Think About It: Things I Don't Understand
We live in a big world, friends. Oh sure, some say that advances in transportation and communication technology have made our world much smaller than it was 100 years ago, and the fact that no matter what fast food joint I go to I always seem to be served by the same person - who always gets my order wrong - would seem to bear that out. But the way we’ve pushed back the frontiers of science, for me, just serves to make this world bigger and bigger. And as this world gets bigger, I find there are more and more things I just don’t freaking understand.
For example, I do not understand Paramount Studios. It wasn’t bad enough that they cancelled Enterprise just when it was getting good, or that they gave the final episode to the producers who helped run the franchise into the ground in the first place. Now, even worse, rumors are floating around that a new Star Trek film is in the works as a prequel to the original series, and that the role of a young James Tiberius Kirk may be given to Ben Affleck. There are lots of “stars” right now that are making bad films that turn a profit (Vince Vaughan comes to mind), and many making good films that don’t earn a dime (Nathan Fillion, for instance). Affleck, however, hasn’t made either a good movie or a profitable movie in years. And even if the rumor is, in fact, just a rumor, I don’t understand why somebody in Hollywood thinks it would be a good idea. Because you know somebody does.
I don’t understand why, when a teacher tells a student not to hit or shove another student, they think it’s permissible if they say, “It’s okay, she’s my cousin.” The school rules against violence do not exempt girls from hitting other girls if they are related to them. And I realize the preceding paragraph may sound sexist, but it actually leads me up to my next point…
I don’t understand why, 99 percent of the time, it’s girls who try this tactic. When you tell boys to stop hitting each other, they do what kids did when I was in school: they stop, wait until the teacher’s back is turned, and hit the kid again.
I do not understand how someone can write an article accusing someone else of shoddy journalism then, in a footnote at the end, confess the subject of the so-called shoddy journalism is, in fact, a good buddy of his. At least, I don’t understand how he can do that and still look himself in the mirror each day.
I don’t understand why George Clooney has an Oscar but Bill Murray doesn’t.
I don’t understand why kids in school feel the need to appraise the sub of the time every 12 seconds, along with a statement on what time class ends or where they’re supposed to go next. I have the schedule, I have a watch, I require no further input on your part.
Mulholland Drive. I just don’t understand it.
I don’t understand how reality TV keeps scoring such high ratings when nobody will admit to watching it.
I don’t understand how the same network that couldn’t find a home for Firefly gave a Canonical level of reverence to Stacked.
I don’t understand what the penalty would be for Grant Theft Fromage.
I don’t understand how Sudoku became so popular so fast. I don’t understand how to play it, and I don’t even want to attempt pronouncing it.
I don’t understand why Pam is still with Roy when it’s so blasted obvious that she’s in love with Jim.
I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t understand my previous statement.
I don’t understand what chemical additive exists in car wax that prompts birds in flight to void their bowels directly above a freshly-washed automobile.
I don’t understand how a student can watch a teacher write an answer on the board then proceed to raise their hand and ask the same question.
I don’t understand the significance of 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 or 42. Okay, 42 I get, but that’s only thanks to Douglas Adams.
I don’t understand why green Jell-O, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, is entirely more fascinating than any other color. I just know that it is. Blue is kinda funky too.
I don’t understand why, some weeks, I have more column ideas than I could possibly write in a single lifetime, and other weeks I’m bone dry and have to cobble together a piecemeal column full of unrelated jokes. Thank heavens that didn’t happen this week.
Blake M. Petit doesn’t understand the appeal of Ashton Kutcher, either. And he ain’t asking. Contact him with comments, suggestions or Lost number theories BlakePT@cox.net, visit him on the web at Evertime Realms and view the Evertime Realms Livejournal, blakemp
For example, I do not understand Paramount Studios. It wasn’t bad enough that they cancelled Enterprise just when it was getting good, or that they gave the final episode to the producers who helped run the franchise into the ground in the first place. Now, even worse, rumors are floating around that a new Star Trek film is in the works as a prequel to the original series, and that the role of a young James Tiberius Kirk may be given to Ben Affleck. There are lots of “stars” right now that are making bad films that turn a profit (Vince Vaughan comes to mind), and many making good films that don’t earn a dime (Nathan Fillion, for instance). Affleck, however, hasn’t made either a good movie or a profitable movie in years. And even if the rumor is, in fact, just a rumor, I don’t understand why somebody in Hollywood thinks it would be a good idea. Because you know somebody does.
I don’t understand why, when a teacher tells a student not to hit or shove another student, they think it’s permissible if they say, “It’s okay, she’s my cousin.” The school rules against violence do not exempt girls from hitting other girls if they are related to them. And I realize the preceding paragraph may sound sexist, but it actually leads me up to my next point…
I don’t understand why, 99 percent of the time, it’s girls who try this tactic. When you tell boys to stop hitting each other, they do what kids did when I was in school: they stop, wait until the teacher’s back is turned, and hit the kid again.
I do not understand how someone can write an article accusing someone else of shoddy journalism then, in a footnote at the end, confess the subject of the so-called shoddy journalism is, in fact, a good buddy of his. At least, I don’t understand how he can do that and still look himself in the mirror each day.
I don’t understand why George Clooney has an Oscar but Bill Murray doesn’t.
I don’t understand why kids in school feel the need to appraise the sub of the time every 12 seconds, along with a statement on what time class ends or where they’re supposed to go next. I have the schedule, I have a watch, I require no further input on your part.
Mulholland Drive. I just don’t understand it.
I don’t understand how reality TV keeps scoring such high ratings when nobody will admit to watching it.
I don’t understand how the same network that couldn’t find a home for Firefly gave a Canonical level of reverence to Stacked.
I don’t understand what the penalty would be for Grant Theft Fromage.
I don’t understand how Sudoku became so popular so fast. I don’t understand how to play it, and I don’t even want to attempt pronouncing it.
I don’t understand why Pam is still with Roy when it’s so blasted obvious that she’s in love with Jim.
I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t understand my previous statement.
I don’t understand what chemical additive exists in car wax that prompts birds in flight to void their bowels directly above a freshly-washed automobile.
I don’t understand how a student can watch a teacher write an answer on the board then proceed to raise their hand and ask the same question.
I don’t understand the significance of 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 or 42. Okay, 42 I get, but that’s only thanks to Douglas Adams.
I don’t understand why green Jell-O, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, is entirely more fascinating than any other color. I just know that it is. Blue is kinda funky too.
I don’t understand why, some weeks, I have more column ideas than I could possibly write in a single lifetime, and other weeks I’m bone dry and have to cobble together a piecemeal column full of unrelated jokes. Thank heavens that didn’t happen this week.
Blake M. Petit doesn’t understand the appeal of Ashton Kutcher, either. And he ain’t asking. Contact him with comments, suggestions or Lost number theories BlakePT@cox.net, visit him on the web at Evertime Realms and view the Evertime Realms Livejournal, blakemp