I think one day, possibly tomorrow, mankind is going to look back and say, “Oh, I see. We were busy wondering who could set the Guinness World Record for the Most Items Kicked off People’s Heads in One Minute…and that’s why the ocean is still covered in oil.”

The answer of course is 43.

Maybe instead of seeing who could run the Fastest 100 Metre Hurdles Wearing Swim Fins we could see who can who can get the oil off a duck the fastest?

I bet Germany’s Christopher Irmscher can’t clean that in 14.82 seconds.

I’m your typical American: blonde, blue eyes, arrogant, very good looking stupid. When I heard there was an oil spill last month I just assumed a ship ran aground. “Oh well it happens” I thought. If I saw “oil spill” online or on the news I just tuned out. I don’t care about fish because fish don’t care about me.

I didn’t start paying attention until I saw Kevin Costner on TV promoting Waterworld 2. I was shocked to find out it wasn’t a spill. It was spilling! Al Jazeera explains what happened:

The blogsphere is up in arms, and most are writing about the environmental aftermath, the impact on the fishing industry, or the affect on local businesses. I don’t care about any of that. I don’t even care enough about that sentence to look up if I was supposed to use affect or effect. What bothers me is we lack the human ingenuity to solve this. I’m depressed.

I thought I might live too see time travel or when we break the speed of light. Damn it man! If we can’t fix this pipe Scotty will never beam me up. I had been hoping to be cloned and now that looks like a no-go. At this point I’ll be lucky to see flying cars.

It’s been spilling for more than a month. Really? We can’t fix this? In the last 10 seconds I thought of at least 12 ways to do it (7 of them involve duct tape). The US government only seems to be bothered with finding someone to blame. How about maybe we fix it first you fucking baby.

Where’s Ken Mattingly when we need him? He was the guy who solved the power consumption problem on Apollo 13. He did that in like a day – surely he can fix this.

I got boned again on the LUAS. Not that type of “boned” you perv. I got a ticket for riding without a pass. By itself that doesn’t bother me. I’m pissed I wasn’t able to talk myself out of it, again.

Admittedly, I’m pretty good and talking myself out of bank fees or getting an extra 10% off clothes. I’m the guy you call when your landlord is being a douche about your security deposit. The guy at the theme park pulls the rope down in front of you and says “Sorry, closing” who do you call? Ghostbusters? No. Me! I’ll get you on that ride.

I’d like to say I’m charming, but really all you have to do is ask in most situations. I rarely buy anything without asking the sales clerk “So, this is 10% off, yah?” I can’t count the number of times that has worked. People in phone banks, sales clerks, or people at Burger King could care less about their employer. Generally they hate their job and their only job satisfaction is helping other people, and I assure you that 10% off my Whoper meal helps. Every €0.68 helps.

Probably to pay this ticket.

The guy who gave me the ticket wasn’t having any of my “charm”. LUAS inspectors must go to stonewall camp where they’re trained to ignore or say “No” to everything. The final exam is probably some crying little boy who runs up to them and says “Please help, my house is on fire…my sister is stuck”. To which the inspectors don’t budge as the kid continues to plead with them “Help me please!” And anyone who saves the little girl doesn’t graduate from the training program.

I got on the LUAS this morning and completely forgot I had buy a new weekly pass. Between the second and third stop I realized what I had done, but no biggie I thought, I’ll just get off at the next stop and buy one. It really is too risky to try and ride the six or seven more stops without a ticket -they’re always checking in the morning.

Of course, I forgot about Parmele’s Law. As we’re pulling up to the next stop I look out and see not one, not two, but six god danm LUAS inspectors on the platform. The only appropriate words here are: WTF. As Jay-Z says “I got two choices y’all pull over the car or bounce on the double put the pedal to the floor”. They’re gonna either get on and see I don’t have a ticket or when I get off to buy one see that I didn’t have one. It’s obvious there is no way to win. So, I jump off and walk up to the ticket machine, and naturally, the guy walks over asking to see my ticket from before. I launch into my spiel and showed him my expired ticket and explained I just got on at Ranelagh and I was getting off the buy a new ticket…yada, yada, yada. But he was completely stonewalling me.

He wrote me the ticket anyway and told me I could probably appeal it, to which I said, “Then why write it?” Stonewall Jackson had nothing further to say. I had the previous one appealed so hopefully this one will be as well.

Notice above I scanned in my Subway rewards card so they know I’m a VIP when they get my letter.

Check it, yo. I was listening to Kris Kross this morning (as you do) and I realized they weren’t just a gimmick duo with backward clothes and sideways caps. The Mack Daddy and Daddy Mack were rapping about real issues that every 12yr old in America could relate to. Take “Jump” for example. Back then I thought I was supposed to just jump up and down. How high? Real high. But today I realize “Jump” is about standing up to school bullies. To make sure you don’t come off as “whack” and to “jack” kids who step to you. Believe dat.

Who couldn’t relate to “I missed the bus”? I still, to this day, wake up and lay back down thinking I can chill ’til the time comes around. Getting ready before the bus came was perhaps the biggest worry I had in the 6th grade, besides trying to get Melissa Persia to notice me. Which you’d think would’ve been easier given that the alphabet Gods placed our lockers right next to each other every year (Parmele, Persia). Until probably the worst day of my life – the first day of school in the 10th grade. We had a new student: Matt fucking Perry. Now the lockers went: Parmele, Perry, Persia. Coincidentally, that’s the same day I became an Atheist (years later I became Agnostic). Those two minute exchanges between classes were pretty much the only reason I made the bus to begin with.

I will always hate that kid (it’s also the reason I could never get into Friends). If Kris Kross had a song about this it would be called “I hate when new kids move to town”. Featuring lyrics like “Yo man, it was perfect before you came” and “You messed everything up, 4 realz”. He pretty much ruined my life. A couple more years of funny locker comments and she definitely would’ve went to prom with me. Instead, Julie Vendetti turned me down and I entered a downward spiral of cola drinks and Arby’s Chicken Bacon & Swiss sandwiches.

I’m so upset thinking about this I can’t finish my Kris Kross bit where “Warm it up” was really about streching before athletics and that I thought they were arguing ’cause the Mack Daddy was always like “Warm it up Kris!” and the Daddy Mack was all like “Dude, I’m about to…leave me alone”.

However, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going as Kris Kross for Halloween this year.

There are 59,600,000 Google results for “genealogy”. Two things jump out at me: (1) Google can count to nearly 60,000,000 in 0.14 seconds, and (2) I can’t believe how many people are interested in that nonsense.

Want to know your family genealogy? I can save you $100.00 in yearly fees at FindMyPast.com or a long talk with your grandmother. All you have to do is read Darwin’s The Origin of Species (free at the public library). Heck, just take a look at the cover that should give it away. But you should still talk to your grandmother anyway. They like that.

People are always asking me “Where is your family from?”. I tell them Amercia. Then they follow up with a laugh and say “No, I mean what’s your genealogy”. To which my reply is always, with a laugh back, America. My Mom and Dad were both born in the U.S. Their parents were also born in the U.S. and that’s as far back as I’ve ever cared to ask. We’re all from the same tree.

I hate when people tell me their genealogy. They’ll say “My Mom’s Mom is from Italy and my Dad’s Great-grandfather, John, is from Germany and John’s Mother is from…” Eventually they choose to a place to stop or can’t get any further information and end up with some crazy family identity fraction: 1/16^th French, 1/8^th Spanish, etc. More like 9/10^th stupid. All they’re doing is tracing it back to a point they’re happy with. So, don’t give me shit when I trace mine back to a point I’m happy with: American.

Eventually America will be a valid stopping point for people in the future anyway. Sooner or later we’re all bound to blow each other up over something ridiculous, like religion, and people of the new nations “Where Did Everyone Go” and “Fuck Wrong Button” will recall their families were once from that giant crater, formerly known as the United States of America.

We’re all from the same place. We all have exactly the same genealogy. Which makes everyone on MTV’s Jersey Shore my brothers. And that’s the situation right here.