Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about skill, etiquette, and the Wu-Tang/AIDS guy.

"Do you prescribe to the idea that everything imaginable is a skill that can be learned or do you think there are exceptions to that rule?"

'Sup you guys? I'm determined today to not take all of my evening doing this, so I'm just gonna get started. I don't think I've ever pondered the notion that this prompt is asking, and if I did it probably wasn't under that particular wording. What I do know is that "everything imaginable" is a whole lotta stuff though, and when you're throwing that amount of ideas into the pot, exceptions are bound to become necessary.

The first thing that comes to mind is childbirth, and forgive me for not being an expert on the topic, but I'm pretty sure there's no way you can hone that into some kind of skill; at least not without changing some of the parameters as to what defines "skill". It's, like, science, ya know? It...happens. There's no Professional Birthing League that I'm aware of. There's no practicing. There's the whole run-up, and then it happens, and then it's over...you need skills for sure before and after, but during? I don't think so, but I don't even have the biology necessary to fully imagine it, so maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Even those crazy Duggar people with the 20 kids and all their kids' kids and whatever, I'm not convinced they've turned baby-havin' into a skill...sure, they'll let reality tv cameras into their houses, but we're not staring at a dilated cervix and marveling at the pelvic techniques used during the pushing out of an infant. You just...no. You don't.

Mass murder is another exception. Maybe there are some weirdos out there who have become more proficient at it over time, both in their craft and in not getting caught, but that's the thing I think that winds up preventing people from getting really good at it. Plus, no one that I know of has ever taught or attended a class on The Skillful Art Of Murdering Lots Of People, which leads me to believe that most killers are just subscribing to instinct. Or watching lots of CSI shows. Maybe even both. Again, it's something that doesn't seem to involve a whole lot of competition when happening, and what's the point of calling something a skill if you can't say you're better at it than someone else?

The only other thing I can think of off the top of my head is binge-watching, but maybe it's just me and my particular viewing habits. Sure, I can get sucked into any halfway decent tv show, but not for most of my awake time on any given day. I can't just sit in front of anything and watch it for more than an hour or two without doing other stuff. And I can't fathom waking up on a Saturday morning, for instance, and doing damn near nothing all day but catching a Netflix coma that ends when my eyelids refuse to open anymore that same night. I'm not a sit-still person usually, and the only skill I could see developing from that would be all the creative ways in my head I could come up with to answer the "Are you still watching this?" question...which would probably start around the third episode, and by the fifth I'd be just as likely to shut the damn thing off so I could better concentrate on my responses. Funny how that works.

So, yeah, maybe most things can be learned into a skill, but not everything. And if you're turning things into skills that haven't already been done before by someone else, chances are you're doing them really, really wrong, or you shouldn't be doing them at all.

"You have the opportunity to write an etiquette primer for everyone dealing with the holidays or another celebration. What does it say?"

Ah, yes, a topic I'm somewhat familiar with...etiquette! It's amazing that I haven't become a world-famous expert on the subject (you know, because I'm so polite and respectful ). This is easy...so easy, in fact, that I think if I ever host any kind of family gathering or holiday party of any kind, I'm gonna get special napkins printed up for the occasion. Or maybe I'll get a wood-burning crafter's kit and make a nice plaque to hang over the doorway for everyone to see upon entering my abode. Because having someone fly a plane with a banner trailing from it is expensive and not very practical, especially if it's an indoor party.

Don't be an asshole.

Nothing's worse than watching someone in someone else's house act like a giant dick to people, while the host is busy entertaining and trying to keep as many people as possible happy. You know that awkward feeling, when someone's crossed the line with their bullshit and isn't funny anymore, and you turn your emotions away from feeling sorry for the offender to feeling really sorry for the person who has to put up with them on an everyday basis? If you say you don't know what I'm talking about, then you're not invited to my next shindig, because you're probably the person who pulls this behavior off and has yet to have been called out on it. Jerk.

Day Three already in "Invalid Item" ! And today we're toasting probably one of my all-time top five favorites, "The Little Drummer Boy" (and don't ask me what the other four are, because having worked in retail for so long has definitely deconditioned me to almost every rendition of all the other songs, so much so to the point that the longer I can get into December without hearing any, the better). Who doesn't love a song about a boy wanting to bang on an instrument like he knows what he's doing? It's cute, and you're a monster if you yell at him and tell him to knock it off, regardless if the kid has less talent than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.

I also get to bust out a clip of a guy I used to work with playing the drums to a version of TLDB that his band recorded and sold on iTunes. I don't have many holiday traditions left personally, but posting this in my blog is one of them. And he's a crazy good drummer too.

"Shall I play for you?"
Lyrics.  

And now, with all due respect, I get to go all Spam on it. Because no one likes an asshole, unless you're an asshole...and even then I'm pretty sure there's some sorta rule in the Handbook For Being An Asshole that states that part of being an asshole is not liking the other assholes, and true assholes don't read rules, which is typically why assholes run in packs (or, in some cases, run companies).

The Little Scumbag

Oh, you've got AIDS
in your bummy-bum bum?
And there is no cure
'cept for my druggy-drug drug?
How 'bout I raise the price
a hunny-hundred?
Medicaid won't cover that!
A-hahahaha!
Hahahaha!
Hahahaha!
Gonna make my company rich!
Hahahaha!
Or you'll die.

What do I care?
It's my jobby-job job.
I work with rich guys too
who lobby-lob lob.
I'm like a gift to them,
you slobby-slob slobs.
Won't catch us strokin'
each other's knobby-knob knobs,
you knobby-knob knobs,
knobby-knob knobs.
Not on our knobs.

The Wu-Tang Clan is
nothin' to fucky-fuck with.
I'll buy the only copy of "Once Upon A Time In Shaolin"
for two milly-mill mill.
I'll fuck with them and all their fans
'cuz I canny-can can.
I've got no morals and I'm a shady businessman,
yessy-yes yes I am.
Yes I am.
Yes I am.
They use drugs and you probably do to so you'll all probably get AIDS
and die
because you can't afford my pills.

I think that turned out pretty well, actually...but the last verse seems a little off. Maybe my man Bill Murray can help me out   here. En garde!

All this Christmas song Spammin' got me like what if old classic kids' books were written about today's issues? Thankfully, the internet has provided us with that answer  . It's an inside joke from my old Photo Jesus days that I don't think anyone will understand, but the homie G-Stamm might appreciate the new adaptation of The Ugly Duckling, and I hope he reads that to the youngins in his house while prefacing it with "Remember when Norb Thor and I worked in the Walgreens photo lab...".

And finally, it's hard to be as sick of Christmas as I am usually, but thankfully there are still some people out there who manage to make the season bearable  . I know I shared this back in "Note: *XMasTree* The following graph shows the amoun...", but I kinda smile a little at some of these, so I don't feel bad about beating y'all over the head with it again like it's a stocking fulla nickels.

Damn, son! It's not even 6pm yet and I'm all good for today! *clap clap clap-clap-clap* Guess that leaves me with no excuse but to take care of other obligations around here...or find new reasons to keep blowing them off . Might get to watch a Sabres game tonight, even (thank you, illegal streaming website and Ad-Block Plus Chrome extension )...and get some of that good, early sleep that's been duckin' me lately. Peace, I am a poor boy too, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!