As I've been mentioning throughout the past few weeks, this will be the final post on My Owls Are Better. I'm concluding the blog only because one year seems to be a sufficient amount of time to keep something like this going. The header that has always been at the top of this website has never and will never describe exactly how bizarre it is that what started as a prank turned into a year long project that has attracted the stares of thousands. I myself am still speechless at the sheer magnitude of the absurdity of this blog, and I must admit that there is a small part of me that wanted to close up shop months ago after the lunacy dissolved into what I felt was banality. As to whether or not an outside observer could stroll past this website and not smirk at how outlandish it is to devote a year of one's life to creating owl related greeting cards, I cannot say. In fact, one thing that kept me going was the knowledge that each new card added another brick into the temple of frivolous obsession that I was constructing and that I would not be content until I felt secure that someone like me would, someday, hack his way into the jungle, even if it was only once, to visit it to see if it was really as big as the locals said. As to whether or not the explorer agreed with or believed what was written on the walls doesn't matter as long as he saw that the men who built it cared enough to make it as grand as they could.
So many of my favorite TV episodes are series finales. The strange thing about me, though, is that I am far too sentimental to watch the last episode from any TV series without being properly emotionally prepared, which I find I never am. I wind up never seeing them out of fear that they would remind me simply that a TV show that I loved is gone. I don't want to live out a series finale here, even though I know I have no choice. As such, I'll simply discuss a thought that I've been entertaining lately, one formed throughout the year that I've posted to this blog.
Creative products are always reflective of what the creator was feeling at the time. This is a no-brainer. Everybody knows about the tormented mind of Beethoven and the broken heart of Van Gogh. I'm only now starting to realize that this carries over to every content creator. Things like children's books and sitcom scripts appear to be completely one dimensional at first blush, but I'm starting to realize that even things as base as these have to be inspired by something, and these inspirations likely spring from the same wells that the famous composers and painters of history probably drank from. I first noticed this after viewing a documentary about the fans and creator of the Rock-afire Explosion (the animatronic band that played at Showbiz Pizza until its dissolution into Chuck E. Cheese in the 90's.) The moment I'm thinking of came close to the end of the movie, before the creator of the group gives a tour of the workshop that he had frequented every day, long after the collapse of Rock-afire, yet nonetheless still had tools and benches that had not been touched since his workers left 20 years prior. He was reminiscing about the songs that he wrote for the robot musicians, still remembering many note-for-note. He thought of one that had particular significance to him; a birthday song. He wrote a birthday song that described, in its lyrics, the candles on a cake, and how each represented a year that had passed. The song itself could not be simpler, and the lyrics were, of course, basic and unambiguous enough to be performed by furry robots at a four year old's birthday party in a pizza parlor. But when he thought about the song, and (especially) when he thought about the friends that he sang it with, he began to cry. He thought about what the candles from the song meant to him, and how many candles he had lit since his workshop grew silent, and the feeling made him cry. Twenty years after Showbiz Pizza disappeared, that song; that short, simple song still spoke to its creator and, frankly, to me as well. The song was written for a pizza chain and was about nothing more than birthday candles, but had a depth and a message to it that rivaled any piece of high art that I've ever encountered. It's humbling to think that every piece of art that we may or may not recognize as art has a story like that behind it. Every creative product has within it a journal of the creator's feelings or passions or fears or loves. Every cartoon, every commercial, every Big Time Rush song was created by a human being and fueled by passion. Even things as silly as pre-recorded pizza parlor tunes come from emotional places sometimes.
Thoughts like that often make me think about the Tootsie Roll Pop commercial. It's one of the most well known commercials in America and is still on the air countless years after its debut, and I see it nearly every day. But I wonder how I would feel if I was April Winchell, the daughter of Paul Winchell, the man who did the voice of Mr. Owl and who passed away in 2005. I wonder what it must be like to be April, and to see that commercial. I wonder what it's like to have something so ordinary, something that is used to sell Tootsie Roll Pops, be a living time capsule of someone I love. And I wonder if April knows how I feel when I watch Pepper Ann, a show in which she was one of the stars (providing the voice of Lydia Pearson.) Pepper Ann was one of the shows that defined my bringing-up, and when I watch it today it makes me feel like I'm home again. There aren't a lot of things in this universe that make me as happy as that TV show does. I wonder if she knows that what she did to get a paycheck 15 years ago was a major contribution to one of the biggest influences on my young life. I guess what I'm scratching at is that every creative endeavor touches at least one person. It can touch the creator, the observer, or both. And it doesn't matter if the endeavor was a Disney cartoon or a Tootsie Roll Pop commercial or a song from the Showbiz Pizza jukebox. Frankly, it doesn't even matter if it's owl related greeting cards. Every piece of content is a piece of someone's heart. I remind myself of that constantly, and it makes the world infinitely more humbling than it was before.
I guess I just felt like mentioning that to reassure myself that I didn't waste a year. It is surreal, though, to see my cards now. Each holiday and each sentiment sentenced to paper now serves as a painfully personal timeline of May 2011 to May 2012 from my life. It isn't that I have any regrets or that I had a bad time, but it is a little scary to see how an entire year can fly by so rapidly and then be neatly stacked and put in a shoebox. But I'm not scared, and this really isn't the end of anything. Summer vacation starts soon, I'm going to be buying a new computer sometime this week (hopefully) and I'm praying that I get Sunday off so that I can go get drunk at a soccer game with my friends. I'm going to leave it at that. There isn't going to be a final card tonight. Maybe someday I'll draw one, and I'll probably revise some old ones, but I've got too much on my plate right now. I've got a busy day tomorrow, and you probably do to. I'll probably see you around.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
The Second to Last ORGC EVER
Now that this blog is a week away from shutting down forever, I'd like to offer up an owl related greeting card that probably would be more useful to me than it would to you.
You see, I do many, many regrettable things. This generally wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that I never realize that I've done something awful to someone else until at least a week after the fact. Since our time together is brief, I cannot afford to apologize to every person that I have hurt. I feel instead that it would be far easier to simply list the things that I will NEVER apologize for, and if what I did to you is not on the list, then consider yourself apologized to.
Scott will never apologize for...
...cutting in front of those ladies at Gloria's to get my margarita first. (THE BARTENDER MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME.)
...going to Washington, D.C. and telling that John Adams impersonator that he looked like a zombie Liberace.
...yelling at Oprah's motorcade.
...breaking that accordion.
...peeing in the sink.
...getting drunk and trying to make friends with that wedding party in St. Louis. (They should've been happy I wasn't trying to make ENEMIES with them.)
...yelling in the middle of that cookware demonstration.
...making a poorly recieved joke about Pakistan at the school talent show.
I feel a lot better about myself now, especially since now I no longer have to personally apologize to any of you jerks. A little catharsis is always therapeutic.
Make sure you tune in next week for the LAST OWL RELATED GREETING CARD EVER.
THERE WILL BE NO APOLOGIES.
You see, I do many, many regrettable things. This generally wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that I never realize that I've done something awful to someone else until at least a week after the fact. Since our time together is brief, I cannot afford to apologize to every person that I have hurt. I feel instead that it would be far easier to simply list the things that I will NEVER apologize for, and if what I did to you is not on the list, then consider yourself apologized to.
Scott will never apologize for...
...cutting in front of those ladies at Gloria's to get my margarita first. (THE BARTENDER MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME.)
...going to Washington, D.C. and telling that John Adams impersonator that he looked like a zombie Liberace.
...yelling at Oprah's motorcade.
...breaking that accordion.
...peeing in the sink.
...getting drunk and trying to make friends with that wedding party in St. Louis. (They should've been happy I wasn't trying to make ENEMIES with them.)
...yelling in the middle of that cookware demonstration.
...making a poorly recieved joke about Pakistan at the school talent show.
I feel a lot better about myself now, especially since now I no longer have to personally apologize to any of you jerks. A little catharsis is always therapeutic.
Make sure you tune in next week for the LAST OWL RELATED GREETING CARD EVER.
THERE WILL BE NO APOLOGIES.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Coming Out of the Gates
The applications for this week's card should be obvious.
If you are any combination of L, B, and/or G, then you probably are aware of how awkward it is to tell your family and friends that you are a combination of L, B, and/or G. With this card, the awkwardness is whisked away. Simply deliver this card to those WASPy parents of yours, and watch as the owl does the talking for you. Your father can't yell obscenities at a greeting card and your mother can't stare blankly, confusedly, and sadly at a cartoon owl in a vest!
OR...
Perhaps you've made a crucial misstep in the world of romance, and you must break it off with a paramour with feelings on both sides remaining intact. Telling her or him that you're gay is the oldest trick in the book, and makes you look like an idiot. HOWEVER, IF YOU TELL HIM OR HER THAT YOU'RE GAY AND YOU HAVE AN OWL RELATED GREETING CARD TO PROVE IT, THEN SHE OR HE WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO BELIEVE YOU AND TO STOP TEXTING YOU!
ALSO...
This card would also be a great invitation to a coming-out party so that your guests will know long in advance exactly what they have in store.
Who would have thought that one simple card would have so many uses?
I DID.
If you are any combination of L, B, and/or G, then you probably are aware of how awkward it is to tell your family and friends that you are a combination of L, B, and/or G. With this card, the awkwardness is whisked away. Simply deliver this card to those WASPy parents of yours, and watch as the owl does the talking for you. Your father can't yell obscenities at a greeting card and your mother can't stare blankly, confusedly, and sadly at a cartoon owl in a vest!
OR...
Perhaps you've made a crucial misstep in the world of romance, and you must break it off with a paramour with feelings on both sides remaining intact. Telling her or him that you're gay is the oldest trick in the book, and makes you look like an idiot. HOWEVER, IF YOU TELL HIM OR HER THAT YOU'RE GAY AND YOU HAVE AN OWL RELATED GREETING CARD TO PROVE IT, THEN SHE OR HE WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO BELIEVE YOU AND TO STOP TEXTING YOU!
ALSO...
This card would also be a great invitation to a coming-out party so that your guests will know long in advance exactly what they have in store.
Who would have thought that one simple card would have so many uses?
I DID.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Here Comes Peter CottontOWL
Easter is a pretty nice holiday. It's not as big as Christmas, but it's not as small as Veteran's Day. It's right in the midddle, and I appreciate that. But my favorite thing about Easter still is, and always will be, buying discounted candy after the holiday is through. I've been doing it since I've had a driver's license, and have been trying to spread the joy to my friends by telling them of this practice or inviting them to come along. Shocking few of them, it seemed, participated in the past.
...But not this guy. I never EVER pass up Easter candy, the finest of all candy. The genre of candy known as "Easter" has three of the best things invented included in its description: jelly beans, Cadbury cream eggs (ORIGINAL, NOT ORANGE OR CARAMEL OR MINI. IF YOU MENTION ANY OTHER VARIANT OF CADBURY EGG TO ME I WILL SHRIEK AT YOU. I WILL SHRIEK LIKE A DEMENTED GRACKLE UNTIL YOU LEAVE MY IMMEDIATE FIELD OF VISION) and marshmallow Peeps.
This year was no different from any other, in that, in one explosive, self-detrimental display, I heaved home two mighty sacks full of twenty dollars worth of clearance candy with the intent of having breakfast for the rest of the semester planned out already (it will be PEEPS.) In fact, here's an imagined dialogue that might happen if I told someone about my intentions.
Scott: Yo man, I just had Reese's for breakfast!
Man: You had candy for breakfast?
Scott: YES!
IT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE AND IT SHALL HAPPEN AGAIN. THIS IS WHAT SPRINGTIME IS TO ME NOW. THIS IS ALL THAT IT IS AND ALL THAT IT EVER WILL BE AGAIN.
SO in spirit of the story of the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, here's an owl related greeting card that I'm sure will apply, at very least, to me (and maybe you) sometime after my (or your) third bag of Hershey's Minis.
...But not this guy. I never EVER pass up Easter candy, the finest of all candy. The genre of candy known as "Easter" has three of the best things invented included in its description: jelly beans, Cadbury cream eggs (ORIGINAL, NOT ORANGE OR CARAMEL OR MINI. IF YOU MENTION ANY OTHER VARIANT OF CADBURY EGG TO ME I WILL SHRIEK AT YOU. I WILL SHRIEK LIKE A DEMENTED GRACKLE UNTIL YOU LEAVE MY IMMEDIATE FIELD OF VISION) and marshmallow Peeps.
This year was no different from any other, in that, in one explosive, self-detrimental display, I heaved home two mighty sacks full of twenty dollars worth of clearance candy with the intent of having breakfast for the rest of the semester planned out already (it will be PEEPS.) In fact, here's an imagined dialogue that might happen if I told someone about my intentions.
Scott: Yo man, I just had Reese's for breakfast!
Man: You had candy for breakfast?
Scott: YES!
IT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE AND IT SHALL HAPPEN AGAIN. THIS IS WHAT SPRINGTIME IS TO ME NOW. THIS IS ALL THAT IT IS AND ALL THAT IT EVER WILL BE AGAIN.
SO in spirit of the story of the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, here's an owl related greeting card that I'm sure will apply, at very least, to me (and maybe you) sometime after my (or your) third bag of Hershey's Minis.
Monday, April 2, 2012
A Warm WOWLcome
In the spirit of the return of the long promised springtime, here's this week's owl related greeting card.
This would be a great card to give to a former employee who got frustrated and quit but had to come back after a couple of months because he couldn't find anywhere else to work. I can imagine no finer way to patronize an adult. This would also be great for a parent to give to a child who, after moving out, has to move back in after realizing that everything costs money. I can imagine no finer way to patronize an adult. This is also a great card to give to any tremendously dear friend who returns home to seek asylum from the bleak, boggy madness that is Arkansas, even if she can only stay for three months before being carted back in a cage hewn from elk cadavers and window decals of Calvin either peeing on the Quran or praying with cowboys.
This would be a great card to give to a former employee who got frustrated and quit but had to come back after a couple of months because he couldn't find anywhere else to work. I can imagine no finer way to patronize an adult. This would also be great for a parent to give to a child who, after moving out, has to move back in after realizing that everything costs money. I can imagine no finer way to patronize an adult. This is also a great card to give to any tremendously dear friend who returns home to seek asylum from the bleak, boggy madness that is Arkansas, even if she can only stay for three months before being carted back in a cage hewn from elk cadavers and window decals of Calvin either peeing on the Quran or praying with cowboys.
Monday, March 26, 2012
FREQUENTLY OWLSKED QUESTIONS
I felt like I would give you guys a break from the usual owl related greeting card this week in order to present a list of the questions that I am, in real life, most frequently asked regarding this blog. I am doing this to dissuade any of you from asking me these questions, as they are innocuous but demoralizing in a way you do not realize.
Q: Whatever happened to that blog you had?
A: I still have it
Q: Really? When was the last time you updated it?
A: Monday
Q: Do you still update it?
A: Yes; every Monday
Q: Do people still go there?
A: No
Q: Dude, you should turn it into a Tumblr.
A: That is not a question.
Q: Why isn't your blog a Tumblr?
A: BECAUSE I'M NOT A LOLCAT. GO AWAY.
I suppose a few of these questions could have been answered sooner. Frankly, I'm glad I'm answering them at all. You see, as of the last Monday in April, I will no longer be making owl related greeting cards or updating this blog weekly. May will mark the one year anniversary of the 12 hour owl related greeting card challenge, and I feel that 52 weeks is more than enough time to have spent designing cards and writing puns. I will be here with a few new greeting cards up until that point, however.
BUT NOW I WILL BE POSTING CARDS WHILE WEARING A SAUCY ROBE.
A SAUCY ROBE - AND NOTHING ELSE.
If that doesn't get anybody out there excited about card-based literature, then I give up. Also, dear friends and lovers, there is another announcement I'd like to make. I am being paid to mention that AT SUBWAY, the FIVE DOLLAR FOOTLONG for the month of April will be BOLOGNA MARINARA.
And you will buy it.
Q: Whatever happened to that blog you had?
A: I still have it
Q: Really? When was the last time you updated it?
A: Monday
Q: Do you still update it?
A: Yes; every Monday
Q: Do people still go there?
A: No
Q: Dude, you should turn it into a Tumblr.
A: That is not a question.
Q: Why isn't your blog a Tumblr?
A: BECAUSE I'M NOT A LOLCAT. GO AWAY.
I suppose a few of these questions could have been answered sooner. Frankly, I'm glad I'm answering them at all. You see, as of the last Monday in April, I will no longer be making owl related greeting cards or updating this blog weekly. May will mark the one year anniversary of the 12 hour owl related greeting card challenge, and I feel that 52 weeks is more than enough time to have spent designing cards and writing puns. I will be here with a few new greeting cards up until that point, however.
BUT NOW I WILL BE POSTING CARDS WHILE WEARING A SAUCY ROBE.
A SAUCY ROBE - AND NOTHING ELSE.
If that doesn't get anybody out there excited about card-based literature, then I give up. Also, dear friends and lovers, there is another announcement I'd like to make. I am being paid to mention that AT SUBWAY, the FIVE DOLLAR FOOTLONG for the month of April will be BOLOGNA MARINARA.
And you will buy it.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Owls for a Rainy Evening
Here's this week's owl related greeting card.
This is a great card for you to give to anybody who's retiring (as if I needed to tell you that. Oh Christ.) But, also, with a few dabs of white out blanking out the "Happy Retirement" on the bottom, this card would also be great to give to that family that's moving out of your neighborhood and who is not the same race as you. This way, you can guarantee that they won't spend hours talking, laughing, and gossiping about how racist you were. No one ever thinks the guy with the greeting cards is racist.
This is a great card for you to give to anybody who's retiring (as if I needed to tell you that. Oh Christ.) But, also, with a few dabs of white out blanking out the "Happy Retirement" on the bottom, this card would also be great to give to that family that's moving out of your neighborhood and who is not the same race as you. This way, you can guarantee that they won't spend hours talking, laughing, and gossiping about how racist you were. No one ever thinks the guy with the greeting cards is racist.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
"Uh oh... Monday was today..."
This week, if you are a Kollege Kid like me, is spring break. There is no finer time to shirk responsibility than this week. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why they keep it around. As some of you might have noticed, I let my mind slip into vacation mode a little bit too heavily. What happened, simply put, is that I completely lost track of one day. Don't ask me what I was doing for that 24 hour blank, because, frankly, I'd have a difficult time trying to remember. This led to me, only last night, realizing twenty seconds after closing my eyes to go to sleep that, in fact, I had completely missed Monday, as well as a post on the ol' ORGCB.
BUT I AM HERE NOW, AND I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU AGAIN.*
After drawing my first owl related get-well-soon card, I decided that the health issues genre was an abundant one, ripe for card production. So I designed two (YES, TWO!) new cards that you could send to anyone who may be feeling a little under the wFEATHER!
THAT LAST JOKE IS YOURS! I DARE YOU TO SAY IT TO SOMEONE WHO IS SICK! DO YOU VALUE THE OPINIONS OF OTHERS?
This first card is largely only here to make up for last week. Technically I posted something, so it should be alright. However, shortly after deciding to shirk my owls for another marathon session of SimCity 2000, I was reminded of how much that game cheats. I was also reminded of how much that game blows and smells like poop and how much I HATE SIMCITY 2000. THE TORNADO JUST HAD TO GO RIGHT THROUGH THE POWER PLANT?! So here's a card!
I like this one. The nurse-owl has really long arms and really short legs. It looks like a gibbon, and that is funny to me. Now, here's yesterday's owl, TODAY!
If the occassion to buy this card ever appears, you'll recognize it. Hoo boy.
*Well, actually... now that you mention it...
BUT I AM HERE NOW, AND I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU AGAIN.*
After drawing my first owl related get-well-soon card, I decided that the health issues genre was an abundant one, ripe for card production. So I designed two (YES, TWO!) new cards that you could send to anyone who may be feeling a little under the wFEATHER!
THAT LAST JOKE IS YOURS! I DARE YOU TO SAY IT TO SOMEONE WHO IS SICK! DO YOU VALUE THE OPINIONS OF OTHERS?
This first card is largely only here to make up for last week. Technically I posted something, so it should be alright. However, shortly after deciding to shirk my owls for another marathon session of SimCity 2000, I was reminded of how much that game cheats. I was also reminded of how much that game blows and smells like poop and how much I HATE SIMCITY 2000. THE TORNADO JUST HAD TO GO RIGHT THROUGH THE POWER PLANT?! So here's a card!
I like this one. The nurse-owl has really long arms and really short legs. It looks like a gibbon, and that is funny to me. Now, here's yesterday's owl, TODAY!
If the occassion to buy this card ever appears, you'll recognize it. Hoo boy.
*Well, actually... now that you mention it...
Monday, March 5, 2012
MARCHing Towards MADNESS
I would love to grace all of you with a proper owl related greeting card tonight, but it seems that two things have captured my attention instead. Firstly, I feel very poorly due to lack of sleep. Secondly, I feel very awesome because I have spent the majority of my free time lately playing a game called SimCity 2000. I'm pretty sure they called it '2000' because it was the 2000th Maxis simulator game, coming out between SimBosnia and SimTides (the latter being the game where you got to control the tides. The interface unsurprisingly required only two buttons.) Thank God they eventually developed The Sims. Now they don't have to worry about revisiting popular and beloved franchises or coming up with new ideas.
Sadly, the time I've spent away from SimCity 2000 writing this post has made me break out into a flop-sweat. I need to return to the shockingly earthquake prone citizens that hate me and are only happy when their city is losing untold amounts of money while still sitting several bonds deep in debt. But hey, that's why they call me Mayor AAAAAA. Here's a transcription of a hallucination I suffer everytime I try to close my eyes!
Paint is a great program for NOTHING. PAINT IS A HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE PROGRAM. NOBODY LIKES PAINT. I only use it when I'm in a rush to return to SimCity, which is a great program for EVERYTHING. SIMCITY IS A WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL PROGRAM. EVERYBODY LIKES SIMCITY AND IT DESERVES ALL THE MICE ALL THE MICE ALL THE MICE ALL THE MICE SKRAAAAAWW SKRAW SKRAAAAAW SKRAAAAAW!
Sadly, the time I've spent away from SimCity 2000 writing this post has made me break out into a flop-sweat. I need to return to the shockingly earthquake prone citizens that hate me and are only happy when their city is losing untold amounts of money while still sitting several bonds deep in debt. But hey, that's why they call me Mayor AAAAAA. Here's a transcription of a hallucination I suffer everytime I try to close my eyes!
Paint is a great program for NOTHING. PAINT IS A HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE PROGRAM. NOBODY LIKES PAINT. I only use it when I'm in a rush to return to SimCity, which is a great program for EVERYTHING. SIMCITY IS A WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL PROGRAM. EVERYBODY LIKES SIMCITY AND IT DESERVES ALL THE MICE ALL THE MICE ALL THE MICE ALL THE MICE SKRAAAAAWW SKRAW SKRAAAAAW SKRAAAAAW!
Monday, February 27, 2012
MedicinOWL Preparations
Well, it appears that I seem to have contracted a terrible case of pre-March malaise. This always seems to happen right after I get over my near annual bout of Rockin' Pneumonia. To celebrate the fact that I don't feel well, here's this Monday's owl related GET WELL card!
I would recommend that you send this card to anyone you've recently given a curable disease to. As for the people to whom you've blighted with incurable diseases (you know the ones,) don't bother sending them anything. The Dread Tuberculosis can't be wished away with greeting cards; only voodoo.
I would recommend that you send this card to anyone you've recently given a curable disease to. As for the people to whom you've blighted with incurable diseases (you know the ones,) don't bother sending them anything. The Dread Tuberculosis can't be wished away with greeting cards; only voodoo.
Monday, February 20, 2012
President's Day Bullroar
Why did I have class today? This is absolutely preposterous. The entire school district got the whole day off for President's Day today while my stupid college still had classes. My Lord, if only Abraham Lincoln could have seen the horror that occurred today. If he had witnessed me drive to either of the two classes I had today, I'm sure a single, noble tear drop would have fallen from the front of his skull because he is probably a skeleton by now. And if Andrew Jackson got word that I was being forced to sit quietly in a classroom for about an hour and then leave, I'm sure he would have thrown a righteous and valiant tantrum with his friend Teddy Roosevelt as they sat in the room that they share in Lunatic Hell. If Bill Clinton had known, I'm sure he would have pulled up to the school Ferris Bueller style and gotten me out of there as quickly as possible. George W. Bush would probably do that too, but I just think Bill Clinton is cooler. Well, even though I still had to go to class today, I'm still happy it's President's Day. And since there aren't many President's Day owl related greeting cards, I thought I'd make one for you to present to your presidential paramour this second-to-last Monday in February.
Monday, February 13, 2012
It's About Valen-TIME.
Valentine's Day is tomorrow. This, of course, means that everyone will be acting like they are too cool to celebrate such a stupid holiday. Everyone will be saying that it is just another pointless day on the calendar that only serves to fatten the wallets of the Big Heart-Shaped-Box-Of-Chocolates lobby. They will all make the same joke, over and over again, about how they're spending Valentine's with their one true love: THE TV! (I'M ALREADY LAUGHING.) Even worse, some people may even go so far as to pollute our internet by indulging not on the hearts with the things written on them, but in the self pity that ferments every time they off-handedly mention how they don't have a date for the big Valentine's Ball, or whatever it is that couples do on the 14th. Granted, I'm already doing my fair share of belly aching (and it's not even Valentine's yet! I'm the first! I win!) but I still respect Valentine's Day. Of course, a lot of this may spring from the fact that I, as a hobbyist cardier, assign meaning to these holidays for my bread and butter. But I happen to think that Valentine's should be special. There are 364 other days of the year where one can spew vitriol about being "FRIENDZONED" or about how true love will never find a delicate, beautiful snowflake such as, I'm guessing, YOU. I say let's just dedicate one day a year to the appreciation of human love, regardless as to how separated someone is from it. It is a fascinating evolutionary adaptation, after all. And the ONLY romantic comedy anyone is allowed to watch is Groundhog Day. Katherine Heigl will be fine without young women identifying with her quirky antics for 24 hours. Self pity can be shelved until the 15th, gifts will be tasteful and not carried to the USA on the bloody stump-hands of a Nigerian orphan / guerilla warrior, and everyone, regardless of relationship status, gets to enjoy CANDY. That sounds like a pretty awesome Valentine's Day to me. Oh well, maybe next year.
Happy Valentine's, everybody! And Whitney Houston, if you're reading this, thank you for demanding less attention in life than you've commanded so far in death.
Happy Valentine's, everybody! And Whitney Houston, if you're reading this, thank you for demanding less attention in life than you've commanded so far in death.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Love, OWLmerican Style
This is a card perfect for secret lovers in twilight embraces. Fart fart diarrhea. Nobody's reading any of this anyways, so here we go!
After all, Valentine's Day is 8 days from now! Poop poop doobee doo-doo.
After all, Valentine's Day is 8 days from now! Poop poop doobee doo-doo.
Monday, January 30, 2012
I'm just not that into yHOOO!
This week's card falls under a category that is truly dear to my heart; Greeting Cards Designed For Awkward Situations That Do Not Already Have Greeting Cards Associated With Them.
If you have ever been an unrequited love-ee, then you understand the challenge associated with rebuffing the amorous advances of a platonic chum while maintaining a cordial and important friendship. As with all my owls, this one serves as a messenger so cuddly that no one would dare shoot it (unless that person was an owl hunter; and if you are an owl hunter then I sincerely hope that someone breaks into your house and kills you for sport.) Situations where a friend pitches unwanted woo at you are tricky to navigate, especially if you are seriously concerned about hurting the feelings of the other party. This card aims to get the point across with zero confusion while sparing the feelings of the friend by including such features as A DRAWING OF AN OWL and A HILARIOUS OWL PUN. Never again will you have to deal with uncomfortable tension so long as your friend has the '411' on your level of attraction to him or her. He or she can't call you out for leading him or her on, he or she can't pull the Mixed Messages card, and by nipping the problem in the bud, normal people like me don't have to worry about your friend ruining the internet by forcing all of us to wade through miles and miles of the word "Friendzone." Best of all, the friendship will remain largely intact, and might even flourish after a mutual love of owls is discovered.
This card is also great for clubbin', as it is a simple, nonverbal message to whoever it is that is trying to hump your leg that you are just not that into him or her. The only problem is that women might have difficulty squeezing several large greeting cards into clutches or their cleavage. Men would have to employ club-spec briefcases or use their cleavage. (For any gender, I recommend using specially tailored and fitted Greeting Card Totes; the kind that tenuously hug the front of your thigh. Nicer models feature 'No-Chafe' deer skin lining and also have a derringer slit.) Either way, these cards are fantastic and also stupid and not recommended for clubbin'.
If you have ever been an unrequited love-ee, then you understand the challenge associated with rebuffing the amorous advances of a platonic chum while maintaining a cordial and important friendship. As with all my owls, this one serves as a messenger so cuddly that no one would dare shoot it (unless that person was an owl hunter; and if you are an owl hunter then I sincerely hope that someone breaks into your house and kills you for sport.) Situations where a friend pitches unwanted woo at you are tricky to navigate, especially if you are seriously concerned about hurting the feelings of the other party. This card aims to get the point across with zero confusion while sparing the feelings of the friend by including such features as A DRAWING OF AN OWL and A HILARIOUS OWL PUN. Never again will you have to deal with uncomfortable tension so long as your friend has the '411' on your level of attraction to him or her. He or she can't call you out for leading him or her on, he or she can't pull the Mixed Messages card, and by nipping the problem in the bud, normal people like me don't have to worry about your friend ruining the internet by forcing all of us to wade through miles and miles of the word "Friendzone." Best of all, the friendship will remain largely intact, and might even flourish after a mutual love of owls is discovered.
This card is also great for clubbin', as it is a simple, nonverbal message to whoever it is that is trying to hump your leg that you are just not that into him or her. The only problem is that women might have difficulty squeezing several large greeting cards into clutches or their cleavage. Men would have to employ club-spec briefcases or use their cleavage. (For any gender, I recommend using specially tailored and fitted Greeting Card Totes; the kind that tenuously hug the front of your thigh. Nicer models feature 'No-Chafe' deer skin lining and also have a derringer slit.) Either way, these cards are fantastic and also stupid and not recommended for clubbin'.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Back to the Basixxx
I feel that lately I've been straying too far from the warm, wet, familiar path that has been cleared for me by cardiers past. Tonight, I'd like to get back to the roots of greeting cardery with a simple thank you card.
This card is perfect for anyone you want to thank. It could be the person that rescued you from that rogue badger, it could be the person that taught you badger safety, it could be a badger that decided to leave you alone, or it could even be your neighborhood Badger Boy; the boy who rides his bike up and down the streets of suburbia every morning as he sprays badger acid on baby badgers. (It's the least you could do after not leaving him a tip for Christmas. Immature minds with acid shooting guns should not be trifled with.) This also counts as my thank you note for all the relatives who did nice things for me over the holidays. I'm welcome.
This card is perfect for anyone you want to thank. It could be the person that rescued you from that rogue badger, it could be the person that taught you badger safety, it could be a badger that decided to leave you alone, or it could even be your neighborhood Badger Boy; the boy who rides his bike up and down the streets of suburbia every morning as he sprays badger acid on baby badgers. (It's the least you could do after not leaving him a tip for Christmas. Immature minds with acid shooting guns should not be trifled with.) This also counts as my thank you note for all the relatives who did nice things for me over the holidays. I'm welcome.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
SOPAliloquy.
I'm not the biggest fan of the internet. I do enjoy it in moderation, however. I use the internet for three main things; namely, watching "The IT Crowd," self-promoting, and miscellaneous. But I can not get over how insane society would become when it was blacked out. I was away from my computer most of the day, but even if I had been at home, I doubt I would have been as up-in-arms as some people became. I suppose this is because my attention span is too short for books, but it is not yet short enough that I would rather watch images flash across a computer screen than watch images flash across cable TV. It also helps that I am a mature member of the last generation to clearly recall life before widespread web access; a member who, in fact, had dial-up until 2009. I didn't miss anything. As I said, I appreciate the internet for the three things previously mentioned. There are people different than me (!?) however, and these people made today a very, very, very important day.
Today, January 18th, the internet shut down in a valiant effort to keep the internet from shutting down. As we all know by now, this was a glorious victory. Not only was the internet able to censor itself (because it wanted to, not because you told it to,) it was able to shelve a piece of legislation that had already been shelved days prior, making all of this mean something. What does it mean though? Freedom.
As we all know, the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the Facebook status updates of college students.
And now, dear friends, we celebrate. We remember the enormous sacrifices made by the heroes that couldn't get onto Reddit for twelve hours, and we revel at the knowledge that the twin devil-heads of Intellectual Property and Artistic Entitlement have been smashed underneath the rolling treads of inactivity. However, I sit ill at ease with myself. I found last night that everybody online was lamenting the fact that the internet would be down today. And when I say lamenting, I mean lamenting. How on earth could a society become so addicted to an information network that they couldn't spend twelve hours away from it without walking to the barn with a noose?
Maybe I'm simply nostalgic, but I miss the days when home internet access was limited to whenever you weren't waiting for a phone call. I'm truly unnerved by how enamored with (and ensconced within) the world wide web America is. People have become completely dependent upon the internet for their entertainment, and, as a result, devolve into withdrawal-wrought children when a handful of websites go black for a day. The porn was still there, for god's sake, and what more could you possibly ask for?
All vitriol aside, censorship is poisonous, and it is truly a relief that SOPA and PIPA have been stopped for now.
But on a side note, I'm also relieved that the problem has receded because I could not deal with this deluge of student-union-politics and empty sloganeering for another day. And for what? Foul Bachelor Frog, I guess. But I do not need to be reminded, the users of the world can not function without him and his ilk, and his endless stream of unpaid-for music and unwatched episodes of "The Guild." This notion has inspired me. The internet has (apparently) more than enough people protecting it. I feel it's time that a few of us need to start thinking about protecting ourselves from the internet. As such, here's a suite of owl related greeting cards that tie into this theme!
This one is perfect for the kind of person you probably know.
This is a great card for any mother to give to their male child born after 1990. (Be aware, I'm no fan of the outdoors myself. Apparently there are things called bees, and things called crevasses. But even I know when it's time to table the porno.)
Speaking of which...
This is another great card for your mom to hang onto. If I were thirteen again, I would much rather have this slid under my door than have the most awkward conversation ever dropped onto my plate. I guess it's mainly just a non-judgemental, non-confrontational way to tell someone to learn how to clear the browser history. It's also an adorable way to tell your significant other that you know what he/she looks at, and that (depending on the website) you will be unable to look at him/her ever again.
On the topic of uneasy relationships, I'm sure many issues came to light today in the shadow of the internet blackout. Without the pacifier of online stimulation gently numbing the minds of the paramours of the world, many, I'm sure, suddenly realized how unbearable the person they live with is. Here's a cute way to express this feeling without having to interact with anyone!
Good luck sending 'mixed messages' with this guy up your sleeve.
I'm tired now. Rest easy, my two readers. And rest easy, internet. You have been saved from the threat of legislation; a threat which will never again appear until the next time it appears.
Today, January 18th, the internet shut down in a valiant effort to keep the internet from shutting down. As we all know by now, this was a glorious victory. Not only was the internet able to censor itself (because it wanted to, not because you told it to,) it was able to shelve a piece of legislation that had already been shelved days prior, making all of this mean something. What does it mean though? Freedom.
As we all know, the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the Facebook status updates of college students.
And now, dear friends, we celebrate. We remember the enormous sacrifices made by the heroes that couldn't get onto Reddit for twelve hours, and we revel at the knowledge that the twin devil-heads of Intellectual Property and Artistic Entitlement have been smashed underneath the rolling treads of inactivity. However, I sit ill at ease with myself. I found last night that everybody online was lamenting the fact that the internet would be down today. And when I say lamenting, I mean lamenting. How on earth could a society become so addicted to an information network that they couldn't spend twelve hours away from it without walking to the barn with a noose?
Maybe I'm simply nostalgic, but I miss the days when home internet access was limited to whenever you weren't waiting for a phone call. I'm truly unnerved by how enamored with (and ensconced within) the world wide web America is. People have become completely dependent upon the internet for their entertainment, and, as a result, devolve into withdrawal-wrought children when a handful of websites go black for a day. The porn was still there, for god's sake, and what more could you possibly ask for?
All vitriol aside, censorship is poisonous, and it is truly a relief that SOPA and PIPA have been stopped for now.
But on a side note, I'm also relieved that the problem has receded because I could not deal with this deluge of student-union-politics and empty sloganeering for another day. And for what? Foul Bachelor Frog, I guess. But I do not need to be reminded, the users of the world can not function without him and his ilk, and his endless stream of unpaid-for music and unwatched episodes of "The Guild." This notion has inspired me. The internet has (apparently) more than enough people protecting it. I feel it's time that a few of us need to start thinking about protecting ourselves from the internet. As such, here's a suite of owl related greeting cards that tie into this theme!
This one is perfect for the kind of person you probably know.
This is a great card for any mother to give to their male child born after 1990. (Be aware, I'm no fan of the outdoors myself. Apparently there are things called bees, and things called crevasses. But even I know when it's time to table the porno.)
Speaking of which...
This is another great card for your mom to hang onto. If I were thirteen again, I would much rather have this slid under my door than have the most awkward conversation ever dropped onto my plate. I guess it's mainly just a non-judgemental, non-confrontational way to tell someone to learn how to clear the browser history. It's also an adorable way to tell your significant other that you know what he/she looks at, and that (depending on the website) you will be unable to look at him/her ever again.
On the topic of uneasy relationships, I'm sure many issues came to light today in the shadow of the internet blackout. Without the pacifier of online stimulation gently numbing the minds of the paramours of the world, many, I'm sure, suddenly realized how unbearable the person they live with is. Here's a cute way to express this feeling without having to interact with anyone!
Good luck sending 'mixed messages' with this guy up your sleeve.
I'm tired now. Rest easy, my two readers. And rest easy, internet. You have been saved from the threat of legislation; a threat which will never again appear until the next time it appears.
Monday, January 16, 2012
HAPPY M "OWL" K DAY!
As we all know, today is MLK Day in America. This is the day that we reinforce hurtful stereotypes by remembering the struggles of African Americans by not working. This is also the day where Americans of all creeds and colors gather together to paraphrase, regurgitate, or manufacture the teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Holiday FUN includes:
-Over-simplifying Dr. King's messages and life story!
-Taking quotes out of context to use them to support your opinions!
-Guilt!
-Big savings at Mattress Giant!
This MLK Day was special for me in that I had the day off. I (of course) took this opportunity to have lunch with my white friends at the whitest restaurant in America that also serves soul food (Black Eyed Pea.) After engorging myself on cornbread, turnip greens, and sweet potatoes, I had an epiphany.
What if nobody in America was as sensitive and empathetic and racially accepting as I was?
Clearly I, who had never witnessed the Civil Rights Movement first-hand or ever had to endure racial prejudice, was the only man wise enough to tell people about the true message that Dr. King lived and died for. (It seems like a lot of people feel and act this way. Trust me, though, I'm the one who deserves attention.)
Since I know that this holiday is the national festival of paraphrasing, I present to you, dear spambots, my hollow glossing-over of the hero of millions.
This card is a great way to break the ice with people of different races. It's also a great card for people who want to appear racially unbiased but are not racially unbiased.
Holiday FUN includes:
-Over-simplifying Dr. King's messages and life story!
-Taking quotes out of context to use them to support your opinions!
-Guilt!
-Big savings at Mattress Giant!
This MLK Day was special for me in that I had the day off. I (of course) took this opportunity to have lunch with my white friends at the whitest restaurant in America that also serves soul food (Black Eyed Pea.) After engorging myself on cornbread, turnip greens, and sweet potatoes, I had an epiphany.
What if nobody in America was as sensitive and empathetic and racially accepting as I was?
Clearly I, who had never witnessed the Civil Rights Movement first-hand or ever had to endure racial prejudice, was the only man wise enough to tell people about the true message that Dr. King lived and died for. (It seems like a lot of people feel and act this way. Trust me, though, I'm the one who deserves attention.)
Since I know that this holiday is the national festival of paraphrasing, I present to you, dear spambots, my hollow glossing-over of the hero of millions.
Martin HOOOther King Jr.
This is not a visual metaphor. There are actually fish in North America that have "injustice" written on their side. The fish themselves aren't evil. In fact, they are incapable of understanding intangibles such as justice. They do taste delicious, however.
Either way, here's this week's Owl Related Greeting Card.
This card is a great way to break the ice with people of different races. It's also a great card for people who want to appear racially unbiased but are not racially unbiased.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Revelations
I have had a horrible day today. I slept in until two in the afternoon because I stayed up late last night getting drunk and watching "The Angry Beavers." Here's today's (MONDAY'S) owl related greeting card.
You're welcome.
You're welcome.
Monday, January 2, 2012
January. Disgusting January.
I regret to inform everybody that this entry is written from a dark, dark place. You see, there is nothing on earth that grips the tender spleen of the greeting-cardier as does the passing of the holiday season. Where once a cardsmith had to scramble for reasons to sell shit to people to make a thoughtless gift seem thoughtful, the holidays have never failed to bring with them inspiration and compensation unending. A card for every holiday (even the dumb ones) and a card for every gift. This is the maxim upon which many a greeting-monger has constructed an empire. However, as surely as the clock hands spin and the page-a-day George W. Bush joke calendars thin, the holiday season draws to an anti-climactic resolution. Greeting card profits stall and plummet, and the 'Cardies' are tossed from their Mac stations to the gutter. This half of winter is so terrible that many card hawkers can't even feed their children (or step-children) their daily bowls of lunch cereal between this horrid month and Mother's Day. January is truly the cruelest month.
January.
On a more personal note, I cannot think of a name of a month (or a month itself) that I loathe more than I loathe January. January has always been significant to me, and not just to the part of me that has a greeting card lodged inside of it. I hate January, and I feel the best way to illustrate this hatred would be to describe this part of winter in a linear and narrative sense.
The pain of January's arrival begins two months before it occurs. I spend all of November looking forward to Christmas. I know for a fact that I'm not the only one. Many of the other children I grew up around would constantly affirm that they couldn't wait for Christmas to come. However, as a child, I could wait for Christmas. I felt that Christmas was more than enough reason to wait in sweet anticipation for that beautiful morning. All of the time that led up to the 25th was just as magical as the date itself. As a Christmas loving adult, that sentiment has not faded. Christmas, however, leaves. There lies the first blow of January's imminence. I dedicate two months out of every year clutching desperately to the congealed snow that is Yuletide merriment only to have the dream pounded forcibly out of my brain by none other than January. As rude awakenings go, this one is pretty nasty. Suddenly Christmas is gone. The happiest time of the year is lost to the past and cannot be dug out again until the ten other months (or, Les Dix Diarrhées,) have passed. This, however, is not the worst attack.
New Year's Eve arrives on the 31st of December (most of the time.) I celebrate the coming of the new year (or 'NYE' as illiterate jackasses call it) probably the same way you do. I work myself into a gleeful fervor by feeding my body a constant flow of moderately priced sparkling wine and spend my annual five minutes a year of viewing live network television by watching balls drop. But New Year's Eve, to me anyways, has always had a resoundingly melancholic lustre. The night, in terms of personal strife, is unlike the Christmas vacuum in that the ennui that it stirs is not so easily bedded. To me, the new year signifies one more nail in the coffin of my way of life. The house that I sleep in and the car that I drive and the memories that I lived are suddenly mustier, squeakier, and dimmer respectively. More importantly, they are all distanced from me by another unnavigable tributary in the river of linear time. I can't help but watch helplessly as the streets that I walked on only a year ago are suddenly pummeled with the cracks of age, and episodes of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' are shown on TV Land. The past is irretrievable, and since the 31st, it is even more irretrievable. The world sidles away from the observer using New Year's Eves as mile markers, and before too long, the surface of our planet is unrecognizable (in comparison to the reference year, which is to say the best year ever, which is to say 2007.)
All of this, and we haven't even gotten to January yet.
The first two days of January pass by unnoticed (because I'm usually curled up in a ball like an anxiety ridden existentialist Sonic the Hedgehog.) On the third day of January, with my wounds still fresh and shining from the emotional tempest of the Christmas vacuum and New Year's Eve, my birthday comes. Simply put, my birthday is the day that reminds me that, as surely as I was born, I will die. I realize that's how everybody feels, but mine is in January.
January.
January has so much horrible crap inside it. The worst weather of the year is usually around January time. This is the kind of weather where it might snow, but more likely than not you'll simply be held hostage in your own home by an unmelting city-sized sheet of five inch thick ice. For kids, school starts again. I'm glad I'm not in public school anymore, because my birthday was usually the night before I had to go back to whatever god-awful hovel I was forced to learn in. January also hosts the most embarassing spectacle that normal, uncaring people are unable to escape from. I speak, of course, about the slimy, fluid-soaked circle jerk that is the Super Bowl. This is the yearly celebration where "real men" get together to talk about guns and pussy while spending money, watching advertisements, and hiding mysterious, yet firm, erections.
January.
Here's some fun things you can do at home to be depressed during January!
1. Wait for a nice, cloudy day and stare for hours at a time at a tangible relic of a wasted childhood! (Basketball hoops with no nets, rusty playground equipment, and closed-for-the-season carnivals are great for staring at!)
2. Take the concept of survivalist cannibalism into serious consideration and decide that the value of a human's life is subjective! (For extra fun, maintain this viewpoint when you observe other human beings and establish how much they and their lives are worth!)
3. Desperately and with little recommendation create greeting cards that nobody likes for a blog that nobody visits and write essays that nobody reads about things that nobody cares about and somehow expect affirmation that never arrives! (Try putting fun, inspirational decorations around your computer to inspire you to stop!)
4. Wander into a forest with the intent of being able to find your way home again while maintaining the frame of mind that you really wouldn't care if you never made it out!
5. Festively scented candles are a great way to turn any drab room into a winter wonderland! Use them to start fires on the carpet! Before they get too big, extinguish them using the bare palms of your hands and laugh heartily at the fact that doing that no longer hurts!
Oh boy. It's gonna be a long rest of the winter. Here's an owl related greeting card.
January.
On a more personal note, I cannot think of a name of a month (or a month itself) that I loathe more than I loathe January. January has always been significant to me, and not just to the part of me that has a greeting card lodged inside of it. I hate January, and I feel the best way to illustrate this hatred would be to describe this part of winter in a linear and narrative sense.
The pain of January's arrival begins two months before it occurs. I spend all of November looking forward to Christmas. I know for a fact that I'm not the only one. Many of the other children I grew up around would constantly affirm that they couldn't wait for Christmas to come. However, as a child, I could wait for Christmas. I felt that Christmas was more than enough reason to wait in sweet anticipation for that beautiful morning. All of the time that led up to the 25th was just as magical as the date itself. As a Christmas loving adult, that sentiment has not faded. Christmas, however, leaves. There lies the first blow of January's imminence. I dedicate two months out of every year clutching desperately to the congealed snow that is Yuletide merriment only to have the dream pounded forcibly out of my brain by none other than January. As rude awakenings go, this one is pretty nasty. Suddenly Christmas is gone. The happiest time of the year is lost to the past and cannot be dug out again until the ten other months (or, Les Dix Diarrhées,) have passed. This, however, is not the worst attack.
New Year's Eve arrives on the 31st of December (most of the time.) I celebrate the coming of the new year (or 'NYE' as illiterate jackasses call it) probably the same way you do. I work myself into a gleeful fervor by feeding my body a constant flow of moderately priced sparkling wine and spend my annual five minutes a year of viewing live network television by watching balls drop. But New Year's Eve, to me anyways, has always had a resoundingly melancholic lustre. The night, in terms of personal strife, is unlike the Christmas vacuum in that the ennui that it stirs is not so easily bedded. To me, the new year signifies one more nail in the coffin of my way of life. The house that I sleep in and the car that I drive and the memories that I lived are suddenly mustier, squeakier, and dimmer respectively. More importantly, they are all distanced from me by another unnavigable tributary in the river of linear time. I can't help but watch helplessly as the streets that I walked on only a year ago are suddenly pummeled with the cracks of age, and episodes of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' are shown on TV Land. The past is irretrievable, and since the 31st, it is even more irretrievable. The world sidles away from the observer using New Year's Eves as mile markers, and before too long, the surface of our planet is unrecognizable (in comparison to the reference year, which is to say the best year ever, which is to say 2007.)
All of this, and we haven't even gotten to January yet.
The first two days of January pass by unnoticed (because I'm usually curled up in a ball like an anxiety ridden existentialist Sonic the Hedgehog.) On the third day of January, with my wounds still fresh and shining from the emotional tempest of the Christmas vacuum and New Year's Eve, my birthday comes. Simply put, my birthday is the day that reminds me that, as surely as I was born, I will die. I realize that's how everybody feels, but mine is in January.
January.
January has so much horrible crap inside it. The worst weather of the year is usually around January time. This is the kind of weather where it might snow, but more likely than not you'll simply be held hostage in your own home by an unmelting city-sized sheet of five inch thick ice. For kids, school starts again. I'm glad I'm not in public school anymore, because my birthday was usually the night before I had to go back to whatever god-awful hovel I was forced to learn in. January also hosts the most embarassing spectacle that normal, uncaring people are unable to escape from. I speak, of course, about the slimy, fluid-soaked circle jerk that is the Super Bowl. This is the yearly celebration where "real men" get together to talk about guns and pussy while spending money, watching advertisements, and hiding mysterious, yet firm, erections.
January.
Here's some fun things you can do at home to be depressed during January!
1. Wait for a nice, cloudy day and stare for hours at a time at a tangible relic of a wasted childhood! (Basketball hoops with no nets, rusty playground equipment, and closed-for-the-season carnivals are great for staring at!)
2. Take the concept of survivalist cannibalism into serious consideration and decide that the value of a human's life is subjective! (For extra fun, maintain this viewpoint when you observe other human beings and establish how much they and their lives are worth!)
3. Desperately and with little recommendation create greeting cards that nobody likes for a blog that nobody visits and write essays that nobody reads about things that nobody cares about and somehow expect affirmation that never arrives! (Try putting fun, inspirational decorations around your computer to inspire you to stop!)
4. Wander into a forest with the intent of being able to find your way home again while maintaining the frame of mind that you really wouldn't care if you never made it out!
5. Festively scented candles are a great way to turn any drab room into a winter wonderland! Use them to start fires on the carpet! Before they get too big, extinguish them using the bare palms of your hands and laugh heartily at the fact that doing that no longer hurts!
Oh boy. It's gonna be a long rest of the winter. Here's an owl related greeting card.
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