Hair Kills

I'm a redhead. And a blonde. And a brunette, and a couple of other things that might not even have names.

When you go from having well-trimmed, mild-mannered, nice people hair to a bushy mane of fierce in a single morning, you notice how heavy hair really is. But the extra weight was definitely not what hurt the most about having extensions of all different colors put in. What hurt the most was the pain.

The colorful extensions were for a L'occoco fashion show, and as L'occoco kept reminding me, 'anything for fashion, right?' In this case, that anything meant millions of tiny heart attacks crawling over my head and gnawing at the battered and threadbare skin that once proudly covered my skull. It's funny how each tug sends lightning bolts of pain straight down into the depths of your chest like a seed of evil winding its way through your body and sprouting up through the top of your head. Well, not funny exactly.

While having the full attention of one stylist for the systematic torture of my head was certainly an honor, when the second one arrived to lend a hand to the barbaric process, it nearly moved me to tears. My heart was torn between the two beautiful women each yanking me toward her by the roots of my hair. It got to a point where all I could do was just close my eyes and think of all the mean things I was going to say about them in this post.

And next on my fashion bucket list: trendy waterboarding.

This fun and games put me in such a bad mood that small talk with my captors was out of the question. Even sex with them was quickly moving off the table. In fact, it occurred to me that if my hairdressers and a pizza deliverywoman stripped down to the skin and began to make love to me passionately right there and then, I would probably have to furrow my brow and say to them, "Ladies. Please. ..Let's be professional." Or maybe not. We'd have to see.

On the bright side, the keratin with which they attached my new hair to my old smelled of honey, jasmine, and cucumbers. On the down side, one among many, I now smell like those three things.

As they continued attaching more and more hair, I began to understand how troll dolls and pokemon wizards feel. There are two things I hate most in life, and having hair in my eyes is definitely one of them. I began to have trouble breathing through my helmet of hair. Finally I could no longer see the screen of my note taking iPhone through the colorful curtain of hair that told my eyes the first act was over. That may be why this post is gradually becoming less and less clever.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn't even see the mirror through all the head fur. And did I mention the pain? My nails dug their way deeper and deeper into my knees as stylists One and Two, Older and Younger, yanked bits of my already malnourished brain through my scalp.

The head honcho hairdresser kept screaming at the other one to make the extensions thinner, which could only mean one thing: more extensions and more pain. Through the blinding stabbings of pain I may have also heard her mention that apparently I have freckles on my scalp. I also have a rebellious face, but that I knew. It has been drilled into me.

There grew to be a total of six stylists standing around me, oohing and aahhing over their creation. By the end I was ready to plead for mercy and tell them anything they wanted.

I wonder if Hitler whistled while he metaphorically put extensions in the Jews' hair.

Finally, after two full hours of continuous and completely enveloping pain, the kind your threshold never gets used to, the ordeal drew to a close. I left with at least one section of my cranium, the section where Younger worked, that has either been fantastically overstimulated or fatally ruined. That would make me either a parietal lobal genius or a vegetable. I plan to blame the events of today if anyone ever complains about my sensational, handwriting, or body positioning functions in the future. Yes, I Googled that.

Also, next time the sink clogs up, you will know who to blame.

As you can see, I learned to take notes on my iPhone without seeing.

Thanks to this merging of minds, however, next year's L'occoco event may feature an idea we kicked around in the L'occoco chambers of anguish: beard extensions. Think Biblical vogue and going all Old Testament up in here. Think Punk Moses and the Parting of the Fluorescent Pink Sea.

Now I'm going to try to get some sleep without any part of my bruised head touching any surface.

Moral Cliches

The people in a certain Home knew all the moral cliches so well that they'd just call out a number instead of giving the whole sermon. "One" was that money couldn't buy you happiness. "Three" was that faith could move mountains. "Seven" was that what everybody needed was love, and so on and so forth. Somebody would say, "Fourteen!" and everyone would be deeply moved. Someone else would say, "Seventy-two!" and everyone would be encouraged and inspired. Well, the newcomer listened for while and then called out, "Twenty-four!" but no one was touched. Then the guy in the chair next to him sighed, "I guess some people just don't know how to give devotions."

This slightly passé and easily misunderstood parody is what I feel like when someone tries to preach to me. Not that what they're saying isn't profound and true and the answer. It is. And it's simple. Take a number.

Ur Beautiful

hoorayy i'm reposting this in celebration that they just allowed my ur beautiful video on youtube! they had it blocked 4 4ever but 4 some reason they just made it available..... so here u r

A Study on Exclamation Marks in MO Letter Titles!

Have you ever noticed how many of those old MO Letter titles have an exclamation mark at the end? It's like you look down a Lifelines index and that's all you see--The Dead Body! The Sad Trip! Correspondence Between Dad and His Brother in the US! Everything's just so exciting. You wonder why we loved Dad so much, well he was just so excited about everything. Solitaire! Members! The Psychic Cat!
I decided to count them. Well, why don't you just get an Index and do a search for the number of exclamation marks.....................no! Every single computerized ML Index--Infostore, MO site, stolen apostate files--have all the original exuberant punctuations removed by the grim and boring editors.Luckily, I found that the Main Menu in Infostore still has the priceless relics of enthusiasm hanging at the precipices of its MO Letter titles, so I decided to start there. One problem: the search there doesn't give you a total found number, just a one by one display of the next exclamation mark in the list. I would still have to count them.
I found that counting clicks on the 'Next' button audibly was faster than visually, so I sat there for a good 45 minutes hammering away at the keyboard to get these for you. For you!

At the end of it all, it came down to 2810 exclamation marks in the 3663 MLs in my Infostore. That's a huge 79%!--Of all MLs ever!--Have exclamation marks!

Here's a graph of the percentages of ML titles with exclamation marks:
You can see that, although we began at a rather low 32%, we have climbed almost exponentially until peaking around the time of Grandpa's death at a massive 81%, and then levelling off somewhat under Mama, to a more professional 79%.

Studying this graph, you can actually date the enthusiasm level in the Family at any given time, and judge whether it fell between super wow or just wow. As you can see, we were at hyper turbo super charismatic wow levels up until about 1982 (1200 exclams--ML #1694), after which we slow down a bit. Then in 1987 (1800 exclams--ML #2352), we shoot up again a little more turboish, and then slow it down, still climbing.

And if all this exuberance is making you cringe, well just check out the look of the original homepage of the Forbes-500-conglomerate-monster-to-end-all-monsters--Google itself! Is that an exclamation mark behind the giant? --Or Yahoo!'s current homepage! Or Jeopardy! It seems to me that entrepreneurs in general have a high level of enthusiasm about things the rest of us would consider mundane (like The Potato! .......for instance.... [#718]).

Joe.



Fun facts about our history of excitingness:

The first 100 exclamation marks came at ML #306 (Sex Works). (There's some kind of code at work here telling me something).

Some MLs even have more than one exclamation mark! 'Sorry, Judas!--It's Too Late to Quit!' (772), or 'BIP Chapter 05--Jacob meets Rachel!, School of Laban!, and Jacob Becomes Israel!' (1143). THREE exclamation marks! In ONE Letter! (It's an exciting one.)

After Grandpa's death, you have three consecutive points just hovering at 81%--as if the Family had paused on the brink for a second, unsure of which direction to go with our exclamation marks.

Victory Over Comparing, Part 1 has no exclamation mark

Victory Over Comparing, Part 2!, however, suddenly got way more exciting!

The entire Conviction Vs Compromise Series! (that aren't questions) are punctuated with exclamation marks. This goes for the Law of Love Series! and the Loving Jesus Series! and every World Currents! that was ever made (105 of them).

All the Activate the World! series have exclamation marks......except for Part 7. (At least in the Infostore Main Menu)

The Choices and Consequences letters do not have exclamation marks.

Discourse On Unexplained Cerebrally Telesthetic Properties Of Felines And Other Domesticated Organisms

Them: "Beautiful cover! What's on the CD?"

Me: "They're songs to help children learn things like good morals and good hygiene. It's also full of useful and interesting tidbits such as how cats can read our minds..."

Have you ever wondered why it is that scientists can't explain how cats can read our minds? I mean come on--they're scientists! They should be to explain such a simple thing as how cats can read our minds. But no, once again the great scientific method falls before a simple nature fact.

You have to watch out what you're thinking around cats. Whenever you're going to think about something very important, make sure to chase away any cats that are in the room and close the door. Cats can't read our minds through the door. I was washing the windows the other day--while thinking, of course--and all of a sudden I noticed our cat just sitting there beside me. It was obvious to me that he was reading my mind so I threw a raisin at him. It missed. But that was obviously because he blocked it with his mind. Cats can also block things we throw at them with their minds. Scientists can't explain that either.

I wonder if fish can read our minds too? They probably can. Imagine how creepy that would be, all these slimy things just floating around inside their little tank, reading our minds. Fish can probably also read cats' minds. But cats can't read fishes' minds because fish have learned to block the mind reading rays that cats give off. There's a very intricate psychic pecking order--or else how would they control all the mind rays going around out there? It's very simple actually. Just not to scientists.

And also................ no that's about it.

                                                               Joe.

Disclaimer: Content presented in this post not meant to be offensive or disrespectful in any way to Kiddie Viddies or the artists who collaborated on them, simply a humourous and exaggerated look at a colourful past.

My Day

I just don't think it's fair to have to do something special for your mom on Mother's Day. I mean, she didn't do anything special for me on April Fool's Day.

haha.

Just kidding, mom, I love you.

So I Take The Bus

When my sister's 2nd child was born, she was going to name it either Christopher Robin (if it was a boy), or Ariel. So she wrote a letter to our dad, asking for his advice.

He wrote back and said, Don't name it Christopher Robin, because there's a little boy in a famous cartoon series named that already. And don't name it Ariel either... because, in a hijacking, people with Jewish names are usually the first to be killed.

...

Which would explain why he named me Joseph David...





HE WANTED ME DEAD!!!

IN A HIJACKING!



Just messing around, Dad. I love you.

Jesus Can Do Backflips In The Snow

Jesus can do backflips in the snow
And on cold and snowy days
He likes to go out and play.
He can also build a snowman with a fro
That's why Jesus is the coolest Jew I know.

--Mike Paone and V8



PS with boring news about me:
I'M BACK! AND RAVING!

Did You Know That...

...whenever I am trying to put a label on a post, I have to cycle through all the letters of the alphabet to see which labels I already have, and which one(s) fit the post best? Because I don't have the faintest idea what my labels say, and I don't wanna create a whole new one for each post! Now THAT would be terrible! (FOR EXAMPLE: the post where i go on and on about how i choose labels for my posts) (OR: i still can't get over how cool this label thing is)
So here I go, Q, W, E, R.......

Love, Joe.



PS UPDATE
HEY. FDTP ROCKS. INTERNET IS SO CARNAL HERE. NOT TO MENTION FAR (the article above is a draft that I wrote before I left...hehe). AM LEARNING A LOT. 13 HOUR SHIFTS WILL DO THAT TO YOU. AM ALSO ENJOYING A LOT.
ONE THING I DON´T HAVE TIME TO DO IS GO THROUGH ALL THE RECENT COMMENTS AND EDIT THEM. I WILL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT FOR NOW, IF THERE IS ANYTHING UNEDIFYING, FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE THEM, LOOK AWAY. AND TO YOU PEOPLE WHO ARE DOING THE WHOLE STAR WARS THING BELOW, ENOUGH OKAY. THANKS!

For Your Cannons

Perhaps this may come across as stinging.

Why is it that every time I post a devotional excerpt, gratitude activity, multimedic class, appreciation sound bite, or something along those lines--ziiiip, nothing! Everyone is as quiet as mice, except maybe my mom or someone who will open half an eye to say something like, "Alright, very amusing, now let's get back to what we were doing."

But then if I happen to post the slightest little thing that might strike you as more audaciously worded than you are used to, or eccentric in your golden opinion--suddenly I am the Demon of Woe himself, and you are up in arms against this conniving threat to friends and Family. "We can't let this happen! We must stand together! How dare he! Get a life! Curl up and die!"

I'm sorry, what?

Admit it. You come here with your sleeves rolled up, looking for a fight. It's not that I'm a combative person. I have my share of photos and testimonies and perfectly normal things. But you're not here for that. You're looking for someone to slug (possibly me). Aren't you? --Europe? --Africa? --And you in the back there, from California? I see you.

You could find plenty of positive here if you wanted. You could relax and really enjoy yourself--and talk about THAT. And if occasionally something goes down sideways, you could be like, "Yo--molasses? I don't know about that...." And I could take it back to the Lord and we could all be balanced and well-rounded and best of all happy.

But you don't really want that.

Alright, fine. You come here for controversy, that's what you want, who am I to deprive you of it? Have some controversy on a little buttered dish. Sit back and amuse yourself, and if it strikes you wrong, well click that little button and spew your heart out to me (who will only handle it carefully, or delete it if it is a bad sample or spirit).

Go ahead, watch this. You may as well, you came all this way.



Oh, and do come back tomorrow for a picture!

Love, Joe.

No Car

We saw a car accident yesterday. Driving down the road, minding our own business, and suddenly a movement in the corner of our eyes, across the divider.
Now, this was a small car--but they look massive when they are in the process of flipping upside down.
Which it was. Length-wise. I missed how or why, but I did see the spectacular landing, and, yes, was again shaken, and yes, prayed for the plaintiff.
It's things like this that make you not want to even get a license (this and the draft). I mean, you get to thinking, 'Aack I'm sick of all this walking,' and you start contemplating a license--but then you see something like this, and it's like FORGET IT!
Driving is crazy! Don't tell me about parkour if you drive a car! I mean, have you ever heard of 'walking accidents'? NO! It doesn't happen!
It's like, 'I was walking down the road one day when all of a sudden I lost control of my legs and flipped over.'
Yeah, right.
Or, 'I was walking along and suddenly my shoes gave out and I smashed into a tree.'
Not happening. You walk, you get where you're going. That's what happens. You don't have any close calls with other drunk walkers or crazy women walkers. You don't get standing tickets ("Sorry sir, you are illegally stood."). You don't fall asleep at the legs. No traffic. No "head"-on collisions. No "rear"-end collisions.
So walk, for God's sake! (Or take a bus--at least you're bigger than everything else on the road.)

Love, Joe.

PS
And while we're on the subject, don't you think they should make guys and girls drive on separate sides of the road? Just for safety?
Hahah, just kidding.