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Bigfoot’s Carbon Footprint

I recently decided to reduce my carbon footprint.

As a student pilot spending an hour a week flying a plane around in circles, it suddenly dawned on me that said plane consumes a lot of aviation fuel.

This caused some pangs of guilt. After all, I’m not even doing something useful, like traveling from point A to point B.

I’m flying in circles.

Badly.

As a student, I’m not that good at flying in circles yet. More like sad, misshapen ovals.

The point being: increased carbon footprint.

Turns out buying a smaller shoe size does nothing towards this reduction, and goes a long way towards giving you blisters.

After walking a day in those smaller shoes, I decided I needed to change tack.

So today, when I realized I’d forgotten to mail a bill and it was now due in two days (and one of those days was a Sunday), instead of driving the quarter-mile to the post office, I walked.

Both ways, even.

Because that makes more sense than driving to the airport, renting a plane, and then flying to the post office.

I mean, come on, how would I drop off the letter? Just throw it out the window as I soar overhead and hope?

Clearly, not a viable option for a member of the 99%.

So I went for the smaller carbon footprint option.

That’s me, a strident eco-activist hell-bent on saving the environment.

At least until I learn enough to fly out of here to a better environment.

I am always focused on personal growth and development, so when I embarked upon this walk it was with the intention of honing my environmental awareness.

I kept my eyes wide open.

And couldn’t help but notice all the cars on the road.

With the windows down.

And the stereos blasting music.

Music I don’t particularly care for.

One might even say music I hate.

Sell-my-kiddos’-soul-to-the-devil-to-make-it-stop hate.

There were two such cars.

Not only were the drivers guilty of reckless noise pollution, but with my newly-sensitized-to-the-environment eyes, I could also see the colossal waste of energy inherent in their thoughtless actions.

Not just the wear and tear on the tires and the road.

Not just the gas used to power the car.

It ends up being more gas than that. Turns out there’s increased fuel consumption to support the electrical system that fires those 20 tera-watt car stereo systems with their bowel-jarring subwoofers.

Oh yeah, and the increased use of water and laundry soap (and bleach) used by innocent bystanders to clean their underwear.

The urbanite’s carbon footprint looks a lot like Bigfoot’s.

If Bigfoot has a glandular disorder that leads to disproportionate foot growth.

My first thought was to start carrying water balloons filled with acid on my semi-regular jaunts to the post office.

Open windows, ya know.

Blinded asshats with an apparent hearing impairment can’t drive, thus shrinking their carbon footprint.

But then I thought about the energy cost of manufacturing the acid, and transporting it to my neighborhood, and realized the cost-to-benefit ratio of an acid attack made it not worth the effort.

Plus the whole jail thing. I couldn’t in good conscience become a ward of the state, forcing the taxpayers to bear the burden of my incarcerated carbon footprint.

I could yell at the drivers, but let’s face it, these guys are in cars while I’m on foot, giving them a significant advantage in a run-down-that-guy-with-my-car fight.

Never come to a run-down-that-guy-with-my-car fight without your car.

It ends up being a short fight and you look like an idiot.

Plus these drivers tend to be imposing guys (notice it’s never women who do this?), and I do not look like your typical I-can-stand-up-to-imposing-guys-no-problem guy.

I look and am more of a coward-who-scurries-into-the-shadows-at-the-first-sign-of-conflict kind of guy.

That rules out throwing rocks, too.

So now I’m at a loss. It seems I can do nothing to get these audio polluters to stop.

Which is why I have decided, with a heavy heart, to start driving to the post office. With my radio on loud so I can’t hear all the scary drivers blasting their music.

I’ve done the math, and it’s the best way to reduce my carbon footprint.

 
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Posted by on 25 January 2014 in Life

 

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Is The Defrocked Missionary on your Marital Relations bucket list? Should it be?

I should have turned left at Albuquerque. Damn, now I'm stuck on some sex freak's blog.

My bucket list. Also, where a lot of my ideas come from.

This year my Xmas present to myself is giving the Missus a copy of my Marital Relations bucket list.

The rest of this blog is going to have some ‘mature content’ (my critics and detractors’ opinions aside), so if you’re looking for something a bit more family friendly, or you really don’t want the visual of me associated with some super freaky stuff, may I recommend last year’s helpful guide on properly selecting and disposing of an Xmas tree?

That post, I can guarantee, it a total turn-off.

Unless you’re into Xmas tree snuff fic.

I know you people are out there. I see the search terms that lead you to this blog.

Makes me downright queasy, some days.

Anyway, there are so many challenges and obstacles for me to overcome in the bedroom that it was hard to limit the list to just twenty items. I’m sure many of you will notice some obvious choices not on my list and feel compelled to point them out in the comments.

Just keep in mind, no matter how unlikely it may seem, that maybe, just maybe, I’ve tapped those items.

And now, without further ado, on to the list of positions and strategies I wish to adopt in the big, warm, cuddly marital bed! Since I’m sure none of these names will be unfamiliar to my typical readers, I will not bore you with definitions or diagrams.

  • Death Throes of the Red Shirt (Note to self: need Star Trek soundtrack with fight music to do this one right)
  • Run Lola Run (to avoid unwelcome interruptions, remember to load starter pistol with blanks this time)
  • The Defrocked Missionary (works best in a hotel room where a Gideon Bible is available for use as a counter-weight)
  • The Blue Meanie – Kill, Glove, Kill (blue nitrile gloves have been deemed an acceptable substitute for latex by the American Psychiatric Association if allergies are a concern)
  • Even Reverse Cowgirls Get The Blues (But Evidently Not The Flu) (can be safely attempted even when partner is feeling down and under the weather)
  • The Comfy Chair (this is exactly what it sounds like)
  • Descent Into Dante’s Inferno (need to find Far Side: Nerds In Hell poster, put on ceiling ahead of time)
  • Escape From Dante’s Paradiso (will need to remind myself about escape portion, because I won’t want to leave)
  • Lounging In Dante’s Purgatorio (not sure if reading Dante in original Italian will be all that arousing, check how Missus feels about it first, go with English translation if she’s averse to foreign languages in the bedroom)
  • Bang Bang Maxwell’s Silver Hammer (research toxicity of silver spray paint before attempting; also, will I need to apply primer first?)
  • Deep Impact (work on Morgan Freeman impression…a lot…before attempting this one)
  • Close Shave (clay sheep optional, but must have Grommit figurine on nightstand)
  • Embracing Your Lord and Savior (will need to find a clerical collar, perhaps use the one from The Defrocked Missionary?)
  • Tantric Turn and Cough (need to buy a lot more hemorrhoids cream first)
  • Run The Victory Lap (don’t really want to do this one, but the Missus is partial to it, and if I can get her to do the rest of this list, I owe it to her; also, need to clear large furniture out of living room temporarily to make space)
  • Squeeze The Potato, The Naughty, Naughty Potato (need to buy three super-sized orders of fries from McDonald’s, get ketchup packets from Burger King right before starting, make sure they’re kept warm till we’re ready for them)
  • Raid The Farmer’s Market (organic is more expensive, but ultimately more satisfying)
  • Restaurant At The End Of The Universe (will need to order take-out afterward)
  • The Wind Tunnel (get a discreet pair of noise-cancelling headphones first)
  • Oh No, Not My Nigel! (yes, as much as you’d like to think so, yes, your Nigel too)
  • Ménage à Un (if this one was any indicator, I’m a terrible lover)

A surprising number of the positions I’d like to try sound more like martial arts moves than marital arts moves, but my preliminary research indicates this is not without reason.

My usual workout routine of sitting on the cough watching television will not be sufficient preparation – I need to implement a rigid exercise program involving cardio as well as heavy lifting before I’ll be ready to try most of them.

So I guess I’ve figured out my New Year’s resolution.

All of which makes me really hope the Mayans are wrong about this apocalypse thing, because I didn’t write this list until this morning.

Plus even if I was in shape, Tantric Turn and Cough takes three days to do properly.

Three days!

I get winded just thinking about it!

Merry Xmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!

And if the only way to ensure that is to try some of the items on my list, I say go for it!

Just don’t post any pictures or videos online please.

I don’t want the competition.

And now, a word from our sponsor: me! My books are available!
 

The Santa Claus Gang:

The Santa Claus Gang: A Marlowe and the Spacewoman short story

Marlowe and the Spacewoman:

Marlowe and the Spacewoman

Kleencut (FREE!):

So bad it won a Voidy for the next THREE consecutive years (would have been FOUR, but 2012 was a leap year)

 
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Posted by on 21 December 2012 in Angst, Conspiracies Out To Get Me, Life

 

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