Is the Electoral College an actual college?
Not in the traditional sense with classes, dormitories, and beer-fueled rush weeks. In fact, the only real similarity between the two is that we’re often left questioning our choices several years later. Was it really worth it, or did we simply “go with the flow,” perpetuating outdated systems and institutions? Did our choices not only reflect our needs at the time but our ever-evolving conditions? And what were we thinking? Minoring in Menonite Fashions? Writing in David Hasselhoff for president?
Ok, then why do we call it a “college”?
You can thank the Founding Fathers who loved the idea of voting so much, they wanted to give people the opportunity to do it twice — in the same day! They scoured the dictionaries and thesauri for a word that meant “a place where perfectly good objects are processed in some fashion, resulting in a new product that serves the exact same purpose as the original, leaving one to wonder if the process ever needed to happen at all.” …
Behold, Jim Kuenzer! Put down the Funyuns and juice box you stole from your second-grade daughter, and take heed!
We, the Gods of Rock, have witnessed your attempts to jam, to shred, and to rock. After careful consideration and deliberation, we proclaim — with the force of 10,000 Marshall stacks, 1,000 Woodstocks, and the unbridled intensity of a handful of Tina Turners — that you are not fit to rock. Nor roll!
We have found not that you did violate one of the Ten Commandments of Rock, but rather 1–2–3–4 of them! These transgressions are listed henceforth:
One must successfully journey up the stairway to heaven or travel down the highway to hell to acquire one’s tools. Unless they are drummers, of course, in which case they travel under cover of night by Ford Econoline van. …
Officials with the Colleyville Independent School District in Colleyville, Texas, have issued an Amber Alert for Madison Durban-Pfeiifer, a bright and dynamic junior at Colleyville Heritage High School. Ms. Durban-Pfeiifer was last seen yesterday afternoon after school with her on-again/off-again boyfriend, Jacob “J-Dog” Swanson, third string punter for the high school football team and part-time assistant manager at Buffalo Wild Wings.
While Ms. Durban-Pfeiffer’s disappearance has come as a shock to many, some of us believe we know exactly where she is.
She’s in her homecoming mum.
The mum, entitled “Blissful Remembrance” by the manufacturer, was first introduced in a beta version at the International Homecoming Exposition (HoCoExpPo) in Helsinki in 2012. However, critics claimed it was too expansive, too ambitious, too advanced. Senior officials with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers rejected applications for domestic distribution citing issues with some of the load-bearing support beams. But with recent advancements in carbon-graphite alloy technologies, the mum was cleared for stateside sales, though it has not yet been mass produced. …
Am I gaining traction with you, Donna? For you are gaining traction with me.
I’ll never forget that first memo you sent. You remember the memo, in re optimizing acquisition channels vis a vis a newly implemented acquisition matrix? The narrative of that memo, it took me completely offline, Donna. Completely offline. Your prose sparkled like industry-leading goal conversion rates and read like content linked directly from the pages of Fast Company.
And then I saw you. Walking, no, transitioning to a meeting in Gavin’s office. So many moving parts!
Your hair flowed like a killer app: attractive, somehow necessary, and with plenty of value-adds to leverage. …
Welcome to “Many Eggs, One Basket,” where I post stories so topical I only send them to one high profile publication who rejects them well after they’re old news. This one was sent to a famous magazine named after a city. They didn’t think it was right for them. Maybe it would be if there was time travel? Who knows? Enjoy!
Visiting a Texas prison with my new friend, Senator John “Snow” Cornyn in the hopes of ideas for prison reform! What sort of “reform,” though? Make them better? Or make them more prisony? Unclear. Don’t say anything yet, though. …
Part I: Jules et Jim et Connie et Nigel et Moi
In an effort to model my life after the movie “Breathless” except without the crime, I’ve started teaching myself how to speak French. My goal is to become as fluent as I can using a few tools so that I don’t have to impose on anyone who actually speaks French. This way, when I say I’m new to the language but then reel off a stream of properly conjugated verbs, they will think I’m smart and offer me a Contrex and a Gauloises. Merci!
So far, I’m kicking ass. Or “Je frappe les fesses,” as I might say in French. …
Ouch! I pulled a hammy in this morning’s spin class (Curse you, Lex! Your workouts are literally too much! Haha!) so I’m turning the pen over to my good friend and Newark Times best selling self-help author Dr. Glenn Sumners,(honorary) PhD, who has a special message for you! Glenn’s latest book, “To the Quick! Tips for Nail Biters and Others Suffering from Mild Chronic Autocannibalism” is available now from Internal Equinox Publishing. Glenn is known around the world for his peaceful demeanor and his mega-expensive three-week long seminar/retreats. Take it away, Glenn!
Knock it off with your belly aching, already.
It never fails: I’m leaving Whole Foods with a tub of quinoa rub, or the squash court, sweaty and victorious, or I’m on the veranda at the Brentwood Starbucks, enjoying a Trenta-sized choocolate mocha flauntsiata (I invented it myself with Starbucks Senior Corporate Barista, Gilles. No Starbucks will make you one. It’s exclusive.) …
While I’m stuck in this stockholder meeting, please enjoy this story from my good friend, world-famous romance novelist and Contributing Editor, Jarvis Firmrod.
Good friends, hear me true: I’m stuck.
After 30+ years of writing, nay, crafting romance and romantic novels (there is a difference), I have run out of ideas. The proverbial well has run dry, as the proverbs (unwritten) oft say! What am I to do?
What am I to do?
When I published my first novel, “Torrid Ramifications,” for the now-defunct publisher, Spring Drizzle Books, I thought, “There is no way on earth I can keep this up. It’s e’er so exhausting!” I thought maybe, maybe, I had two or three novels in me and then I would be forced to retire to the country, to comb and groom my long, silver ponytail, drink my 2014 Robert Mondavi Winery Reserve to Kalon Vineyard Fumé Blanc (on the rocks, trust me on this one), and watch my horses, Hermes and Professor Patches, as they pranced about the meadow and made sweet love under the shade of whatever that tree is in the rear corner of the yard. …
While I’m on assignment in Akron, please enjoy this guest post from Contributing Editor Jared Zimley.
Okay, for the record? I wrote this list, like, six months ago, but in hindsight I now know that going back to my old Commodore 64 for work and web browsing was probably not the wisest decisions so now I’m a little late to the game and I have to post this dumb list the same time the rest of you idiots are posting yours.
So here’s a list of ten concerts. Nine of them I actually went to. One of them, I did not. Can you guess? …