Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Big Brother

I was home last night playing strip solitaire after work, the game was just getting interesting when I got a phone call from an unknown number. It was a 702 area code, Las Vegas. I didn't answer the phone in time so I missed the call. They didn't leave a voicemail. Spades and diamonds were already on my mind, I didn't know what to make of it. I don't know anyone in Vegas, but they must know me. Did they somehow see me cheat just then? Can't I play by my own rules in my own house? I really don't mind being watched, but I've always hated bullies.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

How to make friends and loved ones

I don’t like wasting my time with idiots. When meeting people I usually implement a social filter of some sort to see if they are worth my time.

Here is a walk-through of what I recently began doing in parks:

1) I first go into the park and sit down right next to somebody on an otherwise empty bench, our bodies touching. Some people find this uncomfortable and will leave within minutes. Most people like to stick it out and prove they aren’t afraid or suspicious of strangers.

2) Next, I Begin leafing through large-print photos of myself, photos big enough that my face appears life-sized in my lap. I have seven different photos I use for this (happy, sad, surprised, eager, asleep, dramatic, and silly). I make sure to tilt the prints towards my friend so they can be sure to see them. I let the photos do the work for me, a true Johnnrade will seize the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

3) I put away my headshots and let the friendship or romance take root.

Be creative, don't be afraid to try variations on this. My friend Quint uses photos of children playing soccer.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

A social problem with a simple solution.

As I was coming up the stairs out of the subway I saw a man at the top, likely a bum, with his hand up soliciting a high five. I could feel his filthy eyes greasing up my jib, but I focused my energy and ignored my natural curiosity. I strode past pretending he didn't exist. I do this with all bums, especially ones who try to engage me. Humoring him would have resulted in a hand full of filth or an embarrassing "diss".

Bums are a social problem that breaks two otherwise solid conventions:
You can't judge a book by its cover. This is not applicable, bums are just as filthy on the inside as they are on the outside. No bums have any potential whatsoever.
Ignoring a problem is not a solution to a problem. Also N/A, I can actually see bums shrink in size from the corner of my eye as I ignore them. By my estimation it would take approximately 150 cold shoulders to make normal-sized male bum disappear completely. Think about that, it's a problem that's frighteningly simple to solve if we all pitch in.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

The Decomposure of Brandon Johnn

My face is covered in flies
Only pregnant women get by
I am medium sized
Don't tell me who i am
I am Brandon, I am a man.

Let's try new things
My pursuits come passively
I am not without sin
Don't tell me who I am
I am Brandon, I am a man.

I'm never recognized
My computer burrs and pipes
this is not a jive
Don't tell me who I am
I am Brandon, I am a man.

This is a work in progress, but I think it's going well. It's meant to be a song.