tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30224492024-03-13T05:18:23.713-05:00Thus Spoke Crapples... like a bee who has gathered too much honey.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-30702929301082977442010-06-22T06:06:00.000-05:002011-07-13T18:21:00.127-05:00ReferralOddly, this site still gets hits every once in a while. It's dead, folks! But, in case you're interested, I do sometimes write letters to people and ask them for free stuff.<br />
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<a href="http://crapples-letters.blogspot.com/">http://crapples-letters.blogspot.com</a><br />
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See you there.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-54177451483339788612010-05-13T18:19:00.000-05:002011-07-13T18:20:44.862-05:00Crapples Rock<img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2782/4448057008_fedee9f6e9_m.jpg" /><br />
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Recently I recorded some music with a friend, which prompted me to search through my archives of previous recordings. I thought the following items would fit well on this blog, even if no one reads this blog anymore.<br />
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This is the theme song for a movie I made with some friends a few years ago. The movie is called "Video Games Of Love". It's now showing nowhere on earth.<br />
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<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/2700361/For%20Linescratchers/02%20Video%20Games%20Of%20Love.mp3"><strong>The Crapples Singers: </strong> <em>Video Games Of Love</em></a><br />
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This one was a proposed theme song for another movie that I made. This song was never used in the film, but I liked it anyway. The movie for which it was made is showing in exactly zero theaters worldwide!<br />
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<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/2700361/For%20Linescratchers/30%20factory%20of%20dreams.mp3"><strong>The Crapples Singers: </strong> <em>Factory Of Dreams</em></a><br />
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Lastly, this tune was just me messing around. I was thinking about using it for a closing credits song on a certain movie someday, but the movie never got made.<br />
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<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/2700361/For%20Linescratchers/04%20Crying%20On%20The%20Inside.mp3"><strong>The Crapples Singers: </strong> <em>Crying On The Inside</em></a>bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1112721907243372522005-04-05T12:22:00.000-05:002005-05-15T21:37:12.083-05:00Remote Chicken PetterI’ll admit that when I saw that the <a href="http://mixedreality.nus.edu.sg/research/PI/PI_webpage/research-PI-infor.htm">Mixed Reality Lab</a> had produced technology that would allow office workers and world travelers to pet or stroke a live chicken from a thousand miles away, my first thought was one of skepticism.<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/8541992_aec6258490.jpg" style="width: 142px; height: 214px;" align="left" /><br />I mean, for one thing, Chickens are pretty common. If I’m on a business trip in Atlanta and I <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> want to pet a chicken, I’m going to wager that I can find one locally.<br /><br />But even more importantly, I don’t remember a single time in my whole life when I’ve ever <span style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</span> to pet a chicken. Oh sure, I’d love to train one to peck <span style="font-style: italic;">Ode To Joy</span> on a tiny chicken piano like those trained birds you see in San Francisco:<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Listen, chicken, how many times do I have to tell you… the piano is that thing over there! No, not <span style="font-style: italic;">there</span>! What are you <span style="font-style: italic;">doing</span>? That’s just a tiny mirror! It’s right there! Just turn your head to the left… no no… <span style="font-weight: bold;">your</span> left…”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Bok Bok … Bok.”</span><br /><br />... Let’s see, what else would I want to do with a chicken if I had one? Oh yes, I remember: Eat it for dinner.<br /><br />But, again, I never really thought about petting one from another city before seeing the page linked above.<br /><br />The psychology of new technologies is interesting though, because once you know that a product is available, all of a sudden you can’t imagine living without it. Now, having seen the remote chicken petter, I honestly can’t wait for my next business trip just so I can pet a chicken from some far away city. It's going to be so sweet. My co-workers are going to be like, "Dude. You're seriously petting your pet chicken from more than 1000 miles away? Dang! I'd have to be within two or three <span style="font-style: italic;">feet</span> of the animal to pull-off something like that."<br /><br />So, although my first reaction was skeptical, my <span style="font-style: italic;">revised</span> reaction to the Mixed Reality Lab’s remote chicken petting technology is, “Yeesh! It’s about time.”bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1112329732547469692005-03-31T22:23:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:54:01.913-05:00Some Advice For You<img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/8048749_a4873261df_m.jpg" align="left" />I feel bad for most people I come in contact with. Most of them are content to live their lives taking orders from The Man, getting stuck in routines, and trying to keep pace with the neighbors. In fact, I don’t even refer to these people as “people”, I just call them <span style="font-style: italic;">“drones”</span>. But, I’m different. I decided a long time ago that I would face life head-on, tirelessly, like a worker bee.<br /><br />I know that one of the reasons people visit this blog is to get some direction in their life. I also know that when some of you saw the first paragraph of this post you thought to yourself, “Hey Crapples! You’ve lived up to <span style="font-style: italic;">your</span> potential by leading your people, the blogging community, to Funnyland, but how can I live up to <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> potential?”<br /><br />My response to this question is two-pronged: (1) Please stop talking to me in your brain. (2) What on earth are you talking about, anyway? And, where’s Funnyland? Is that even a <span style="font-style: italic;">place</span>? You see, if you really want to live up to your potential, one of the first things you need to learn is to formulate precise questions. Right now, frankly, I don’t have a clue what you’re even asking, man.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1106150062030743112005-03-21T06:53:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:56:27.286-05:00InsightI was watching TV with my kids last night when one of the characters on the show got a wedgie. All of the sudden I thought, "Hey wait a minute. Maybe those guys in High School were making <span style="font-style: italic;">fun</span> me."bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1111072157105404382005-03-18T06:57:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:56:38.440-05:00The Power Of SymbolsSymbols can communicate a thousand words with just one image. Think about some of the symbols that we see in our culture. The American Flag. The Red Cross. The Five Rings of The Olympics.<br /><br />Personally, I can’t look at the five Olympic rings, for example, without reflecting on the five great pillars of international athletic competition:<br /><img src="http://photos6.flickr.com/6720316_78fead9ebb_m.jpg" style="width: 188px; height: 100px;" align="right" /><br /><ol> <li>Pride</li> <li>Throwing stuff</li> <li>I Jump good</li> <li>Panting</li><li>and… I can never remember the fifth one, but if I'm not mistaken it's something about Powerbars.</li> </ol><br />But, the details aren't important. The point I’m trying to make is that symbols speak volumes. This is why I like to wear Hard Rock Café T-Shirts. My shirt can communicate the sentence, “Dude, I’ve <span style="font-weight: bold;">so</span> been to Toronto, or someone I know has been there, unless I bought this shirt at a thrift shop.”<br /><br />That’s a long sentence, and I don’t want to have to repeat it to everyone I see on the street. So, "Thank you symbols!"bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1111012682905605162005-03-16T19:36:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:56:55.326-05:00CrapMail<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">CrapMail</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Where I Respond to Reader Email.</span><br /></div><br />Last week SH expressed concern about my post titled <a href="http://crapples.blogspot.com/2005/03/down-with-evolution.html">Down With Evolution</a>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Note: This response will probably make no sense to anyone who hasn't read that original article.</span><br /><br />SH Wrote:<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/5353750_1c87efb527_t.jpg" align="left" /><br /><blockquote>I know your joking, but do you really think it's funny for these guys to abuse animals like this? And I don't think animals are as "stupid" as you say. You should read this article. You'll find out that there is a lot more to "stupid" animals than you think.</blockquote><br /><br />Then he gave me a link to <a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2087-1502933,00.html">this</a> story:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My response</span>: This blog has always been about the science, folks. We let the <span style="font-weight: bold;">data</span> do the talking here. In that spirit, I'll never forget what Darwin said about artificially augmented animals; namely that they are the <span style="font-style: italic;">only creatures</span> who would survive a nuclear holocaust. Think about that. So, if all of you will shut your mouths for just one freakin'...<br /><br />... Wait... Actually, maybe they were the only ones who would <span style="font-weight: bold;">die</span> in a nuclear holocaust. I can't remember.<br /><br />Actually, I got a C- in biology, and I probably would have gotten an F except that I think my teacher, Old Man Weatherby, had the hots for me. That's a different story for a different post.<br /><br />Either way, to make the point more practical for the non-science minded, imagine this: With or without a nuclear holocaust, if you're a female hawk looking for someone to mate with, and when you check out the available males you notice that one of them is wearing a tiny Superman cape; baby, your choice just became very simple.<br /><br />Similarly, if you're the male hawk, the one with the cape, you'll be thanking Crapples ten minutes later as you fly away into the horizon, abandoning your wife and unborn children to wolves and poisonous snakes.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Check and mate.</span><br /><br /><img style="width: 120px; height: 90px;" src="http://photos5.flickr.com/6687916_0245fda3ef_t.jpg" align="right" /><br /><br />As for whether or not I really think butterflies are stupid like I said in my original post: Yes. Yes, I do. If anyone doubts my word, try doing any one of the following activities with a butterfly:<br /><br /><ul> <li>Play chess</li> <li>Build a bridge</li> <li>Identify a banana</li> <li>Fix a disposal</li> <li>Make a noise of any kind<br /></li> </ul><br />I believe you'll find that your butterfly friend, while quite attractive, is actually no help at all with any of these tasks.<br /><br />So, to summarize the three points that I hope I've made: (1) Darwin was right again, as always. Or wrong. As I said, I'm not really sure on that one. (2) The very mention of Old Man Weatherby's name still <span style="font-weight: bold;">totally</span> creeps me out even after 20 years. (3) Butterflies really are just hilariously dumb.<br /><br />See you next time on, CrapMail.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1110397160318955782005-03-09T20:56:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:57:43.810-05:00Sweet JobsIt's important for men to have a job that sounds impressive. Many men don’t realize, when they’re choosing a career, that they will be <span style="font-style: italic;">talking</span> about it for the rest of their lives with strangers, friends, and relatives; thus they underestimate the social costs associated with having a job, even a great job, that <span style="font-weight: bold;">sounds</span> lame.<br /><img style="width: 125px; height: 207px;" src="http://photos5.flickr.com/6215483_b8b9269e64.jpg" align="left" /><br />For example, I had a friend who worked in Dallas as a corporate manager for <a href="http://www.pigglywiggly.com/">Piggly Wiggly</a> grocery stores. He was rich, good looking, and nice. He would have been a great catch for any woman. He told me about a time when he was on a bus in Salt Lake City and an attractive woman sat down next to him. She flirted with him for a few minutes, then finally asked him where he worked. He swallowed hard, looked meekly at her, then quietly said, <span style="font-size:85%;">“The Piggly Wiggly”</span>.<br /><br />She paused. Her face soured. Then out of the blue she started to pretend that she didn’t speak <span style="font-style: italic;">English</span>. This was especially awkward for my friend since they had been talking with one another for the previous ten minutes.<br /><br />“But, I don’t understand, we’ve been talking in English for like…”<br /><br />“So sowwy. Me no speeky.”<br /><br />“But… Please... I’m at corporate headquarters so it’s really not what it…”<br /><br />“Este es un autobus bonita.”<br /><br />He realized at that moment that he either had to get a better <span style="font-weight: bold;">sounding </span>job or resign himself to life as an apartment dwelling bachelor who eats Raman Noodles three times a week and wears velour sweat pants on the weekends.<br /><br />A lot of people think that the careers that sound best in social situations are doctor, lawyer, and banker. I disagree. Any young men reading this, take note: If I could live my life over, I’d follow any career path that would allow me to say things like: “<a href="http://www.innovations-report.com/html/reports/medicine_health/report-40586.html">I make robot arms that are controlled by monkey thoughts</a>.”<br /><br />Oh, <span style="font-style: italic;">baby</span>! Take it from Crapples, if you say something like that to a woman on a bus, she’ll be ringing the little bell at <span style="font-weight: bold;">your</span> stop before you know it.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1110164768665807672005-03-08T06:00:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:58:00.180-05:00How Time FliesSo, the other day I was at Walmart buying new batteries for my ear-hair clipper when I had the thought, “Is it possible that I’m not as cool as I think I am?”<br /><br />One thing I'm sure of is that the pace at which I'm aging seems to be accelerating at an alarming rate. A year feels like 3 months felt when I was a kid, which brings me to the subject of this post: Psychologists believe that our <a href="http://edgarmatias.com/gapcalc.html">subjective experience</a> of the passage of time is a function of its proportional relationship to the amount of time that we’ve been alive. That’s why time seems to speed up as we get older.<br /><br />For example, one year constitutes one-fifth of the life of a five year old, but only one-twentieth of the life of a twenty-year old. So the twenty-year old will <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feel</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>four years the same way that the five year old feels one year. The proportions are the same, so the experience of time is the same.<br /><br />Get it?<br /><img style="width: 175px; height: 132px;" src="http://photos3.flickr.com/6043578_73ac10a4fa_m.jpg" align="left" /><br />Now, according to <a href="http://www.kurzweilai.net/meme/frame.html?main=/articles/art0274.html">Ray Kurzweil's Spiritual Machines Time Line</a>, humans will be immortal by 2099. This means, if I understand the proportional theory of time correctly, that our experience of time's passage will speed up <span style="font-style: italic;">infinitely</span> from that moment on.<br /><br />To an infinitely old being, a billion years will feel exactly like no time passing at all.<br /><br />I’m actually very concerned about this because I really don’t like to be late for stuff. You could even say that tardiness is one of my <span style="font-style: italic;">hang-ups</span>. I'm afraid the infinite acceleration of my subjective exeperience of time is going to cause <span style="font-style: italic;">all sorts</span> of problems for me at work and elsewhere. For example, I can imagine deciding to lay in bed for a while after my alarm goes off in the morning, then finally getting up to find that I'm a trillion years late for our morning meeting and that the land where my office once stood is now under a billion year old ocean.<br /><br />That's going to really stink and, frankly, I don't think the boss is going to like it.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1109992386778167412005-03-06T19:57:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:58:14.203-05:00Down With EvolutionSometimes people will come up to me and say, “Hey Crapples! Why don’t you step on that butterfly just for fun or because it will make you <span style="font-style: italic;">popular</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">cool</span>, or maybe <span style="font-style: italic;">rich</span>.” But, I always respond by saying, “I won’t do it because I know that fundamentally butterflies are just small, really, really <i>incredibly</i> stupid people.”<br /><br />This is just who I am.<br /><br />It's my sensitivity to the needs of animals that has lead me to the conclusion that the normal processes of evolution are just not efficient enough to meet their needs.<br /><br />Listen and learn: Evolution takes hundreds of thousands of years to accomplish even the most <span style="font-weight: bold;">boring</span> of animal transformations. It took the giraffe something like 10 million years to get its long neck, for example, and let's not fool ourselves -- it’s not even all that <span style="font-style: italic;">cool</span> looking!<br /><br />Any really <span style="font-style: italic;">awesome</span> adaptations (e.g., laser eyes, invisibility, stretch arms, freeze rays) would take mother nature a good <b>trillion years</b> to come up with.<br /><br />Even if you wanted a few features that were only <span style="font-style: italic;">moderately</span> awesome, like glow-in-the-dark fists for example, you’re still looking at a hundred billion years, <span style="font-style: italic;">minimum</span>.<br /><img style="width: 120px; height: 120px;" src="http://photos6.flickr.com/5906034_d77493368c.jpg" align="left" /><br />Well, our animal brothers and sisters simply don’t have that kind of time.<br /><br />That’s why I so appreciate the work of <a href="http://www.auger-loizeau.com/">Auger & Loizeau</a>. They are giving mother nature the boost that she needs so that our animal friends can have the advantages that they deserve; advantages like <a href="http://www.auger-loizeau.com/augani_pop_04.html">arial attack protection</a> for mice and <a href="http://www.auger-loizeau.com/augani_pop_02.html">an acorn positioning system</a> for squirrels. To see more augmentations, click <a href="http://www.auger-loizeau.com/augani_pop_01.html">here</a>, then use the little black arrow to scroll through the pictures and descriptions.<br /><img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/5906033_16a4b9f284_t.jpg" align="right" /><br /><i>Side note</i>: It’s just an idea, but in my opinion Auger & Loizeau should consider adding a few strictly <span style="font-style: italic;">cosmetic</span> animal augmentations to their product line. I’m thinking of things like tiny Superman capes for hawks or maybe pig mustaches. Let's not underestimate the survival benefits of looking <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">good</span>.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1109536093504953092005-02-28T06:23:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:58:45.200-05:00Sparkle MomentsI’m not like most guys you probably know. When I get home from a long day at work I don’t go out with "the boys", or “talk” to my "kids". On the contrary, the thing that brings me the most joy is to spend special time with my special lady. That’s why I’ve always been a strong advocate for what I like to call “sparkle moments”. Sparkle moments are just those special times when you and your lady experience the full depth of your love for one another.<br /><img style="width: 182px; height: 184px;" src="http://photos4.flickr.com/5537823_76b6327a2b_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />In my experience, <span style="font-style: italic;">creativity</span> is the key to producing more sparkle moments in your relationship. That's why I've decided to publish a few ideas I've had for creative dates (you might even call them <span style="font-style: italic;">sparkle dates</span>) that I think some of my male readers might be interested in. These dates will set you apart from the crowd. Trust me, women love them. I’ll just list a few.<br /><br /><ul> <li>If you’re feeling silly, try watching MTV together and playing along with all of the songs on kazoos. If you don’t know the tune, just make it up! Sometimes your mistakes will be the highlight of the whole evening!</li> <li>If you’re feeling romantic, try spending the whole evening winking at each other. Don’t be afraid to mix things up a little either. Try the <span style="font-style: italic;">slow wink</span>, the <span style="font-style: italic;">fast wink</span>, or the <span style="font-style: italic;">double wink</span> (also known as the “blink”).</li> <li>Go outside and watch the skies for Haley’s comet. This activity is especially fun because it only flies by our planet once every 75 years. You just never know when you’re going to get lucky!</li> <li>Put airline tickets to a romantic destination in a helium filled mylar balloon, then let it float away. You never know what adventures wait for you and your lady as you try to track it down.</li> <li>Wake her up at 12AM on a normal weeknight and insist on singing every verse of Auld Lang Syne together. You’ll find that every day is New Years... when you’re in <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span>.</li> </ul><br />Of course, I have other ideas that I might share at another time. But, for now feel free to try any one of those listed above. All I ask is that when you’re basking in the warm embrace of your sweetheart, you take a moment to whisper these words in her ear: “Thank you Crapples”. That’s all the payment I need.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1112745778139199972005-02-27T06:02:00.000-06:002005-06-18T06:46:38.500-05:00Prom Days<a href="http://dasslug.blogspot.com/2005/04/prog-prom-blog_04.html">Das Slug’s recent post about deciding whether or not to go to prom</a> got me thinking about my own prom days. I didn't go to mine. The thing about me is, I was <i>so attractive</i> in high school that no girl ever dared to pay any attention to me at all in any context -- or so I reasoned.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos7.flickr.com/8572030_a15628fad3_o.jpg"><img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/8572030_a15628fad3_m.jpg" style="width: 125px; height: 120px;" align="left" /></a>But, I think the main thing that kept me from going was that I was too far ahead of my time for most of the girls at my school.<br /><br />For example, I remember walking up to one girl to ask her to prom. I was wearing my sleeveless DEVO turtleneck at the time <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(click to enlarge)</span>. I handed her a hand made card that said:<br /><br /><blockquote>Written Communication From Star Captain to Foxy Life Form<br /><br />Nanoo Nanoo!<br /><br />Join me for a prom night that will be out of this world! I'll show you the galaxy, but you can still assure your Dad that I won't try to be a Space Invader at the end of the night! So, unless you have a case of Asteroids, consider it a date!<br /><br />Note: You must respond to Star Captain before Tuesday or offer expires.<br /><br />PS: Just to make sure we understand each other - Star Captain = Me, Crapples</blockquote><br /><br />She didn't get back to me in time... or, well... ever.<br /><br />... Anyhoo ... what was my point again?<br /><br />Oh, I remember. My advice to Slug is: Don't worry too much about going to the prom. Whether you go or not, you can still grow up to have as many great memories of high school as I have.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1109250990639368152005-02-24T07:07:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:59:01.333-05:00New Feature: CrapMail<div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">This is where I respond to reader email.<br /></div><br />Asian Queen asks:<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/5353750_1c87efb527_t.jpg" align="left" /><br /><blockquote>Hey Crapples, where are you politically? I can’t tell from your blogroll.</blockquote><br /><br />Thanks for the question AQ. Crapples isn’t into politics, he’s into <span style="font-style: italic;">The People</span>. Afterall, it’s People who put the “peop” in “politics”, so it will be over my <span style="font-style: italic;">dead body</span> that those fat-cats in Washing...<br /><br />... Wait, there <u>is</u> no “peop” in “politics”. … Maybe they just put the “P” in there. I swear, I was just reading about this the other day.<br /><br />Back to my point: I’m pro wide-eyed baby deer. Note, however, that I don’t give a crap about adult deer. Also, I hate Sean Connery. I honestly do. I can’t even watch a movie with that guy in it. I’m not kidding at all.<br /><br />But as for real politics, this really isn’t a political blog. The truth is, I wouldn’t have even responded to your email publicly except that I wanted to make that joke about “the people” (and I'm going to argue that it was worth it). I also wanted to find a way to mention my hatred for Sean Connery. I'm not joking at all about that part.<br /><br />Stephen (last name omitted) asks:<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/5353750_1c87efb527_t.jpg" align="left" /><br /><blockquote>Crap: What does “like a bee who gathered too much honey” mean?</blockquote><br /><br />Good question, Stephen. The “bee” quote is from the first chapter of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which is the namesake of this blog, by Friedrich Nietzsche. The book is about Zarathustra, who lived in the mountains for years but eventually decided to descend into the village to share his wisdom with the people. The main difference between Zarathustra and me is that he taught the people about the death of God and the rise of the Perfect Man, while I mostly talk about <span style="font-style: italic;">aliens</span> and… well, you know – <span style="font-style: italic;">Brainball</span> and stuff.<br /><br />If I continue to get mail, I'll think about making this a semi-regular feature. But, only if I want to. Send all mail to crapples.smith@gmail.com, or click on the link in my profile.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1109114951551764212005-02-22T18:25:00.000-06:002005-04-27T14:59:19.430-05:00I Could Have Been A ContenderThe problem with High School P.E., as I saw it, was that all of the educational activities were <span style="font-style: italic;">physical</span> in nature.<br /><br />Well, thanks to the presumably uncoordinated fat guys at SmartStudio, it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. Let me introduce you to <a href="http://smart.tii.se/smart/projects/brainball/index_en.html">Brainball</a>. Brainball takes both of my favorite things (1: Sweet technology, 2: Sitting around doing nothing) and combines them into the ultimate sport of the future.<br /><img src="http://photos5.flickr.com/5264576_1d8d3dad36.jpg" /><br />The object of Brainball is to defeat your opponent by using your <span style="font-style: italic;">brain</span> to relax more quickly than he does. The more relaxed you become, the closer the ball gets to your opponent’s goal until finally, SCORE! You win! You can take <span style="font-weight: bold;">that</span> to the <span style="font-weight: bold;">bank</span>, you stressed out LOSER!<br /><img src="http://photos5.flickr.com/5264579_c09c08857e_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />Oh man! Why couldn't they have had Brainball back when I was in school? I could have been the biggest jock on the whole <span style="font-style: italic;">campus</span>! I can see it now: Cheerleaders on each of my soft, pasty she-arms; varsity letters all over my bath robe (the official Brainball uniform); stressed, atheletic nerds carrying my books for me; drool dripping from the side of my ultra-relaxed mouth as I accept my full-ride Brainball scholarship to UCLA. I <u>so</u> could have taken my school to the Brainball Nationals.<br /><br />I swear, if I cared about anything at all, this development might really upset me.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1109010898800209022005-02-21T06:21:00.000-06:002006-09-01T22:22:57.320-05:00Modern ValentinesI know it's late to talk about Valentine's Day, but I just had a conversation with one of my kids last night that sparked these thoughts:<br /><br />When I was a kid we would buy Valentine cards with hilarious puns on them and give them to the people we liked, admired, or were trying to kiss-up to. This exercise was a crude, but probably very accurate, popularity rating tool. The more cards you received, the more kids liked you.<br /><br />In fifth grade, for example, I bought one for my pal Armen because he introduced me to KISS, and we used to discuss The Six Million Dollar Man together at recess. I also bought one for Jana Anderson. I didn't understand why at the time. We weren't friends, I just knew that when I looked at her I forgot my own name.<br /><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/5189799_bc15b74fca_m.jpg" style="width: 184px; height: 148px;" align="left" /><br />I never worried much about the losers in the class because there was always a future Homeless Shelter Volunteer, usually a girl, who would provide Welfare Valentines for them. This was a win-win situation because the do-gooder gained a sense of satisfaction from helping one of the unfortunates, and the loser got someone to stalk for the next six months before the restraining order could be put into effect.<br /><br />I never minded at all that I only got 4-5 cards because I knew they came from real friends. Once I even got one from Jana. I'm not kidding. It was a banner moment for me. I like to tell myself that it wasn't a welfare card either, but that she had <span style="font-style: italic;">Crapples Fever</span> and was giving me the card hoping to find the <span style="font-style: italic;">cure</span>.<br /><br />Fast Foward to the present day: Those of you without kids may not know this, but now the whole system has changed. My kids were sent home with a class list and instructed to fill out Valentines for <span style="font-style: italic;">each</span> person on the list regardless of their status as babes, trolls, studs, losers, stoners, wannabes, jocks or geeks. So in a class of 23 students, every kid gets <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> 22 cards.<br /><br />This system stinks for obvious reasons. With the new system no one really gets to express Valentine wishes to <span style="font-style: italic;">anyone</span>, and losers have to wait until 7th grade P.E. to find out that no one likes them.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm a proud father because I found out last night that this year my kid signed crappy Walmart Valentines for every person in her class, but she gave nice cards and chocolate to the kids she actually likes. So, the system is back in place (at least in the Crapples home).<br /><br />Stick it to The Man, kids!bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1108699908543837862005-02-18T06:57:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:00:02.543-05:00Why I'll Never Be The Next TolstoyOne reason I'll never be a great novelist or artist is because my life has been way too easy.<br /><br />I remember volunteering at an old-folks home with my church when I was a teenager. I sat in a room with an old man who talked endlessly about how horrible every moment of his life had been since the day he was born. He had polio when he was a kid which made one leg something like two feet shorter than the other. I daydreamed a lot while he was talking, but I think I remember him saying something about having to walk to school with his short leg on the shoulder of a local midget, or some such thing. He lived on a farm during the depression and his family went without food for days on end.<br /><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/4985545_84b75f239a_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />The thing is, the story just never got better. He got divorced, his career was one disaster after another. I think he was actually a <span style="font-style: italic;">string</span> salesman! I’m not kidding. Is that a career? Selling <span style="font-style: italic;">string</span>?<br /><br />All of his friends and family died before he did, and he finally ended up penniless and unloved in an old folks home trying to make conversation with a guy like <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>.<br /><br />I sat there in my Psychedelic Furs concert T-Shirt trying to relate to him in any way I possibly could. I was like, “Right dude… I remember when they canceled Mork & Mindy. It was just sooo… <span style="font-style: italic;">permanent</span>."<br /><br />The truth is, I can only remember three lame things ever happening to me in my whole life:<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/4985619_52693bf947_m.jpg" style="width: 191px; height: 152px;" align="left" /><br />1 – My ear got plugged up with ear-wax.<br />2 – My VCR broke.<br />3 – I felt really awkward while an old guy told me about walking to school with one foot on the shoulder of a village helper-midget.<br /><br />That’s all I’ve got! I can't imagine the next War & Peace coming out of those experiences.<br /><br />I’m not complaining about having a good life, mind you. The only point I'm trying to make is that, not having had any contact with genuine human suffering, I’ll probably never be a great artist.<br /><br />However, if you don’t care about great art, tune in next week and I’ll continue to talk about robots, aliens, kung fu, and… oh, I don’t know… maybe cyborgs or something. You never know.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1108509698096775032005-02-16T06:15:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:00:18.256-05:00ZoophileIf you asked any of my friends about me they would tell you right away that I have a deep love for animals. In some ways, animals are my life and always have been.<br /><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/4879513_eb3c37ecef_m.jpg" style="width: 193px; height: 141px;" align="left" /><br />I really love it when the shiny ones balance beach balls on their noses, for example. That is just <span style="font-style: italic;">classic</span>.<br /><br />Also, I think the vast majority of the hairy ones are absolutely delicious.<br /><br />Knowing of my passion for the beasts, people sometimes come up to me and say, "Crapples! How can I win your affection by adopting some of the qualities of our animal siblings?" I usually answer by simply saying, "Friend, you've already taken the first step just by recognizing that all of us, including the shiny things, the hairy things, and even those smelly guys, are ultimately brothers and sisters."<br /><br />But now I have an even better answer for you.<br /><br />The Royal College of Art has developed <a href="http://photos5.flickr.com/4966492_5ab8115fe4_o.jpg">a clothing line</a> with electro-statically charged fur that stands on end when the wearer feels threatened. In this way, a human can respond to threat in a way that is similar to the response of a cat or raccoon.<br /><br />Interestingly, if an offender ignores the warning signs and touches you, the fur will administer a 100,000 volt shock into his body!<br /><br />I don't know which animal the 100,000 volt shock is modeled after, but whichever one it is I want to nominate it as the most awesome animal of all time. Also, if this animal doesn't have a nickname yet, I'd like to suggest Taze-o-shock! No wait... I mean Electrotaze!<br /><br />Anyway, here's my point: When I finally find out where the presumably elusive Electrotaze lives, I am so going to get one for a pet.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1108481137225101732005-02-15T06:19:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:00:36.713-05:00Pale Blue DotI was reminded yesterday of a few summers ago when I got really in to <a href="http://www.carlsagan.com/">Carl Sagan</a>. I read every book he ever wrote, fiction and non-fiction, in the course a few months. He was an amazing guy.<br /><br />As I spent the summer contemplating the infinite expanses of the universe, the billions of stars in each of billions of galaxies, and the mysterious matter and activities of the cosmos, I couldn’t help but ask myself the <span style="font-style: italic;">big</span> questions. Like, are aliens purple or are they green? Do they eat human brains, human flesh, or both? Do they have giant upside-down triangles on their shirts, or do they favor more minimalist one-piece silver jumpsuits?<br /><br />Mankind may never know the answers to these riddles.<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/4850136_1ed5792929.jpg" style="width: 241px; height: 180px;" align="right" /><br />Sagan didn’t believe that aliens had ever visited the earth, but I disagree. The way I see it, there is <span style="font-style: italic;">some</span> evidence that aliens exist and have visited us, and there is <span style="font-style: italic;">no</span> evidence that they haven’t. Let me explain. On the pro-alien side we have:<br /><br /><ol> <li>Countless eye-witness accounts from toothless Appalachian hill people,</li> <li>The fact that movie special-effects are so freakin’ realistic nowadays that it’s literally <span style="font-style: italic;">impossible</span> for them to be fake, and</li> <li>The fact that two of our Apollo 11 astronauts were strangled to death by “moon monsters” soon after they returned to earth in 1969 <span style="font-size:85%;">(source: toothless Appalachian hillbilly and personal friend)</span>.</li> </ol><br />If I remember logic 101 correctly, it’s impossible to prove that something <span style="font-style: italic;">doesn’t</span> exist; therefore, according to our time-honored, evidence based, system of jurisprudence I’m compelled to believe that aliens exist, live among us, and eat, in the best case scenarios, only human flesh.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1108147037095960732005-02-14T06:25:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:00:57.493-05:00Mirror From The FutureAccenture Technology has <a href="http://www.newscientist.com/article.ns?id=dn6952">created a mirror</a> that will monitor your behaviors and habits throughout the day, then reflect not what you look like now, but what you <u>will</u> look like in the distant future! So, if the mirror notices that you sneak a few Ding Dongs in the middle of the night, for example, it will begin to reflect your image as a big old Marlon Brando lookin' sack of lard.<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/4624199_4789580485.jpg" style="width: 108px; height: 139px;" align="left" /><br /><br />While this mirror sounds pretty neat, what I would <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> like is a mirror that reflected the contents of my own brain. If I had a mirror that reflected my private thoughts, every time I looked into it, day or night, I would see Patrick Swayzy in a fight to the death with an alien robot. Then Swayzy would finally kill the robot with a graceful, even <span style="font-style: italic;">sexy</span>, kick to the head; but then he would remove the robot's metal helmet and see his own father's lifeless face underneath. Then he'd look up to the heavens and scream, "NOOOOOOO! Not PAPA SWAYZY!!"<br /><br />Now, I would pay good money for a mirror like <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span>.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1107140777406979962005-02-04T18:56:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:01:11.983-05:00You Marry The In-LawsYou know how women sometimes say one thing but mean another? Well, one time my girlfriend in college went on and on, for hours, about how she couldn't believe she was "with someone like me", and about how all she needed was for someone to treat her with "a little kindness". She asked me to "please listen" to her, etc. This conversation lasted for about two hours and the whole time I sat there wondering, "What is she trying to say? What does she <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> mean?"<br /><br />Then it dawned on me. "Oh, I get it!", I thought, "She wants me to play more practical jokes on her!"<br /><img src="http://photos1.flickr.com/4128789_6e9403f083_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />So, that afternoon she fell asleep on the couch and I snuck up as quietly as I could and shaved off one of her eyebrows.<br /><br />Oh man, You should have seen her that night as she was getting ready to act as the bride's maid in her sister's wedding. She was just totally...<br /><br />... Well... I don't know. I guess I never actually saw her <span style="font-style: italic;">laughing</span> now that I think about it, but I might have missed it while I was watching TV.<br /><br />But, my point is, her brother and his friends ransacked my apartment that night while I was gone, so I had to break up with her. I'm not dating anyone with a crazy family.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1107392653501887702005-02-03T06:48:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:01:29.770-05:00Harvesting Coat HangersI’m pro-environment. I don’t mean that in the “I recycle and refrain from disposing of old tires in local streams” sense of the word. I mean it in the “I like folk music and think Earth First chicks are babes” sense of the word.<br /><br />I just read an article, however, that's a good illustration of why environmentally friendly technologies will never really catch on as long as humans have Walmarts. Lois Walpole made botanical headlines by <a href="http://www.rbgkew.org.uk/whatsnew/coathanger.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">growing</span> a coat hanger</a> right out of the earth, proving that “functional products can be grown”. The hippies below are just finding out about this discovery.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/4176583_41c0873e14.jpg" style="width: 305px; height: 229px;" /><br /></div><br />The article goes on to say,<br /><br /><blockquote>"The coat hanger was the first of the 36 products growing on site to be harvested. The majority of the remainder will be ready to harvest over the next three years.”</blockquote><br /><br />Not only is this process environmentally friendly, but it’s <span style="font-style: italic;">insanely</span> cool. It’s so cool, in fact, that I figure if I started growing my own coat hangers I’d have Fiona Apple & Alanis Morrissette fighting over me within two weeks. I mean literally fighting, like with their fists, or maybe even with knives or other weapons. At least that's how I imagine it.<br /><br />However, when you mention that it takes three years to <span style="font-style: italic;">not quite</span> produce 36 hangers, most reasonable people will congratulate you, then go to Walmart. It’s inefficiencies like these that account for the fact that environmentalists always lose at everything that they do.<br /><br />That and the fact that so many of them smell bad. That’s not helping the cause at all, seriously.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1106628672375754272005-02-02T06:44:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:01:51.316-05:00Street CredEver since I <a href="http://crapples.blogspot.com/2004/12/new-year-wish.html">revealed to my readers</a> that I have a certain reputation in the hip-hop community, I've been stopped many times by people who say, "Hey! Crapples! How can I get more <span style="font-style: italic;">street cred</span> with the rappers in my neighborhood?"<br /><br />In response, I thought I'd publish a few useful tips. I'll start with the basics:<br /><br />1 - Right from the beginning, let your hip hop associates know that you're there to keep it on the down-low. That tends to ease their nerves and it establishes your good intentions.<br /><img src="http://photos2.flickr.com/3786736_777636d189_m.jpg" style="width: 126px; height: 126px;" align="left" /><br />2 - Reach into their world. For example, if you're talking about music with a "playa" or "gangsta" (note: many times it's appropriate to delete or modify the last letter of a word when talking to members of the hip hop community) instead of talking about bands that <span style="font-style: italic;">you're</span> interested in, try to open your mind to some of <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> artists. Drop the names of Vanilla Ice, <a href="http://www.wirthentertainment.com/Hootie%20&%20the%20Blowfish%202003.jpg">Hootie</a>, Blondie, Markie Mark, or some other popular rap musicians. You'll be surprised how often a little courtesy like this will lead you into a real nice heart-to-heart.<br /><br />3 - The third suggestion might be the most powerful of all: Never underestimate the power of a home baked batch of cookies.<br /><br />Finally, <span style="font-style: italic;">be sincere</span>. If they start to suspect that you're insincere about your intentions, it can get crunk in the hizzle before you even <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> what happened.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1106879416985926002005-02-01T06:26:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:02:06.790-05:00Fighting Strategies<span style="font-size:100%;">I’ve never been in a fight with a human being before, but I have some pretty good ideas about how I would win one if I had to.<br /><br />The first thing I would do in a fight would be to defeat my enemy with <span style="font-style: italic;">superior technology</span>. I learned this technique from the Iraq war. For example, maybe I would start off by defeating him with radar. If I couldn’t figure out <span style="font-style: italic;">how</span> to win a fight with radar, I would just look it up on the internet, which is an excellent example of using <span style="font-style: italic;">multiple</span> technologies.<br /><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/4004384_598ace5843.jpg" style="width: 153px; height: 223px;" align="left" /><br />If my internet connection was out or something my backup plan would be to get totally Yoda on him. For example, if he was coming at me to punch me, maybe I’d look down at the ground and start <span style="font-style: italic;">thinking</span>, or possibly <span style="font-style: italic;">concentrating</span>. I don't know what this does exactly, but it works really well for Yoda, and probably for me.<br /><br />The last idea I had is this: You know how some guys can throw their voices? Well, I’d bet anything that I can too. So, what I’d do is throw my voice right behind my enemy and I’d say something weird like, “Monkey Chow” so that the guy would figure that someone right behind him was saying “Monkey Chow” for no reason. When he turned around to figure out why something so weird was happening, that would be my chance to hammer-strike him right in the back of the head.<br /><br />Warning: You shouldn’t think that you can defeat me now that you know my strategies, because I have a lot of others that I'm choosing not to reveal here.<br /></span>bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1106766862007950322005-01-31T18:46:00.000-06:002005-04-27T15:06:14.906-05:00What Women Want, Part III need to apologize to my readers, as I may have led them wrong. <a href="http://crapples.blogspot.com/2005/01/what-women-want.html">In my post last week</a> I told you about my plan to impress my wife, and presumably all other women in town, by wrestling and killing a zoo-elephant with my bare hands. I believe it's my obligation to report that my plan may have been illconcieved. Here are just a few of the things that I seem to have miscalculated:<br /><img src="http://photos2.flickr.com/3836950_e4d6728231.jpg" style="width: 140px; height: 206px;" align="left" /><br />1 - Have you <span style="font-style: italic;">seen</span> an elephant? These things are frickin' <span style="font-weight: bold;">huge</span>. I couldn't even get my hands around this monster's throat, let alone strangle it to death in the hopes of getting my wife to love me more.<br /><br />2 - When a giant zoo-elephant throws you headlong into a steel fence, the experience is <span style="font-style: italic;">worlds</span> apart from the other painful things that I've endured in my life (e.g., sore throats, splinters, ice cream headaches, shoes tied too tight, etc.) This was pain on a whole new level that I, frankly, didn't even know existed.<br /><br />3 - Most surprising of all, my wife didn't even seem impressed. But, I still wonder if that's because I failed to actually kill the animal. I may never know for sure on that one.<br /><br />4 - Apparently it's a federal offence to kill a zoo-elephant in this country. But, honestly, I don't know why we needed to make <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> into a law. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think those things are pretty much un-<span style="font-style: italic;">kill</span>able. I mean right before he stepped on my rib cage for the second time I was squeezing his trunk as hard as I possibly could and it didn't even seem to <span style="font-style: italic;">phase</span> him.<br /><br />Anyway, writing with this key-poker strapped to my forehead is exhausting. I just wanted to apologize. I hope no one followed my advice before reading this.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022449.post-1104273710192724192005-01-28T16:06:00.000-06:002006-09-01T17:32:13.353-05:00The Theory of RelativityThe other day I was driving down the road with this guy I know when he saw a VW Rabbit driving along. He said, “I love those little cars”. I said, “<span style="font-style: italic;">Little</span>? What if an ant was that size? Would it be little?” He was quiet for a few seconds (probably because he knew he couldn’t defend his position). Then he said, dryly, “Well, that would be a huge ant, obviously.”<br /><br />I would have continued to pursue the point, but he had a change of plans and asked me to drop him off right there in the middle of town.<br /><br />Another example: It took me two hours to write a one page document that a woman I work with needed. When I gave it to her she said, “What took so long?” I said, “Long? What if World War Two lasted for 2 hours?” She mumbled something about me being a jerk and about how <span style="font-style: italic;">someone</span> should be fired – or maybe it was “tired”, I don’t know. I didn’t catch all of it. But my point is, people just don't want to discuss high level intellectual concepts, like the theory of relativity, anymore.bwricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09656561432477319191noreply@blogger.com0