Danny the Wrench's Brain Home

JOHN

2005-07-13T23:58:00.000-07:00

I reckon the few people who read my bloggy thing have given up on it. Rightly so. But I'm in another play and the character is really friggin' difficult. Writing about it helped last time. Let's give it another go.

What I need to accomplish:

1. Age. He's in his 40's.
2. Make him likeable. He's on the stage too damn long for the audience to hate his guts.

I think the main thing I'm missing in my characterization is the playfulness. Which is ironic since that's one of the few traits me and this character share. If I can just pull this off I think most everything else will fall into place. The problem I'm having in sprinkling the character with some playfulness is that the man has issues. He's self-aware of these issues and they are displayed on the stage almost as often as he is, which is practically the whole damn play. So it's quite difficult to keep from turning him into a brooding, bitter, pained wreck. His flaws and problems are not pitiable enough for us to put up with that shit. I think there's room for sadness, and anger, and bitterness, but those things cannot dominate the character. The author has given us clues as to his playfulness. He's pretty sarcastic. He's characterized by his family as someone who likes to tease. But once again, it is very easy to take these same traits and turn him into an asshole. Plus he's obviously active in the NYC theatre community. This isn't his 1st play to be produced. He knows and is acquainted with theatrical people. He knows Swoozie Kurtz, even. It's a pretty safe bet that he'd be quite theatrical as well.

Another mistake I'm making has to do with the age factor. I make the mistake of thinking that the older someone gets the more serious they get. Which is true...if they let themselves get old. So. Physically I must age, but mentally I must not. Maybe not. 40's isn't necessarily that much older than myself. I just think it is because my parents were never in good shape and thought that their pains and problems were normal for someone of that age. Okay. Age-Schmage. As long as I don't turn John into Peter Pan, I'm cool.

How to make John likeable:

1. Smile more. Especially when describing my own problems. Be self-deprecating about it.
2. The sarcasm must not be at other's expense. It should be for their amusement as much as mine.
3. Don't be so quick with the shouty-anger. It's like engaging death blossom. Weapon of last resort. And even then I should regret going using it.
4. Chin up, buddy. Straighten that spine.
5. When Pop gives his disapproval for putting on the play, be disappointed but respectful of his decision. After all, I gave him the decision to make.

There's so much more. It's such a delicate balance, this character. Too much weight on any one aspect can topple my attempts.

Anyway. I've lost enough sleep over this fucker for one night.

Beware the Ides of...Oh Crap, I'm too late

2005-03-16T07:40:00.000-08:00

Dammit! On March 15th I was going to post “Beware the ides of March” here on my bloggy page. I totally forgot!

I’m getting a little bored with blogging, actually. Hmmm.

Banned Books

2005-03-04T14:53:00.000-08:00

Just passing this along to everybody. Bold= ones you've read. Italics= ones you've read a little. Underline= ones you haven't read but are interested in reading. I think this marks the first post I've actually been not too lazy to use html tags.

#1 The Bible
#2 Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
#3 Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
#4 The Koran
#5 Arabian Nights
#6 Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
#7 Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
#8Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer In Olde English
#9 Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
#10 Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
#11 The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli
#12 Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
#13 Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
#14 Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
#15 Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
#16 Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
#17 Dracula by Bram Stoker
#18 Autobiography by Benjamin Franklin
#19 Tom Jones by Henry Fielding
#20 Essays by Michel de Montaigne
#21 Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
#22 History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward
Gibbon
#23 Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
#24 Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
#25 Ulysses by James Joyce
#26 Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio
#27 Animal Farm by George Orwell
#28 Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
#29 Candide by Voltaire
#30 To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
#31 Analects by Confucius
#32 Dubliners by James Joyce
#33 Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
#34 Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
#35 Red and the Black by Stendhal
#36 Das Capital by Karl Marx
#37 Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire
#38 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
#39 Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D. H. Lawrence
#40 Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
#41 Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser
#42 Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
#43 Jungle by Upton Sinclair
#44 All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
#45 Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx
#46 Lord of the Flies by William Golding
#47 Diary by Samuel Pepys
#48 Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
#49 Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
#50 Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
#51 Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
#52 Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant
#53 One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
#54 Praise of Folly by Desiderius Erasmus
#55 Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
#56 Autobiography of Malcolm X by Malcolm X
#57 Color Purple by Alice Walker
#59 Essay Concerning Human Understanding by John Locke
#60 Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
#61 Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe
#62 One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
#63 East of Eden by John Steinbeck
#64 Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
#65 I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
#66 Confessions by Jean Jacques Rousseau
#67 Gargantua and Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais
#68 Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes
#69 The Talmud
#70 Social Contract by Jean Jacques Rousseau
#71 Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
#72 Women in Love by D. H. Lawrence
#73 American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
#74 Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler
#75 Separate Peace by John Knowles
#76 Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
#77 Red Pony by John Steinbeck
#78 Popol Vuh
#79 Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith
#80 Satyricon by Petronius
#81 James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl
#82 Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
#83 Black Boy by Richard Wright
#84 Spirit of the Laws by Charles de Secondat Baron de Montesquieu
#85 Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut
#86 Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George
#87 Metaphysics by Aristotle
#88 Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
#89 Institutes of the Christian Religion by Jean Calvin
#90 Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse
#91 Power and the Glory by Graham Greene
#92 Sanctuary by William Faulkner
#93 As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
#94 Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin
#95 Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig
#96 Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
#97 General Introduction to Psychoanalysis by Sigmund Freud
#98 Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
#99 Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Alexander Brown
#100 Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
#101 Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman by Ernest J. Gaines
#102 Emile Jean by Jacques Rousseau
#103 Nana by Emile Zola
#104 Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
#105 Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin
#106 Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
#107 Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein
#108 Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Peck
#109 Ox-Bow Incident by Walter Van Tilburg Clark
#110 Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes

2005-03-01T09:48:00.000-08:00

rabbit.

Series 63

2005-02-22T09:59:00.000-08:00

Series 63

Monday I took my Series 63 exam. It’s the exam that work made me take to be able to legally sell securities. I passed that sumbitch. Just barely. I didn’t do it violently up the anus like I did my Series 6 exam. Passing is a 70%. I got 71%. There were only 60 questions. That means that if I had gotten just one more wrong answer, I would have failed. But I would have gotten 69. He he.

Then when my supervisor asked me my score I could have said, “Dude, those two guys are totally sucking each other dicks!” For an explanation of that inside joke please visit Our Poker Blog.

Know what’s cool about passing my Series 63 exam? A $3000 raise, dammit. That’s like an hourly increase of 2.08 or something. Cool? You betchyoazz! That’s $3000 more that I could spend on blow! But I won’t.

Things Danny Hates. The short list.

2005-02-22T09:45:00.000-08:00

Splintery chop sticks
Splintery toilet paper
Sleeping bag zippers
Bank statements
Ingrown toe nails
Crystalized boogers
People who think being a good American means never questioning what our leaders say.
Expensive cars
Neck ties
Pornographic films that loop the sex scenes.
Poop
Toby Keith
This asshole customer guy I spoke to today
The asshole customers I speak to every single other day.
Dave Matthews Band
Me forgetting to take out the garbage
When my dog whines
Pop star siblings of pop stars
Nails that don’t go in straight
Hammers that don’t hammer straight
Fire
Cole Slaw
Pens with yellow ink
Today’s country music
Drew Barrymore
Those fuzzy scarves I see a lot of women wearing these days. There’s no substitute for a feather boa.
Straws
Peas

Butt Buddies

2005-02-18T14:33:00.000-08:00

Has the term “butt buddy” experienced a change in meaning since I was a kid?

Back in the day when some dick said to you, “You guys must be butt buddies,” it was basically his clever way of calling you a faggot.

But yesterday a co-worker used it as a term of endearment. “Me and Dan are butt buddies.” Me and the people around me were a bit taken a back. Not that it bothers me to be called gay. But “butt buddies” does carry a negative connotation and I’m certain I’ve never experienced anal penetration with this man in my entire life.

The co-worker noticed our discomfort with his declaration and questioned it. We explained what exactly it was he just said.

Apparently he heard the term from his teenage daughter. Apparently now it’s okay to refer to your regular circle of friends as your “butt buddies.” Is anybody else aware that this transition in meaning occurred?

Because it’s weird.

2005-02-17T14:09:00.000-08:00

Poop

The Good-Morrow by John Donne

2005-02-14T14:40:00.000-08:00

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoveres to new worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies was not mixed equally,
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.

Tag From Crap Flinging Monkey

2005-02-08T07:38:00.000-08:00

1.) Last CD you bought.

Tough for me to remember, too. I think it was The Big Chill soundtrack. "Whiter Shade of Pale" by Procol Harem is one of my all time faves.

2.) Last song listened to before this message.

It was on one of the Simon and Garfunkle discs from their complete works collection. I have no idea what it was. The last time I clearly remember was "Feeling Groovy"

3.) 5 songs you listen to a lot or mean something to you.

Tough indeed.

-1.) Violent Femmes "Kiss Off." For me, heartbreak isn't sad. It's angry.

-2.) Shostokovich's 9th Symphony. My obligatory classical pick. I don't listen to classical all that often. But four years of music theory gave me a taste for it and mad respect for it. Few composers' Ninth have elements of humor. This is the only classical piece ever to make me outwardly laugh. And in some of the later movements there are chords and progressions that could melt you.

Man, this is hard.

-3.) Green Day, "Who Wrote Holden Caulfield." My musical tastebuds were developing in the age of grunge so up until Green Day came along music was obscure and brooding. Pop punk taught me to have fun with music. Loud and driving and in your face. I had just read "The Catcher In The Rye" so this song was a nice bridge to cross.

-4.) The Pogues, "Fairytale of New York." The first Pogues song I ever heard. Sad and funny and beautiful all at the same time.

-5.) Pavement, "Here." Listen to it. Just friggin' listen to it. It ends up meaning something different to every single person who dares. Listen to the whole Slanted and Enchanted album for that matter. Mine is broken. I need a new one.

(MY honorable mention: "Look What the Cat Dragged In," by Poison. Not proud of it. But it's the first album I ever owned. Imagine a 9-year-old Danny jumping up and down on his bed listening to this total hair band. Now stop. You can't can you?

4.) Who am I going to pass this stick to?

Gloriousnonsense- We usually buy CD's together but our tastes in music only slightly overlap.

Dweeze- To get to know him better.

Jeff Hansen

2005-02-07T06:04:00.000-08:00

My friend Jeff.

How to describe Jeff? He's a bit awkward. Okay. More than a bit awkward. Very uncomfortable in social situations. At least in the ones where he doesn't know anybody very well. In such situations he clings for dear life to the people he does know. I've been that person many a time. In fact, people have mistaken us as partners once or twice. Most people see it as a flaw in his character and are put off by it right away. I like it. But for selfish reasons. It can be funny for one thing. Like watching a Marx brothers film or something. I'm sure I'm probably the only one who sees it that way other than his family. For another thing it means that he's MY friend. That I've accomplished something that few have. I've gotten close enough to the man to be considered a friend. And YOU haven't.

When he does open his mouth to people he doesn't know very well, it's often something uncouth. Whether it's a defense mechanism or it's that he doesn't realize what he's saying is a mystery to me even though he's been my friend since junior high. Probably both. In fact, I'm a little afraid of him giving a best man speech at my wedding.

When people mention his awkwardness to me, I don't stick up for him. I can't. The man is awkward. There's no denying it. But I love him. In fact, that's what I say. "Yes, the man can be a social moron at times, but I love the guy."

What is Jeff like when you get to know him? Honest. And he keeps you honest, as well. Hilarious. Once we get started on some bit or rant, you have to pull us apart otherwise we could run the risk of busting a gut. He's comfortable. Hanging out with Jeff feels like home. I'm sure I'm probably the only friend he has who can say that. We grew up together, after all. I consider his folks sort of my adoptive parents. I cried when his mother died.

He's smart. The boy's got some brains on him. Knowledgable. In fact his whole family specializes in useless knowledge. He knows a lot about movies, for example. He definitely influenced my taste in movies. Who knows what kind of crap I would have in my collection if not for Jeff. The directors cut of My Blue Heaven, maybe. I dunno.

Don't play board games or anything competitive with Jeff unless you're prepared for a war. Especially when it involves things regarding knowledge or intelligence. Trivial Pursuit especially. He gets very competitive. Brutal. Rabid even.

The relationship between Jeff and I is an odd one. One that few understand. One that I don't understand myself all the time. We take each other for granted. We don't call each other and talk all that often or visit each other as often as we should. Even when we BOTH lived in the same damn city. We go months without talking. But when we finally do get together it's like we saw each other just yesterday.

We've always been there for each other. When I suddenly became homeless and jobless due to a messy break up, Jeff took me in that very same night. When he was suddenly left homeless and jobless I took him in. When his mother died he called me at about 1:00AM. I was at his apartment by 1:30. When my dad died, he was there almost instantly as well. A lot of people were, granted. But if you didn't know Jeff that well you wouldn't expect him to be there. It sounds like something he would avoid. Nope.

Jeff is like family. He's my brother. I can't think of any reason that could officially end the friendship. And there have been definitely good reasons on both our parts. I think what draws us together is that we tend to mirror each other's faults in a way that we can bear to look at. Not always comfortable around new people. Not always good with money. Passive aggressive. Slobs.

Splitsville!

2005-02-01T22:25:00.000-08:00

So Splitsville is splitsville. Over.

Remember a scared little boy blogging about how afraid he was to play someone twice his age? What a little puss, right? I think so, too. I did fine as a 50-year-old. My original thought was that they would be better off with ANY person who was at least the correct age for the part. Now I say: Bullshit. Not when you got Danny Greenjeans. No make-up was needed to age me, other than this white shoe polish that was put in my hair to grey it. Of course, it was an intimate space so age make-up would have been pointless.

I've impressed the Dubuque theatrical community, I think. I hope. A cast member's father was surprised to learn my real age. As if my ego needs kindling. People remarked at my stage presence. People whose opinion I've come to value. There is quite a bit of talent here in Dubuque and I look forward to working again with each and every person associated with Splitsville.

They better have been impressed, dammit. I made crab rangoons for the cast party. I only make those for people I love or want to impress.

The production itself was great. Hilarious. We had pretty large crowds for all six performances and they were all very responsive. Doesn't hurt that seating is cabaret-style and booze was available. Fly-By-Night's next production is Incorruptible by Michael Hollinger. I'll probably be waist-high in getting married to be in it, but damn do I ever want to audition for it. A lot.

Something cool: The tickets for Splitsville were on sale at Ticketmaster. I even kept a stub. Damn cool, I think. Probably not cool for the theater because Ticketmaster is evil, but it makes things a bit more professional sounding, y'know?

So anyway, Splitsville, I had fun. Thank you for being such a forgiving and humorous friend.

Your pal,

danny

Danny's Artificial Flavor Theory!

2005-02-01T14:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wondered just where the flavor Blue Raspberry came from? There are no blue raspberries, afterall, right?

I have a theory. Blue raspberry does not refer to a particular flavor at all. It sure as hell doesn't taste like raspberries. Blue raspberry refers to the fact that candies or drinks of this flavor turn your tongue blue. So when you stick your tongue out and give somebody a raspberry (PBBBBBBBBT!) it's blue. A blue raspberry.

Just a theory.

Thanks, But No Thanks.

2005-01-25T22:09:00.000-08:00

Warning. The contents of this post exceed safe levels of taking one's self too seriously. Read at own risk.

I got a part in another play. I heard about the auditions over the radio and went after work. I'm not going to mention the name of it because the director also wrote the script and I'm going to say some nasty shit about it. Aww, fuck it. People need to learn how not to suck at things. The name of the play is Uncle Jake's 90th. The Grand Opera House is putting it on. The bad theatre company from what I've heard and seen. We haven't had one rehearsal, yet. And I don't think I ever will. Because it's horrible. No way am I doing it.

While the director/writer seems to be a very nice person, people who are not funny should not write comedies.

Yes, I can see that this sounds rather snobbish of me. So be it.

"Oh, look at the great Danny Greenjeans! He thinks he's so great that he can pick and choose his roles!"

No, I can't pick my roles. But I don't do theatre just to get up there and say, "Hey, look at me! I'm acting! Aren't I great!?" Otherwise I would definitely do this play. Or any old play for that matter. So it's not because this play isn't "arty." Besides, if you've read one sentence of my blog before you can pretty much glean that I'm not that "arty." I like to do theatre because there are few things better in this world than working with a group of creative people to build a connection between ourselves and the audience. Making people think, or laugh, or cry. Whatever. Even if the purpose is purely for laughs, that's good enough for me as long as I think it's funny. Or even if I can see how others would find it funny. I'm not that picky. I just want to believe in the play. And sorry, Uncle Jake's 90th, but as far as belief goes, I'll yank out my own teeth and put them under my pillow for the Tooth Fairy before I play P.J, Uncle Jake's only grandson. If I'm not going to be happy or have fun doing a play then there's no point in doing it. It's not like I'm getting paid.

DAMMIT! When there isn't a single funny line ANYWHERE to be found...when every character INCLUDING the title character is as flat as day old beer, and none of them are even entertaining or deserving of sympathy despite the obvious best efforts of the playwright...when there is no other purpose behind the play but to make people laugh and it doesn't even come close to accomplishing that, then all you're left with is theatrical masturbation. I don't want to masturbate. I want to have sex.

I'm way more angry than I have a right to be. I'm the stupid bastard who auditioned, after all. I'm mad at myself but I'm taking it out on this nice woman's play. Why did I audition without even reading the script? Believe me, had I known that the writer of the play was also the director, I wouldn't have done so. This is Iowa afterall. I was also lured when I heard it called for some improvisation. That should have had the opposite effect on me. So it was a stupid move all around. Desperation to find my niche here in Dubuque, I guess. But I think I've found it with Fly-By-Night Productions. Yes, I realize this is community theatre and shouldn't be taken too seriously. But it should be taken seriously enough to do justice to the people who donate their time to perform, and to the audience who pay to watch. It should be a good show by some measure. By that criteria alone, this play shouldn't even be done.

How the Athiests Saved the Neighborhood

2005-01-24T17:32:00.000-08:00

So as my sexy future wife said, we had a state of emergency on Sunday.

I woke up to let my cute little puppy dog outside to go wee-wee and then went wee-wee myself. No unnatural geysers had formed at this time. When Sexy Future Wife let the dog in a few minutes later, Sexy Future Wife became horrified. There was water gushing up from the neighbor's yard. I looked out the window to spy. Not only was water gushing up through neighbor's yard, but water was gushing up through our yard.

Because Sexy Future Wife is smarter than me, she got excited about it first and called the utility company. I got excited about it much much later. After it was being fixed, in fact. A bit too late, huh?

My thoughts at the time were, "Dammit, Lucy-dog! What did you break out there?" I mean shit, dude. I blame farts on Lucy so why not broken water mains?

So BECAUSE we're athiests and will gladly accept threats of roasting in hell as long as it means we don't have to go to church on Sunday mornings, we caught the flooding right when it started and before it fucked the whole neighborhood.

We lost the grass in our front yard and we got a few isolated puddles in our basement, but we got off easy. Unless it caused some foundation damage that we can't see. The people to the back of us live down an enbankment (sp?) and it all flowed down to their yard and probably into their basement. But we needed new grass in our front yard anyway so we'll probably be getting new sod courtesy of the City of Dubuque. That way when and if kids cut across our yard I can tell them to sod off and it will make sense without me being British.

Apparently the water main broke right under where my van was parked in the street. Right in front of our house. The street was beginning to sink when I moved it. That would have been no had my van been swallowed by the street.

So yay athiesm for saving the day!

Okie Folkie

2005-01-24T17:29:00.000-08:00

You are a Folkie. Good for you.

What kind of Sixties Person are you?
brought to you by

Another Funny Thing.

2005-01-21T14:18:00.000-08:00

I said something else that was way more funny than I intended.

Opening night is tonight and I'm dismayed by the snow we're getting right now because it means fewer people will come tonight. I vocalized my dismay to a co-worker. He advised me that we're supposed to get about four inches tonight. My response?

"You can take four inches and shove it up your ass."

Lil' Drummer Boy

2005-01-19T22:56:00.000-08:00

So I rocked tonight. Mildly. After rehearsal tonight, I was talking to this guy who is a musical musician. I mentioned my drummerating. He thought maybe we could jam at the Busted Lift. The Busted Lift is a bar, see? They have an open jam session mike thing on Wednesday nights. He made it sound like we'd be able to get in pretty quick so I said, sure, sure.

So I was out later than I'm accustomed to on a work night. I'm sure I'll be a feelin' it in the morning. But I jammed a few songs and I met cool people. And that's what I've been needing.

For those of you who are going to be in the Dubuque, Iowa area this coming weekend or the next, come see me try to be 50ish. I'm sure that judging from my blogs you're thinking this is impossible. But I'm getting kudos. Funny shit, I'm telling you.

Wanna know what else is funny? I currently have shoe polish in my hair. White shoe polish to make my hair look grey and shit.

Wouldn't it be cool if instead of shoe polish it was Turtle Wax? That would be ironic to some people who read my blog.

-dan

Things That Should Indicate I'm Gay.

2005-01-17T13:23:00.000-08:00

I was getting my make-up kit ready for the play, and I once again came to realize that it's really a wonder I'm not gay. Looky here:

1. I have more make-up than my fiancee'. Stage make-up, but still.
2. I'm into theatre.
3. I've kissed gay men on the lips.
4. I've kissed straight men on the lips.
5. I make up cute voices for my pets.

This guy I once worked with said that there are varying degrees of gay. It can be measured by how much money it would honestly take for you to suck some attractive guy's cock. He gave himself as an example. He would do it for a few frequent flier miles.

All other things being equal, and if it wouldn't be a betrayal of my future wife, it would take no less than $1624.98 to make me drop. If I was expected to swallow, my price would go shooting up (tee hee) to $5467.12.

So for everybody who was placing bets, that's how gay I am.

Tech Week of Hate.

2005-01-17T07:40:00.000-08:00

Tech week. Tech week. Tech week. Ugh. Tech week.

For those chicken butts who think plays are dumb and don't know anything about the process, tech week is the week leading up to opening night when we combine the actors with the full set, and sound, and lighting that makes it all something worth watching (hopefully). It usually involves a lot of starting and stopping and runs REALLY late. Cuz see, actors have weeks and weeks to get their shit together. Because we need it. Because we're silly little actors who think the play belongs to us. Tech people only get about a week to get their shit together. And if they do they're job well then no one will ever know it.

So that's where I'm at now with Splitsville.

Starting and stopping and starting and stopping, and wishing death upon myself and everybody else who fucks up. Getting almost to the end of my monologue and then being told to stop for some damn reason.

"Distracted. Like this one time when I was driving home from work. I stop at a traffic light and the car dies. The light turns green and I'm backing up a long line of cars, all of them honking like crazy. So I get out of my car, head up a side street and stop at this house that looks friendly enough. In I walk and nobody's home. I can still hear the cars honking and the people screaming back where I left my car. So I make myself a drink and head out back by the pool. It's a helluva nice place, so I stay on a spell. One day turns into two and a week later, this family comes home, back from vacation. I greet them by name having just skulked around their house for a week and gotten to know them pretty well. Tell them I'm a distant relation. You know what? They're delighted to see me, so I stay on another week. The children would sit on my lap and pull my hair. I'd play golf with Bud. Mary would make us big dinners every night. Then afterwards we'd sit out back by the pool in the dying light...not saying too much. I want to tell you those were some of the best days of my life bar none. I've broken into a lot of houses since then. But nothing can compare to that. You know, sometimes I go to the grocery store where we used to shop. I watch the family walk in, all in a line. Then I hide in the aisles and watch them buy their f-"

"Dan, could you go back to where you were at the beginning of that line? You were standing in a dark spot."

"Yeah, okay." Fuck! Fucking fuck! Alright. Where the fuck was I fucking standing? "Right here?"

"Yeah, that's good. Now stay put."

"Okay." YOU stay put, fucker! So I can shoot you. Right in the head-face.

Another 100.

2005-01-09T17:15:00.000-08:00

I was a big fan of the list Theresa from 2 Hot Chiks wrote about 100 interesting tidbits about herself. So much of a fan that I'm totally going to rip it off. So here it is. Facinating tidbits about Danny Greenjeans interspersed with a few moderately fascinating ones.

1. I sing Karaoke all the time.
2. I have one sibling. A hick brother who now lives in Georgia.
3. Not that it matters that much but I have an above average sized penis.
4. I've had sex with 5 people
5. Despite my interest in Theatre, none of them have been men.
6.I've been IN love too many times to count. I've actually LOVED thrice.
7. I once won a stereo by entering the Country Crock potato decorating contest at the county fair.
8. I can drum pretty well.
9. I almost played the clarinet instead of the drums because...
10. ...I had a huge Bart Simpson overbite that was perfect for playing the clarinet.
11. To correct the overbite I had to wear this giant mouthpiece/retainer all through junior high.
12. As a result, I think I'm a passable ventriloquist.
13. I can be a bit of a biter during sex. Not too hard, though.
14. Every driver's license photo I've ever had makes me look like either a stoner, a pediphile, or both.
15. I won an award for Excellence In Acting in a Supporting role as Billy Bibbitt in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
16. During the festival I won the award at, I could have had sex with at least two different women but didn't because I had just started dating this woman and didn't want to cheat on her.
17. I wish I had cheated on her.
18. I'm a big fan of cunnilingus, though I admit I have much room for improvement.
19. I have never been in a physical fight.
20. My favorite superhero is Artie, the Strongest Man in the World.
21. My favorite comedian is also Eddie Izzard.
22. My favorite actor is Gary Oldman.
23. I know how to turn a styrofoam cup inside out.
24. I've never been to New York City.
23. I've been to Ireland.
24. I lost my virginity at the age of 19.
25. I'm terrified of heights.
26. I was the class clown.
27. I've never had an STD but I have been tested.
28. Both of my knees are in poor shape. Thus I'm not personally worried about a possible draft.
29. I protested at a G.W. Bush rally.
30. I don't believe nice guys finish last, either. But I do believe they usually have a longer race to run.
31. I'm an atheist.
32. I don't believe in an afterlife.
33. While I don't currently practice, I am a licensed insurance agent.
34. I drink lemon juice straight up.
35. I'm terrible at kissing people who have beards or stuble.
36. When I was little I thought babies came out of the mother's butt.
37. I've co-written, directed, produced, and acted in my own play. None of these various roles was done well.
38. I have what some might call an unhealthy fascination with 80's teen movies.
39. I co-wrote a song titled "Jerk Me Off!"
40. My hair is naturally curly.
41. It is naturally blond.
42. My blood type is 0 positive. So I often get calls to donate blood.
43. I'm a snob when it comes to beer.
44. I didn't drink a lick of alcohol until I turned 21.
45. When I was 7 years old I called a little girl a gook while out on the playground.
46. 11 years later I apologized for it.
47. She didn't remember the incident but she accepted my apology.
48. My nickname in Little League was "Stretch."
49. My nickname in Boy Scouts was "Cheepy."
50. I was a Boy Scout.
51. I'm slightly ashamed of it.
52. Throughout my childhood I walked in on my parents 3 times.
53. I once managed to kill a philadendron.
54. My nickname in school was "Fabio."
55. I've been in several garage bands.
56. I've had two car accidents.
57. While I was working as an auto insurance agent, I had a suspended drivers license.
58. My favorite sexual position is the side entry missionary.
59. My favorite beer is currently Samuel Smith's Nut Brown Ale.
60. I can't deal with human poop that is outside of a toilet. Or even representations of human poop. I dry-heave violently.
61. I've never been to Disneyland or Disney World.
62. I've never been skinny dipping.
63. I wear a lot of plaid shirts.
64. I'm slightly color blind.
65. #63 and #64 have nothing to do with each other.
66. I like back scratches and head scratches a lot.
67. I'm a culinary genius.
68. The geekiest thing about me is that I play a Play-By-Email Star Trek roleplaying game.
69. I'm damn good at it.
70. I've taken a test to determine whether I would make a good spy.
71. Apparently I don't know enough languages to be a good spy.
72. My hands are soft and almost always warm.
73. I was a suspect when a bomb threat was called into my high school because I wasn't in class at the time.
74. I didn't do it. I was in the library.
75. I peed on my cat once.
76. I wet the bed once as an adult. I was dreaming I was in the bathroom.
77. I once tried to pee my pants to see if I could do it.
78. I had to stand in the bathtub to do it.
79. I love cruel humor. Hence entering the Dead Pool.
80. Every car I've paid money for has been a piece of shit.
81. The most famous person I've met was Shelly Fabares.
82. I sometimes snore.
83. I have a subscription to Stuff Magazine. I didn't pay for it so I have no idea how I got it, but I'm glad I do.
84. I don't like scary movies.
85. I quote The Family Guy constantly.
86. I asked for my future inlaw's blessing before getting engaged.
87. I own a house with trees and grass and dirt.
88. I drive a minivan and I don't have kids.
89. Someone once said I look like a blond Clark Kent (Christopher Reeve)
90. I own The Ben Stiller Show on DVD.
91. Before that I had all the episodes recorded off television.
92. I consider olives, popcorn, and beer a meal.
93. I have acid-reflux problems.
94. Every time I see a huge container of Gummi Bears, I have to buy one.
95. It's not even my favorite candy.
96. It's Bit-O-Honey.
97. I hate coleslaw.
98. And Drew Barrymore.
99. When I have dreams about going to work or school naked, I also seem to have the ability to fly. It's usually accomplished by clenching my butt cheeks really tight.
100. The parents of every girlfriend I've ever had have absolutely loved me.

In the course of your life...

2005-01-09T08:31:00.000-08:00

In the course of your life you will

have your heart broken
break someone elses heart
break one or more bones in your body
work a shitty job
find out you are bad at something you love to do
find out your parents aren't perfect
regret something you have said
regret something you haven't said
regret something you have done
regret something you haven't done
change someone's life for the worse
have your life changed for the worse by someone else
discover you were wrong all along
fall off your bike
tell a lie
make an enemy
burn your tongue
ignore your feelings
ignore other's feelings
discriminate against someone
be discriminated against
be laughed at
be hated for a good reason
hate someone for a bad reason
lose something valuable
waste your time
make a stupid mistake
have your fingers slammed in a door
offend someone
smell bad
disappoint someone you love
fail to live up to your own expectations
be treated unfairly
miss someone
hit someone
live in someone's shadow
look stupid
act stupid
feel stupid
be stupid
compromise your beliefs
be punished for something you didn't do
have a headache
stub your toe
not get what you want
be afraid
lose at least a little faith in humanity
hate the way you look
break a pencil lead
irreparably embarrass yourself
feel depressed
get ripped off
and ruin an outfit.
Otherwise you're not doing it right.

My Mommy!

2005-01-09T07:37:00.000-08:00

I think it's time to write that post about my mom.

My mom is a total chik, if I may be so bold as to make that determination.

She's spent the past 10 years or so working tirelessly on her geneology project. Not just her side of the family, mind you. But also a little bit of my dad's side of the family for the benefit of my brother and I. This past summer she even went so far as to travel to the motherland (Norway) to get some info. Back in the day her goal was to transfer old home movie reels to VHS. Now that technology has evolved and she's finally learned how to use a computer (sort of) the goal is to transfer everything to computer files and DVD. It made the geneology project I was assigned my junior year in high school a breeze, though she insisted that I do some of the work myself by helping her out with her project a bit. Once an idea gets into my mom's head it's advisable to get the hell out of her way and let her do it. Otherwise you might get hurt. And if you don't particularly WANT to look at ancient pictures of third or fourth cousins, well that's just tough.

Even though my mother is half my size and I'm way stronger and younger than she is, I know in my heart that she could totally kick my ass if I gave her reason to.

My mom is tough. Probably the toughest person I have ever known. Definitely tougher than my dad and when I was little, I didn't think such a thing was possible. When I was very young, so young that I barely remember it, my mom had breast cancer. Chemotherapy didn't take care of it. She had a mastectomy. I remember seeing the scar. I think I do, anyway. I was only two or so. I remember years later finding the prosthesis she wore in her bra before doctors made her a new breast. I found it while I was snooping for Christmas presents. I remember very vaguely her losing her hair from the chemo and her wearing hats as a result.

When I was in high school I saw my mother bald again. I had a job working in the kitchen at a nursing home for the aged. I came home in my scrubs and our neighbor across the street asked if everything was okay. I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought I was about to go inside and eat supper with my parents. He said that there was an ambulance in the our driveway wheeling my mother out on a stretcher. I knew absolutely nothing of it. Nobody contacted me at work. I drove as fast as my 1985 Plymouth Horizon would take me (not very fast) to the hospital which, ironically, was right next to the nursing home. My dad was there and told me what happened. She had an aneurism. She was alive. I knew that medically speaking an aneurism was very, very bad. Other than that I just thought it was a song by Nirvana. When I finally got to see her they had shaved her head and she had an eye patch and stitches above her eye.

Now we lived in a very small town with not the best of medical facilities. And my mom survived an aneurism. A fucking aneurism right behind her eye. Not only that, but she survived the necessary brain surgery when they finally moved her to Des Moines. Not only that but she still has the same level of vision in that eye.

So you know what? To hell with Linda Carter. My mom, Margaret Greenjeans, is Wonder Woman. Dig?

I suppose it sounds like I'm genetically fucked. Cancer, heart disease, diabetes, circulatory problems, the works. In fact last week I was scared shitless when I was feeling this fluttery palpitationy thing going on in my chest. But EKG said everything was okay. Doctor said it was due to all the stressors (moving, new house, new job, holidays, licensing exams, wedding, plus lack of sleep and too much caffeine) and that I shouldn't worry too much about it since both my parents smoked until they were about 50 and whatnot. My mom smoked after the cancer, even. The aneurism finally made her quit. My dad quit a few years before that due to emphysema. But that didn't stop him from eating whatever the fuck he wanted whenever he wanted.

But anyway. My mom could beat up your mom, so nyeh!

Well don't I feel like an ass.

2005-01-07T20:58:00.000-08:00

True John Basedow truly bugged the hell out of me. But look.

http://www.prleap.com/pr_3189.html

Fitness "Celebrity" John Basedow

2005-01-06T17:57:00.000-08:00

Were I drunk I'm sure I would have words for what I'm about to show you. But as it is...well...I need a drink. Props to my sexy future wife for showing this to me. Ready?

http://www.fitnessmadesimple.com/gallery.php

The parts I like best: The picture of John Basedow with a woman. Yeah, right. That and the fact that if you look all the way at the bottom of this photo gallery, you can BUY these pics. You can COLLECT pictures of John Basedow if you wanted to.

Guh-hut!

2005-01-03T16:01:00.000-08:00

Have you ever said something funny that turned out to be WAY funnier than you originally intended? I did that today.

I was discussing my Dead Pool picks with a co-worker. Particularly the current health of the Pope. Pointing out the obvious, my pal stated that the Pope was quite old. My response?

"Yeah. The Pope is, like, older than God."

You're either laughing at my expense or shaking your head and sighing right now. Please post which it is so that I know.

2005 Dead Pool Picks

2004-12-31T07:42:00.000-08:00

Pope John Paul- May 18th, 1920
Max Schmeling- Boxer-Sept 28, 1905
Dick Clark- Producer and stuff- November 30, 1929
Studs Terkel- Journalist- May 16th 1912
Abigail Van Buren- Dear Abby- July 4th, 1918
Rosa Parks- Feb. 4, 1913
Bea Arthur- Actor- May 13, 1923
William Rehnquist- Judge- 10/01/24
Billy Graham- Evangelist- 11/07/1918
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.- Writer- 11/11/1922
Stephen Hawking- Physicist- 01/08/1942
James Doohan- Actor- 03/03/1920
Lady Bird Johnson- First Lady- 12/22/1912
Buzz Aldrin- Astronaut- 01/20/1930
Gerald Ford- President- 07/14/1913

Work Shmirk!

2004-12-31T06:56:00.000-08:00

Guess what I'm doing! I'm setting my naked ass in front of this computer NOT getting ready for work because I don't want to or even have to go in today! I was originally supposed to. At exactly this time I was scheduled to be sitting my fully clothed ass in front of my computer at work saying, "Thank you for calling (the place where I work) this is Dan speaking. How may I help you?"

But I'm NOT! Scheduling gods figured that historically nobody calls in to talk about their retirement on New Years Eve. They already have the day off so they aren't as much hoping and praying for the day they get to sing a little Johnny Paycheck. Plus they figure we're closed. That's a good thing for them to think. So the scheduling gods told me I don't have to come in today. I don't get paid time off because I used all my PTO (use it or lose it), but still. Here I am wearing nothing but my Indiana Jones hat with my dingly-dangly looking up at me. Winking. I wink back.

"Give me the idol!" I say.
"Give me the whip!" says my penis.

I made my picks for the 2005 Dead Pool ready to post. It's floating out there in draft format right now. As usual with these kind of things I'm second guessing myself. You should see me when I make my Oscar picks. I shall refrain from changint, however. Each time I make a switch the first one turns out to be the good one.

http://deadpool.isfullofcrap.com/

The only pick I'm willing to reveal before Aught-Five rolls around is Pope John Paul. Pope gonna die this year. He won't get me too many points once he does die because damn near everybody is going to have him on their list, but yeah. Pope gonna die.

Pope gonna die real good.

Retro-Dan

2004-12-27T22:15:00.000-08:00

There was a reason I looked up that old piece of crap I wrote. I've been a bit looky-backy lately. Another example: I got the drum set for Christmas. It's been about five years since I sold my old one. I suddenly needed another. The urge started back in Iowa City at this open jam session I went to. I had forgotten what it was like to just let your arms and mind fly, grabbing hold of a beat and taking a ride on it. Understanding why rockstars scream OW! or WOO! It had been a while since I'd creatively connected with people in that manner. Then I got to thinking how else I could get involved in the theatre community here. With a drum set I could be in the orchestra for crappy musicals. Wouldn't that be cool? Then I met this cool guy at work who plays guitar, and I figure it would be a good way to make friends, too. So now I have my drum set and damn...just...damn. Slap dem skins like a duck in heat!

One of my good friends from back in the day stopped in Dubuque and we hung out for a bit. One of the guys I used to be in a band with, actually. So interesting to see how much he had, yet hadn't changed. Wondering what I missed about his life that caused these noticable little differences. Good differences. Then I got to thinking about how I may have changed since then.

I know that most people don't like to read about how great things are going with other people. I'm one of those people. I hate it almost as much as I hate people who can only bitch. But fuck you. It's my blog for me, not you.

The reason I've been Retro-Danny these days is because I've been trying to figure out just where I went so right.

A lot of life altering events have happened over the past year. The whole getting engaged thing and the whole buying a house thing just to name a few. I like where I'm at these days. Granted, there are things I have started but have yet to finish. The whole college education thing, mainly. But I'm poised to restart that and finish it in the next few years. Once that's finished then perhaps the whole getting a job I actually like thing will fall into line. My future's so bright I gotta wear shades. (By the way, who recorded that song? Was it Timbuk 2?)

I have a wonderful fiancee. She takes good care of me and there's nothing I like better than taking care of her. She's beautiful in every way and her personality is so cute that it hurts. Except when she's driving. Then she's a little can of frozen concentrated hate juice. She loves my eccentricities and I couldn't live without hers. We counteract each other's foibles as well as our foibles can be counteracted and when we hug her head fits conveniently under my chin. Plus I've always been in search of and in need of a woman who is smarter than me. Mission accomplished. It's so nice to not have to dumb myself down to try to get the same effect. Because there have been some women in my life where it has been just downright impossible.

For the first time in my life every one of the people I call friend I am proud to call friend. For me there's always been at least one friend who's a total asshole but I just don't have the guts to tell them to fuck off. That's pretty much all I had in college. I'm pretty sure I have the chutspa to tell someone which of their own orifice they should hump, but there's no need. My friends are cool. Though there are people who consider me a friend and I play along because I'm afraid of them and the arsenal they've stockpiled. But I certainly don't call them friend so it doesn't count. While my friendships here in Dubuque are currently very loose and sparse, having just moved here, there is definite potential.

Health-wise I'm a little heavier than I was back when things were not-so-good but I'm not gaining any more weight, I feel healthier and I think I actually look hotter than when I was a skinny little bitch.

What the hell did I do so right to get where I am? It seems like it happened overnight. That's what's been going on in my thinky head. So much so that I'm wide awake yet again when I should be asleep.

Oh. Another cool gift I got. A decent beard trimmer. It is SO nice. Makes me look hotter still. No news yet on how it works on pubic hair, but I promise you'll know as soon as I do.

Dammit. Was it Timbuk 2? I'm pretty sure it was Timbuk 2.

Love,
danny

When the Weather Stinks

2004-12-23T18:39:00.000-08:00

So I got a little bored and did a Google search for me. I found me. I found a little short piece I wrote when I was in high school that I submitted to an online literary mag for publication. I thought it rocked at the time. I still think it rocks for a sophomore in high school. But let's leave that qualifier where it belongs, shall we? FOR a sophomore in high school. Here it is. I hope you appreciate my bravery in showing it to you.

When the Weather Stinks, Everything Gets Plumbed

In one month's time, the weather goes from 60 to 20, clear to cloudy, sunny to stormy, and to put it vulgarly, pleasant to poop. Poop stinks. As a result of the poor weather, everything else goes from pleasant to poop . . . including plumbing.
Pleasant to poop weather is hard on plumbing, which is good for the plumber, but bad for the plumbee. The plumbee can barely support his loving plumbette and plumblings. So the plumbee takes one look at the plumber's bill and he beats those little plumblings plumless.
And the faithful plumbette, who has stayed with her plumbee for so many years, has to look after her little sugar plums. So she de-plums that motherplumber and takes everything but the kitchen plumbing. The former plumbette can never trust a plumber or a plumbee for as long as she lives, which leaves her plumbless, which means she has to go out and get her plums elsewhere.
Hence, to forget her plumbed up life, she picks up the bottle and gets plumbed off her butt. This catches the eyes of her young plumblings. Some years later, one of these plumblings grows up to be a plumber, or maybe even a plumbee, and goes plum crazy. That ex- plumbling turned plumbee is then found front page of the Daily Plum, tried and convicted of plumbing in the first degree. Then he goes to prison where he gets plumbed hard and heavy by a big, bad motherplumber.
Which is good for the motherplumber but terrible for the motherplumbee because this incident plums him up something fierce. It plums him up so bad that he doesn't have a plunger to plumb with.
Then that poor motherplumbee/ plumber/ plumbee/ plumbling drinks Liquid Drano and dies . . . overlooking one thing: it was a beautiful day. It was pleasant as opposed to poop. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. It's amazing how one can just plum forget.

81%

2004-12-21T15:14:00.000-08:00

Today was the day I took my Series 6 exam to be a registered with the NASD. I PASSED! Yes I did.

I said to the Series 6 Exam, "Hey Exam. Do you want to make love or do you want to fuck?"

Exam said, "Danny, I want to FUCK!"

"Okay, then," I said. "Bend over for me then."

"Okay, Danny," said the exam. "Give it to me rough!"

So I did. I gave it to that exam like I was breaking in a new cell mate. I fucked that exam 81 percent which was good enough. If I'd only fucked it below 70 percent I would have had to re-fuck it at a later date.

Ah...post-coital exam bliss. I'm gonna go eat me some Olive Garden, yo!

-danny greenjeans

Bad Beat

2004-12-20T06:06:00.000-08:00

Before I got all WASP-ish in Des Moines at the Hanson Family Christmas, I made it back to celebrate Crap Flinger's birthday by playing poker. Each game I was in I started off okay but then got my ass smashed.

Fauser. Fucking Fauser. We play Texas Hold 'em just like everybody else who has jumped on the poker band wagon over the past few years. I was dealt pocket kings, so I bet $75 before the flop. Fauser calls me. The flop comes off deuce-jack-deuce. So I figure there's no way he would have called my 75 if he had a deuce in his hand. And if the helped him then I've still got him beat with two kings. So I keep betting. It doesn't matter what the other cards were. Eventually he put me all in and I couldn't get away from pocket kings. The fucker had jack-deuce in his hand. The bastard flopped a full boat. What's more is the bastard called me with jack-deuce before the flop. Jack fucking deuce? Shmuck!

-dan

Hanson Christmas

2004-12-19T19:31:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not talking about that boy band/pediphile wet dream and their inevitable Christmas special on CBS. I'm talkin' celebrating Christmas with my mother's side of the family.

Here's how it works every single year. Everybody gathers together with the possiblity that this will be Grandpa's final Christmas with us and tries to make it as Rockwellian as possible. And we succeed admirably. I'm talking about gathering around the fireplace and singing carols. None of them secular in nature. And everybody bows their head and folds their hands for grace before dinner. Actually, I've stopped doing that being an atheist and all. They don't know I'm an athiest and if all goes well they never will. But their eyes are either closed or looking down so what the fuck do they know? Anyway. The aunts who are musically inclined accompany the cousins who are musically inclined because their parents have told them that they're musically inclined.

Everybody has blonde hair and blue eyes. EVERYBODY. Except those whose hair has turned grey. It's the HANSON Christmas, after all. Norwegian through, and through, ya you betcha. 100% Grade A. A for Aryan. Hitler would approve, I'm sure. The only relatives who get away with not having blonde hair are related by marriage. Woe be to those who come in with their blonde locks dyed an alternate color. I came with my hair dyed red once and got me some disapproval from the elders. And it was a natural looking color of red. Not like...I dunno...stop sign red.

The secret to survival is to place a piece of lefse (basically a Scandinavian potato tortilla usually spread with butter and sprinkled with sugar and then rolled up) between your ass cheeks and clench. Tight. Don't let it drop. Sweet Jeebus, don't let it drop. Keep that ass tight all weekend. Not that anything bad will happen if you loosen up a bit. Unless that's the REAL reason my dad died. Ho Ho Ho. Nothing bad will happen except the quiet judgement and the mental tsks. I feel like I'm in front of a firing squad just for having shaggy hair. If the shagginess of my hair wasn't directly proportionate to how much sex I have, I'd get a crew cut every year around Christmastime.

Uff da.

What puzzles me is whether or not this is all a facade. Is everybody really this sickly sweet? I've seen evidence to the contrary. The cousin next oldest to me got pregnant in high school, for instance. She named her daughter Audrey after my grandmother who died before any of us could remember much. This pissed Grandpa off greatly so I've been told. But what will happen once Grandpa passes away? Will things loosen up a bit? Will we even get together anymore? I have a feeling that the Hanson Christmas will go on with everybody believing that Grandpa will be watching from heaven. Will little atheist me continue to go, however? Yeah. Probably. If for nothing but my mom's sake. She always had to get tough with my dad to make him go. My brother was smart and moved a safe distance away. That leaves me to represent our branch of the family tree and make her happy.

Cuz if Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

Danny's Last Night Dream

2004-12-16T05:48:00.000-08:00

I had a dream I was Christmas shopping with my dad at Sears or some place similar. I was a full-grown Danny but I was still riding in the cart while Dad pushed. Dreams let you do that. I asked him what he wanted for Christmas and he just laughed at me. In my dream I thought he was just being an asshole like he was prone to do so I kept pressing him, asking him what he wanted. He said, "If you have to get me anything then how about some of that lawn furniture over there?"

The lawn furniture cost a shitload of money so I smiled and said, "Well I guess I don't have to get you anything then, do I?"

"No, Booner, you really don't," he said, with his hearty trademark belly laugh.

The Ghostbusters factored into the dream somehow and at some point.

When I woke up, I slapped myself on the forehead and said, "Doh! Of course you don't have to get him anything for Christmas. He's dead, Retardo-Dan!"

So it's good to see that I'm gaining some semblance of a sense of humor over the whole thing.

Let me tell you all about my dad.

He worked at a job in the packing plant he absolutely despised for almost 25 years not because he couldn't do anything else. He was a good chef and had a degree in Hotel and Restaurant Management from ISU, afterall. He did it because he had two young sons, a wife who was battling breast cancer, and Farmland provided insurance for all three of them. By the time he COULD do something else he had a lot of seniority and was making more money than he could by starting over elsewhere.

I don't want my father to be defined by the job he did. It sucks enough that that was where he died. But it does kind of give some insight as to why he was reluctant to give up the things that killed him. Namely food. He did successfully give up smoking, however. Emphysema dictated that. Apparently he felt he could shrug off obesity and diabetes.

My dad was a racist. I can't deny that. He hated the "spics" at work. He hated "ragheads". He was a rabid Republican all his life. Though he started to soften towards the end of his life. He would have voted against Bush had he lived long enough. He was starting to realize that just as many white guys as hispanic guys were lazy pieces of shit.

That reminds me of one of my favorite Family Guy quotes, "The South? Isn't that were the black people are really lazy and the white people are just as lazy but they hate the black people for being so lazy?"

Oh, and another one of my favorite Family Guy quotes for good measure, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What do you want me to do? Wack a guy? Off a guy? Wack off a guy? Cuz I'm married."

Anyway, I digress. My dad was there all through my mom's bout with cancer. When she had her anyerism he would drive two hours both ways to Des Moines every night to see her. Hell my mom is one tough chik that deserves her own post. Be looking for that.

When I was in little league and my birthday was on the cut off date where I would have had to be placed in junior league with the boys who were a grade ahead of me, my dad fought tooth and nail so that I could stay in little league and not get my ass kicked by the big kids. When I could hardly even lay wood on the ball in little league, he finagled a key to the shed that held the pitching machine and he would practice with me.

The man liked to fish. Probably his most healthy hobby. He would take fish from the over populated ponds in the area and relocate them to over fished ponds. When he went pheasant hunting he gave the game to food programs.

Hell, I could go on about the guy. Bottom line is he didn't amount to much professionally and he was greatly disappointed in that. But he made the world a better place by being in it. I think if a person does nothing more than that with their life...then they win.

Selling Short

2004-12-15T13:27:00.000-08:00

This one may be interesting to you or it may bore the shit out of you.

I've been studying...well...not like mad, but more than I'm used to for my Series 6 examination. It's basically the first of two licenses I'm going to need to legally do my job helping people with their retirement plans. I've seen a lot of movies that have to do with the stock market. Wall Street. Trading Places...umm...okay. I've seen two movies that have to do with the stock market. And I've heard these movies tell about making money when the security they own actually decreases in value. I always said to myself, "I don't understand! How could this be?" But outwardly I would just pretend I understood to seem smart and to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Now I know how it works and I'd like to show off my knowledge. Here's what happens:

An investor looks at a security. Let's call it Moneyshot Inc. common stock. The investor thinks that it will decrease in value. So he goes to another investor and says, "Hey, can I borrow a thousand shares of the Moneyshot common stock that you own? I'll give it back eventually and in the meantime, here's a hundred bucks for your troubles."

Then Investor 2 says, "You think it's going to go down, eh? Okay, then. I'm investing in Moneyshot for the long term anyway so it's no skin off my ass. Sure. You give me 100 dollars and I'll give you 1000 shares that you have to return to us eventually. But if it goes up in price you STILL will owe me those shares so be careful."

"Cool beans," says Investor 1. So the transaction takes place. Moneyshot Inc's common stock is currently trading at 10.00 per share at which point our investor hero sells the shares he borrowed and receives $10000 (10.00 per share x 1000 shares). Investor 1 is now considered to be "short" 1000 shares of Moneyshot Inc common stock. Clear so far?

Then lo and behold the value of the stock does go down. It goes down to 4.00 per share. At that point our investor buys 1000 shares of Moneyshot Inc common stock paying 4000 dollars (4.00 per share x 1000 shares) and returns those shares to Investor 2 just like he promised. How much did he make in all? $6000. Because he sold the stock he borrowed and made $10000. Then he used 4000 dollars of it to buy back the shares of Moneyshot Inc he owed Investor 2. (10000 subtract 4000 equals 6000.)

I'll never need to know this for my job because retirement plans deal mostly in mutual funds and mutual funds can't sell short like this because of the possiblity that you could lose more than you own.

But anyway I'm going to pass that test on Tuesday.

December 21st

2004-12-13T15:19:00.000-08:00

Napoleon Dynamite. Probably the best movie I've seen all year. Definitely the best comedy all year.

I get to thinking to myself...that was a great movie. So great that we went to see it twice. It MUST be coming out on DVD pretty soon. So I look it up. Sho'nuff. It hits the shelves December 21st. Just in time for me to make sure it's on my Christmas wish list.

So here's what my Christmas wish list looks like at this point.

1. Gift certificates to the local music store so I can buy me a drum set. I sold the one I had as a young high school punk rock poseur. But I got more than I paid for it, so I can't complain too much.
2. A food processor. Something that can chop nuts, mince garlic, liquify human eyeballs, that sort of thing.
3. Beard trimmer. I'm trying to go for the FASHIONABLY unkempt look, after all.
4. Napoleon Dynamite on DVD. One of the best lines ever: "These guys kept trying to get me to join their gang because I'm really good with a bow staff."
5. A dirt bike.
6. A Nintendo.
7. Clean fingernails.
8. A gallon of milk.
9. Some G.I. Joe guys.
10. My own sitcom.
11. A brain.
12. A heart.
14. Courage.
15. Another reality show on television.
16. To know where my dad hid his porno collection.
17. To be big and bad like Shaft.
18. To have a big, bad shaft.
19. My little toe amputated so I can put it on a chain and wear it around my neck.
20. A vasectomy.

Santa better cooperate this year. That jolly old fucker owes me. I've got plans for him if he doesn't make good.

-dan

Danny Geekjeans

2004-12-12T07:09:00.000-08:00

Recently my coolness has been called into question. I know, I know. It came as a shock to me as well.

Why has my coolness been called into question? (sigh) Because I happen to play Dungeons and Dragons.

But you know what? I'm not going to defend myself. Much. I'm a geek. I really truly am. And you know what? So what. It has been stated many a time that men suck. And I'm not going to deny that either. If you want to make a generalization then yes. Men, in general, suck.

But there is an exception to the rule. And that exception's name is GEEK.

Of course. There are geek men who suck. Geeks that pretty much stalk the object of their affection. Geeks that have the social skills of a crusty jizz rag. But lets not call them geeks. They are not worthy of the title. Lets call them spazzes.

Let me go ahead and admit things what's geeky about me.

1. Dungeons and Dragons. (But I only play once a month at most)
2. Not only that, but I used to play Magic: The Gathering back in high school. And I still have my cards.
3. I wear Buddy Holly-like glasses.
4. I didn't lose my virginity until I was 19.
5. I'm going to marry my fiance. She's only attracted to geeks. So I must be one.
6. I watch Adult Swim on Cartoon Network almost every night. (Though I don't dig on the anime' too much)
7. I almost turned homicidal when the Star Wars Trilogy was released on DVD and at the end of Jedi when we see glowing images of Obi Wan, Yoda, and Anakin Skywalker, the guy who played old Anakin Skywalker was replaced by Hayden Christiansen. Grrr. I feel a separate post coming on. I'll try to resist.
8. Every time I get drunk, I quote Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "Beer foamy." Even when I'm drinking whiskey or something.
9. I'm now addicted to Smallville.
10. I can quote Monty Python sketches. But damn. I'm nothing compared to my first room mate in college. That guy had all the movies and all the shows downloaded on his computer and all the albums.
11. I listen to geek music. They Might Be Giants? Geeks. Weezer? Geeks. Elvis Costello? Geek.
12. I sing karaoke. Not only that, but I often look forward to singing karaoke. But I rock the mike, yo!

So yes. I'm a geek. But I'm a cool geek. And cool geeks are good men.

Am I Studly, yo? I'm a Stud Leo!

2004-12-11T18:06:00.000-08:00

So I took this little zodiac sign quiz to see just how Leo I am. My birthday is July 31st. According to the quiz I'm 67% Leo.

Though I have to agree with Greenman that the questions are horribly leading, there was an interesting question.

True or False: You have a nearly 100% track record in seducing anyone you're interested in.

I had to think about this. I don't have ANY record of going out and talking a woman who catches my fancy into my bed. But. This question made me realize that with all the major crushes or loves in my life, at one point or another, the feeling was reciprocated at some point. All of them. And characteristic of Leo's, there have been a LOT of crushes. Not so many actual loves, of course, but hey we all make mistakes.

Now despite the title of this post, I'm not trying to toot my own horn. After all, apparently I can seduce women to do that for me. I'm going to get hate replies to that one, I know it.

Seriously. This revelation was quite interesting to me because I've always considered myself a loser when it comes to enticing the opposite sex. I'm not. It's AFTER I entice them that I'm a loser. But actually factually thinking about it...I'm a huge flirt. That's nothing new. I've always known that. But what I didn't realize is I'm pretty good at it. And when I say I'm good at it, I also mean that it stops before someone gets hurt. Well...once I flirted with this woman and it hurt us both for two and a half years, but anyway. It's not just with women I'm interested in or attracted to. Hell, I've flirted with gay men as well. Flirting is fun.

Flirting is FUN! Flirting is fun, fun FUN!

Greenjeans Mornings

2004-12-10T16:40:00.000-08:00

Drinking orange juice in the morning and then using Listerine tastes anti-good.

Orange juice goes really well with vodka.

Vodka has more alcohol in it to kill the gum disease GINGIVITIS!

You see where I'm going with this, don't you?

My baby loves to blog

2004-12-10T16:37:00.000-08:00

My fiance has a blog now. When she drives one of those new fangled automotor cars she often becomes a little 5'3'' bundle of hate. Come see! http://gloriousnonsense.blogspot.com/

WAIT!

2004-12-10T03:34:00.000-08:00

Before I do go to bed. Teresa (not Theresa) and I are considering taking Lucy (dog), Max, Dot and Pixie (cats) to get their pictures taken with Santa Claus. Or at the very least Lucy and Pixie. What kind of sick fuckers are we?

No. I'm seriously asking your opinion on this matter. WHAT...KIND...OF SICK FUCKERS...ARE WE?

I'm Awake

2004-12-10T03:12:00.000-08:00

5:12 by my clock. Tonight is one of those nights where I just inexplicably open my eyes and decide to be wide a friggin' wake. Oh well. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Sleep, like mercy, is for the weak.

Oh! I got the part. I am now a 25-year-old playing a 50 something. So I guess they were pretty desperate afterall. A collection of one-act plays by Richard Dresser entitled SPLITSVILLE. I'm in the final and title play. I don't think the fact that I LOOK like I'm 25 is going to be too much of an impediment. There's this one part where I say I'm retired and the response to this is, "Aren't you a bit young for retirement?" Also my character gets a bit excited about a theme park being erected in the area that will have a ride that makes people older. So yeah. It's kind of an absurd play. Nay. It's definitely an absurd play. Funny stuff. So now that I don't have to worry too much about my pretty boy teen idol appearance getting in the way, I can concentrate more on physicallity.

Oh ho! You people who have not met me think I'm kidding about the teen idol comment, don't you? Well you just ask people who know. I'm one sweet piece of ass! Just ask Theresa and Teresa. They LOVE my ass. Also the public is drawn to my dirty blonde fashionably unkempt locks, the deep honey-coated voice. And do I even need to mention the huge cock?

Yes. Yes, I do need to mention the huge cock thing. If for nobody's benefit but my own.

Okay. Let's try to sleep.

Dan's Heterosexual Love Theory

2004-12-08T06:40:00.000-08:00

I've taken to reading other people's blogs than my own. One thing I've noticed other than there are a lot of blogs that are way more interesting than mine is that a common theme is how people's hearts have been tickled or broken.

I've had a theory for some time that I've been able to apply to every man/woman romantic relationship I've participated in or observed. Here it is for us to consider and discuss:

Men are Stupid. Women are crazy.

Thoughts?

I'm going to make diabetes cry

2004-12-07T23:17:00.000-08:00

That is it! Enough with the people I love getting diabetes. I swear. It's getting to be that I'm one of the few people I know who DOESN'T have diabetes and if genetics has any say in the matter then I'm not far behind. If diabetes were personified I would get a group of friends together with chains and knifes and jump Diabetes while he's walking home after dark. I would kill Diabetes with those little finger lancets.

I am referring, of course, to Crap Flinging Monkey discovering he is diabetic. One of my bestest friends not to mention my acting mentor. A friend who took my door to the theatrical world and showed me that it swung open wider than I originally thought. A friend who took in me and my Lucy-dog when we finally got out of a bad situation. A friend who got me a job shortly after. A friend whose opinion in most things I place a lot of stock in. A friend who...who...jeepers cripes! Come to think of it...what the hell have I ever done for him?

The point is, Monkey-boy, that you mean a lot to a lot of people so you had BETTER take care of yourself. If not...well...I'm pretty sure I could kick your ass and so are you. And if not me, then I'll get my 5'3" fiance with a brown belt in karate and she'll do it for the both of us. So any time you want to kung fu fight just let us catch you drinking a bottle of Mountain Dew Pitch Black or something. Got it?

-dan

Richard Brautigan

2004-12-07T05:54:00.000-08:00

I started re-reading The Abortion: An Historical Romance 1966 by Richard Brautigan. I remember the first time I read it the opening two sentences knocked me on my ass.

This is a beautiful library, timed perfectly, lush and American. The hour is midnight and the library is deep and carried like a dreaming child into the darkness of these pages.

Usually I'm not a big fan of simile. But this novel is full of them and still knocks me on my ass. Beauties. It isn't often that I read something that brings me to the same emotional level as say listening to Shostakovich's 9th Symphony. Whimsically beautiful. Usually when I read I'm reading...oh...I don't know. The Dead Kennedys. NOFX. But less blatantly political.

I recommend The Abortion to my pals 2 Hot Chiks http://2hotchiks.blogspot.com I think they would find the character of Vida quite interesting. Becoming comfortable with her body and sexuality.

She was wearing a blue sweater and skirt and a pair of black leather boots in the style of the time. She had a fantastically full and developed body under her clothes that would have made the movie stars and beauty queens and showgirls bitterly ooze dead make-up in envy.

She was developed to the most extreme of Western man's desire in this century for women to look: the large breasts, the tiny waist, the large hips, the long Playboy furniture legs.

She was so beautiful that the advertising people would have made her into a national park if they would have gotten their hands on her.

Then her blue eyes swirled like a tide pool and she started crying.

"This book is about my body," she said. "I hate it. It's too big for me. It's somebody else's body. It's not mine."

I'm trying to think now, but I can't remember how I discovered this book. If somebody recommended it too me I don't remember who did it. I think I found it in the library back in high school and was curious that a book with a title like The Abortion would be on the library shelves of Podunk, IA. I read the first two sentences and immediately checked it out.

Anyway. Sometimes when you read something that makes your hair stand on end you just have to share it and hope other people will read it, too. Read it, please.

-dan

Hung Over

2004-12-05T08:50:00.000-08:00

But not too badly. Just a bit of an ache in me gulliver. Hung over headaches feel like your head wants to retract into it's shell but can't because it's a head and not a tortoise.

Drunky

2004-12-05T01:00:00.000-08:00

Oh, I'm drunk. Drunkety-drunk drunk drunk.

How drunk? On a scale of 1 to 10? Yes? Oklay. I'd say about 6.5. Not sop drunk that I'm passing out or throwing up. No no. Just so drunk that I have to concentrate quite a bit more on the keys that I press on the keyboard of hate and love and doom...and love. And I stumbled to the car and through the door. I'm drunk enough to make spelling errors, but not so drunk that I don't realize I made them. Like I know I said, "not sop drunk" instead of "not so drunk". Or that I typed, "Oklay" instead of "Okay." I'm not so drunk that I've forgotten that you typically put a comma before you put stuff in quotation marks. But I'm drunk enough to not realize that I probably shouldn't have done so about three sentences back. Anyway.

What did I do tonight? When to Andaluz. They still don't have the topas bar thing going ( if that's how you spell it) but it was still quite a lovely bar. My favorite Dubuque bar is still probably the Busted Lift. Of love. And death. Met some guyus from work there. HeY! Popcorn! Mmmm. Popcorn is yummy. Thanks, Teresa. Some cool guys from work is who we met. Matt, who just started there same time as me. And Gabe, who I know for a fact voted for Bush, but is still an okay guy if you ask me. Anyway. He's aboput to have twins. So he must have done some heavy fucking somewhere along the line. And good for him.

Mmm. Need more popcorn. Teresa is watching me type. That doesn't happen when I'm sober. Maybe it's the drink talking, but Lucy is so much cuter when I'm anti-sober. Lucy is my dog for those of you who don't know. Teresa is talkingt Alton Brown right now. And it's sexy.

Anyway. Sleep. Sleep is good. Alcohol is poison. Of hate and love and poison again.

House. I love House. House is the name of our house. I love House.

Sooner or later I'm going to have to stop typing but I'm interested to find out how my motor skills improve as my liver puts up an alcohol road block. But I'm too nice to subject myself or other people to that. So I'll stop.

I've been watchibng Smallville more than I should. I don't feel guilty about it. Yet. Yet, yet, yet.

Love,

Danny Greenjeans.

Dad

2004-12-03T16:17:00.000-08:00

I own land now. I own dirt. There's a plot of land that has a deed down at the courthouse with my name on it showing me as an owner. Quite a step from a year and a half ago when I was essentially homeless.

It's a good thing, having a place that you can call your own (mortgage aside), though it makes me a bit weepy at times. My Dad would be proud of me. I don't wish many things but I wish his heart had held out at least another four months. The man rented all his adult life until he was well into his 50's when he bought their house with a VA loan. Then almost four years later he died.

He'll never see his son's first house. He'll never see one of his sons get married. He'll never meet his own grandchildren.

Damn him.

Playing a 50-year-old

2004-11-22T21:16:00.000-08:00

I'm 25. There's a possibility that I could play someone who is in their 50's. That there is a challenge. Therefore I want the part.

Don't play the age. Not outwardly. Keep it internal. Internal is my goal. Focusing on pretending to be older will only draw attention to how unbelievably young I am. What I'm going to have to do is concentrate on how a young man of 25 gets to be 50. Time is the obvious answer. I don't have that...obviously.

Wisdom. One difference between a man of 25 and a man of 50 is wisdom. Not common sense. More like hindsight. I shouldn't portray that I KNOW what it's like to be 25. I should portray that I REMEMBER what it's like to be 25. The maturity comes not from age but from experience. It's not the years, it's the mileage. That kind of thing. What comes across most in people twice my age is the fact that they've lived to their age. It's an accomplishment that they seldom realize fully, so that must stay internal. They haven't gotten hit by a drunk driver or contracted a killer disease. But they've seen it happen to loved ones. And they know that it could just as easily be them. That's what needs to be whittled from the 25-year-old Dan is the perception of invincibility. I've been doing away with that as of late, anyhow. Or at least I'm becoming aware of it in me. So that should make it easier to eliminate for the sake of portrayal. But as I was saying, it's not the accomplishment of middle age that should be protrayed. The elderly are the ones that exude a sense of accomplishment in living so long. Either that or despair at living so long. Middle-aged people give a sense that "I am alive purely by coincidence. I just happen to have survived this long. It could just as easily have gone the other way." But internalize it. WAY down.

50-year-olds have at least a sense as to where they're going. What they'll be like in 20 years. They're running out of paths to choose. As a 25 year old with only a small portion of the map exposed to me and so many choices, it's impossible to completely grasp it in my own life. But I think I can invent it in the life of the man I could portray.

I can move a little slower than I normally would. At least a little less reckless. Especially when getting up. But don't make a production of it. Keep it internal. The spirit should be more willing than the body. The physicality of it is going to be the key. From that everything else will flow. I can be hunched just slightly. SLIGHTLY!! More like compressed by the weight of experience.
In youth the body often acts before the mind. I must reverse it for middle age.

Keep it internal, keep it internal, keep it internal. Keep the age internal. I'm not a 25-year old playing a character who is 50. I'm 50 years old. Start from there. Get that burned into my body. THEN play the character.

This is going to be fucking hard. I can do it. I just hope they're desperate enough to give me a chance.

-dan

What people think of me

2004-11-16T17:48:00.000-08:00

I remember that I used to not give a shit what people thought of me. Or at least I remember me telling myself as much. In retrospect I was a liar. I gave a shit. But to my credit I did a good job of deluding myself.

In this brand spanking new environment it is vital that people think favorably of me. I have future in-laws that I see quite often now. I'm marrying their Teresa. What they think of me matters. If they decide to hate me, life could be quite unpleasant. I've never had to deal with living in the same town as extended family. They'd better like me. Because beyond them and Resa I know absolutely no one else here in Dubuque.

Which presents another problem. New friends. Getting some of 'em. Usually I've depended heavily on the theatrical community to supply me with those. But this is Dubuque fucking Iowa. That may not be the best bet. Theatre people are screwed in the head, anyway.

Speaking of the theatre community, what will they think of me? I mean theatre is something I have to do. I HAVE to do it. Sure. Right now I have the mentality of "Wait till they get a load of me." But there's also the poke in the forehead that says, "Wait till ME get a load of THEY."

So the dillema: Making people like me. That's a big predicament. Because you can't MAKE someone like you. If you try to MAKE someone like you they won't. They'll hate your facehead. Come to think, it's impossible to force anything to happen. If you do, it won't. You can't MAKE the right words come out of your mouth much like you can't MAKE a ship not sink. A ship's natural tendency is to sink. All you can do is try to prevent it. All you can hope for is to do things that might lead to favorable things happening. After that it's beyond your control.

It sounds pessimistic, I know. But I think it's actually good news. It means when things don't go your way despite your best preparations to the contrary, it isn't your fault. I'm not advocating a belief in fate or destiny. I'm advocating a belief in "shit happens."

I suppose it could be argued that our best attempts are therefore a waste of time when they don't bear fruit. But we have try, at least. We have to do what we can. If we don't, then we really do have no one to blame but ourselves. So I think the way to go is to do the best you can and relax about the outcome. RELAX.

Putting it into practice. I'm meeting people whose opinion of me matters greatly. EVERYONE I meet matters greatly. Now, going in there with the mentality, "Please like me!" only leads to awkwardness. Trying to be someone they will like is impossible since I don't fucking know them and don't know WHAT they like.

So I think I had it right back when I was younger. Deluding myself into thinking it doesn't matter. Because it doesn't. If they don't like me, I'm sure someone else will.

So fuck you, assholes. I'm not losing any sleep over your asses.

(Wanna hang out sometime?)

My Vote

2004-11-14T07:27:00.000-08:00

Now. Before I begin: I'm not a very political person. I wouldn't even call myself an intellectual that conservatives regard with such disdain. So on a chilly, rainy day in late October, when you see me of all people standing in protest at a Bush rally, you have to wonder if maybe the current administration is not quite the uniter it claims to be.

I think I'm done sticking up for the American people. The entire world thinks we're stupid. And you know what? I'm now convinced they're right. We, the people of the United States of America...are stupid. We had one chance to at least cast some doubt on our stupidity, but we blew it on November 2nd.

While I'll agree to the end that there are smart Americans, even among those who voted for Bush both times, I can no longer defend the collective intelligence of the United States. I've even run a few hypothetical conversations in my head.

Here's one that happens on our honeymoon if we leave the country:

Non-United States Citizen: You're from the States, eh? Americans are stupid.
Dan: Yeah. I know.
________________________

Here's a domestic one.

Dan: American's are stupid.
Dan's friend: That's not true, Dan.
Dan: Yes, unfortunately it is.
Dan's Friend: Based on what?
Dan: Based on the election of 2004.
Dan's Friend: I voted for Bush. Does that make me stupid?
Dan: No.
Dan's Friend: But the American people are stupid for re-electing him?
Dan: Yes.

________________________

And I realize that one main reason Bush won the election was because of liberals like me going around thinking they're smarter than everyone else. And I don't mean to perpetuate that here. But just because the American people are against intellectualism does not mean that they should refrain from using intellect. It doesn't mean they should sell themselves short. The American people are stupid only because they've been scared into believing that intelligence is morally corrupt. I mean it's not a difficult choice. Do we re-elect President Bush who hasn't done ANYTHING good in his four years as President or don't we?

Perhaps that question isn't fair. For the people who's vote won the election, the people who think they are morally superior to me, he's done some wonderful things. Rolled back some advancements in gay rights, for example. But when your morals hurt people, hurt AMERICANS, don't you think it's time to reconsider whether or not you're being moral?

I think I can finally come up with a definition for both a liberal and a conservative that satisfies me.

Liberal: Someone who thinks the smart decision is ultimately the moral decision.
Conservative: Someone who thinks the moral decision is ultimately the smart decision.

On a side note, another spit in my face is that since Ohio decided the election before there was even a clear winner here in Iowa, my vote didn't matter at all.