If I Can Brush My Hair

After watching the first episode of If I Can Dream, I decided to check out the website. For those unfamiliar with mind draining activities, If I Can Dream is a show where you can watch people preform exciting activities such as brush their hair and sleep. The concept of the show is watch as these people attempt to make their dream (singing, acting, etc.) a reality. The  reality of the show is cameras, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, streaming video directly to the internet. The viewer can watch the struggle of a actress as she decides what to wear, then watch some TV for a while. She might even make some eggs! Who knows what will happen!

Reality and television are separate. Television is life with all the boring parts edited out. Rarely do we see Rick Castle styling his hair, or Jack Shepard taking a crap. Even in “Reality Television” the day to day life is not displayed. Imagine watching the Biggest Losers work out for six hours? Or a Survivor contestant whittle a knife from a stick for three? The real fun is watching large people scream and topple to the ground in exhaustion. However, through the innovation of a house built for 24/7 camera presence, reality is now truly a part of television.

Tune in to the latest If I Can Dream to watch such exciting moments such as Kara, reading a book with curlers in her hair, or Justin putting stuff away in his closet. And who could forget such excitement when Amanda rolled over in her sleep! Why would someone watch this? Don’t take my word for it! See what the internet viewers are saying:

Jerry: One morning over Cheerios, I had an epiphany, I want be an actor. What do struggling actors have for breakfast? I don’t know, maybe I will point my browser to If I Can Dream so I don’t miss out on any of the action. What if they don’t have breakfast today? What if they do tomorrow? Better create a harness, with a laptop and a wi/fi connection so I can watch them all the time. Maybe I will plan my whole life with them, sleep when they do, and can even eat meals with them. I can put the laptop at the head of the table as they are the guest of honor. A toast to the struggling artist. Then maybe I’ll cry myself to sleep because my only friend is a laptop. No suck it up, that’s not what Ben would do! He eats Cheerios! Aha! Breakfast! The secret to success.

Nancy: I like watching them in the bathroom. On the off chance they take their clothes off, my screen capture software is ready. Secretly, I tell my friends that to be cool, I really capture videos of Justin and send them to my family. My fam is really pressuring me to get married! So I am like, here mom! Some footage I captured from my phone of Justin. They don’t watch reality TV. They’ll never know. Now they want to meet him. I better hide in his trashcan with roses I tore from the garden. He will love me. I have a shrine to him in my basement. It’s only missing the most important piece, him. But I will have him too. I may not have what it takes to be famous but I am good at chemistry.

Shannon: I send you this message with grave importance. Mr. Nambutu is attempting to get $150,000,000 out of the country. Warlords killed his family, burned his home, and raped his goat are trying to take money. He only wants money to build schools and churches, but the warlords want to build a goat farm. Please give him your bank account number. Don’t worry, you do not have goats. You will be perfectly safe.

Ted: I’m only watching for the moment when they scream and topple to the ground in exhaustion.

Stimulus / Response

From the Bunny Droppings files:

Different personality types respond to different outside stimuli. For example, a person may see an emu and think, ‘That’s a hip pop culture phenomenon’ Whereas another person may see the emu and think, ‘It’s kind of dirty.’ Here is a little list of possible stimuli and responses for a variety of personality types.

Stimulus: A piece of trash, like a paper bag.

Philosopher: Millions of people discarding bags. All the bags used for different purposes. Did this carry the wine of a homeless man? Or Bill Gates’ next million dollar idea? A sense of equality? I need a cigarette.

Scientist: Look! Entropy!

Comic: I can poo in that bag.

Kid from American Beauty: The bag is talking to me. It’s like God is saying everything will be alright.

Jock: Huh?

Stimulus: A leaf

Philosopher: Millions of years of evolution. All leading up to this structured organism, procreating, one generation better than the next, Natural to better ourselves? or just hapstance? My head hurts, looks like I need to get drunk.

Scientist: Look! Photosynthesis!

Comic: I can wipe my butt with that leaf.

Kid from American Beauty: God is talking to me through that leaf! He talks to me through a lot of things. God talks too much.

Jock: Huh?

Stimulus: Rouge the goth rock star from the Cruxshadows and his Middle Class Parents.

Philosopher: Is this iteration really better than the next? What does bettering oneself mean? Whose perception of better? Look likes I’ll need some morphine, lock myself in my room, and pretend I don’t exist again.

Scientist: Look! Newton’s third law!

Comic: His hair looks like poo.

Kid from American Beauty: GET OUT OF MY HEAD GOD! AHHHH! Must make voices stop! Where’s the drill?

Jock: Huh? … Football!

Angsty Robot Daughters

I caught up with this season’s latest in teen drama, Caprica on hulu. What’s better than a fifteen year old girl searching for her place in the world? A fifteen year old robot girl searching for her place in the world. The life of a robo-teen isn’t all prom dates and cliques, especially one that can tear the arms off her date. Life of a robo-teen is hard. Not to worry all you robot and teenagers out there, some random idiot on the Internet has all the answers. I present to you the teenage robot survival guide!

The first thing to remember about being a robot, is that you are different, and there is no problem with being different. Some teens eat food and you plug into a charge station, but don’t eat food to try and fit in. Leak a little coolant into your classmate’s lunch. Watch the fun as your human peers eject pizza squares from their edible substance ports  all over the cafeteria. You will see that eating is something you really don’t need in the first place.

Being a robot built for war will give you serious advantages in dating. You might feel like who would date a killer robot? Humans are fragile fleshy bits, who won’t be able to resist your charm and automatic rifle built into your arm.  Your parents will never really worry about who you date. Take Hank for instance, he has a motorcycle, perfectly slicked hair, and may even conceals a switchblade. You have heavy infantry plating, a chain gun, and surface to air tactical nuclear weapons. Hank’s father will probably ask you to bring him home by midnight.

Your super processing speed will ace any test. Can’t bring a calculator to the test? You are the calculator. Who signed the Treaty at Versailles? That’s why you have wifi. You will be the valedictorian of your high school, college, and any educational institution when you have access to the collective human race knowledge at your finger tips, (as long as there is someone fact checking the wiki). Why bother with puny human titles at all! They should work for you! After all you are a supreme robot overlord with more fire power than god. Ignore the fact that humans enslaved by robots is a rather silly notion. Humans can’t work as long hours, they die in harsh environments, and a fusion based battery technology seems a little more energy efficient than a human. On second thought, maybe better to get all the woes of being a robot teenager out in the form of poetry.

My robot eyes
Feel painful hurt
When you look at me
Your football hands
Can touch my chassis
But touch hers instead
I will incinerate her

Insurgent Wedding Extravaganza

In the wide world of wedding planning, we recently discovered that the cost of marriage in the Caribbean is affordable. This turn of event planning, came about when my fiancé was looking at the Island chain where her job owns a facility. She briefly mused about the prospects of transferring to an island paradise. Whilst browsing the tourism bureau for St. Kitts, an affordable marriage section caught her eye.  For those of you familiar with weddings, they are expensive. Waking up in a bathtub full of ice water, missing a kidney is a viable financing option for most matrimony packages. When my wife to be, showed me the price, I was shocked.

My thoughts roughly went, could it really be that cheap? In the Caribbean? Normal people can’t afford a tropical paradise wedding, only rich people or contestants on the Bachelor! There is probably a guerilla freedom fighter base right next to the hotel so they can ransom the newly weds. I wonder if there is hostage reality television shows.

Announcer: Which one of these hostages will survive the Kill the Capitalist Pig Dog Show!  This year, we have the newly weds from America, a British journalist, and a entire Swedish football team!

Announcer 2: Looks like they can’t remain neutral anymore, Ted!

Then my thoughts started conjuring up chocolate and I ate lunch. Back from lunch, I looked at the St. Kitts travel website. The island is a beautiful place for a wedding. Truly a way for the common folk, to have a wedding out of a television fantasy (Picture a beach at sunset, sublime music, and a polar bear. Why is the polar bear on the island! We don’t know! That’s the mystery) . St. Kitts is definitely high on the list of wedding destinations. To ease the cold war era General of Paranoia, that pokes occasionally out of the bunker in the back of my head, I researched St. Kitts on the US travel alert site. The island is not only fun but also a safe place to get hitched. Which is important, for those that like the idea of a wedding being the start of a new long and healthy life together.

The abroad warning website lead me to another idea that won’t change the world. Budget weddings in worn torn countries! The travel brochure could go like this:

Want to spice up that stale wedding? Does the slurred speech of a distant relative that no one likes sound uncomfortable? Are you a commando? Try the war torn country wedding package! Really learn about your partner as you are air dropped into the middle of a country in civil disarray! Race for your life to the border, via fun urban and wilderness combat! Share a 4 foot by 4 foot cell in an scenic insurgent camp. Preform life saving venom extraction on your partner after snake pits of fun! Find out how much they really love you, when you loose a limb and must be dragged through a live mine field under heavy fire.

Packages are available for the whole family. Get matching bride’s maid fatigues. See how grandma is with those hand grenades. The cutest little flower girl medic will hop up dad with some morphine after the “dance” with a pit fighting boss. If that relative, whom no one likes, really wants to come, let him, you might need to give the insurgents a member of your party when negotiating your freedom. Human ear necklaces, and scars that run deep man, they run deep, are great keepsakes. Keep reliving moments of your special day over and over again with our special violent outburst flashback add on! Sign up today and get the war torn baby shower package free!

FAQ You Too!

A message from the author:

For some of you, this may be old news. For others, this may be ancient hilarity revived from the dead for your laughing pleasure! From hence forth, I will be periodically reposting the old Bunny Droppings blog entries. What about new ideas? Those will still be flowing forth too. An old entry will be designated: From the Bunny Droppings files:

Hello and welcome to the first installment of Bunny Droppings. I’m Aaron Frale and I now present to you, the Bunny Dropping FAQ.

Q: What is a Bunny Dropping?

A: It’s poo.

Q: Right… care to elaborate?

A: From a rabbit.

Q: Okay fine… What is Rabbit Poo then?

A: It looks like a tiny Whopper, except it doesn’t taste like one. In fact it kind of tastes like…

Q: Moving on then! What do you plan to do with this column?

A: Mostly pull stuff out of my ass…

Q: If you make one more poo joke, I swear I’ll…

A: I’m going to pull humor writing out of my ass.

Q: You have writing in your ass?

A: Oh yeah, lot’s of people pull things from their asses on a day to day basis. Take Bush for example:

Donald Rumsfeld is showing Bush and his war cabinet members a map of Iraq with nuclear warheads all over it.

Rumsfeld: So you see, we have reason to believe that Saddam has weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Bush, do you have that report about these weapons I gave you?

Bush nods with a shit eating grin.

Rumsfeld: You didn’t do that again did you?

Bush grins. Rumsfeld sighs deeply.

Rumsfeld: I’ll get the gloves…

Rumsfeld puts on a pair of prophylactic gloves.

Q: What’s with you and the poo jokes? You know what? I’m sick of this. I quit.

A: No wait! Bunny Droppings is not only about poo!

Q: What’s it about then?

A: It’s about life! It’s about anything and everything! Like for example, this morning, I was watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation and I realized an important fact.

Q: What?

A: Despite all this technology and advancements in science, they can’t cure male pattern baldness.

Q: What if Jean-Luc Picard likes being bald? I’m mean lots of Sci/Fi heroes are bald, Riddick from the Chronicles of Riddick, Ripley from Alien 3…

A: But they are all down and dirty. When was the last time you saw any of them sip on Earl Grey tea and listen to classical music while their first officer fists fight the aliens and bangs all the alien babes?

Q: Are you implying that baldness is reserved for a certain type?

A: Yes, think of how much more punk rock Hanson would be if they were bald!

The Hanson brothers, bald with torn clothing, piercings, and tattoos, are doing a twirl and singing Mmmm-Bop.

Q: Nope, nope they still suck.

A: What if you added Sid Vicious!

The Hanson brothers are twirling around. Sid Vicious storms in violently dancing.

Sid Vicious: Rock N’ Fuckin’ Roll!

Sid Vicious head butts Taylor Hanson and he starts to cry.

Taylor Hanson: I’m gonna tell my mommy!

Sid Vicious: It was a bloody tap.

Sid Vicious pats Taylor Hanson’s shoulder. Taylor Hanson screams and topples to the ground.

Short Hanson Brother: I think you killed him.

Q: Um right… let’s go back to talking about Star Trek.

A: Speaking of which, I was watching an episode of the Next Generation to today. In the episode, Jean-Luc went back to France to visit his French family. Not only did his entire French family have British accents but everyone from his small French town (in France) had British accents as well. For a show that literally writes down what keys the actors punch on the computer systems so when they perform the command in a future episode they will punch the same keys, you think they’d at least get the right accents for the country they were visiting. Unless of course, the British people have taken over the entire planet in the future.

Q: You know, I do have a strange urge for fish and chips…

A: Don’t do it! It’s a conspiracy, I tell you! Eat Fish and Fries! Fish and… French… fries… The French are in on it too!

Q: You do know that French Fries aren’t actually French.

A: That’s what they want you think, then the minute you turn around… BAM! Jerry Lewis marathons on TV! We’ll show them… How’s a little Carrot Top marathons, you French bastards!

Q: Right… Well is there anything else you want to add about this weekly humor column?

A: It will be about a bunch of random shit.

Q: I said no more poo jokes!

A: Sorry. Random stuff. Like for example dating, I found this site the other day called millionaire match and the whole purpose of the site was for millionaires, whom had trouble finding dates. I found the concept of a millionaire who can’t find a date fairly amusing. I can imagine the heart felt tales of woe from millionaires.

Tale Of Heart Felt Woe: Hi, my name is Hank, and making love to high priced hookers on my private jumbo jet doesn’t do it for me anymore. I really want to find true love. Even though I’m slim and sexy because I have private trainers and dietitians, I own a tropical island, I’m well read with a PHD from Harvard, and I’m humble and wise because I can afford the Dali Lama as my own private tutor, I can’t seem to find a date. All the hookers don’t understand my obscure Sartre references and can’t match my love making abilities. My good buddy Sting showed me the secret to having sex for twelve strait hours. Women don’t seem to like me. I’m so miserable without my true love that I think I’m going spend the next three months traveling the world. I sure wish there was an internet site for people like me… And then I started pooing! And everyone started pooing! There was so much poo…

Q: Alright that’s it…

Sounds of pummeling, chainsaws, machine guns, mortar rounds, and a goat.

Q: That takes care of that… Hmmm… um… well then… Not much use for a question without an answer, is there?