Extra Binge

 


When you cut the cable chord and go full streaming, your life changes, you can binge. Weeks turn into days. Days turn into weeks. Cats and dogs get along. Your hair grows long and lustrous in the places it should and quits growing where it shouldn’t. Plus, you save all sorts of money and get to watch what you want, when you want. While all that may sound enticing, it can lead to one losing touch with what is happening on cable and even the real world. Hell, some may not even realize there is an entire season of a show they haven’t watched yet! That show for us was Parks and Rec.

*Very Minor Spoilers Ahead. Really I wouldn’t even call it a spoiler. It’s more like an allusion. Trust me, I spend my days in a self-emitted chamber of silence to make sure I don’t run into spoilers. When it fails, I unfollow people who ruin shows for me. I would read and be okay with the following.*

Season six of Parks and Rec kind of ended the show. Anyone could watch that and walk away with a greater sense of closure than they had after LOST. People move on and characters evolve over the last few episodes. We both figured it was done. We went on with our lives. Started watching other shows. We didn’t realize another season still existed in the “to be added ether.”
That is until one day, when I logged into Shomi* to watch some American Horror Story. What did I spy at the top of my screen with the heading “New Episodes?” Parks and Rec! Not that I needed to say that because each and every one of you is super smart and taking notes.

At first, I assumed it was an error. Shomi sometimes behaves funny. Maybe someone in the marketing department tagged this to drum up some views. Either way, my curiosity got the best of me in an instant. I clicked the button and great joy filled every particle of my being. It was like Christmas in September or October – I don’t remember which. I showed my wife and we reviewed the episode names and descriptions. With each word, our voices moved toward a higher pitch. Filled with excitement and the joy that children feel on Christmas Morning when they run down stairs and don’t find their drunk uncle passed out under the tree, we jumped off the couch – which is counter intuitive when it comes to watching TV.

We did it! There was an entire new season of one of our favorite shows to watch! Thirteen new episodes to catch up with some of our favorite characters one last time. Too be honest, this season is one of the best and I love the little twist put on it. I chortled like a recently head trauma sustaining squirrel as it was revealed. Then I just buckled up and watched one of the finest seasons of this show.

*Shomi is a Canadian streaming service that will be shuttered at the end of November. We will miss the old movies and the shows not available on Netflix Canada. Someone, please, pick up the FX shows. Get the Canadian rights, please.

 


As always, please like, share, and comment. If  you aren’t busy binging.

The Never-Ending Campaign (Ahh-ahh-ahhh-aahh-aahh-aaaaahh)


 

Will this campaign ever end? November 8th can’t get here fast enough! I am absolutely tired of waiting to get this damn thing over with. In fact, I think everyone is! Who isn’t irritable and getting more frustrated by the second. Am I the only one tired of being barraged by snot nosed tattle-talings from both camps? If your mind isn’t already made up, then it never will be. Seriously, I have seen Canadians that, in a hypothetical scenario would both vote for the same candidate, fighting with each other. Enough is enough! Roll the credits! Warm up the bus!

I decided who I’m going to vote for a couple of weeks ago. Am I excited about it? Not really. To be honest, I can’t see how anyone is excited about this election. Even if they were in love with a candidate months ago, said candidate has been dragged through the mud and shown to be one of the worst people alive. Seriously, who wants either of the top two. They are ruined husks of their former selves. Spouting more rhetoric and tattling on one another. What about those other two? Short answer, “Who gives a shit?”

This is the downside of having campaigns drag on for two years. Familiarity breeds contempt. All the shit they hid and the shit they forgot they did comes to light. People are literally sifting through emails. Hoping to find Hillary’s demon summoning spell. Another group of sad sacks are spending time watching Donald Trump look less like The Annoying Orange as they travel back in time, to a period when he was only slightly physically repulsive.

Isn’t that funny? Trump’s tech vice shows how old he is. The bane of his technological existence is video. Not even HD video, this is that old crap from the nineties. The kind of stuff that was in a 4:3 aspect ratio and required bunny ears. Remember those TV’s? Sweet cheese pots, some of them were just as fat and heavy as Trump himself.

At least, Hillary is living proof that old people shouldn’t be on the internet. As fogies don’t seem to be able to wrap their heads around it. Unable to accept that it is a real and tangible part of our daily lives, they put all sorts of information everywhere, they don’t hide any of it, and they click every single pop up. Every! Single! Pop-up!

If Kim Kardashian really wanted to break the internet she would assemble a rougish five person team of old people. What did they do in a previous life? Demolitions expert? Green Beret? Accountant? Who cares because they can quite literally fuck technology up regardless of background. Just hand them some laptops and maybe a van to cruise around. That way they can pooch traffic while they are waiting for Yahoo tech support to get back to them.

So where was I? Right! The last few months haven’t helped me choose a candidate. Instead, it’s undermining my hopes for a better tomorrow. I don’t like either of them, but I prefer one over the other. In addition, it’s causing these two to not debate issues. Where’s climate change? Why are we still talking about abortion? Let it go already! That way, we can talk about more current issues that are causing some serious problems!

In fact, I still don’t know what Trump’s plans actually are. He just seems like a man who is going to drive to Ikea without asking for directions and is going to assemble that bookcase without reading the instructions. All while being a gluten chugging, Van Hagar favoring, plastic bamboo douche chute!

Oh well, just a few more weeks and it will all be over with. Then people can start with the “I told you so’s.” We can sign recount petitions. Maybe start this term’s birther movement. Until then, the tattles can keep coming. Concerned citizens everywhere are standing by with phones ready. Fully prepared to record, post and share the next example of debauchery that occurs. Just be sure to grab the torches and pitchforks before you start live tweeting!

 


Also, be sure to comment, like, and share.  You’re the best!

Tales From The Campaign Trail: Trump And The Baby

 

The campaign trail can write the best tales. Push us to our very edge. Change each and every one of us. Make us our best or our worst. This tale is no different.

 


 

Let’s face it, Donald Trump has had plenty of mainstream media woes as of late. Depending if you’re a believer in polls or not, things aren’t looking that great for him. Just to be safe, Trump has let the rubber meet the road. In order to get his numbers up and to appeal to a broader range of folk. To that end, Trump is visiting town after town, and letting them know he is still the man for the job.

 

Trump had been on the road for hours and was absolutely famished the evening his campaign bus rolled into the parking lot of Vern’s Tavern. A nice little place on the outskirts of Muskakatoon, Tennessee. Donald and his staff members were “Super stoked!” to learn that it was taco bowl night and hurried inside to eat their fill. In fact, they ate all the taco bowls. Even the ones other people had ordered! The patrons were too star struck to stop them. Besides they seemed happy to sip beers and munch fries with a presidential candidate in the room.

 

However, something was missing. At that point, The Donald realized that it was a great opportunity for some Trump-appeal. The gears inside his head creaked and lurched into motion. His eyes squinted to aid in the darting motion they were making as his eyes jumped from side to side. With lips pursed, he felt a moment of doubt. Like he wasn’t able to find what he was looking for. That is when Trump spied the baby at the bar.

 

The red vinyl booth let out a groan as the great weight was lifted and Donald slid out. Trump approached the baby much like a hunter armed with a pocket knife would approach a deer. The baby didn’t seem to notice – later it would seem that the baby had other worries on his mind. For that moment though he seemed completely enamored with the brown bottle of macro-brewed rice lager sitting in front of him. His tiny little baby hands nimbly picked at the condensation soaked label. Once Trump had gotten in range, the baby turned and looked directly at him thoroughly unimpressed. There was a whispered exchange which was followed by head shakes. A visibly tense moment followed, the baby brushed the paper wrappings off the bar and nodded.

 

That is when Trump turned to the everyone and announced, “I asked him if I could kiss him!” The crowd whooped and whirred like a high school basketball game had suddenly broken out. Trump waved his hands in an effort to hush the crowd. That is when the establishment owner, Vern, began to wave his hands back and forth in response. Soon after, everyone was doing it, except the baby. Trump put his arms at his side and looked like a displeased father. Once they realized they were not to answer by waving their hands in the air like they didn’t care, they quieted down. With that look that Trump gets when he concentrates really hard – it’s kind of like duck face, but more accurately, turducken face – he looked over the crowd, then spoke. “He said no!”

 

“Kill that baby!” someone roared as other crowd members booed. Followed by someone crying out, “For the first time in my life I wanna legalize abortion!”

 

Trump waved his hands once more. Once the audience hushed, he spoke “I know all of you are mad and you work hard. When you come to the bar, you expect to see a man kiss a baby. Sometimes, things don’t go the way you planned. They aren’t as ‘uge as you would have liked them to be.” At that point there was a fatherly grin on his face. Like he was speaking to the ugliest of his children. “We worked out a deal though. It’s going to be great, you’ll see.”

 

With that, the crowd burst into yelps and gasps of edge of their seat astonishment. No one knew what could possibly happen next. A different Vern fainted, taking a table with him and sending its contents flying. As quickly as the commotion started, it ended. A hush fell over the room as Trump and the baby raised arms. In a moment of pure bliss, their hands collided in mid-air. A slap that made on looker’s hands tingle in empathy. Time slowed and some thought they heard the gates of heaven open – especially if the gates of heaven sound like a high five. In that moment both hands remained suspended, everyone could easily do a size comparison of Trump’s hands against a baby’s. “You know what, they don’t seem to be that small. I think he definitely had the upper hand at least.” Said another patron named Vern.

 

Unfortunately, the baby was not available for further comment only saying that, “I had better head home because I have to be at the coal mine early in the morning. You think these lights stay on if I just stay here, high five some joker, and drink away my woes?”

 

Join me next time for some more Tales From The Campaign Trail.

 


Please share, comment, and tip your waitress.

 

Newspaper Horoscopes: Premium Disappointment

Horoscopes, who doesn’t get a kick out of reading them? The other day one of my friends, Hairdevil Pennysworth, brought in two newspapers. These weren’t the kind that are desperately thrust into hands at train stations with the promise of going home once the stock is depleted. These were of the rare kind that are desperately thrust into hands at train stations, but other schmoes had to pay money for. That’s right! Hairdevil Pennysworth brought in real newspapers that he didn’t have to pay a dime for.

We have a faux-tradition in the cube, where we sporadically read the horoscopes out loud. All while having fun bending and forcing something into being explained by the horoscope. Plus, it’s always a good time to know how far off they are. None of us are believers. However, we all believed that reading ‘scopes from premium newspapers was going to be quite the experience. With this much money, these ‘scopeists must have a direct line to Jupiter, Hell, or wherever?
Instead, something else happened. Something that left me with a negative feeling, a case of the Williams. It was kind of like when I was a kid around Christmas time and I would see two Santa Clauses in the same day. That always threw me for a loop. Made me question the big man’s existence. Why was one skinnier than the other, why did one have a fake beard, and why did one look cheap? My parents tapped danced around many questions like this.

“Tonight the sex will be abundant!” One of horoscope columns said. “So much passion you better wear cargo pants to carry it all!” While the other was all, “Finances, jobs and education.” Clearly the former was more fun to read. Regardless, how could there be such a huge discrepancy in the horoscopes? How could one see us having tons of passionate sex – separately, in our respective private lives? While at the same time the other was seeing us going back to school, experiencing career growth, and retooling our finances.  Are the stars that far out of unalignment? How could the heavens be so withholding of secrets?

What are people who enjoy horoscopes, who believe them, supposed to do? Just pick the nutter who sews theirs oats and turns their knobs? If knob turning isn’t their thing do they go with the milder and more finance and career aligned astrologist? Do they throw caution to the wind and mix both together and become a stripper who dresses as a teacher or investment banker?

If anyone has any insight, please let me know.

New Era/Get This Show On The Road

In the last post, I announced that I was moving the blog to a new site. Well, that site is up and running as of right now. I wanted something easier to remember and a little easier to pronounce. I also thought that Zweihander Plus Eins made me sound like a tinfoil hate wearing upstart. I wanted something a little more friendly and comforting. A name that says, let’s gripe about politics and social issues until it becomes too overwhelming. Then let’s talk about something that happened back in the 80’s. It’s been decided that Sweatpants Life is that name. Head on over there now and please hit the subscribe button. If you’re already following or subscribed to Zweihander Plus Eins, you’re good to go. That is all going to carry over so don’t worry about it. For now, you will see almost all of the posts on Zweihander Plus Ein. There will be more coming soon.

In the meantime, give it a test drive, browse some lost treasures and see how it all shakes out. Although, I am fairly certain everything is working. If not, I can fix it. Why not? It’s the patch age. If you have issues – or you just want to talk – feel free to send me a mail at keepyourpantson@sweatpantslife.com

P.S.
I will miss the small amount of random hits I receive each month from Germany.