There are all sorts of reasons that I'm a horrible person...
Today's opener is the fact that I know that the secret to comedy is a midget. My general standing argument is that everything is funnier with a midget.
Yes, it's an offensive thing to say, and for that I apologize. But it's kind of true.
For evidence, I offer you Under the Rainbow and Terror of Tiny Town.
I also recognize that the reality of life as a midget would be incredibly tough, trying to manage in a world designed for people built drastically differently than you. Because of this, I realize that midgets are not - in and of themselves - funny in any real-world way. Yet I continue to insist that midgets are the keys to comedy.
This was brought on by the recent Rock the List about the most sensational midgets ever. Which is wrong because they forgot Billy Barty.
There's this guy that The Girl used to work with who runs a scavenger hunt / Amazing Race kind of thing every spring and fall. He signs up a dozen teams of four and runs 'em around our county collecting receipts, taking photos, buying stuff (in the fall) and accomplishing various stupid tasks (in the spring).
He's helped out by a half dozen of his friends who judge the various events and help run things.
And I hate two of them.
They don't necessarily seem like horrible people, and I've heard that they do a lot of good work for the local school system and all. The lead guy seems to like them, and he seems to be a pretty good guy.
But I can't stand being anywhere around them. And it's mostly because of their voices.
They're twins - yes, Calen, you probably know the guys I'm talking about - and they drive me frickin' batty every time they open they mouths.
Their tone of voice is so grating and snotty and nasty that I have to leave their presence almost immediately upon hearing them speak. At the Amazing Race a couple of years ago, in the heat of one of the events (trying to throw gumballs into a series of buckets a la Bozo's Grand Prize Game) I'll admit that I called one of them a rather vulgar term when he wouldn't make the rules a little clearer to me - and continued to just chatter on unhelpfully about how I wasn't supposed to be doing things.
It isn't something that I was proud of, but it happened. The voice finally got to me.
I should be mature enough to realize that people can't help the voice that they've been given, but I'm not really able to.
And finally, I'm desperately inspired by the donut and bacon candidate, but I have totally ignored every call from MoveOn.org and the local democrats to help out with the campaign. I probably could find a couple of hours to help out, but, man, I'm just tired.
I spent this afternoon hanging on the couch, writing to you folks. Sure, I could've made a few phone calls for Mr. Frazier, but I didn't.