Television of Dubious Taste

A few days ago, I was flipping through channels at my parents' house, and I came across Hogan's Heroes on TV Land. I paused for a few moments to enjoy the raucous antics of those wacky Nazis in that hotbed of hilarity: the concentration camp. My brother happened to wander into the room, and he looked at the TV and said, "Hey what are you.... wh.... are those NAZIS!? On a sitcom!?" What's not to understand? What could be funnier than a zany group of cute and befuddled Nazis?

This got me thinking about the nature of television. I've read a lot of articles about how the quality of television has waned in the last several decades. With reality television, MTV, professional wrestling, and Cold Case dominating the airwaves, I guess television critics are understandably weary of poor-quality shows. But their nostalgia for a golden age of television is sorely misplaced.

I'd love to meet Mr. Sensitive who green-lit Hogan's Heroes... like 15 years after World War II ended. "Yea, I think the Jews have had plenty of time to get over that whole Holocaust thing. Besides, surely it was more fun than they let on. Nazis are HILARIOUS!" I kinda like Hogan's Heroes because I'm a cynical and insensitive prick, but I just don't see how it caught on like wildfire back in the day. (Side Note: Did you know Colonel Klink was played by a Jewish guy!?)

But lest you think the Nazis were having all the fun, let's not forget about some other gems. What about I Dream of Jeannie? A show with a slave girl who lives in a bottle will do the bidding of her "master" while wearing a slinky genie outfit has absolutely NO misogynistic overtones AT ALL! What woman would not want to serve her man unconditionally while never having free will or the ability to leave her home? God bless 60s TV for showing us how women REALLY want to be treated.

But if the social messages of the 60s aren't your cup of tea, TV can still provide you some bat-shit insane concepts that should have never gotten beyond the planning stages. When Billy Bob from the Ozarks somehow wandered into a television studio and said, "Hey, I gots an idea about a guy who lives with a talking horse!" an assistant should have written his idea down on a piece of paper, dropped it on the floor, and then promptly taken a big shit on it. How did a show about a talking horse survive for five years!!?? The mind reels!! Of course, this is the same decade that gave us the Adam West Batman series, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

And what the fuck was The Flying Nun? I'd heard of it before, but I assumed that there must be some sort of wordplay at work. Maybe she was air pilot. Maybe she was an avid kite enthusiast. I was wrong. Wikipedia informs me that the show was actually about a nun who could fly... like Superman!! That show lasted THREE years. Somebody explain this shit to me.

Most of these shows were, of course, made with tongue firmly planted in cheek; however, I just wonder about the pitch process for sitcoms at the time. I want to know what kinds of shows were rejected. "Sorry, Frank, but your show about a penguin astronaut is far too ridiculous. Come back with a flying nun or a talking horse and you've got yourself a deal." Actually, there was a show in the 60s called My Mother the Car, which lasted for only a single season. The premise was exactly what you'd expect. Some guy purchases a car that's possessed by the spirit of his dead mother. Apparently, critics and audiences universally despised the show, and this boggles the mind!! A talking horse enchants the public, but a talking car just doesn't cut the mustard? The situation becomes even more baffling when you realize that Knight Rider would be hugely popular only 15 years later.

If only TV execs had this mindset today. I'd be able to sell my uproarious sitcom about a chicken who travels through space and time with a rocket pack. I call it The Rooster Booster.

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9 out of 10 readers have seen the show Greatest American Dog and believe that this show single-handedly refutes JP's argument. The last reader is still too busy organizing his petition to bring back My Mother the Car.

A Shoe Fit for a Monarch

"The Monarch has his hands in many sinister soups." -- The Monarch

One of my favorite shows on TV right now doesn't get many props. That show is The Venture Bros. on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. The show has been on for years, but it seems to be ignored even by people who watch everything else on Adult Swim. I can understand this behavior. When I first watched a few episodes of the show back when I was in undergrad, I didn't really care for it either. The show didn't really seem to make sense, and most of the material didn't seem that funny.

Batmite, as he tends to do, berated me for my lack of taste. He said it was one of the funniest shows he'd ever seen. He gave me the first two seasons of the show, and once I sat down and watched the show in order, it really showed itself to be one of the most intelligently-written comedies on television right now. The humor, however, comes from knowing the characters, their behavior, and the various plots that the show maintains. I can't believe I'm tempted to use the term "story arcs" to describe a cartoon show.

At the most basic level, the show is a parody of Johnny Quest and other "adventure" cartoons of the 60s and 70s. Imagine that Johnny Quest grew up to resent his father and became a failure as a scientist, father, and human being. That's Dr. Thaddeus "Rusty" Venture in a nutshell. He's the father of the titular Venture brothers, Hank and Dean, who act like just about any teenager from a 70s cartoon show, complete with lines like "Golly, Pop!" or "It must be that no-good ne'er-do-well ninja!" Even though the show is named after them, Hank and Dean seldom play a major role in any given episode. They're not exactly dumb; they're just really juvenile. The whole family is protected by Brock Sampson, their bodyguard... and by "bodyguard," I mean a human killing machine with blood lust that would put Dracula to shame. Brock Sampson once killed a man using his sphincter! You have to see it to believe it.

The show features a huge assortment of colorful supporting characters, all of whom represent sublime failure in all its glory. But my favorite character is without question The Monarch (pictured at the very top of this post). The Monarch loathes Dr. Venture for reasons that are never really explained, but he takes such pleasure in his role as a villain. He is genuinely upset to find out that his name isn't in the handbook for the Guild of Calamitous Intent (sort of like the Legion of Doom from the Superfriends). He gives dramatic villainous speeches at the drop of a hat, but his schemes are never particularly menacing. In one episode, he gets into Dr. Venture's laboratory, but he doesn't know what to do. So he takes a dump in his toilet but doesn't flush. "LET HIM SEE THE WRATH OF THE MONARCH!" he declares triumphantly.

The most recent episode of the show ("Tears of a Sea Cow") featured the Monarch almost exclusively. The Monarch becomes bored with his new arch-nemesis, so he sneaks into the Venture Compound at night with his two favorite henchmen just to screw with Dr. Venture. He spits on a microscope slide, takes a dump in his pool, and then sodomizes Venture's robot. The episodes with very little plot are often my favorite.

The Monarch's henchmen are glorious characters in their own right. #21 is an overweight comic-book nerd who loves his job as a henchman and often geeks out over nifty gadgets and cool plotlines. He's always seen with the taller nasal-voiced #24 who seems to be in the henchman gig just for the paycheck. Their dialogue could be the entire episode as far as I'm concerned.

But my love for the Monarch is unrivaled. Yesterday, I went to the shoe store to find some new running shoes. My old ones were making the soles of my feet hurt. So I get to the store and narrow my selection to two pairs. This was not a particularly difficult problem since shoe stores have about four pairs of size 15 shoes in the entire building. I couldn't decide which pair to buy. One was New Balance and the other was Nike. I put one of each pair on each foot. They were both the same price, and they both felt about the same; however, the Nike pair had the following logo on it:
I figured that was as good a reason as any. If they were good enough for the Monarch, they were good enough for me.

Unfortunately, I wore these new shoes to go jogging today, and while they did indeed provide necessary cushioning to the bottoms of my feet, they also rubbed two layers of skin off of the top of my left pinky toe.

I SAW THE WRATH OF THE MONARCH!!
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The Venture Bros: Currently in its 3rd season. Go find the first two seasons and enjoy! Satisfaction Guaranteed or your money back!

*Satisfaction will be measured according to a painful process involving electrodes, poisoned needles, three attack dogs, and a pile of compost. Attempts to reclaim money without proof of purchase, proper identification, three photo IDs, a tattoo of a naked Nigerian on you ass, a stool sample, and twelve cherry pies to serve as a bribe will be met with mocking laughter and.... I suppose death or something. Your patronage is important to us, but our own money and greed is MORE important to us.

[UPDATE: I neglected to mention one of my favorite trivial aspects of the show. The creators have the same unbridled love for puns, wordplay, and allusions in their episode titles that I do. Some of my favorites include: "Tag Sale, You're It", "Mid-Life Chrysalis", "I Know Why the Caged Bird Kills", "The Doctor is Sin", "Home is Where the Hate Is", and the upcoming "Now Museum, Now You Don't." Anyone with even a passing awareness of the titles for my posts will understand why I'm a fan.]

A Knight to Remember

"This town deserves a better class of criminal. And I'm going to give it to them." - The Joker

Unless you've been living on the moon for six months, you know that today (Friday July 18) marked the premiere of The Dark Knight, the Bat-sequel to the 2005 movie Batman Begins. Like the true nerdy man-child that I am, I went to the midnight showing at the South Pike Cinemas last night, and I now have a command for anyone who may be reading this right now:

SEE THIS MOVIE!!!

That's not a suggestion. And I'm not talking from the viewpoint of someone who gets a boner for superhero movies. And this is not awesome in the way that Highlander or Star Trek V are awesome. This is not just a great superhero movie. This is a fantastic film by all counts. I command all of you to see it!

"I believe that whatever doesn't kill you makes you.... stranger." - The Joker

This movie picks up where Batman Begins left off. Batman has become legendary in Gotham City. Criminals fear him. Wannabes imitate him. The police and mayor revere him. As promised in the last movie, Batman is proving that good can triumph in his city.

Then the Joker shows up. And that's exactly how it happens. He just turns up. There is no origin story for the Joker, unless you count the three completely different tales that he provides regarding the origins of the smile-shaped scar on his face. The Joker brings chaos and pandemonium to Gotham simply because, as Alfred says...

"Some men just want to watch the world burn." - Alfred

Anything you've heard about the performance from the late Heath Ledger cannot begin to describe his take on the Joker. I've heard some critics claim that Ledger should win a posthumous Oscar for his performance, and while I think that's a bit premature, I wouldn't be surprised to see him nominated. His Joker is an amoral, depraved sociopath with zero empathy, and you can't help but laugh at his lines and behavior - and then feel dirty for laughing. Ledger also has this way of licking his chops while he talks so it sounds like he's chewing on every word. That's sounds a bit odd, but when you see the movie (remember, that's a command!) you'll know what I mean.

"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to watch yourself become the villain." - Harvey Dent

The Joker certainly drives all the action in the story, but he doesn't represent the emotional core of the story. Hell, even Batman isn't really the character with an arc. Batman's dual identity is firmly established. The real drive of this story comes from Harvey Dent, played by Aaron Eckhart.

Anyone with even a passing familiarity with the Batman universe should know that I'm not spoiling anything when I say that Harvey's story doesn't have a happy ending. (A link for the less informed) Harvey Dent is the newly elected District Attorney in Gotham City, and he becomes the newest and most influential ally for Batman. Batman considers him to be a "white knight" because he's able to take down the criminals according to the law and without hiding his identity. Bruce Wayne, however, has more conflicted feelings because Harvey is madly in love with his former love interest Rachel Dawes (now played by the much more talented Maggie Gyllenhaal instead of Katie Holmes). The Joker takes a particular interest in bringing down Harvey Dent, because he thinks that any man can be driven nuts if the circumstances are bad enough. Batman fans will understand when I say that it takes "just one bad day," and Harvey gets a doozy!

"Introduce a little anarchy... Upset the established order... Then everyone loses their minds!" - The Joker

The movie gives a clear picture of a city that was beginning to see hope but then goes completely to shit. You get the perspectives of the entire city including the politicians, the police, the corporate world, the citizens, and even the mob. The Joker creates pandemonium, not just within the story, but for the audience as well. Don't think that just because you've seen 20 superhero movies that you know how this one will turn out. No character is safe, and by the end of the movie, if you want to be in Batman's shoes, then you are a sadistic glutton for personal torment.

The fact that it's a badass Batman movie is enough of a delight, but that this is a tremendous movie by any standard made it a real treat. I've never unabashedly gushed about a movie on my blog before (most of my commentary is snarky and sarcastic), but this movie deserves it. My only complaint is that the theater I was in must have been at least 100 degrees! Didn't these people ever hear of air conditioning? Jesus, it smelled like Gotham City in there. But in any case, unless you hate good things, you will love this movie!

"I BELIEVE IN HARVEY DENT!!" - Bruce Wayne

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10 out of 10 readers will be seeing this movie, because if they don't, JP will personally hunt them down and burn the left sides of their faces.

Things Will Be Different

While searching YouTube for a clip for my previous post, I came across this segment of a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode called "Tapestry." I know what the context of this scene is, but it's far more fun when you have no idea what's going on...

Oh Picard, you scallywag!

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Q: Loving and leaving hapless starship captains since Stardate 56753.2

The First Book in My "Q"

NERD ALERT: The following post may revel in geekdom in a manner that may cause discomfort for some readers. If talk of multiverses, starships, and omnipotent beings causes your stomach to churn unpleasantly, you may wish to give this post a miss.

For some time now, I've lamented the fact that I haven't been able to read for pleasure in years. Sure, I've had plenty of books assigned for class that I've casually disregarded in favor of a SparkNotes or Wikipedia summary. And maybe I've read countless articles about The Venture Bros., Star Trek, or Battlestar Galactica. And there's always fun (in every sense of the word) to be had in the realm of online erotica. But I haven't been able to truly enjoy reading for fun in a long time.

When summer first started, I tried to read a book that Batmite gave me called About a Boy by Nick Hornby. The problem was that the book was too good. It was well-written, nicely paced, and had a believable protagonist living an almost DeLillo-esque life. As the previous sentence illustrates, I couldn't help but analyze the damn thing. Much I didn't want it to, my analytical Englishy skills kept creeping into my head. I left the book in the bathroom for weeks without reading it. I'd amuse myself with old issues of my brother's Game Informer magazine or some articles out of our family's Bathroom Reader collection.

But then Batmite came through for me. While on a trip to San Diego, Batmite was browsing through a bookstore when he came across a book that he knew I must have! It was Q-Squared by Peter David. Sale price: $5.99.

As even the most casual of my readers must realize, I am quite a Star Trek fan. I don't speak Klingon or anything, but I've seen almost every episode of all five series. It's a sad admission really... there's a reason I don't advertise that particular fountain of knowledge. I can drive women away all on my own without throwing that little gem out there.

In any event, the cover had me at "hello." The book promises to bring back the beloved character Q (left of Picard on the cover) and reunite him with the flamboyant Trelane from the original Star Trek TV series (to the right of Picard and pictured at the top of this post). Not only that, but for some reason, two guys are engaged in an epic lightsaber duel with lightning that belongs at the climax of Highlander. I was mildly annoyed that some artist thought that lightsabers were part of the Star Trek universe, but believe it or not, that scene actually occurs in the book.

For those who may not enjoy the Trek as much as I do, let me explain the awesomeness of this whole concept. Trelane was a one-shot character in an episode of the original Star Trek called "The Squire of Gothos." Trelane was a powerful energy being of some sort that watched Earth from the distant planet of Gothos. But Trelane neglected to consider how long it takes for light to reach a planet that's so far away, so he was actually viewing earth of the 19th century. As a result, he acts like a pompous dandy with god-like powers. Kirk, because he can punch God in the face and live to tell about it, was not impressed by Trelane. It turns out that Trelane was actually a child, and the episode ends with Trelane being grounded by his parents. You can't help but love how completely over-the-top the actor's performance was! This guy was the original closet case.

Q, on the other hand, is this condescending omnipotent being from the Q-Continuum who toys with the crew of Picard's Enterprise from time to time. This book contends that Trelane and Q are actually part of the same race, and Trelane shows up on Picard's Enterprise as Q's apprentice.

The details aren't really important. What matters is that the book is a fanboy's wet dream. Not only do the characters rattle off mundane trivia from countless episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation (and sadly I picked up on every reference), but apparently Q and Trelane are responsible for just about every major event in the Star Trek universe. Not only that, but the narrative shifts between the "normal" universe and an alternate universe. Fanboys love alternate universes. It means they can do whatever the hell they want with the characters. So Picard is serving as first officer under his long-dead best friend and having an affair with the doctor. Riker and Troi are married with a son. Worf is a renegade Klingon who essentially kicks everyone's ass in the book. Lieutenant Yar never died. Data is human. LaForge isn't blind. Peter David just does whatever the hell he wants.

And I fucking loved it! The book isn't really all that good by English major standards, but it was damn good fun for a Star Trek dork like me. I couldn't put the damn thing down. The book was terrible and awesome at the same time. It was like watching Red Dawn or any Steven Segal movie. How can you not love a book that ends with Picard fencing with Trelane on a planet called Terminus?

This book was exactly what I needed to jump start a more leisurely reading queue. There was absolutely no way to bring my English skills to bear on this book. I've got a few other books to start on now, and I think I can read them with a clear head.

And so, without further ado, (and because no one reading this probably gives a shit about this post), I'll simply leave you with a legitimately sweet Q quote from the book:

"You accuse me arrogance? Picard, I could blast this ship out of existence if I felt like it. I could grow hair on your head, turn your crew into embryos, force Worf to recite doggerel. I could turn your ship inside out, your reality outside in. I am not being condescending, Picard... not that I'm incapable of it, you understand, but this simply isn't one of the times. Now, what I most definitely am, Picard, is arrogant. Why? Because I have a reason to be. I have a right to be. So... mortal... what's your excuse?" -- Q

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Q-Squared: Google informs that this is also the name of a gay community organization in Seattle. Perhaps our friend Trelane will find acceptance after all.

The Great Indoors

I don't think I'll ever fully understand the allure of roughing it. I enjoy viewing and appreciating nature, but when it comes to interacting with nature, I'll take a pass.

Yesterday, I went camping... like real camping... in a tent out in Crooked Creek park. I haven't been camping in over seven years. Sure, I've gone to my friend's cabin in Cook's Forest a few times, but that's really more like living just below the poverty line than actually existing in the outdoors. You're essentially living in a small house without air conditioning. I can deal with that for a few days, but actually camping out in a tent is a whole different beast.

Believe it or not (and you should since I've mentioned it before), I'm an Eagle Scout. That means that I've spent countless hours camping in a tent while I was growing up. To be honest, I'm not sure how I made it through the Boy Scouts. I've always been a man of the modern age. I have no interest in cooking over a campfire, sleeping on the dirt, or swatting mosquitoes off of my arms and legs all night. This is why people invented things. Someone was living that existence and said, "This is shit! I'm inventing a stove and a goddamn mattress!"

The weather was not particularly pleasant last night, so when it started to rain, my camping compatriots and I scrambled into the already sweltering tent. The rain added our friend humidity to the mix. And then I had bug spray all over my arms and legs because I had no desire to get the fucking West Nile Virus from the rampaging hoards of mosquitoes that infest the outdoors at dusk. My arms were sticky, the tent was like a sauna, and there I was flat on the ground because my puny human brain didn't think to bring sufficient padding for me to sleep on.

Lest you think I didn't enjoy myself, the trip on the whole was actually pretty fun. It was just the sleepless night spent in the torture chamber of my own devising that was unpleasant. During the day, we went down to the "beach" along Crooked Creek Lake. After applying SPF 50 sunscreen to my pasty body, I enjoyed the white trash equivalent of a day at the beach. I say this because the beach had an honor policy for guests to pay a fee of one dollar for using the beach. My honorable friends and I ignored said policy. There were no lifeguards or park personnel to enforce the rule, and as any good cynic knows, it's only a rule if you get caught. I think one of my friends did pay though. Way to make the rest of us look bad, asshole!

After a healthy lunch of kielbasa and sweet sausage, Joe's parents picked us up on their boat, and we went fishing on the Allegheny River. This brings me to the other outdoor activity for which I have no love: fishing.

Well, that's not entirely accurate. 95% of the time spent fishing is very enjoyable, because if you're with a good group, you spend hours getting drunk and shooting the shit and maybe five minutes actually dealing with the fish. It's fish time that I hate. Fish are fucking disgusting. I don't want anything to do with a fish unless it's battered, deep fried, served with tartar sauce, and possibly injected with some form of cheddar-jack cheese. Fish in their natural form look like something out of a bad episode of Star Trek.
The sad part is that I caught three small catfish while out on the boat yesterday, and like the true epitome of manliness that I am, I had someone else dispose of my fishy friends. I felt like a huge pansy until Joe yelled to Fryar, "Watch out! Its tail fin can sting you!" So not only are fish slimy and riddled with mercury, but they also sting! Fryar almost got bitch slapped by the tail of one fish. I've heard some of them even bite. I'll leave the capturing of animals for food to the experts, thank you very much. Bring Admiral Ackbar to me when he's garnished with lemon and parsley.

And for those keeping score, I don't like to hunt either.

By now you're probably thinking, "Wow! They must just give those Eagle Scout awards away for nothing!" That's only partially true (at least in the Mormon-run scout troop that I was in). I have the skills to deal with the outdoors. I can start a fire, set up a tent, and identify the leaves of poisonous stuff (though I wouldn't bet your life on my memory). I just don't like to do it. I still can't figure out why I stayed with the Boy Scouts for so long. I guess I was a glutton for punishment from way back. It was like a trial run for grad school.

I like the outdoors... just let me handle it with all sorts of creature comforts at my disposal. Let other people appreciate the great outdoors. I'll appreciate my nice soft mattress and air conditioning - and the blog that lets me bitch about all of it.

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The Boy Scouts of America: Implementing a new policy of rescinding Eagle Awards for the undeserving since 2008.

A Male of Two Cities

Morgantown is a town in West Virginia that centers around one major industry: West Virginia University. Kittanning is a smaller town in Pennsylvania that centers around one major industry: failure. I've pretty much exhausted what these two booming metropolises have to offer.

For the summer, I've been spending most of my time in Kittanning living in my parents' basement like the sad little single Star Trek fan that I am. There's really not a lot to do here, but I'm living in a house for free and getting meals for free. It's hard to pass up a setup like that when one is gainfully unemployed.

However, last week I went back to Morgantown to visit. Batmite had returned from his cross-country excursion with his parents, and so I decided to stick around the old college town for a few days. I managed to have quite a lot to do. I like the general atmosphere of Morgantown in the summer. With almost all of the student population at home for the summer, the locals retake the town. The town was not designed to handle a student population of close to 30,000, so Morgantown feels like it's actually at its nominal capacity in the summertime. It's like a celebration of normalcy... if drunk, bearded, overall-clad rednecks hobbling down the streets can be considered normal. Nevertheless, the year-round Morgantownians seem so damned happy with the change of pace, so it seems like a yearly resurgence for them.

Kittanning, on the other hand, is always the same depressed little hamlet. While there are sane, rational, well-educated people in Kittanning, most of them are smart enough to remain in their own homes or travel to other places for fun. As a result, the usual bar scene in Kittanning provides a gamut of failure for the casual patron to observe. Your typical bar-townie is a friendly sort, but it doesn't take long before you realize that his or her jolly demeanor and almost religious fervor for drinking is masking the fact that this individual has no higher aspirations. A good Kittanning bar guy will not only stare at you with a glazed expression on his face when you tell him that you have a Masters degree in English, but he'll also loudly proclaim that you're a pretentious asshole for wanting to live somewhere else, and he demands to know why you're too good to just pick mushrooms in the mines or mold toilets at Eljer.

Kittanning and Morgantown aren't that different. Both towns have people with similar lifestyles and interests, but while Kittanning feels like a fountain of wasted lives, the people in Morgantown revel in their behavior. When Batmite was at the local bar in Morgantown making fun of inbreds, there was no shame in the bartender's voice when he bellowed, "You have a problem with inbreds???" This is the same bar where several old guys were reminiscing about how the Nazis get a bad rap. Batmite hesitates to go there now.

In either place, I must contend with that white trash, hill-folk lifestyle that adores NASCAR, nigger jokes, and huntin' shit. But in Morgantown, the people have no insecurities. They don't care if you don't like their ways since they have love enough for everyone!

In Kittanning, if you don't like to hunt, well they don't take too kindly to queers in these here parts.

Can y'all say, "insecure"?

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Morgantown and Kittanning: Two towns that are now hanging signs in their bars warning bartenders not to serve anyone with the initials "JP."

For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

Even Picard commands it: ENGAGE!

Two years ago, when I graduated from Penn State Erie, I felt like I was keeping step with my peers. I was 22 years old. I had just finished my undergrad. Grad school was just on the horizon. The adult world seemed unsettling and monotonous, but at least everyone else seemed to be in the same boat.

Fast forward two years. In that time, I've become disenchanted with grad school, which consumed two years of my life. While I was whiling away the days, weeks, and months in the bowels of libraries and classrooms, everyone else was out finding real jobs with real pay and real locks on the bathroom doors. But what's worse is that two of my friends got married and two more got engaged. This is what happens when people become adults. Adult-type things start to happen. The worst example of this occurred last weekend when my younger brother got engaged.

Nothing makes a single, unemployed, former English major who's living in his parents' basement take stock of his life quite like seeing everyone he knows getting married. My younger brother's engagement certainly encourages some people to wonder: What the fuck is wrong with JP? Granted, I know the real reason is that I just haven't found the right woman for me (or at least knocked up one who's desperate enough to take whatever she can get); however, it still seems to reflect poorly on your friendly neighborhood blogger.

I'll give credit where it's due. Most people have been surprisingly understanding. I haven't been given much grief about the whole thing (until my friends found out that it was bothering me, thus causing them to berate me mercilessly as any good friends would). My youngest brother's high school graduation took place this weekend, and I fully expected my relatives to harp on me once they found out about my brother's engagement. After all, I'm a sarcastic asshole with no tact or pity for others, and I know from where those traits come. But no one really gave me any trouble about it. I got a lot more questions about being unemployed, and such conversations don't shine the flattering light in this direction any more than a weight scale does.

It seems like everyone else is growing up to embrace the adult world, and I'm sitting here mentally screaming, "I DON'T WANNA GROW UP!! I'M A TOYS R' US KID!!" Getting engaged is the first step on the road to massive responsibility. Don't you remember that taunt that grade schoolers would shout? "First comes love! Then comes marriage! Then comes [insert poor kid's name here] pushing a baby carriage!" Babies tend to follow shortly after these weddings. I can barely handle my whiny cat let alone a fetal-fresh baby that reeks of sour milk and feces. Though if I were lucky, I'd have a little evil baby that had a blood-lust for felines. Still, I'm barely mature enough to watch Law & Order without snickering when they use the word "duty." I don't think I'm in any position to act as a mature adult figure for my potential offspring. Hell, I'd probably enjoy watching cartoons more than he or she would.

Nobody's saying anything about me not being engaged or having a girlfriend, but it's got to be going through people's minds. I'm sure I'll eventually find something resembling a woman who will want to marry me, and then I'll shit on everyone's expectations by having a five-minute wedding in the courthouse with the justice of the peace followed by a reception at the closest Denny's.

I imagine you get carte blanche to do whatever the fuck you want when you don't care about getting married in a church. Let's see if I can find a woman with the same demented sense of humor that I have who will be willing to turn a sacred ceremony into a complete and total farce.

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Your friendly neighborhood blogger: Currently waiting for his real life to begin.