TIME FOR A NEW BREED OF LEADER.

One man.

One vision.

Many odors.

It's time for a new breed of leader.

I Wanna See a Dirty Movie

Another family Christmas has come and gone, again with a great deal of drama and stress, which my sister has written about. There was also a lot of fun, too, like this:




Yes, that is my grandmother.

And there were rocket balloons. Lots and lots of rocket balloons.

Ka BOO ki

I used to work for an organization that spent a lot of time trying to talk Congress into increasing public funding for the arts. To be frank, Congress doesn’t much care about most forms of the arts, except, apparently, kabuki theater.

If you don’t know what kabuki is, don’t feel bad. Congress doesn’t either. In fact, only once in the past 20 years has the word “kabuki” been used by members of Congress to actually describe the form of traditional Japanese theater. Considerably more often, it’s used as an almost laughably inappropriate metaphor. In the first half of December of 2007 alone, for example, the term was used twice. In a December 13 Washington Post article detailing problems that congressional democrats have had working with each other, Senator Evan Bayh (D-IN) is quoted as saying, "I understand the frustration; we're frustrated, too…but holding a bunch of kabuki theater doesn't get anything done." A week earlier, on December 4, Senator Max Baucus (D-MT) expressed frustration with the Senate’s inability to move a tax bill. “If that is where we are going to end up,” said Baucus, “let's just do it, not go through this kabuki here, these games.” (Note: Baucus probably meant to say “kabuki theater,” since Congress always seems to say "kabuki theater" or "kabuki dance.")

As these examples show, Members of Congress use the term kabuki to describe a congressional dog-and-pony show, a lot of posturing and debate that is ultimately meaningless and produces nothing. As Senator Chuck Schumer (D-NY) put it, “We have to do an elaborate kabuki dance to make it seem as if we are doing something but not do anything at all.” (May 19, 1999) One could argue that based on this definition, Congress itself is nothing but a big Kabuki theater, and maybe these lawmakers are using the term correctly after all. Let’s take some facts about Kabuki and see if they also pertain to Congress.

1) “Kabuki” can be roughly translated as “the art of singing and dancng.” When you get right down to it, Congress is about little more than singing and dancing.

2) Kabuki is traditionally performed on a rotating stage equipped with trapdoors through which the actors can appear and disappear. This does not describe either congressional chamber, but it’s something they should strongly consider. Imagine Senator X is giving a speech about Senator Y. Senator Y is not in the room. Senator X says “Senator Y’s bill doesn’t work, and he’s an idiot for introducing it.” All of a sudden, BAM, up through the floor comes Senator Y, wearing traditional kabuki makeup, and screaming at the top of his lungs. He ritualistically guts Senator X with a shinto sword. Ratings for C-SPAN would skyrocket.

3) In some performances, an actor’s costume would be attached to wires, and he would appear to fly over the stage or through the auditorium. Again, Congress needs this. The sight of a flying Ted Kennedy? Forget about it.

4) In 1629, women were banned from performing Kabuki. As a result, according to Wikipedia, “Young male boys began taking the role of women due to there youthfulness and higher pitched voices in comparison to that of a grown male man.” Mark Foley is probably a fan of Kabuki.

5) The men performing in the plays, according to Wikipedia, “also performed a lot of romantic scenes. Theses scenes were fully played out with one another.” Larry Craig is probably a fan of Kabuki.

6) One type of Kabuki, Aragoto, is known for it’s over-the-top style - the actors exaggerate their words and gestures, and use multiple props. Can't think of any members of Congress who might do that.

So there certainly are similarities. As a result (and given how often they use the term) you’d think members of Congress would know more about it. But let’s go over some more quotes, all from the Senate or House floor.

“The gentleman has now acknowledged that nothing in his amendment does anything about the deficit. He says it is a two-step dance. It is a Kabuki dance. It is a Dance of Seven Veils. It has got an unrepresentative argument here.” Rep. Barney Frank (D-MA), May 17, 2007

Wow, Barney, that’s a lot of dancing and a whole lot of odd cultural references. I don’t get the two-step dance reference at all. The kabuki dance is slightly more odd, but keeps with the usual misuse that whatever you're referring to is ultimately meaningless. But the dance of the seven veils thing is even more odd – so, you’re saying if the amendment passes that I’ll need to bring you John the Baptist's head on a platter? Or simply that you’ll do a saucy dance for me if I give you my vote? You lost me, Barney, but you’re well-dressed, as always. (Seriously, is there a "Queer Eye for the Queer Guy?" Can we hook Barney up?)

“It is kind of a kabuki show here, because we know full well from the Government Accounting Office reports that the money, after 2 years, will not be required because there will be additional revenues.” Sen. John McCain (D-AZ), November 2, 1995.

Yes, Senator McCain, that’s exactly what constitutes a “kabuki show,” detailed Government Accounting Office reports. Those were all over the works of higher Japanese culture.

“'We do not like your budget.’ I have been through that Kabuki dance before. We have been guilty on occasion where we have said, ‘we are not going to offer our budget resolution; we will just attack yours and offer amendments.' And we were made fun of by the other side.” Sen. Trent Lott (R-MS), May 18, 1995.

Okay, again, kabuki has very little to do with reports and/or budgets. And do you notice that most members of Congress refer to kabuki as a dance? In its infancy, that was true, but dance was phased out as the art form went on. So, apparently, did talk of reports and budgets.

“I am not going to spend a lot of time on this because this is just kabuki tonight. Everyone knows this is not a serious effort.” Sen. Max Baucus (D-MT), November 15, 2005.

Kabuki was very serious business, Mr. Baucus. There are no kabuki comedies. You notice that he again did not refer to it as dance or theater? He probably just thinks it's a word that's synonomous with "smoke and mirrors" and has no idea that there's an artistic connotation to it. I don't imagine a lot of kabuki gets performed in Montana.

“I will, therefore, vote no on this cloture vote because I still think that, arguments about politics to the contrary, neither side having totally clean hands on all of this, the controlling factor ought to be the substance of the bill, which I think is good, and that the controlling factor on a vote ought to be how one feels about whether or not one can continue to debate product liability and hope that the leadership will come together in some kind of an arrangement, as, indeed, in this sort of Kabuki dance there has been.” Sen. John D. Rockefeller (D-WV), July 9, 1998.

I can’t even fathom what the sentence means. I have no clue where in the world he was trying to go with this. Context doesn’t help; I read the whole speech and won’t waste your time reprinting it here. I wonder if he just threw in “kabuki” to make himself sound smarter. Plus it’s a fun word to say. “Kabuki! Kabuki! The girl who’s hard to get! Kabuki! Kabuki! But you can win her yet!”

“The Senate is being reduced to something close to a farce. It is becoming rapidly not the world's greatest deliberative body but instead the world's greatest kabuki theater, a place where speeches are given to which very few people listen, no minds are changed, and votes are then held with complete predictability of results.” Sen. Evan Bayh (D-IN), November 12, 2003.

A few quibbles with this. I would argue that really doesn’t describe kabuki. First of all, most audience members were held in rapt attention. In fact, the plays were intended to go on for a full day and, unlike in Congress, people actually listened. The metaphor is completely lost when you start talking about votes. To my knowledge, there was no voting in kabuki. In fact, there wasn’t much voting in ANY part of feudal Japan. But good try. On the other hand, you have to hand it to Representative Jim Oberstar (D-MN), who actually takes the time to explain a little bit about kabuki:

“Now, there are discussions, back door, called it in one meeting kind of a Kabuki dance, wearing a mask, putting on a uniform and doing this dance, and we are supposed to understand what is happening behind the dance.” June 23, 2004.

EXACTLY! You’ve got it! Thanks, Jim! The actors do put on uniforms and makeup, they dance and act, and you, the audience, are meant to interpret what’s going on, even if it doesn’t make any sense! Just like Congress!

Finally, for some reason, Rep. David Obey (D-WI), chairman of the House Appropriations Committee, REALLY likes kabuki theater.

“I want Members to understand that there is a little kabuki dance going on here, and that is required by the refusal of the majority party to provide an allocation to this subcommittee strong enough to meet our national responsibilities.” (June 22, 2000)

Little known fact – a lack of allocations to the subcommittees was the inspiration for a lot of kabuki plays.

“We then saw a Kabuki dance engaged in by the President and various Members of this House. The same day that that conference was being considered, the President said in a speech that he was in support of the content of the Kohl amendment to extend the milk program.” October 9, 2004.

I was unable to find a connection between kabuki and milk. However, if such a link exists, I’m sure Obey is aware of it.

“Madam Chairman, I do not want to rain on anybody's parade, but in a sense I do. What we have just witnessed here is our annual Kabuki dance on the question of the arts.” May 19, 2005

Now that would be sweet – every time the arts are brought up in Congress, the debate has to be performed in kabuki. We’d have folks with obnoxious makeup caked on their faces popping up through trapdoors, flying around the stage like big, fat vultures, and screaming in Japanese. That is democracy I can get behind.

“Last night, in a very interesting kabuki dance, the majority party managed to finally find the votes some more than a month late to pass their budget resolution in this House.” May 18, 2006

“Hey Bob, we just don’t have the votes for this budget resolution. Should we try bribing? Offering plum committee assignments? Hookers? Oh wait, what if we sat the opposition down in a room, get all dolled up, and reenacted the story of the 47 Ronin? That’ll be fuckin’ SWEET. Dave Obey will be pissed.”

“I would like to comment on what has happened with respect to local law enforcement assistance over the past 3 years. We have had a Kabuki dance going on for years between the White House and the Congress of the United States.” July 25, 2007

Now Bush is getting in on the dance! It’s like there’s warring factions of kabuki dancers, like a crazy, Washington-based Japanese West Side Story!

When you're a Dem
You're a Dem all the way!
From your sad, bleeding heart
To your morals of clay!

When you're a Dem
If the spit hits the fan,
You’ll yell and you’ll scream
about withdrawal plans!

You're always alone,
You're always dejected!
You’ll get nothing done
like the voters expected!

(And hey, we’re bipartisan – to the tune of “Gee, Officer Krupke:)

George Bush is a bastard
Cheney’s an S.O.B.
McConnell’s always plastered
While he fucks the bourgeoisie
Condi wears a mustache
Larry Craig wears a dress.
Thank god we’ve suspended freedom of the press

Happy Patrick Swayze Holidays

As you may know, this blog is named after a throwaway joke from Mystery Science Theater 3000, the greatest show of all time. Therefore enjoy this blog's wishes for a happy holiday:

A Festivus Miracle

I work for a nonprofit organization that represents a certain group of medical specialists. There are groups like mine for every medical specialty; dermatologists, podiatrists, plastic surgeons…I don’t work for any of them, but you get the idea.

There are about 300 people in my office, and if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say 15 of us are Jewish, and that’s a very liberal estimation. This surprised my wife; she asked how an office full of people in the medical profession could be so devoid of Jews. It’s simple; most Jews become actual doctors. It’s schmucks like me that work on their behalf. My theory is proven when a search of our database reveals that more than 100 of our members are named Levine, but none of our employees.

This results in a lot of wonderful situations in which I am the token Jew. Never was this more apparent than last week, on the first day of Chanukah. To most Jews, Chanukah is not a particularly big deal. You get presents, you light some candles, eat latkes, and it’s a great time. But as a converted Jew I can tell you that Jews don’t get nearly as excited about Chanukah as Christians do about Christmas. We take Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur very seriously. Those are “big deal” holidays, on par with the Christian passion for Christmas and Easter. But Chanukah, not so much. My wife once told me that Jews made a big deal out of Chanukah primarily so kids could feel better about missing out on Christmas. The goyim just don’t get this. “It’s like your version of Christmas!” they say. But let’s examine this:

• We’re celebrating the victory of a group of farmers, led by a guy nicknamed “The Hammer,” over the entire Syrian army, and the rededication of our temple, during which an oil lamp managed to burn for eight days when it only held enough oil for one.
• Christians are celebrating the birth of their savior, who was born to a virgin in a stable, after which he was bestowed with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh by three kings who heard angels and followed a star. Christians celebrate by decorating trees, hanging stockings, and shopping.

So yes, there are similarities in the stories. For example, in all likelihood, they didn’t really happen. At least not exactly like that. As good a leader as Judah “The Hammer” Maccabee may have been, there was probably a much larger army on his side than history would indicate. In addition, the Syrian king at the time, Antiochus, had outlawed Judaism, and if history has shown us one thing, you don’t piss off the Jews. Finally, the first book of Maccabees makes no mention of the oil thing. In fact, some historians believe that though a major celebration did take place during the rededication of the temple, it may have been a delayed celebration of Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret, which the Maccabees couldn’t observe at the correct time because they were busy slaughtering Syrians.

As far as Christmas, no one seems to agree on when Jesus was born, only that it probably wasn’t December 25. And, as everyone knows, most of the symbols and traditions of Christmas have pagan origins. To my knowledge, there is no mention of stockings, mistletoe, Santa Claus, or FAO Schwartz in the bible. But then, I glossed over a lot of the New Testament, so I could be wrong. So the similarities between the two holidays end, ironically, with their discrepancies. (Though each religion has managed to produce one high quality holiday film – It’s a Wonderful Life and the Hebrew Hammer. Christmas has far superior children’s specials, however, No one will ever argue that "Rugrats Chanukah" is more entertaining than "A Charlie Brown Christmas." They’ve also got us beat in children’s literature; last year I bought my son both How the Grinch Stole Christmas and When Mindy Saved Hanukkah. The ratio of requests for the Grinch to requests for Mindy remains about 15-1.)

Christians (and nonreligious folks that observe Christmas) REALLY get into their holiday, and can’t understand why Jews don’t get as jacked up about Chanukah. This resulted in five – count them, five – people asking me why I was at work on the first day of Chanukah. I emailed a Jewish coworker about this, inquiring as to whether or not she’d been getting the same question. Her two word response: “It’s Chanukah?”

I realized I could have taken the whole week off and no one would have said anything out of fear that they could be fired for religious persecution. I began thinking of ways I could use this to my advantage. We have an annual office/cubicle decorating contest. The flyer that was handed out for the contest featured the following pictures: the Grinch, Scrooge, a wreath, Christmas ornaments, a family of folks in red and green sitting around a table, a dog wearing a Santa hat, and a gingerbread house. Yet nowhere on the flyer did the word “Christmas” appear. No, it was a “holiday” decorating contest. (I should add in the interest of full disclosure that when I saw one of these flyers on someone’s desk I would draw a star of David and write “Chanukah!” or “Jew!” in large friendly letters.) I asked my coworker who designed the flyer if my people were intentionally left off and, realizing the oversight, she reacted in horror. Knowing she was on the ropes, I told this coworker (who is black) “Look, you’re fortunate enough to come from a people who have never known exclusion or oppression. You don’t understand how something like this makes us feel – how we think we’ve advanced in society only to find out that we’re not as important as, say, a dog with a Santa hat.”

I decided that I would enter the “holiday” decorating contest and completely plaster my office with menorahs, stars of David, bags of gelt, and other decorations - maybe throw in a seder plate and a shofar because really, who’s going to know the difference? Then if I didn’t win, I would argue that there was a clear bias toward Christians. Also, I could have gotten the decorations cheap since judging for the contest took place two days after Chanukah had ended.

I realized, though, that this would only add to an already existing belief that people who don’t celebrate Christmas get upset or offended at the sight of anything Christmas-related. That’s why they’re called “holiday trees” now instead of Christmas trees. I would like to state here, on the record, once and for all, speaking on behalf of my people everywhere around the world: WE DON’T CARE. Seriously. Calling it a “holiday tree” implies that it represents other holidays besides Christmas. Hell, it doesn’t even represent YOUR holiday, its origins are from a pagan winter solstice ritual. You should feel free to be as loud and celebratory as you like, just like we Jews are for Yom Kippur. (I’ll give you a minute to look up Yom Kippur on Wikipedia. Go ahead, I’ll wait. Get the joke? Good, moving on.)

Anyway, I elected to come to work on each day of Chanukah, and only once did I intentionally try to make people uncomfortable. During our holiday party, a raffle was held during which we handed out some pretty lavish gifts to employees. I was lucky enough to win a two-night stay at the Ritz Carlton in Las Vegas (it pays to work in the medical field). As I accepted my prize, I took the microphone from our CEO and bellowed “Finally, things are looking up for the Jews!” The applause and smiles turned to looks of horror, and the silence was only broken by the laughter of my fellow members of the tribe.

Lack of Updates

I apologize for the lack of updates. I am currently writing two funny things, one about Chanukah, the other about Kabuki theater. In the meantime, enjoy this, which I did not write but wish I had.

Survey

Please take our brief informational survey. Your answers will be held in the strictest confidence, until I post your personal information all over everything, including public restrooms.

NEXT

I had made a personal decision that I wouldn’t use this blog for editorial reviews of books, music, or films. Because no one cares what I have to say. Nor should they. However, if I can stop one – just one – person from reading Next by Michael Crichton , I will consider my life a success.

I had heard nothing of the book before I purchased it. Not to be elitist, but I don’t read a lot of bestsellers because they are almost always total crap. For every Kite Runner, you get a Runaway Jury. However, my flight from Dallas to New Orleans was delayed by six hours, and the only place to buy books was a snack shop which carried only the top ten paperback bestsellers. All the books looked at sounded exactly the same - they all had titles like “Hard Luck” or “Bad Medicine” or “Final Truth” and were about “the world of medicine gone wrong” or “when the law goes bad” or, in the case of some book called The Last Templar, the exact same plot as the Da Vinci Code. I’m not sure how that was even legal.

I bought Next because it had a simple, one-word title, came in multiple colors (seriously – I bought the bright green one), and the cover featured a monkey with a barcode. I’ll pretty much read anything with a monkey on the cover. Also, the back cover featured no description of the book, which I thought was ballsy. I gleaned from the reviews that it was about genetic modification and testing, and being in the medical field myself, I thought it would be educational. I plunked down my $9.95. In retrospect, I should have used that ten bucks on a really cheap hooker in New Orleans, gotten genital warts, and castrated myself. That would have been more fun than this book.

Next features, at a conservative estimate, 27 different plotlines, all introduced one after the other, until you’re about 400 pages in before they even begin to connect. And in point of fact, only some plotlines connect to each other; most don’t. Several times characters are introduced which we are led to believe will be important, but are never revisited. The biggest of these plots include:
1) The story of a guy named Burnet whose genetic materials were gathered without his permission and sold to UCLA, and as a result they somehow now legally owned his whole body. And his daughters and grandson’s bodies, because they carry the same genes.

2) The story of a guy who discovers a “maturity gene,” which makes immature people grow up. His brother accidentally snorts it and becomes a banker.

3) The story of a guy who combined his own DNA with an ape, then for some reason leaves the creation in a lab in Bethesda, only to find out that it actually worked and there is now a ten year-old half-ape/half-human kid living in a cage in his old lab. He is able to go to the National Institutes of Health and take Monkeyboy away with no difficulty at all. No one comes after him. He then passes Monkeyboy off as a real kid, even sending him to public school. His wife and family are okay with this, even encouraging.

4) The aforementioned daughter and the grandson of Burnet, who are on the run from bounty hunters from UCLA who want their genetic materials, which they somehow plan to harvest in the back of a Hummer. The descriptions and actions of the bounty hunter and his assistant are 100 percent stolen from the film Dumb & Dumber. It’s almost uncanny. I was waiting for the guy to be killed by ingesting hot peppers. Instead he has his ear bitten off by Monkeyboy.

5) The story of a woman who has genetically modified her parrot to be much smarter than average parrots. The parrot, named Gerard, carries on full conversations and is portrayed as being smarter than most of the human characters. Hundreds of pages are devoted to the adventures of the parrot; the woman’s husband gives the parrot away, the recipient of the parrot doesn’t like the parrot so he gives it to a flight attendant, who then sells it to a pet store. The pet store owner decides to give it to his mother, so sets off on a cross-country jaunt with the parrot. All told, approximately 200 pages are devoted to getting the parrot to California for the purpose of one horribly convoluted plot point which also involves Monkeyboy.

6) The story of an orangutan that can speak Dutch and French. We spend at least five chapters on this orangutan only to have him killed by a hunter and never brought up again.

There are many, many other plots in the book, most of which don’t tie together.

It would take longer to document my problems with this book than it took Crichton to write it. Here is what springs immediately to mind:

1) We don’t need to know the absolutely massive backstories of minor characters. For instance, pages upon pages are devoted to an analysis of the relationship between the woman who genetically tinkered with the parrot and her husband, all for the purpose of explaining why the husband gives the parrot away. The parrot could have flown out a window, been taken by animal control, been kidnapped by aliens, anything. But no, we get descriptions of affairs, descriptions of mistresses who aren’t part of the story, descriptions of the rooms in which the affairs take place, all for the purpose of getting the parrot to California for one laughable plot point.

Let’s look at this another way. Here is how various authors would ask for a tissue:

Elmore Leonard: “Gimme a tissue.”

Stephen King: “I think I need a tissue. My nose is

Dissolving melting leaking from my skull

running.”

Richard Russo: “Life in a small New England town had taught him one thing; sometimes you just needed a tissue.”

Christopher Hitchens: “God Sucks.”

Now, here is how Crichton would do it:

“Last Saturday it was raining slightly, with a slight chill in the air. John Peterson went outside to get the newspaper, the front page of which announced that trade talks with China were ongoing and the Redskins beat the Buffalo Bills the night before. Didn’t cover the spread, Peterson noticed, but won. Bout time, he thought. He ran into his neighbor Estelle Wankman, an older woman with attractive features. Her long, gray hair had clearly once been a luxurious shade of blonde, but not anymore. On the whole though, he thought she’d aged gracefully. They made small talk, mostly about Estelle’s youngest daughter Sarabeth, who’d won the Phillips Country spelling bee four times in high school before joining the Marines and shipping off to Guam. Peterson always liked Sarabeth and the way she’d squint while talking to him. Peterson chatted with Estelle perhaps longer than he should have, the cold air finally creaking through his bones, up his body and eventually into his head where it settled. Later that day Peterson couldn’t help but notice a thin, mucousy discharge slowly flowing from his nasal cavity. He decided it had to go, and so he went looking for a tissue. He found Pete Johnson, his college drinking buddy turned supervisor at his usual place by the water cooler, no doubt talking about the Redskins, and inquired as to whether or not Johnson might have a tissue, so that John could wipe his nose. Johnson said he did, so they adjourned back to his office.”

2) Crichton commits a cardinal sin in fiction writing – he gives two characters the same name. Not just two characters, two kids, both about the same age. At first (after I figured out that they were not the same kid) I thought he just hadn’t noticed he’d done it. Turns out he did it (why else?) for a horribly contrived plot point near the end of the book. And the name is Jamie – how many boys are named Jamie these days? He couldn’t have called them Jake, or Matt?

3) Monkeyboy. There’s so much to tell about Monkeyboy. Talks as good as a human, but he’s got monkey hair, and lots of it. We’re told that he can pass as a real boy, but he can climb as well as a monkey (he proves this several times with fences, trees, telephone poles, etc.), can run unbelievably fast (he catches up to a speeding Hummer) and, during one scene (which is supposed to be emotional and dramatic) he THROWS HIS POO AT PEOPLE. And the scientist’s family just accepts this new member of their family. This guys wife (who, to her credit, does ask if the guy made ape whoopee) just settles in and starts raising Monkeyboy, even facing him away from her and grooming him like a real monkey mother would.

4) The parrot. The parrot’s name is Gerard, and he’s very, very annoying. He believes he is smarter than all of the humans in the book and keeps saying as much. Now that I think about it though, he’s right. Gerard eventually gets from Paris to California, where the bounty hunters are pursuing Burnet’s daughter and grandson, one of the two Jamies. (While we’re on the subject, the daughter’s name is Alex. Took me three chapters to figure out she was female. Monkeyboy’s name is Dave, in case you were curious.) Gerard makes a sound like a shotgun loading, which fools the bounty hunters, and they run away. That’s it. Hundreds of pages devoted to the genetically modified parrot just so he could make a sound like a gun.

I’ve decided I don’t feel like writing about this piece of crap anymore. That’s the beauty of blogs, I suppose. I will add that at one point, about halfway through, I thought Crichton was writing a comedy, along the lines of Dave Barry’s two novels Big Trouble and Risky Business. “Madcap” is the word that kept going through my mind, which I would assume is not what you want your audience to think when they’re reading what is supposed to be a heavy, dramatic treatise on genetic testing and modification. In fact, the only thing that convinced me that Crichton wasn’t being totally tongue-in-cheek was a twenty page diatribe at the end of the book in which he bitches about ownership of genetic materials and the patenting of genes. He says this will lead to humans not being able to own their own bodies – if a company has a patent on a certain gene, he argues, and that gene is in your body, you are in possession of stolen property. Thus they can send Joe 'Mental' Mentalino after you and harvest your DNA in the back of a Hummer. Or at least try to, before they’re warded off by Monkeyboy and Parrotman.

Do us a favor man, go back to books about dinosaurs. Those were fun.