Bradley Cooper, Body Spray and Bathroom Self-Esteem

The Perfect 10

     I'd like to take the time to inform both of my female readers about just how the male brain works.  If you take the time to ask my wife, she'll point out that this is a very hypothetical subject founded in myth and slathered in B.S.  A male brain doesn't work, she'd point out, and then proceed to cite me as an example.  The rookie error here is to attempt to prove her wrong.  Anyone who has been married for over three days knows that arguing with your wife is as ridiculous and devoid of logic as attending a [insert flavor of the month boy band here] concert.  Since I have a 4 year old daughter, this is pretty much inevitable, so I may as well try to argue my point.

     Ok, just kidding!  Women were right all along.  I confess our brains don't really function - at least socially.  That's why we are able to discover the Theory of Relativity, invent television, invent the Internet and  the computer, so if it wasn't for GUYS, there would be no Pinterest (BOOM, LOGIC HAMMER-END OF ARGUMENT).  On the other hand, we're about as predictable as every single superhero movie ever made.  Take Axe Body Spray for example: 

1. It really doesn't stop you from smelling bad.  
2. It doesn't last for more than 2 minutes.  
3. It costs $13 billion per can.  
4. It somehow has an opposite effect on most women causing them to roll their eyes and gag.

     On the other hand, if you show any product to a guy in an advertisement that pretty much guarantees super-frisky, blond, lusty and busty young twenty-somethings will throw themselves at you, it's a slam-dunk marketing win.

     The reason why I find Axe Body Spray so interesting is that its message is actually quite redundant.  On behalf of guys everywhere - EVERY SINGLE TIME WE LOOK AT OURSELVES IN THE MIRROR the Axe commercials are happening in our heads.  Take that to the bank.

     The only times where this has rule has been proven invalid are in the cases of men who have been married for 4+ decades.  Otherwise the following is true:

1. Any guy who is 23490 pounds overweight still sucks in his gut in a mirror, turns sideways and flexes a little and knows he looks awesome.
2. Any guy with overtly awkward facial features can still find a pose that makes him look like Bradley Cooper.
3. Any guy who is bald owns a hat that makes him feel like Indiana Jones.
4. All guys who are bald AND fat may take a little longer to pose sexily for themselves, but it still happens 100% of the time.

     Why then can women resist our powerful manliness and supercharged awesomeness?  I don't really know, but the answer may lie in a few of my latest revelations.

Re-Treading and Other Awesome Guy Things

     If you are a chick who is recently engaged, is dating her first serious boyfriend or is otherwise entirely oblivious to life, I encourage you to skip the second part of this post and click lustily and rhythmically on all of the Google Ads to the left and right.  Doing so will generate the real-life cash necessary for me to clinically research beer and strippers.  Last week, your efforts raised an unheard of $0.02, therefore I re-arranged the layout to incorporate more ads.  Thank me when you're done clicking on them and GET TO WORK.  For the rest of woman-kind, feel free to skip the second part anyhow and roll your eyes as you click on all of my Google Ads - then make sure to link my blog to Pinterest so your female buddies can gush over my sexiness.

     Women, in fact, find it pretty easy to resist our manliness.  This is because despite our awesome physiques and supersexy receding hairlines we typically do 3-5 things per day that they consider to be a "turn-off".  Ironically, when we do these things in front of other guys it forms a bond between us and forces us to high-five each other.  I'll cite a few examples that require little explanation:

1. Farting
2. Looking at other chicks and knowing that they want us - this includes all women in the entire Internet
3. Eating pizza that is old enough to vote
4. Drinking beer and doing #1 and/or #'s 2 and 3 concurrently.

     Then there's the little known things that guys do daily that may require some more explanation

1. Re-Treading: (verb or noun depending on context) - this is the art of wearing underwear past it's shelf life by turning it inside-out thereby shifting all stains 1 millimeter further away and making us feel clean without having to do any laundry.
2. Cupping - this is the art of holding oneself for extended periods of time while sitting on the sofa, THEN secretly smelling your hand when you're done.
3. (I probably should stop here.  That's enough for you women to ponder this week.)

     I'll simply sum up by saying that EVERY single thing that happens to a man in the bathroom is fascinating to us on a personal level.  In fact as I recall from high school - Newton's First Law clearly states "A male object in the bathroom is continuously fascinated by what he is doing until acted upon by another male object"  [pause]

     This is precisely why we try not to talk to each other or even stand near each other in public restrooms.  Doing so threatens to interrupt the Axe Body Spray commercials going on in our heads.  It also pretty much exposes the other person as an alien.  We also tend not to talk because we're too busy laughing at the awful noises that come from the stalls.  Quite frankly I'd rather live inside my own empty head than spend my entire life as my wife does waiting in line for a bathroom break that involves senseless chatter and unnecessary self-doubt when looking in a mirror.

     Besides - When does she ever have the time to appreciate anything she's created in the stall?

-Dave Lumpkin

    

Beer, Pinterest Porn and the Technology Coma

The Technology Coma

     As much as I'd like to take credit for this term, it was actually coined by my brother Drew, who for reasons I cannot disclose here would NOT be elected President of the United States anytime soon.    A technology coma happens when a person is unavailable to the conscious world both mentally and physically due to total immersion in their phone, laptop, tablet or Google Glass which theoretically allows them to see people making fun of them nearby.  Unfortunately, no one has ever actually witnessed anyone else in a state of Technology Coma, because we're all too busy checking our Facebook statuses (or in my wife's case Pinterest)

     An aside here - Pinterest is the female equivalent to porn.  Basically, it gives women 80 trillion free photos and videos to click on that they have no shot at actually doing, but gets them all worked up like they have a chance anyway.  The only difference is that my wife seems unwilling to delete her browser history after logging into Pinterest.

     Occasionally I have the opportunity and option to log off of my phone and catch what's actually going on in the world around me.  This idea came to me via an article from my sister-in-law, posted to Facebook which everyone reads on their phones about how you could become a terrible parent if you pay more attention to the Internet than your own children.  This idea was so intriguing that I immediately popped up from my reading, yelled at my kids to be quiet, and then resumed the article.  HAHAHA JUST KIDDING, EVERYONE KNOWS MY KIDS ARE STILL IN TENNESSEE, I POPPED MY HEAD UP AND SHOUTED AT MY IN-LAWS.

     All of this actually got me to thinking - I'm pretty sure the writer of the article is way out of touch or actually has no kids of her own.  I point this out because my oldest son, Hadyn spends enough time on the iPhone playing video games that a reasonable case can be made that he invented the Internet with Al Gore.  My wife and I usually have to cut the power to the house, turn the stove on until the ambient temperature is around 88 degrees, flush both our phones down the toilet and swear to 3 different deities that there is Internet access available away from the house in order to get him to go outside and play in the grass.

     For those of you who don't know, "grass" is a green substance invented by liberals in UCLA in the early 60's that helped our country invent bar-code scanners, halogen lamps and AstroTurf.  Its current applications are evident in Washington DC politics, has helped Marion Barry get reelected several times, and has helped Frito-Lay (a subdivision of PepsiCo) maintain regular record profits by causing the "munchies".  It can currently be found in Amsterdam, or in your neighbor's living room, whichever is closer.

     To put it succinctly, as I write this article via the Internet that you are likely reading on your phone, it's not my fault!  Now a recent case has been made that texting-and-driving is exactly 2323.3440001 times more dangerous than drinking-and-driving.  I'd like to point out that this is exactly because you don't always have the same access to porn at your local bar.  But I'd like to go further and examine some of the similarities between Technology Comas and alcohol consumption...

Beer versus Texting

     According to everything I remember from elementary school, beer was invented in 1492 by George Washington after he conquered the Aztecs.  Texting was invented when my friend Bobby pulled out a calculator in 5th grade and recited the following:

"A woman's boobs weighed 69 pounds, which she though was 2, 2, 2 much. So she went down 51st street to see DR. X he gave her 8 pills.....which left her.... 

6922251x8= BOOBLESS"

     As I copy-and-paste that, half of you remember that calculator trick and are laughing hysterically and the other half of you are waiting for me to google what a "calculator" is and give you the answer.  At any rate, I've come up with the following air-tight, logically sound comparisons between the Internet/texting/technology comas and alcohol:

1. Both cause you to get in random fights with people you had never met before.
2. Both give you freedom to take off your pants and attract attention to yourself
3. Both make members of the opposite sex look prettier, one via direct chemical manipulation of the brain and the other via photoshop
4. Both allow you to be more social than you actually are: beer does this by lowering your inhibitions and texting allows you to be more social by ignoring everyone else around you.
5. Both cause you to drive like a moron on I-66 Eastbound from approximately 6:00 AM up until 5:59 AM the following day.

     Now that I have enlightened you all to SOME of the dangers of texting, I encourage you to fund my next idea which I will call the "Dave Lumpkin Alcohol Project".  You can donate to me directly, or for free by clicking each and every link to the left and right of this article in such a manner that would cause suspicion from your spouse or partner.  I normally don't disclose what these projects actually do, but I feel like I can trust you enough to say that the "Dave Lumpkin Alcohol Project" will allow me to buy more beer and drink it so that I can type more on the Internet which will in turn allow YOU to be more social.

     And THAT was more truthful than anything you ever got from Marion Barry before he sneezed.

-Dave Lumpkin

Room Cleaning, Traffic Cones and Civic Duty

Teaching the Kids about Being Grown-Ups

     First of all I'd like to apologize for not writing earlier.  I must confess that I had a lot more important things going on in my life, like video games and golf, not to mention the fact that I've been completely stressed out while I'm back in Virginia away from my wife and kids.  As you can imagine, it's been pretty rough being able to wake up whenever I want to while not hearing screaming and fighting, not hearing the moaning and bitching from my lovely bride about the kids and the idiot dog, and having to drink all the beer and Jim Beam I want to without getting lectured and being able to scratch myself with my car keys without anyone rolling their eyes.

     That said, I should point out that I have thought about the kids at least twice a month.  I'm trying to purchase a house for us out in the far reaches of Virginia that commuters and Civil War historians have never heard of.  I was not-shocked, however to discover that the government HAD heard of Rixeyville, and did plan on extending its benevolent tax code to that area.  This got me thinking...at some point I really need to teach the kids about their civic duties and the joys of being a great community participant.

     For those of you who are new to parenthood, I'd like to make light of the fact that teaching the kids about taxation may come with some trial and error.  A common "rookie-mistake" is to take your little ones out Trick-or-Treating during Halloween and institute what is known as a "Daddy-Tax" on their candy-income.  First of all, you won't really be able to teach them how to enjoy paying taxes if you only eat a couple of Tootsie rolls.  They may only grasp the concept that "this sucks" and "I hate my dad".  These feelings generally end when their mother allows them to eat 324502367 pieces of candy that evening and subsequent days after breakfast and dinner for the next 3.7 years.

     In order to REALLY help them enjoy a true Daddy-Tax, you have to run (here's where it gets tricky depending on your current marital situation) for the position of being their father, while promising never to tax Halloween Candy.  Once you are elected (assuming you beat the mailman and gym instructor), you should take 10 seconds to "think" about reducing or eliminating the Daddy-Tax and then point out that it's in the best interest of the family to keep it where it is.  THEN you should raise the tax to an appropriate level, say 33% of their candy earnings, and then collect at the end of the night while your wife isn't looking so you don't get yelled at.

     This is a "rookie mistake" is due to the following reasons:

1. You will never win the election for being Daddy while there is still a mailman or gym instructor
2. Your kids are smarter than tax payers and will never believe you when you promise to eliminate the Daddy-Tax
3. Your kids will collect so much candy that year that you will surely develop an instant case of Type 2 Diabetes.

     Therefore I've developed a NEWER, BOLDER plan of action that requires YOUR help

Dave Lumpkin's Department of Room Cleaning

      If math is a sore subject, feel free to click on all the advertising to the left and right of this article to kill time while skipping the rest of the blog.  The money you generate will go directly to the Dave Lumpkin Stripper Awareness Fund that I'm happy to say has collected well over $10 in it over the last two years thanks to my loyal readers!

     The first thing I plan on doing is holding a vote to determine which of my 2390 kids would like to have as much money as they want.  This, after all is the American Dream.  I plan on copying and pasting a Bill of Rights and promising them all the freedoms we currently enjoy.  I'll have the winner sign a blank piece of paper which I plan on filling in later.

     Let's say the winner of the vote is my second kid, Gabriel who happens to be extremely charismatic and completely devoid of common sense.  I'll ask Gabriel to tell me how much money he wants to make per week and then agree to that figure.  Let's say it's in the neighborhood of 23 trillion dollars.  He will again sign a piece of paper that says something to the effect of "terms subject to change whenever Daddy thinks it's funny".  I'll immediately change the terms to "must clean up his room completely in order to receive money" and then determine that the room hasn't been cleaned fast enough.  This will be completely easy to do because it takes Gabriel and his brothers 462 years to clean their room anyhow, so I have time.

     THEN, I will write Gabriel a check for all the money I've promised him, which is exactly 43 cents.  Then I will make a big show of giving his 4 year old sister a crisp $20 bill while everyone is watching.  IF he asks why, I'll note that I've hired her to be Dave Lumpkin's Department of Room Cleaning and I've deducted the appropriate amount from his taxes.  Once he's asked for an itemized breakdown of where the REST of his money went, I'll submit the following:

1. $22,999,999,999,979.57 went to the LOLfund that keeps a roof over your head and purchases regular Pokemon game updates.  Actually your mother is the one who spent it all.
2. $20 went to your 4 year old sister
3. Which leaves you exactly 43 cents
4. If you don't like it, then get a better job
5. By the way, you need to register all your squirt guns so that I can potentially confiscate them.
6. I promise to never read all of your email HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

     Once that's in place, I will ask his sister to get his room clean.  She will be asked to clean it herself.  This will consist of placing a bright orange traffic cone in front of the messy parts and saying that "she's working on it" while asking for more money that I WILL give to her in order to get it clean.  I will then ensure that this never really happens.  Dads, please resist the temptation to call her the "Department of Transportation".

     If this sounds like a great idea, I urge you to frantically mail me $23 trillion per week so I can make this happen.  After all good citizenship makes great leaders.

-Dave Lumpkin

Justin Bieber, Lady Gaga and Porn

Ga-Ga-Ooh-La-Laaa

     I'm not really sure WHY I like Lady Gaga.  I know for a fact that on a scale of 1-10 that her beauty rates about a 5ish and her music has all the musical talent of [insert Disney starlet] in a coma with their throatbox missing.  In fact, I can pretty much surmise that rock and roll is dead, rap is on life support and the only thing that matters anymore on the musical charts is Justin Bieber.  

     As an aside, if Justin Bieber was a female I'd bet my entire mortgage, kids college fund and your lunch money that the female Justin Bieber would show up in a porno winin the next 4 years.  This leads me to my next thought...

     Typically I'd bet the farm that a female Justin Bieber would appear in Playboy, but with the advent of free internet porn, Playboy has gone the way of Rock and Roll, the pager and maps that unfold.  Here today is Octomom porn, cell phones you can have conversations with (for the iPhone users, ask Siri where you can hide a dead body, it's a GREAT Easter Egg), and Justin Bieber huskily mewing about what he would do if he were your boyfriend.  Maroon 5, a band that ALMOST resembled new generation rock years ago is now led by a frontman who's better known for reality TV and has completely, utterly and undeniably sold out to the Disney Pop crowd.

     Music hasn't really had any meaning for our generation since Rage Against the Machine (love or hate their politics) and their lyrics that said things like "[word that means perform coitus] YOU I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME!" repeated over and over

    That said, Lady Gaga at least pretends to cater to the "I love you for who you are" message while preaching acceptance to the LGBT community, nerds, freaks, emos, jocks and everyone who has ever felt disenfranchised (which is approximately 345907 trillion percent of teenagers).  If I were single, I even think I'd fancy sleeping with her in her robot helmet and crutches in her Paparazzi video seen here around the 3:50 mark.  I really have no logical explanation or well thought out defense on the matter except that I'm a dude and she's a chick.

What is Wrong with Me?

     Now let me take the time to admit something else.  I'm strangely attracted to Martha Stewart.  Conventional wisdom suggests that people are attracted to others based on the behavior, mannerisms and body language compared to a similarly-gendered parent.  I will tell you right now, my mother was NOT a designer, a crafty person, never managed a multi-million dollar portfolio, appeared on TV or spent any amount of time in the slammer after defrauding Wall Street.  When compared to Lady Gaga, the differences are even more striking.  The worst outfit my mother ever wore was a pantsuit with linebacker-like shoulder pads, but SOMEHOW that was fashionable in the 1980's so she gets a pass.

     Let me get back on the subject.  At the ripe old age of 36 I've determined that I'm an old man.  The music today blows and isn't as good as it was when WE were growing up, I fully believe that the bicycle-helmet generation of kids we're raising will ultimately destroy America in a hailstorm of bleeding heart liberalism, AND I secretly wish that flip-phones were back in style because I thought they looked cool (nevermind pagers that were cool because you never had to answer them).

     I also believe that the iTunes song popularity chart is governed by the devil and that cartoons are written by sissies.  I think that Hollywood is uninspired and that if it weren't for comic books, we'd have nothing decent to go to the theater for (excluding Captain America, which I maintain was the worst movie since [insert rom-com here]).  I believe that parents these days are pushovers and If I continue down this road, I'll be shaking my cane at the neighborhood hooligans telling them to get away from my lawn!

     To keep it real, though, if my wife ever leaves me there will be a special place in my heart for Lady Gaga, who is more talented than Justin Bieber and (despite rumors of her possessing male genitalia) a LOT hotter.  When (perhaps not if) she ends up on the shadier side of the internet, I will have to include links to it here.

     In the meantime, I ask that you click like a crack-fiend on all of my Google AdSense ads to the left and right of this article.  It will calm your nerves and each click will give me the $.01 cents that I need to buy flowers for my wife after she reads this article.  You're doing the right thing, Justin Bieber commands you!

-Dave Lumpkin

Confessions of a Douchebag

Total Jerkface

It recently occurred to me that I'm a total jerkface.  To just about everyone I know, this would be about as surprising as finding out that Tila Tequila lacked morals.  For those of you on the preacher side of my family, Tila Tequila is the internet equivalent of the Bank of America if it were a sperm bank..and if it only took deposits.  For the rest of you, please refer to the cache of questionable worm-ridden videography on your hard drive hidden from your significant others.

Now for most people, the definition of what I represent is a person that's pretty much a jerk to everyone around him.  This leaves reasonable room for said person to actually be nice to his smallish circle of friends.  I'm almost afraid it's the opposite for me.  I tend to be cordial (or at least quiet) to people I don't know very well and treat my friends like total crap.

This was scientifically proven to me while reading a blog by the wife of one of my best friends I grew up with. 

Now You See It, Now You Don't

 - In order to protect the innocent, I'm going to use names that rhyme with their real ones so that you'll never ever know who I'm talking about.

This person named "Dratt Geldmann" (he also has a brother named "Fristopher") happens to have been born with an aggressive form of red-green color blindness.  He also had problems distinguishing blues and purples.  Nevermind the fact that he scored off the charts on his I.Q. test.

In my quest for scientific achievement, I used to break out the box of crayons and quiz him on the colors.  I also often forced him to come up with various shades of camouflage that to you and I looked like a neon Picasso.  To him it was all a bunch of brown.  This was immensely entertaining to me on a daily basis for approximately seven years.  The only times his condition REALLY presented itself as a hindrance was when he was on my  doubles team and we were shooting pool.  Commanding him to shoot the purple ball was about as useful as putting a wig on a cat.  Playing Uno was a different tragedy altogether.

We Are Not Happy

I suppose being annoying is something I've always been good at.  The dawn of the internet was particularly wonderful for me.  Total anonymity combined with a culture of douchebaggery was something I excelled at.  I've always been good at being insulting because I grew up as physically intimidating as a blow up doll.  I was also about as quick and agile as a paraplegic turtle.  To this day I'm convinced that the horrors I endured in middle school could only be understood by a person like Wes Craven or Stephen King.

That's not really a good enough excuse, though.  So with this I apologize to everyone I've ever offended or said something mean to.  Please don't take this as total and utter repentance, though.  I'm certain that my mouth will continue to put me in awkward situations for the next several decades until the good Lord shuts it for me.  This is just to say that I actually had a fleeting moment where I felt like a terrible person.

To whomever is reading this right now:  You are a beautiful, bright person who makes the people around you happy.  And with that you've now witnessed something quite rare these days on Al Gore's Internet.  If you happen to be named something similar to "Dratt Geldmann", I'm sorry I was such a jerk and I still think of you and your family as close and personal friends.

Now that we have that out of the way, for the ladies, you may resume your regularly scheduled Groupon shopping, and for the guys please continue with your adventures in pornography.  I'll skip the reminders to click on my Google AdSense advertisements to the left and right of this article until you get your pants back on.

-Dave Lumpkin

The Methane Channel Conspiracies and the End of the World

THE SKY IS FALLING

I was watching the History Channel yesterday..  Before I could even be immersed in the mind bending wonder of conspiracy theories and Egyptology, I noticed that I was actually watching History Channel 2 (or H2 as it comes up on my channel listing).  My first thought was that this perhaps was the Hydrogen Channel - the male answer to the heavily female oriented Oxygen channel.  That wasn't the end of my nerd-moment, however.  I then figured, why would a male network be named H2, instead of the more appropriate chemical symbol of CH4 (that's methane for you dummies, and for the real slow ones, that's the main ingredient of what everything farts)?  But none of this is really my point.

The History Channel, from time to time, likes to put out a few shows about the end of the world.  They can be divided scientifically into two categories: half hour specials on the Mayan calendar or half hour specials on Nostradamus.  Both categories are weakly argued and leave a lot to ignorant interpretation.  I was given the Nostradamus treatment yesterday, and I admit I was stricken for exactly three point oh-seven seconds that perhaps there was something to this nonsense after all!

What started me on the subject was the report of the prediction by Saint Malachy of the number and nature of Catholic Popes.  I encourage you to click the link so you can get worked up, too.  This particularly disturbed me since we are currently hanging out with the last pope to be predicted by Saint Malachy.  What REALLY REALLY bothered me but wasn't a point made by the program was that this completely corresponds with the end of the Mayan calendar.  Unless something ridiculous happens to Pope Benedict XVI, he ought to be the head of the Catholic Church on December 21, 2012.

So there I was in my black boxer briefs with a toothbrush hanging out my my mouth and toothpaste dribble in my chin hair.  For that brief moment I was a firm believer in the Second Amendment, duct tape and bottled water.  I also may have dug absent-mindedly inside my ear with my pointer finger.

My Own Bold Predictions

Let me give a quick nod to the Bible here (skip this paragraph if you are going to Hell).  It will accomplish two things; it will piss half of you off and please the other half of you.  According to Matthew 24:36 not even Baby Jesus in a manger knows when the world is supposed to end.  Of course, I should mention Matthew 7:15 which warns people to beware false prophets.  There, we got that out of the way.  I'm going to tread extremely lightly here for fear of being zapped by lightning and being turned into a a celestial charcoal briquette.  Now that you all know what I've mentioned from the Bible I'm confident you all (mostly and hopefully the good Lord) understand that the next part is in jest.

I can't exactly ignore the fact that people who make good solid predictions gain a lot of notoriety and likely make a lot of money.  Miss Cleo, for example suckered exactly 23403291235 people out of precisely $1239581326 trillion at the rate of 99 cents a minute to give them their bogus fortune.  That sort of money is a little hard to ignore, so I'm going to have to tap into it as well. 

Therefore I have individually written the fortune of EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU and included it inside my Google AdSense advertisements to the left and right of this blog.  All you have to do is click on each ad sixteen times and write down the first letter of each first word that you see.  Then unscramble it.  This also has the fantastic by-product of making me about 20 cents richer per click.  I took the liberty of going first.  My fortune says "METHANE FARTING DINOSAURS WILL CAMP OUT IN YOUR CHICKENS"

That's something I'm going to have to come to grips with in the next fifteen months before the Age of Aquarius.  In the meantime, I recommend that you spend a lot of money stockpiling duct tape and Beano and tune into the History Channel for the next update.  Take a moment to review all the RFK and JFK assassination controversies as well.  Once you've bought into the fact that the alien-controlled Illuminati are killing off everyone and are in charge of our free market capitalism, you should be in the right mindset to understand WHY you need to click on all my advertising.

Until then, be sure to check your underwear and start going to church.

-Dave Lumpkin

The Internet, Activism, Billy Joel and Cheetos

The Future

Ok, let me blog about something serious this one time.

People never cease to amaze me.  As our society shifts toward isolation and non-confrontation, I often wonder what it really is that sets them off.  I like to think that the gigantic sense of entitlement that our service industries have bestowed upon us have created little princes and princesses that don't like being told no.  In fact (see if you can follow me here) It's almost gotten to the point where NO ONE tells anyone else no anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I don't like being told "no" either, however, I'm confident enough to admit that I was raised in an environment that had rules that were adhered to.  Although you can definitely make the case for ME, I can argue that my brothers at least turned out okay.  Being able to hear someone tell you "no" is simply part of the problem, another part is the ability to TELL someone no.

I think that one of the reasons why people get scammed and pushed-over all the time is simply because they don't do enough research and don't take a stance in their own favor.  You see this in the corporate environment where pay rates are based on charisma instead of job performance (not ALL the time, but it happens - I think I get payed well for what I do) and financially where people get ripped off for not negotiating loans and loan rates (yes you can often negotiate and shop those, too!).  In short, there's a growing number of young people these days that simply allow Life to "happen" to them.

This is possibly due to the fact that with SOO little parent-child interaction during childhood in the "two-parents-working" families, there's no one present to teach their kids how to behave and what is right.  We've almost gotten to the point where we EXPECT teachers to raise our kids (they often do it).  Heck, I'd argue that teachers our our last hope, since television rarely teaches us life lessons anymore.  When was the last time you watched a show that made you THINK about morality?

Internet Movements

Our parent's generation didn't seem to have any problem opening their mouths and championing a cause.  For good or for bad, they protested Vietnam, racism, gender equality (or even gender independence) and the government.  They were thrown in jails in herds over their beliefs, good or bad.  Don't get me wrong, there are ways to speak your mind without landing in jail, but let's look over some of the issues we face today and think about how much YOU have opened your mouth and spoken about it.

• Racial equality (shocker, it's still there, just hidden now)
• Human rights for people who have different sexual orientation
• Women's rights abroad
• Freedom of speech (and other rights) with respect to the Internet
• Health Care Reform
• The Great Recession
• Occupy Wall Street
• Tax Law
• Terrorism
• Cancer/AIDS, and so on... (isn't it about time we re-wrote "We didn't Star the Fire" with current lyrics?)

I suppose you should ask yourself, when was the last time you actually denounced something that you felt was wrong?  When was the last time you told someone "No" that you KNEW was screwing you?  When was the last time you actually stood up for something that wasn't yourself?

Many of you know some of the things I stand for.  What I'm going to say that's different is that I could care less if you agree with me or not.  I just want YOU to decide for YOURSELF what you believe in and then make yourself heard.

The beautiful thing about the Internet is that it typically avoids physical confrontation.  What I mean is, that if I call you a d-bag on the web for espousing homophobia, you're usually too far away from me to punch me in my face.  People can also hide behind misleading internet handles that shroud their true identity in anonymity so they can speak more freely.  Isn't that wonderful whether or not I agree with you?

Most importantly, we live in a country where, although you pay some big-wig corporation money for your internet service, you're entitled to your opinion AND YOU CAN PUBLISH IT on plenty of sites for all to see.  If you have any doubt about the power of social media or Facebook, just look at all the riots in the Middle East and what's happening in Libya.

In parting I want you to think about this: if you don't wake up and make your voice heard, then you never have a right to complain about what happens to you.  The same goes for voting.

In the meantime, you should click on all of my Google AdSense ads to the left and right of this blog, so I can become a gigantic unfeeling corporation.  (you didn't think the WHOLE blog would be serious did you?) It will also help me buy more Cheetos.

-Dave Lumpkin

Dummies, Netflix, Michele Bachmann and my Future as a Rapper

Gigantic Dummies

Let me begin by pointing out that I, of course am not a dummy - unless you ask my wife and then I'm certain she could point out an entire list of things I've done that make me "not smart".  Then again it hit me the other day that being a dummy isn't entirely terrible after all as long as you're charming.  There are a ton of examples of this from Hollywood and television.  You have Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Beavis and Butthead, Dude, Where's My Car, Patrick Star from Spongebob Squarepants, and let's not forget Michele Bachmann

I'm not sure where my own fascination comes from in watching and listening to dummies.  I think perhaps it makes me feel smarter in my own right.  I even take great glee in listening to people botch facts or sayings or conventional wisdom in a private setting as well.  I'll be honest, though I don't usually associate myself with entire groups of dummies so it doesn't happen very often, but when someone in my social circle makes a factual or social blunder I feel like a teenage schoolgirl watching Glee.

Quite frankly, there's a lot of things that as a MAN I'm supposed to know that I really don't.  In fact if you yourself enjoy watching people look stupid, just hand me a filter and some 5W-30 for my car and tell me that the world depends on me to change the oil in my rollerskate.  I'd have my mancard revoked.  I'd be willing to bet I am more likely to have a successful career as a Rapper than be able to get it done.

M.C. Dummy Head

So I thought I'd come clean and admit some of the things that I don't know but REALLY ought to just in case it ever comes up in conversation.

• I have NO idea what the difference between straw and hay is, they look the same
• I don't know how deep the ocean gets, I'm guessing less than 4 miles?
• I'm being serious I REALLY don't know how to change the oil in my car, or where to even start.
• I don't know ANYTHING about Glee, Vampires or anything else that chicks like these days
• If given a piece of paper and pencil, I could only name 42 states from memory (I DEFY you to try this)
• I think I only knew like 10 of the state capitals
• Ok, geography is my weakest link, I don't know all the Canadian provinces and I could only come up with like 25 European countries from memory, too.
• Although I can wash and fold my own clothes, I SUCK at stain removal.

Really that's only a sample of my ignorance, but I have a scientific theory that the reason I couldn't do any of those things properly is because I've chosen to memorize, master or recall stupid crap from my childhood that will NEVER EVER help me accomplish anything when I grow up.  For example:

• I know far too many characters from G.I. Joe and Transformers, although you may argue this helped me with all the extremely imaginative Hollywood movies recently
• If you sat me in front of a computer with World of Warcraft on it, I'd bet I get farther than most people
• Thanks to my kids I have a deeper understanding of Pokemon than anyone legally should
• I can tell you more than you ever needed to know about "The Big Bang Theory"
• I've always known it takes about 8 minutes for light to reach Earth from the Sun
• Thanks to Google, I happen to know that a green apple has more energy in it than coffee

It's my firm belief that I could have solved the Grand Unification Theory in physics, but I instead chose to fill my brain with baseball statistics from the 1990's.

Therefore I've decided to Raise Awareness for Stupidity.  If you enjoy listening to stupid things or watching them I encourage you to deftly and ravenously click on all of my Google AdSense ads to the left and right of this article.  The $0.25 you raise for each click will fund my fight against Dummies like Michele Bachmann and  will raise my own awareness by allowing me to watch "Dude, Where's My Car" again on Netflix (trust me, click and read about THAT one).  In the meantime, if any of you happen to know what the difference between straw and hay is without Google-ing it, hit me up on twitter @DaveLumpkin.

-Dave Lumpkin

West Virginia Jokes and The Maury Povich Gold Standard

People With Nooooo Standards

Really ALL jokes at the expense of the Southern half of the nation are hilarious.  By "hilarious" I really mean that everyone laughs out loud when they hear one, but they feign disinterest when there's someone important in the room.  For example, try telling the following to your 95 year old grandmother who resides in Tennessee and goes to church countless times a week:

Q: Whats the difference between a redneck and a West Virginian?

A: A redneck raises livestock,  A West Virginian gets emotionally involved.

or a personal favorite of mine [thereby securing the chance I'll never hold public office in West Virginia]:

Q: What's the difference between a Virginian and a West Virginian?

A: In Virginia Moosehead is a beer, in West Virginia it's a misdemeanor.

In fact Jeff Foxworthy made an entire career out of making fun of an entire half of the United States.  He also made exactly $12348901326 quadrillion doing so and effectively killed the humor of redneck jokes for about a decade.  Quite frankly, it's a guilty pleasure we all share.  No matter how bad off our own lives are, at least we don't live in an entire state actively engaged in sibling sexual relations that take place inside old Cheverolets.

The funny thing is that if you travel to different portions of the South, the name West Virginia gets substituted for other states.  For example, I learned that my west Virginia jokes were no good in Tennessee, I had to substitute Kentucky jokes for them.  If you travel to Louisiana, you have to substitute Alabama and if you travel to Mississippi all you need to do is read over some of their recent legislature for material and call it "fact".  Oddly enough there's a lot of denial going on down South.

I suppose this all really ties into one of my deepest, darkest, guiltiest pleasures; watching the Maury Povich show.

Gripping Journalism

To be honest the Maury show falls into two exact categories: DNA tests and Lie Detector Tests. There's not really any wavering from the Maury Gold Standard.  I'm confident all they do to prep a show is flip a coin.  Heads means "Lie Detector Tests".  Then they line up 5 women and men who think they have partners who are cheating on them and give the offenders lie detector tests.  Sometimes the males are also given DNA tests.  Maury then comes out in a black fleece and delivers about two minutes worth of dialogue and it's on.

Occasionally they will throw a curveball whereby a hot pixelated blonde will try to seduce the offender in the waiting room and then makes out with him for 45 minutes while he confesses on camera that he believes he is already dating the ugliest chick in America but the blonde is so hot.  Maury then shows this to the audience.  100% of the time the jilted lover STILL wants to listen to the Lie Detector results.  This sort of silliness is riveting.  The results are NEVER EVER EVER shocking to the viewer.  In fact I'm convinced that if I ever show up on Maury, my marriage is over and I may as well make out with the chick in the waiting room.

I would be remiss go on without giving a nod to Maury's DNA testing program.  In short, there's a WWE-like sound-byte whereby the male states that he is not the father because the female is a MASSIVE prostitute (the logic is typically this flawless).  Then he comes out to the audience and gets booed.  Maury asks him that if he IS the father will he be a part of the baby's life.  He says that he LOVES babies (despite the fact that he hasn't even purchased diapers for the child in three years) and wants to be the daddy. 

Skip to the baby-cam.  A picture of the baby is juxtaposed with a picture of the alleged father.  The home viewers are forced to place wagers whether or not they believe the guy is the father.  My wife finds this to be the most genius element of programming on television and I am inclined to agree.  Maury then reads the results which are typically NOT what you'd expect and the audience goes wild.  He always says "In the case of Baby _____, YOU [ARE/ARE NOT] THE FATHER.

Now that doesn't really sound enticing, except for the fact that often times there are women there being obviously exploited for ratings who are on their 4th or 5th paternity test with different men who "all fit the timeframe" so-to-speak.  There is also the matter of how they all talk.  In short, chicks and guys with a low moral foundation are captivating to me.

Blah, blah, blah..click on all of my Google Ad-Sense advertising...in the meantime I'll leave you with this gem I found on the web from http://www.perryland.com/humor10.shtml:

Question: How do they practice "SAFE SEX" in West Virginia? 

Answer: They paint a red "X" on the cows that kick.

-Dave Lumpkin

Crap Genetics, Global Kitten Domination and Totally Naked Strippers

Wise, Old Man

After twelve full years of careful deliberation, I've come to the conclusion that I'm no longer Twenty-Three.  I was forced to conclude this somewhat when my younger brother came to visit over the weekend.  By "younger brother", I really just mean there's a 2+ year age difference, but decades ago that used to be all I needed.  I doubt if I could actually beat the crap out of him anymore if I tried.  This is extremely disconcerting to anyone who is an older brother/sister.

By the way, there's no strippers in today's post. I simply noticed that if I put that word in the title I get a LOT more hits on the advertising.  I am also using the word "Naked".  I will let you know how it all pans out. 

Although it's easy to jump the gun and declare myself old, I still FEEL like a young moron.  I still drive like an idiot and I'm still capable of making stupid decisions.  Nowadays, though, I've learned to just keep quiet and learn from everyone else making dumb decisions.  I shake my head disdainfully when I hear about them, say something like "wow, unbelievable." and then thank Jesus that it wasn't me, because I could have seen myself doing the same stupid thing.

My body, however is maturing at a rate that exponentially dominates the slow growth of my feeble mind.  In fact, since I wasn't gifted with Peyton Manning or Mark Cuban's genetic make-up, I've decided to punish my body by treating it like crap.  I eat absolute garbage (which I am able to cook extremely well thanks to all these years in the food industry) and own a gym membership that I've essentially never used.  

It was painful to see that my grandmother is WAY more mobile than I am last weekend.  I was there in attendance of her 95th birthday.  Now, it's true I just got out of a leg cast and am still in crutches, but I KNOW that if we raced last weekend, she would have destroyed me in the 40.

I also have a wheelchair I use occasionally.  On those occasions my orange and white cat is usually sitting in it.  I've tried to explain to him that having a brain the size of a walnut does not constitute having a handicap so I should have the chair.  He doesn't move.  I conclude that the cat is therefore smarter than I suspected.  

I Demand an Offering From My Subjects

I actually have a sneaking suspicion that cats are the dominant planetary species.  They've provided us with dogs to lower our IQ by forcing us into contact with THE single dumbest genus of animal in existence.  This is much like the conspiracy theory that the government allows poor people to use narcotics to keep them oppressed and is in charge of illegal drug trafficking.  Cats likely own pet stores and have a lot of say where strays end up.

There's a couple people out there still holding out that dogs are smarter than cats.  In fact, there are SOME total dummies who believe that there are other planetary species that possess higher intelligence.  Let me discredit all this in a few irrefutable bullet points:

• Cats are smarter than dolphins because dolphins swim in the ocean.  The ocean is filled with fish poop. Dolphins also likely poop in the ocean.  Humans dump their trash in the ocean.  The ocean is a huge toilet that dolphins chose to be a part of.  Cats did not.
• Cats are smarter than cockroaches because cockroaches are ALSO poop eaters.  It's been said that cockroaches are smart because they would survive a nuclear holocaust.  Cockroaches have not yet invented nuclear weapons, though, so we can't really test this.
• Cats are smarter than people because they don't have jobs or a stupid economy that's based on archaic principles and questionably-moraled banking institutions.  They also force us to feed them and they repay our kindness by making sure our curtains and have enough holes in them to be ineffective.  They also regularly exert their superiority by sharpening their claws on things that are important to us (like the backs of our sofas and our bed boxsprings) so we know our place.
• Although it's easy to argue that some dogs are poop eaters and rest my case, I'll offer some different examples.  Cats are smarter than dogs because cats are potty trained in litter boxes.  Dogs poop anywhere.  Also 90% of dogs live in fear of a cat in joint living situations.  DOGS regularly can be seen eating CAT food.  A cat (the lion) is king of the jungle. 

You can try and argue any of this, but I have enough well-logically developed evidence in my pocket to bury you.  

Therefore I've decided to create a new Awareness Fund to help our place in civilization.  Admittedly I will NOT be pursuing this as feverishly as the Dave Lumpkin Stripper Awareness Fund, but, nonetheless you can be sure I CARE about humanity.  Please don't ask what the Fund pays for.  That is highly classified.

YOU can help me raise money for the new Dave Lumpkin Litterbox Freedom Fund.  You can do this by relentlessly and eagerly clicking on all of the Google Ad-Sense ads to the left and right of this blog.  Your cat orders you.

In the meantime, I'm going to spend the next couple hours NOT in the gym while eating jellybeans from a gift basket I got from my wonderful boss and my fellow management cronies.  I'm going to pretend it's because they miss me, and NOT that they think I'm a genetic tragedy.

-Dave Lumpkin

The Dave Lumpkin Stripper Awareness Fund

Grandfather-hood

OK, relax, I'm not a grandfather for the moment.  For those of you who know my wife and I, you know that we DO appear to manufacture children at the rate at which most politicians manufacture partisan bickering.  The oldest one, however is eight, and thinks girls are vile aliens who want to suck the life out of him.  Now, there's a HUGE temptation to tell him that his suspicions are entirely correct, and there is no end to all the supporting evidence - my wife however, would kill me.  The eight year-old's not the one I'm worried about anyhow.

I suppose now is the time to point out that if you don't really have any kids but still want some, you ought to stop reading.  If you DO still happen to want kids but don't have any, mouse over, click and watch THIS.  Otherwise, please spend the next fifteen minutes productively clicking on all of my Google Ad-Sense advertisements to the left and right of this article so I can raise the $0.02 you will generate for my new Dave Lumpkin Stripper Awareness Fund (keep reading).

The problem lies in my two year-old daughter.  Recently, my wife began the long, arduous task of potty-training her.  The problem is that there appear to be a LOT more associated tasks with potty training than most people typically think about.  By "a lot more associated tasks", I really just mean the one task of putting your underwear back on after the fact.  My two year old enjoys parading herself around nude.

I have to think that Adam and Eve ate from the forbidden fruit somewhere in their thirties after their bodies started going to crap.  All my personal, recent and scientifically gathered evidence points to the fact that children enjoy being naked from the womb until (and I can attest to this) their thirties.  There are a lot of people who are exceptions to the rule.  They are all porn stars.

I therefore blame Eve entirely for people having to wear clothes.  CLEARLY this wasn't Adam's fault. I even submit that Adam never ate from the forbidden fruit.  This is evidenced by the fact that the fruit came from the Tree of Knowledge.  How many smart men are there out there REALLY?  Therefore I conclude that Eve was an evil soul-sucking alien bent on the destruction of man.  My oldest kid's suspicions are confirmed.

The problem is that my two year-old daughter enjoys prancing around naked so much that I'm concerned about her moral foundation.  Granted, I have no one to blame but myself and my extra-terrestrial wife, I'm just very worried that this loose moral construct will cause me to be a grandfather in thirteen years.  This isn't the ONLY thing causing my worry.  My daughter is also a gigantic addict.

Addict

Team Umizoomi and Dora the Explorer are the devil.  I point this ought because we know addictive behavior to be bad.  Both of those television shows create strong emotions in my daughter if she is NOT watching them.  When Dora or Team Umizoomi is on the television (don't get me wrong, either is IMMENSELY more riveting than my wife's addict preference of Judge Judy), you can see a glassy-stoned haze settle in the back of my daughter's eyes.  She then puts down all her toys and begins to drool slightly.  This is not unlike what happens to me when I am watching Cowboy's football on Sundays.

There is also the concrete fact that we're getting to the point where she likes one particular episode and will watch it over and over and over and over until we're certain that all of the neighbors and their pets have memorized all the lines.  I'm fairly sure that my wife and I are scientific experts on the Team Umizoomi episode where they make ice cream pizza.  I also believe that if the government used this particular episode to brainwash two year-olds they could create naked super-villains capable of driving terrorists to surrender.

I suppose my fear resides in the fact that grown women who dance around naked and are addicts don't typically do well in the 'I made my parents proud of me at this point in my life" department.  I forgot to mention that she also enjoys coloring on herself with markers (read: "early tattoos").  I also know that it's fairly early in life and my job as a father is just beginning.  At least her brothers and I are the only boys she's kissing right now, and thank Jesus she's too young for the Justin Bieber movement.

[If you're my wife, stop reading RIGHT HERE]

Therefore I'm creating the Dave Lumpkin Stripper Awareness Fund.  Please send me a lot of money so I can learn more about strippers so that I can keep my daughter from doing that for a living.  You can shorten the "Pay To" part on the check to simply "Dave Lumpkin", and I'll update you on what I've learned in a future post.

-Dave Lumpkin

Tom and Jerry Used to Walk Up-Hill in the Snow Both Ways

These Kids Today

When I was a lot younger I used to hear the occasional complaint about "These kids today..." and how America was destined to be flushed down the toilet by communist insurgents because of the lack of anything worthwhile coming from my generation.  You MAY argue that anything worthwhile has yet to come from my generation all these years later (and you may be entirely correct), but now that I have kids of my own I can assure you to expect even less from our generation of children.  I have learned this from my extremely scientific study of listening to my wife complain about other people and their kids.  I will therefore declare myself an "expert" on the matter.

When our generation was younger we used to hear absurd stories from our fathers.  They'd make up things about walking up-hill both ways in 6 feet of snow to school, changing their own oil, no internet, (and perhaps worst of all) and not being able to shop at a place like Sam's Club or Costco.  I used to think that these were huge lies propagated by shell-shocked commie chasers angry that we got out of school for 2 feet of snow, but recent events are leading me to believe that maybe it all wasn't made up (except the part about Sam's Club).

My children live in a school district in Tennessee that calls off school for rain.  This is a true story.  They are so entirely vigilant about rain prevention that we often get a phone call the day BEFORE it rains informing us that school is cancelled for tomorrow.  As a result, the school year extends from early August throughout the next two to five years.  I was lead to believe that this is a result of unpaved roads in underdeveloped communities, but my true belief is that the Wicked Witch of the West's grandchildren go to our elementary school, she is on the school board and we're trying to prevent them from melting.  So this one singular fact has brought  me to the inescapable conclusion that:

We Are Raising a Generation of Sissies

This occurred to me when I realized recently that there is no such thing as Saturday Morning Cartoons anymore.  Even worse, instead of meaningful violent cartoons like Tom and Jerry where we learned the appropriate way to beat the honest crap out of each other, our kids are learning Mandarin by watching "Ni Hao, Kai-Lan".  They have channels and channels of stuff like this.  Now you'd mistakenly think that all this non-violent cartoon learning would contribute something positive to our society, and if you consider alarming increases of teenage pregnancy, soaring high school drop-out rates, Jersey Shore ratings, and the fact that MTV doesn't even broadcast music anymore to be positive, then you'd be correct.  I personally am of the opinion that we're setting up the Bicycle Helmet Generation to fail.

The issue (permit me to point out something I believe to be true for a second) is us.  We're a fairly non-confrontational lot and the amount of what I call "decision-makers" in our generation is way less than the amount of decision-makers in our parents' generation.  We're all to content to let things just happen to us and stand by and do nothing.  In fact, when major political, psychological or even social things DO happen to us, we barely even bitch about it anymore.

I urge you to test this out by cutting in front of people in line at your local Wal-Mart.  All you have to do is have a lame excuse like "I forgot to feed my hamster, I think he's melting so I need to hurry, sorrythanks!" and I can pretty much assure you that you'll get to keep your place in line.  Now, this won't get you home any faster as Wal-Mart has figured out a way to hire people who are actually slow at laser scanners, but it WILL confirm my one proven fact.  If you had tried this stunt only 25 years earlier I promise you would have been shot in the face and excommunicated.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking for an entire generation of people to suddenly wake up and smell the coffee.  I'd much prefer that only the ones that share my personal political, religious and social beliefs do that and would be content to let the rest continue in their "everyone wins something" society, content to have never learned the sport of murder ball because it teaches us to murder(???). 

In the meantime, please wake up and show your support by mindlessly and uncontrollably clicking on all of the Google Ad-Sense advertising to the right and left of this article so I can make $0.25 to raise awareness for Tom and Jerry and their True American Values.  If you don't contribute, may you find yourself voting for Justin Bieber 25 years from now.  I gotta go, my hamster is melting.

-Dave Lumpkin