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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Maybe the Best Compliment I've Ever Gotten

From my inbox today:

"Most of my friends would be appalled if I forwarded them an article about a man who has sex with dead dogs in front of child care centers. Thankfully, you're not one of them."

No. I'm not one of them at all. Thanks to Shaun and to Ronald Kuch.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

More Heartwarming Than All the Lifetime Original Movies Combined

The past three to four months have been bad...I mean like, comedically bad. The kind of bad that if you read it in a book, you'd be swayed to throw said book out of the nearest window since this particular string of bad events would be THAT implausible to stomach. I won't go into the exact nature of the bad events but they do involve phrases like "I can't be your significant other any more" and "your grandmother has cancer." But this is not a story about bad events, it's a story about how to make bad events seem less bad, at least temporarily. The only way that I know of to cure feeling awful is to grab people who make you laugh and together witness something so ridiculous that it reminds you not to take life so damn seriously. That is why things like Flugtag were invented. German for "Flying Day," Flugtag is a way for all of America to use snooty European words and fly shit they know won't actually fly off of a dock.


So I met a friend, featured here taming the sun:

and we went to the Baltimore Harbor for an afternoon of culture (yep, those are bonafide ribbon dancers):


and crashes:

New Rule of Thumb: I don't ever want to live in a place where people can't create a gigantic pile of pancakes, strap fake people to it, slap on some bacon wings, and fly that sucker off of a motherfuckin pier.

You have to admire an event like Flugtag if for no reason than there's not one other event on earth (that I can think of) in which the contestants know they'll fail, but do it just for the fun of it. A few months ago, I covered the U.S. National Air Guitar Championship and one of the guys I interviewed said that he thought air guitar was the last pure form of art simply because you can't make money or fame or groupies off of it - people do it specifically because they love it, the basis for any artistic expression. It's the same for Flugtag, people are there because it's fun to build enormous spaghetti piles:

and fireman hats:

and purple people eaters that blow smoke:

and fly them directly into a freezing cold body of water 30 feet below. The sheer absurdity of it all combined with the enthusiasm of the event is enough to make even the most sourpussed person in the world feel like this:

Like chicken soup for the soul, now with more awesome.