Too Far, Jerry - Two Years In: A Hearty Thank You!

After some diligent research, it has been determined that my blog "Too Far, Jerry" has reached its two-year anniversary. I will have a snort of cheap brandy to celebrate the occasion and perhaps tip some stuff over at an outdoor cafe, then intimidate the flamboyant waiter before I sprint nimbly into the passing crowd. That's how I usually celebrate important occasions and this shall be treated no differently.

I wrote my first blog on April 7, 2010 and it was a simple, but entertaining summary of a podcast that I had recorded with Michael Lyon. The podcast has since gone the way of the dodo-bird, the Ford Edsel and Goodwill Toward Man, yet the blog has gone on. And on. While many of the early blogs are no longer available here, the first year and a half of the thing has been published in a volume entitled "When I Am King", published at LULU.com http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/jeraldford. I made videos of some of the early blogs http://www.youtube.com/user/TooFarJerry and intend on making some even better video versions of some of the more entertaining pieces. Having some 500 of them at my disposal now, I am also considering a live presentation of the things, with a slide-show presentation showcasing some of the pictures and such that I have used in the blog, plus many flattering pictures of Raquel Welch to keep everyone awake. Look forward to these performances at theaters, Elk-Lodges, arenas, outdoor festivals, subway stops and strips clubs in your area.

You're welcome.

Looking back at some of the topics I have addressed, I am amazed at all the stuff I have forgotten. There is an entire series of entries detailing my plans to develop a Benjamin Button Traveling Circus, with infants who smoke and drink, several listing my various fears and paranoia and many commenting on news of the day. There are recurring themes (Raquel Welch, my irrational fear of circus clowns and the various doomsday predictions that have become commonplace) and homages to some of my favorite celebrities, such as Jerry Lewis, Rick Springfield, Buster Keaton, Wilt Chamberlain and Jack Bauer.

Buster Keaton - The original planker.



I have written of my various maladies, my love of sports and the changes I would make to benefit the earth and the surrounding universe should I be elected King. I have also been able to run excerpts from my books, though I have not witnessed any noticeable spikes in sales - perhaps there is a lesson here. Through all this, there have been nearly 6000 unique views from 58 different countries, Croatia being the most recent, Saint Kitts and Nevis seeming the most cozy. I know 6000 views is not much for some of the celebrity bloggers and the big shots who have their finger on the pulse of world-wide topicanary (no names mentioned, Yoko Ono), but it seems like a heck of a lot for a grumpy simpleton sitting in Phoenix, waiting for another summer to come and bake his brain just that much more... And I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has seen fit to click on the blog and give it a read. I hope it's made you laugh. If it's done so even a single time, then I have done my job.

"When I Am King - Reading for the Crapper"

Thanks for reading!

Office Irritation - The Skinny

Every so often, a Milton gets to the end of his office-space rope and either quits his job (or is unceremoniously fired) and makes a surprise guest return visit with a semi-automatic rifle and shoots the place up, the entire episode ending in tragedy and multiple murder/suicide, or if Hollywood has any say about it, sets the place on fire, but not before pocketing hundreds of thousands of dollars in unsigned travelers checks and making his way to a sunny beach, where he can think about putting poison in the guacamole. The end.

Before any of that happy nonsense takes place, however, there are dozens, if not hundreds of triggers that will drive the average office worker completely cubicle-insane and cause him to flip his wig and start shooting. I was skimming the news and came across an article listing the top things that annoy co-workers. It was a lame list, but worth repeating and more importantly, worth expounding upon.

#1: Hygiene - I get that, nobody wants to sit next to a Smelly Nelly. Once, when I worked at Handyman (a precursor to the modern-day Home Depot and Lowes), we had a manager who reeked so terribly of body odor that we bought a case of air-fresheners and left them on her desk. I say "we" because that is the polite thing to do. I am still waiting for my co-workers to pitch in their share of "our" investment.

#2: Other workers taking credit for ones ideas. I do not have this problem - my ideas are usually so outlandish that no one would ever take credit for them. I often balk myself. As a note, these ideas have gotten me nowhere, even when credit is shone my way as if via a Klieg lamp. When the piranha tanks in the cafe' catch on, I'll be waiting for the pat on the shoulder, thank you.

#3: Listening to co-workers engage in loud personal phone calls within hailing range. I agree. I do not wish to hear my co-workers battle with their demons over the phone with an uncaring spouse any more than I wish to listen to them prattle on about their latest unsuccessful attempt at a miracle diet, near-death cat-dilemma or menses crisis. I pass - and that's why all workers should be issued free headphones and the website link for the Adam Carolla podcast.

#4: Stolen food - is this seriously an issue? I would no sooner steal a co-worker's overcooked, under-spiced tupperware container of casserole (try putting some garlic salt in next time, honey) than I would ask to lick their popsickle. That is not some perverted code - I actually mean licking an actual popsickle in-progress. There is only 1-1,000,000,000,000th of society of whom's popsickle in-progress I would lick, and the owner of that popsickle had better have a name that begins with "Raquel Welch".

So, that was the list - underwhelming at best. Here are my thoughts on the matter.

#1: Crunchy/Smelly food - I do not want to hear you eat. It is my least favorite thing to listen to, aside from bad karaoke. If you don't chew with your mouth closed or insist on shoving chips into your pie-hole a half-inch at a time and crunch them to toothy death as you do so, I cannot be held responsible for repurcussive action, up to and including bloody murder. Nor do I want to necessarily smell what you eat. Chances are, your food will smell pleasant and that will make me hungry, which in itself is a royal disservice. However, if you spring from some odd, European lineage, chances are, you are going to eventually bring in some foul-smelling cabbage-based peasant treat that will set off not only the fire alarms, but also the strongest of gag-reflexes in the building. Stick with a sandwich or a microwavable treat, but leave your heritage at home.

#2: Talking to your computer - No one, especially me, wants to hear about the cute email you got showing a kitten in a box or a dog looking up innocently from a pile of garbage it has ravaged in its owner's absence. Nor do we wish to share in your glee that your retarded daughter made an "A" in ceramics class or that your clubfooted son will be used as a reserve punter for the B-squad on the freshman football team. Tally-ho - we have work to do and would prefer to do so without your insanely overcooked cackling at your internet tripe.

#3: Touching my stuff - I don't touch your stuff, so please don't come to my space and fiddle with crap on my desk. Chances are, my things have been strategically placed to provide maximum functionality on many different dimensional levels that you could never hope to understand. Also, don't invade my personal space - it is valuable and cannot possibly be recovered once it has been breached.

I hope this covers the basics - use common sense and good manners and chances are we can keep our little villages from going up in smoke. Or worse.

Why Cable Television Sucks

First of all, I am not certain whether it is cable TV or satellite TV. There is a dish on the roof, but there is also a cable running from my wall to the box, then another from the box to the television. So, you tell me - it's silly to differentiate for anyone who isn't a cable television installer. We don't care what you call it, as long as when I press the "On" button on the remote, my football game comes on. That's Sucky-Point #1.

This week I changed my cable/satellite television plan. I had three receivers - one in each bedroom and a third in the living room, two of which were armed with recording capabilities. I am sending two receivers back and with tears in my eyes, moved the surviving receiver (the best one - most heartily equipped) to the living room. There will be no more burying myself in my nice sheets and letting Alfred Hitchcock or another dismal Suns loss carry me off to Dreamland. That makes me sad - Sucky-Point #2.

I cancelled my Showtime subscription - the only reason I had it was to watch Rick Springfield on "Californication", then got hooked on the show like a crack-whore. The rest of Showtime was a magnificent disappointment - since I signed up for the channel two years ago, the station has introduced a total of two new movies, both starring Nicolas Cage - Sucky-Point #3. The upside of having the Underachieving Showtime family of stations was that I also got the Encore family of stations, which runs the beloved "Alfred Hitchcock Hour" (Encore Mystery) and a spate of fine Western entertainment (Encore Western). I often enjoy a good Western picture. These stations are gone now, too - Sucky-Point #4.

I also cut my plan down to the bare-bones - the least expensive package possible. When I fired up the living room television (see Sucky-Point #2), I found that I had lost the station that carries the dismal Suns losses and Diamondback games during baseball season. I braced myself for local sports on the radio - it was good enough for my pop and his pop; it was good enough for me. Further investigation revealed that I had also inadvertently nixed The Golf Channel, History II, The Military Channel and a Few Others. I grumbled and switched back to the original plan, sans The Showtime/Encore Package. Back to the television and I was delighted to find the D-Backs/Dismal Suns Loss Channel back in commission. Further perusal revealed that I had apparently permanently assassinated the Golf Channel, History II, The Military Channel and a Few Others. Were they somehow inexplicably linked to the Underachieving Showtime Family? I didn't know and have yet to learn the truth - Sucky Point #5.

If these five Sucky-Points aren't enough to convince you that cable/satellite television sucks, please feel free to leave a comment in the space provided below. I will then add more. Or you can add your own and save me some work, which I always greatly appreciate, being one of the laziest souls on the planet. It's a gift.

Now, all that said, I would like it to be known that I am not one to simply sit back and bitch and wait for someone to give me a hug, although hugs are also nice and equally greatly appreciated. I have a solution that would solve most, if not all of the Sucky Points and seems to me to be fairly straightforward and simple. And when I am King, this will be one of the first changes I will enact. That and cell-phone-blockers installed in all automobiles. There is nothing that can't wait until you get off the road - just last week, I witnessed two accidents where a vehicle was rear-ended by another vehicle whose stalwart driver was thumbing away at a cell-phone. I didn't stop, however - I assumed the police would be able to figure these accidents out, given the lack of skid-marks and the times in which we are living. My do-gooderness only goes so far - especially when I'm driving home from work, which is time-consuming enough as it is... But I digress.

What the cable/satellite companies should do is come up with a plan where the valued customer picked his own stations from the list of available offerings. Perhaps a 10-station plan for the resolute, a 25-station plan for those who have a fair notion of what viewing they prefer, 30/50/100 station packages on hand for the extravagant and indecisive. It seems to me that this would be a popular change and would revolutionize the industry. It would also see an unfortunate but necessary end to the peripheral stations with little to no subscribership. Bye-bye "The Watch-Fixer's Network".

Here is a list of my sample-subscription package. The 10-station plan (for I am nothing if not resolute):

1) The D-Backs/Dismal Suns Loss Channel. I would prefer to be able to support my home teams in my home, where beer is cheap, food is plentiful and I can watch in my skivvies. Hockey may be included in the programming - not sure, since even hockey games in the listings on the guide make my eyes glaze over...

2) Showtime. Purely for "Californication", the bastards.

3) Encore Mystery. Or better yet, The Alfred Hitchcock Network, which would be put into the rotation once I have been elected King.

4,5,6,7) ABC/NBC/CBS and ESPN: For sports. It's a pity to waste four selections on channels for sporting events, but again until I am elected King and decree that all sports are to be aired on ESPN and cut out all their useless drivel between events, we are caught in a tough, tough place.

8) The Food Network. Which would be named "The Chopped Network" and appropriately programmed when I am King.

9) The History Channel. I like History. And documentaries - preferably in black and white.

10) TCM. I like classic movies as well. Also preferably in black and white.

There should also be a "Raquel Welch Channel" and a "Silent Film Network", both of which would make my ten-channel list, effectively booting "The Food Network" and CBS, which invariably shows the crummiest sports, straight to the curb.

So comment if you wish to help me finalize my plan for submission to congress, the cable/satellite companies and George Clooney and we will get this thing started. It will enrich all our lives and take a little of the cock and bull out of our daily lives and cut it down to the preferred and enjoyable. And remember to vote Jerry Ford for King in the upcoming election. If elected, I will wear epaulets.

Discovery (Fit and Health)

I was flipping through the television channels earlier, searching for some suitable white-noise to have on in the background while I worked on my latest project. ESPN is awful - too manic, with excitable talking heads shouting to be heard over one another as they attempt to make their points about Tim Tebow or the latest NASCAR feud. Movie channels are no good; I am inevitably drawn in to another showing of "A League of Their Own" or "That Thing You Do" and first thing you know, there's two more hours of my life that I will never get back.

The same holds true of the Biography Channel and the Food Network. If I get hooked into an episode of "Chopped", or "Restaurant Impossible", or a special two-hour documentary about "Beatle Wives", once again, I accomplish nothing besides wandering to the fridge during a commercial break.

However, the History Channel is generally pretty well-suited for providing background noise while I write - narrators drone on about some shipwreck or another, or perhaps the real location of Eden. So, I usually go to the History Channel or on some occasions the Military Channel, where I can watch us beat hell out of Hitler and his evil cronies, which never fails to put me in a better mood.

Today, however, I discovered the Discovery's Fit and Health Channel - which apparently offers a variety of medical-based fare. What caught Jerry's eye? you might be asking yourselves. Well, the description of a show about women who have orgasms non-stop all day long, that's what. Done and done - here's an hour I'm not going to get any work done.

Turns out this malady, known as PSAS (Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome), is not the Godsend I imagined it would be. I frowned as the lady with the British accent explained that this condition often put women off sex altogether as they simply dealt with making the feeling go away every ten minutes by rushing off for a few private moments alone, mostly. With just their unfortunate condition and a barrel full of helpful toys, I imagine. There was, however, one exception to this general rule - a scary-looking lady who pressed her husband into service whenever possible. I began to see the downside and it made me sad.

This show was followed by another offering about circumcision - I got as far as the first minute, when it was explained that a man was going to have his foreskin re-attached. I had no interest in hearing how this would be accomplished or where they would find the lucky skin with which to fashion this pud-holster. There was also a show called "Strange Sex", but after being fooled by the non-stop orgasm trickery, I was not about to fall for that one. A commercial advertised a reality show about an ER - I glanced up to see a poor unfortunate with something sticking out of his bloody shoulder and nearly swooned. I realized that this channel was a bummer and not even worth having on in the background.

But this is not why I'm writing this evening.

I began thinking about the whole orgasm thing and how lucky we folks are who have normal sex-drives and are fairly happy with the equipment we have been issued. I never really pondered the messy reality of the act of sex - but there is some weird stuff out there. I blame the internet. The internet and Viagra. I imagine that there have been oddballs out there since the beginning of organized sexual activity - history will bear me out on this. But I think that the availability of all this cyber-smut and the ability to find footage on the World Wide Web of virtually anything that even the most perverted oddball could ever imagine has only proven to provide a giant, invisible petri dish in terms of cultivating the twisted tastes of the oddballs.

I am not making moral judgements here - it takes all kinds, of course, to make the world go round. Actually, probably not - the earth would probably be fine on its own if we all simply looked at Playboy and had missionary-position sex. No change whatsoever, in all likelihood. What I am saying is that we probably don't need to jumpstart every deviant thought that might cross a youngster's mind. In fact, it's probably not healthy to do so - we are most likely twenty years away from finding out what happens when we provide everyone over the age of six with their own phones, two-hundred channels of cable television and a laptop with internet access. I am curious to see how it all goes. In the meantime, I am off to find a saucy photo of Raquel Welch in a bathing suit and imagine an idyllic world where we are a couple and she has PSAS and I have a shipping trunk full of Viagra. I know which photo I am looking for and I'll bet I can find it on the internet. In seconds.