside jokes and nicknames that all couples have. (That's why it's so fun to be in a relationship, because only the two of you can share those special moments!) 

Grandparents

They may not be getting laid, but they're definitely getting loud. Grandparents love to yell ferociously about how much better the old days were. Their only passion or common interest tends to be hatred for other types of people. It is fair to speculate that they don't have very much sex in their old age; this is quite understandable. Would you want to eat the same thing every day for the rest of your life? OK maybe, if it was fresh every day. But in this analogy, not only is it the same food everyday, it only gets more and more stale and rotten and wrinkly as time goes on. 

The Gays

They live to love and they're dying to get married. The grandparents of the world have politely asked them to drop the whole idea, but that's a no-go with the homos. According to the grand logic of the grandparents, their sacred marriage loses its value entirely if gay folks are just allowed marry each other. They feel the same way about their houses when a black family moves into their neighborhood.

But do gays need marriage? Of course not, but it turns out that marriage needs gay people. And it's not just because a quaint, flowery wedding is the gayest thing in the world. It's because marriage is a stupid archaic concept that's been obsolete for at least a half-a-century. The most well-known champion of marriage is Larry King, who loves it so much he's been married a dozen times. Larry King is a fine journalist, but he's actually older than Adam (as in Adam & Eve, not Adam & Steve.) And everyone knows, Grandpas can't be cool!

The only way marriage can be a useful convention in the 21st century is if it allows open-minded, progressive people into its sacred little club. That's right, grandparents. No one wants your "traditional marriage". How about new marriage? That sounds faaaaaaaaabulous!

Look at what the way gay people revolutionized social networking with the Grindr app. While Facebook and online dating sites allow straight people to bullshit and beat around the bush, Grindr gives gay people straight-up GPS directions to the nearest glory hole. Such a glorious tool would never be possible for straight people, what with all the contentious man-woman politics. 

But why are homophobes so against gays, anyway? Is it the whole getting-fucked-in-the-butt thing? Well, it shows how self-righteous and shortsighted they are. Because if you think a marrying a woman is an alternative, or a way to avoid a major butt-fucking, just wait until your inevitable divorce. 

One Year Anniversary! Now What? New Look? Whoa!

2012: Waldo Faldo Genesis

Well the Waldo Faldo Journal has just turned one-year old and it's time to reflect on where we've been and where we're gonna go next. In one year's time, my "blogging" concept has revolutionized the internet and completely killed print media, changing journalism forever. But this would not be possible without my wonderful, quick-witted readers. Thanks guys!

In the past year, you watched the Waldo Faldo Journal grow before your eyes. What started as a fly-by-night collection of ramblings and funny pictures has developed into a high-brow venue of conceptual articles that truly challenge today's society. Like a digital version of Kathie Lee and Hoda, this site is your premier source for sideways lifestyle news and astute cultural discussions. Whether it's commerce, Christmas, fashion, or religion, I've used my journalistic savvy to carve a peephole into the establishments that control every facet of modern life, so that you can see the inner workings, the truth. 

2013: Waldo Faldo Future

In 2013, I plan on reviving the print medium that I so mercilessly destroyed. The launch of the glossy tabloid magazine version of Waldo Faldo Journal will draw all of you web-depedant hermits out of your computer cocoons and back to the physical newsstand. By the end of the year, all the major television networks will be in a bidding war to produce the highly-anticipated Waldo Faldo TV show. Details on this project will be forthcoming, and earth-shattering!

You may have noticed the new, super-sleek, 2013-and-beyond appearance of the blog; a new epiphany of sophistication. Yea, I finally got those pesky cats to get out of my background. Enjoy the new aesthetic. As you slide your dexterous fingers on your tablet or smartphone, you will enjoy the new physical touchscreen texture of the site--a tickling sensation will begin in your fingers and travel through your body, to your brain and to your loins. 

So what can you expect as far as new content? Well the same cultural critique and visions of the future will remain staples of the Waldo Faldo Journal. A lot of the themes will continue, and there are sure to be fresh new topics and angles. But the next post will be the debut of a brand new feature to the WFJ: short fiction! That's right, taking a cue from Oprah, I am establishing the Waldo Faldo Book Club. 

Since Waldo Faldo Journal has traditionally produced stories that are the 100% certified truth, the short fiction pieces will be designated by this fun logo. I'm gonna make stickers of this and give you some!

Most of the fiction I'll be writing will have a consistent universal setting--a universe in the very near future where corporate control and technology has more or less ruined society completely. But it's not a world of robots and space travel, or anything overtly sci-fi. Think, romantic teen pulp with a "future-via-1980s" dystopian backdrop. I'm serious. I want to start writing shit like this. You can't wait.

Oh, and now the Waldo Faldo Journal has a spin-off blog: New Things In Cartoons. This blog will focus on the videos and artwork I create, and the stuff I like. But it's still in the development stage and under heavy construction. So it's something to check on later. That's right, no peeping!

And I will be adding tags and labels soon to categorize all the posts in different ways. It'll make it fun to surf around as I write more and more! Lots of wacky new posts to come, keep reading!

OK well I have to go now. What do you think I do, write blog posts all day?

Battle Plan for the War on Christmas

''Tis the season to be jaded. Each year, the day after Halloween, we're all supposed to take off our monster masks and immediately put on our friendly holiday masks. Fearsome fangs are replaced by fake smiles. It's a very jarring transition. Suddenly we're supposed to act like we care about people we can't stand.

Christmas is a rather bizarre custom, absolute sensory overload. While you may notice Halloween's hoopla everywhere you go, it tends to stay at a modest level. Maybe some cobwebs and jack-o-lanterns here and there, a few fake bats, and the ambience of scary noises playing through tiny plastic speakers. But on November 1st, Halloween is brutally stomped out by the mighty Christmas juggernaut. Like holding up a cross to a vampire, the Christmas season becomes the end-all/be-all as it smothers the last bit of spooky fun. As American culture insists: all mortals shall await the Christmas season and worship it!

All those idiots are like, "Oh shit! I can't wait for Christmas!"

But they cut out the part where the dog takes a giant shit on everyone.

'Oh shit,' indeed.

Now why does Christmas season need to start on the first day of November? Is there any historical significance to the date? Well after a significant amount of research, it turns out that 2012 years ago, November 1st was not an eventful day at all. At the time, the Virgin Mary didn't even know whether her child would be a boy or a girl, much less the son of the Lord God and savior of mankind. As strange as it seems, 11/1/01 B.C. was just a normal day, a time when the world wasn't already soaked in Christmas decorations. There was however, a bit of foreshadowing on this day, when the preggers Virgin had a major craving for 5000 loaves of bread. For those interested in learning more about these events, I refer you to this historical document.

Would it really hurt for Christmas season to begin, I don't know, a little closer to December? Of course not. The question is, would it really be profitable for Christmas season to begin any later? That's as simple as it gets, this whole "Christmas" thing, it's all a big racketeering scheme. All of this seasonal fuss is only for one thing: money.

As recently as a month ago, this fact hit me like a brick. It was like in Home Alone 2 when Kevin dropped several bricks from a rooftop onto Marv's face. But the proverbial brick that hit me had a bill stapled to it. When your wallet becomes lighter, it's like your equilibrium shifts and your world perspective changes. Suddenly you realize these friendly Christmas characters --these snowmen, reindeer, and Santa Clauses-- they are not our friends. While we're all distracted by the lights, the cheer, and the holly jolly horseshit, the Christmas Cartel is robbing us blind. 

And this is how I knew for sure: I drove to downtown Nashville to enjoy some non-holiday festivities. I parked my automobile in the same downtown parking lot that I always go to, the one that's a few blocks out of the way and only costs $5. But this time the price was double. That's $10! And do you know what the fucking receipt said? Instead of 'Parking - Evening - $5', it said: 'Parking - Christmas - $10'. Oh! It's Christmas so you can charge whatever you want? But wait, it's not Christmas, it's the beginning of November!

Is that supposed to be "supply and demand"? The parking lot company just arbitrarily decides that the parking space is worth more during Christmas --and also-- Christmas isn't on December 25, it lasts from November until whenever they say it's over. Excuse me, I don't live in the North Pole, I can't see how more people are parking downtown than usual. And I did not see any sleighs or reindeer parked anywhere that shitty overpriced parking lot.

Now what exactly is this "War on Christmas", and wouldn't it seem obvious that Christmas is winning? It seems unrealistic that some kind of rebel army, or even a major geopolitical power, could make a dent in the colossal Christmas machine. I couldn't find any information on this war in my world history textbook, but that's because this war is happening in realtime, right now! All the facts and documents I needed came directly from Bill O'Reilly's Twitter page.

Thanks to today's 24/7 social media cycle and web traffic metrics --which measure internet influence and popularity in terms of 'likes', 'trending', and 'clicks'-- it's easy to get information fast, and to jump to conclusions even quicker. That's how I was able to discover that O' Reilly's conversation directly led to more Twitter followers and a more amplified and vitriolic dialogue regarding "The War on Christmas". This led to more Christmas marketing and advertising, which led to more sales in everything from Christmas decorations to electronic goods. And this led to rich motherfuckers getting richer. If you participated in a Macy's doorbuster sale this season, congratulations, you just payed for a new luxury hot tub at a North Pole mansion. 

The so-called "War on Christmas" is in fact, the most profitable and omnipotent false flag operation the world has ever seen. Of course, it's a ridiculous notion to believe that Christmas could be taken away from you. But they want you to be afraid of losing it so you'll celebrate more aggressively. That doesn't do you any good, but it makes a difference to the Christmas Cartel, which is making a flagrant fortune off of your panicked consumerism. 

So what's the point of it all? Is it that special, warm and fuzzy feeling you have inside during the holidays? That's just gas, try taking a Prevacid before suck down another slice of ham. In reality, Christmas is an unnecessary strain on our lives. Why should we work so hard all year just to waste our hard-earned money on junk in the wintertime. An overworked child in China busts his ass to make an iPad for an over-privileged brat in the U.S. who deserves to get his ass busted. 

If this holiday is just going to be about stress, wasteful spending, and further pampering of the most obnoxious and spoiled generation to ever walk the earth, maybe it's time we changed it. Perhaps some elements of Halloween could be extended for just a few extra weeks.

Of course, Krampus! If you're unfamiliar with antiquated European folklore, Krampus was the mythical counterpart to St. Nicholas, who instead of bringing gifts to good kids, brought wrath and punishment to bad kids! And he looks like a badass demon! How in the hell could Krampus have been forgotten for so many centuries? Now it's time that he made a return to pop culture, to show these consumerist brats that the world doesn't owe them anything.

To show my appreciation, I'm going to leave some milk and cookies out for jolly ol' Krampus. Hope he likes oatmeal!