1. Why bother having braille keys on drive-through ATMs? They’re obviously used by blind people who are supergeniuses, since they have the mental power to commit local traffic patterns and street layouts to memory. It’s a pretty safe bet that they can hit the right keys on a bank machine.

2. Every email virus I’ve seen is filled with broken English--such as “Hi you there! Click on .exe file to see puppy dog and hearts. Right then!” Are no U.S.-born programmers capable of creating a decent virus? I’m concerned that we’re going to lose our position as the world’s preeminent superpower unless we start teaching our children how to bring the Internet to its knees.

3. Now playing on HBO: “Turbulence 2: Fear of Flying.” The first Turbulence could not possibly have made any money. Therefore, the only explanation for the existence of this sequel is if it’s a coded message to a hovering mother ship, signaling that the Earth is ready to attack.

You heard it here first.

I’m not the greatest cook, so I pay close attention to recipes. No, that’s not strong enough--I depend upon recipes to lead me by the hand, console me, and whisper comforting things about daffodils and world peace. So imagine my dismay as I carefully moved through a recipe and hit upon the line, “Add paprika, chili powder, and salt and pepper to taste.”

I’m a marketing writer. Do I hand out stacks of blank paper to our salespeople and say “Add a bunch of blather about our company--to taste”? Does a fireman shove a hose at somebody and say “Save your house and all your possessions--to taste”? If I had any taste, I wouldn’t need a recipe. I depend upon the professionals.

This has, however, given me a new idea for a book. Please be on the lookout for Greg’s Big Book of Recipes, coming to a Barnes & Noble near you. It’ll contain a single sentence--"Make a bunch of stuff. To taste.”

Powell: So I assume we’re going to take military action against Kim Jong Il and North Korea.

Bush: Why on Earth would we do that?

Powell: Well, because they’ve admitted to a nuclear weapons program, violating our 1994 agreement. Weapons of mass destruction--international defiance--potential hostile intent. It’s the exact same scenario as Iraq, whom we’re preparing to attack.

Bush: Yeah, but...it’s different.

Powell: How is it different?

Bush: Kim didn’t pick on my Dad.

Powell: This whole thing with Saddam Hussein is a personal grudge? But you told the U.N Security Council--

Bush: Don’t get me wrong. I still think North Korea is part of the vertex of evil…

Powell: ...axis…

Bush: Access to evil, yes. But you can’t just fly off the handle and attack anybody. Just the people who are mean to me.

Powell: So you’re not worried about Kim?

Bush: Oh please. Like I’d be worried about a female President.

I used to be terrible at making eggs over easy. The final result was an ugly yellow smear--as if the sky had fallen and a sizable chunk of it had taken out Chicken Little.

I can now create healthy eggs over easy. They look up at me invitingly. Wantonly. They say, “Hey. How are you doin’?”

I believe I now understand why they’re called “over easy.”

Me: Disneyland is better than other theme parks because you can look at cool stuff even when you’re standing in line.

She: True.

Me: Indiana Jones is the best, but even Space Mountain has been retrofitted with viewscreens.

She: Well, uh…

Me: Yes?

She: I don’t want to frighten you with my Space Mountain tirade.

Me: Listen, most people don’t have a Space Mountain tirade. If you ask 99.9% of people their opinion about Space Mountain, they’ll say “huh?” If you have a tirade, I want to hear it.

She: Well, standing in line at Space Mountain used to be about mood and anticipation. Everything was arranged to make you feel nervous about the ride. It was all dark, and there was this black wall over which you could hear the screams of the people. By the time you actually got to the ride, you were terrified. Now they have these TV sets. The glow from the screens wrecks the mood, and they also wreck the feeling of anticipation by having crappy Fed Ex commercials. Fed Ex? Who the hell wants to hear about Fed Ex standing in a line at Disneyland? And they’re not even good commercials although they’re straining to be clever and funny.
(a beat)
I’ve said too much.

Me: That was great.

She: Come on.

Me: Seriously. I’m all turned around on this issue now.

My main exposure to Top-40 music these days is at the gym, and there is much to learn from it. For example, Nelly has a hit song that contains the lyrics “It’s getting hot in here/So take off all your clothes.”

All you Romeos, take note: it’s no longer necessary to balance subtle wit and sprightly charm in your opening lines. Let Nelly show you the way. The song even demonstrates proper inflection and delivery for this touching romantic overture, leaving absolutely nothing to chance!

Roommate: I think I’m sick.

Me: That’s too bad. You know, it’s probably common for teachers to get sick in the first month of school. All those kids and all those germs.

Roommate: It’s common for new teachers like me. The experienced ones don’t get sick.

Me: Really?

Roommate: Yeah. All the teachers who have been teaching for 10+ years do just fine.

Me: Teachers must be able to develop a more powerful immune system than the average person. Do you realize what this means for national security?

Roommate: Huh?

Me: Experienced teachers would be untouched by nerve gas, airborne germs, and other biological weapons! They could be trained to become an elite fighting unit! They could be the vanguards of American justice on the front lines of the war against Iraq!

Roommate: I think I’m going to go take a nap.

Sunday, Day 7
Hey everyone.  I’m really not going to write much today; I’m kind of beat.  But I’m sure I’ve given you a lot to chew on in the past several days, what with the creation of Existence and everything.  So, well, I’m going to catch a few winks, and we’ll start up again on Monday.  Be good to each other.
posted by God at 9:30 am

Comments:
Your Magnificence and Love inspire us all.  Rest well, and know that we are ready to serve Your will in all things.
Rafael - Day 7 - 9:35 am

Hey!  If anyone deserves a break, You sure do!  Catch ya on the flip side!
Gabriel - Day 7 - 9:39 am

This stuff is boring--hurry up and get to the begatting!  I wanna read about all the begatting!!
Lucifer - Day 7 - 10:24 am

I’m a lifelong fan of Spider-Man, but I never really thought the character had much integrity to lose from a merchandising standpoint.  He’s always been plastered all over lunchboxes, shirts, yo-yos, underwear, and everything else.

That is, until I saw a Spider-Man slot machine.  At the Mohegan Sun Casino in Connecticut this week, I stared in horror as players greedily waited for rows of J. Jonah Jameson, Aunt May, and Spidey heads to drop into place.

My first thought: I’m flashing back to the war.  My second thought: But I was never in a war.  My third thought: That must have been a serious war because I don’t remember being in it, but I’m obviously flashing back to it anyway because there’s no other explanation for a Spider-Man slot machine.

As Halloween grows closer, supermarkets start selling shrunken candy bars.  They’re ordinary brands--Three Musketeers, Milky Way, etc.--but they’re about the size of your thumb, and they have a label slapped on them that says “Fun Size!”

Nice try, candy bar fascists, but no kid is going to be fooled by that kind of Orwellian doublespeak.  They all know that a real fun-sized candy bar would be about as big as their head.

Be very suspicious of anyone who uses the expression, “I have my ducks all in row.”

First, one must question the overall mental competence of those who judge matters of chaos and order based on the geometric configuration of aquatic birds.

Second, the person has just admitted to being responsible for a large quantity of ducks. Ducks are high maintenance animals; can this individual be trusted with their care and feeding? Particulary since the person just admitted that he or she views the ducks as little more than a feathered version of feng shui.

She: People need to remember that the Bible contains everything they need to know about living their lives. No matter what they’re going through, no matter what problems they’re facing, they can open up the Bible and find the answers.

Me: That reminds me--I need to re-read the passage about getting rid of ingrown toenails. That’s in Leviticus, right?

So one of the organizers of the Seattle HR conference makes some opening remarks before dinner. And he concludes by saying, “I don’t know about you, but in my house we say ‘grace’ before dinner.” And he proceeds to give thanks to our savior, Jesus Christ.

This in front of a room of HR professionals--people who have been trained with every fiber of their being to guard against the slightest hint of religious intolerance and insensitive behavior.

The palpable wave of shock and disbelief that rippled through the room was akin to John Ashcroft addressing the Republican National Convention and stating, “Y’know, I think we’ve been a little rough on the welfare state. Let’s reconsider that whole approach.”

(Another organizer stood up after dinner and offered a public apology.)

Maybe I should confess to the security people that my laptop has a Die Hard 3 Special Edition DVD in it.

It’s not a threat to the other passengers or anything. But let’s face it--the dialogue is pretty horrible.

According to my ever-informative spam mail, Kenneth Cole just released a fragrance for men.

I will admit to owning a Kenneth Cole watch and I like some of the shoes. But I really don’t need to know what the guy smells like.