Dollar Menu Standards

I am, I must admit, a portly man. This was not always so. Once upon a time I was young trim and full of the vigor and hope that only marriage and children could sunder. I won't blame the sexy soda ads that fill every corner of the interweb. I won't say that the Hamburgler robbed me of my resolve, or that Grimace stuffed my mouth full of fry kids while Mayor McCheese laughed maniacally . I will however say that one of my all time favorite chains, has sunk to an irredeemable low.

Allow me to set the scene. It was a Thursday afternoon in February, I was at my office lost in the stupidity of my work. I sit behind a desk all day and have no desire to step out of my comfortable and protective cubicle. That is, until the hunger takes me.

I began to sweat as I finished the latest in an unending slew of emails, written with the grammatical craftsmanship of a demented ADHD incensed ape, who then CC'd them to everyone and their mother.
I realized then that I hadn't eaten in nearly forty five minutes and my resolve was quickly fading. So, I got up with the assistance and coaching of my Emotional Support Dog "She-ra" and made my way to the elevator.

I waited, as the combination of She'ra, myself and any more than two others would max the lifts capacity. At last an empty car arrived and we got on taking the ride down to the ground floor. Stepping out into the brisk air, my nose caught the scent of glory! It was the McDonalds two blocks down. The side walks were treacherous, and the chill air mercilessly heckled the folds of my neck as I made my way across an ice slick over stuffed parking lot to my Buick.

I opened the drivers side door letting She-ra jump across to the passengers seat before getting in myself. The car started fast and strong as though it would receive heaven from the dollar menu. We were off, the golden arches rose like a bright new day over an otherwise grim reality.

The line at the drive thru was blessedly brief and I got to the order box trembling with hunger. "McDonalds what is your order?" I recognized Susan my favorite window jockey and responded with my usual; one Double Quarter Pounder and one Big Mac meal supersized. Now I know supersized doesn't exist anymore on paper, but god damn it I refuse to submit to health fascist! "First window..." Susan's voice trailed off and I pulled forward humming the Big Mac ingredients song. I was indeed loving it!

I came to the first window cash and change precise to my order. Susan asked me how I was and gave me my total. I was already handing it over with a smile and a nod, which she returned. I looked ahead, I was almost to the promised land. Pulling up to the pick up window I turned to get my greasy bag of beef and cheese... and was struck dumb founded.

"Here you are sir, have a nice day." The young man working the window smiled and his teeth were horrible, HORRIBLE! Yellowed and black speckled. His hair greasier than the bag he handed to me, and his breath... He looked like he hadn't bathed in a week. I just didn't get it. McDonalds hiring workers of questionable cleanliness and character? I took the bag without a word, put the car in drive, and pulled over to my usual eat spot, third space from the exit sign. But when I opened the bag, I saw that the McDonalds golden promise had fizzle to naught. For as the smell of the secret sauce and the feel of the essential oils from the fry boxes collect upon my lower chin, I could only recall the last hands that touched my meat.

With a heavy heart, I pulled away and drove to the red lid waste canister, dropping my lunch and my hope into oblivion; the dream was dead. I sat silently. She-ra tried to emotionally support me, but failed. I found the nearest thing I could for an alternative, a Dunkin Donuts. One dozen donuts later my hunger was satisfied, but my heart was still broken. In sorrow I vowed never to step below those arches again...and yet...I feel them calling me back...

Male Birth Control

Once upon a time, long long ago, when I had less regret and more hair; I was a young and vigorous man. I had dreams of being a writer of tasteful erotica that catered to niche groups who were otherwise, pardon the pun, uncovered. A series of novels about mimes and circus performers, or the vast number of dwarves out there who have little to no representation in the market. Alas, my dwarfrotica series never left the ground. No, rather it was permanently hanger'd by a wonderful occurrence which I would like to say has been the most rewarding experience of my life. Parenthood.
Yes when my wife and I first settled down, we had talked about having a family, but what was the rush right? I was 39 and she 37, we were young with all the time in the world. However, it would seem fate and some misplaced pharmaceuticals had different plans.

I love my children, I really do, but I only know that now. In an alternate time line I would have been another E.L. James. "Well," you might say, "it's writing, your doing that now with kids, why couldn't you have, or still be, the  E.L. James of dwarves?" Have you ever tried to write a steamy dwarf scene to the sound of the Sponge Bob SquarePants theme? That's why.

My failed aspirations though, are not the focus of today's post, no today I act as a voice of experience and reason, calling out to the men of the world with this life saving message: Just take the needle. It would appear a new male birth control was being tested and though the study was pulled, the minds behind it are thankfully still trying to work out the kinks. However, a projected time of public realization is at least a decade out. It has also come to my attention that one of the biggest complaints by the male test subjects (aside from acne, mood swings, and the other side effects which women have dealt with directly, and for which we have soaked the critical fallout) was that the drug was an injectable. I was shocked to be honest.

The way I reckon it, there are two types of men; those with children and those without. Those whom already know the joys of parenthood, I would think, would be at the head of the line begging, jumping into a pit of BC needles a la Saw II. Those without most likely know those with and would likely follow suite. Now, there has been a lot of articles about this subject. "Why can't men toughen up and deal with what women have dealt with for decades?" Ask's one side "The test subjects were experiencing hyper rage and hurling feces at the lab technicians!" says the other side (Not really an exact quote, but the gist). These questions and observations echo through the great halls of social media to this very moment.

What does the Critical Brow have to say? Simply this; I don't care how it comes about, I don't care how many lab techs have their throats chewed out by rabid, hormonal men beasts. This male birth control needs to be a thing! Birth must be controlled once and for all! Far too long have women bared this burden alone, it is about time we manned up and aided in the one true conflict against an adversary shared by all walks of life. Children.

Netflix...sigh...

I remember the day it happened as clear as any trauma thus far received. I came home from work and went for the fridge, quite parched from my travels; I wished to indulge in the liquid gold of tradition MD. However, it would appear that one of the children thought it was beneath their effort to fully twist the milk cap before placing a nearly filled gallon on its side atop the center shelf. A cascade of 2% indifference had poured down, shelf to shelf, collecting at the base of the fridge door and within the two bins at the bottom. Although, I must point out the uncommon act of consideration on behalf of whomever was responsible (to this day, the culprit remains unnamed), as they did kick a towel underneath the fridge door to soak up the milk as it spilled out. As considerate an act as this was, no one considered the wisdom in righting the milk.

A long story short, I took my drink with grim resolve and went off to find a means of alleviating my growing ire. I sat at my PC and fired up my Netflix account. There was only one place to go, only one show that had the right combination of mind bending plots and fun and lovable campy characters to offer an escape so desperately needed. That show was, is and always will be the timeless Doctor Who. For those of you who have had limited contact with the BBC, allow me to fill you in.

The "Doctor" is a time and space travelling alien who enlist the help of humans in his zany exploration of the universe. He travels in a time machine called a TARDIS (acronym for Time And Relative Dimension In Space), which has been locked into the form of a blue police call box due to damage to its chameleon circuit in 1963. He overcomes other worldly threats through wit and cleverness vs violent action. I would highly recommend you watch it for yourselves if you haven't already, just not on Netflix; BECAUSE THEY DECIDED TO PULL THE SHOW FROM THEIR LIBRARY OUT OF THE F-ING TARDIS BLUE!!! As terrible an event as the removal of Doctor Who was, it is just one of a large number of shows, films and cartoon series that Netflix routinely yanks.

Time and time again I click upon my Netflix Icon name "Roundroller1" and with fear I then click the search box, worried about who I'll lose next? Will it be Star Trek TOS? Will it be the guilty pleasure of "The Vampire Diaries?" Who knows? Netflix treats its programming like the Walking Dead treats its characters; nobody is safe...except the Netflix Originals. Yes, its all coming together now. Every few weeks a new one appears and an old stand by fades from sight. Is it jealous? Fear of an uneven hand? If Doctor Who, a fan favorite since the dawn of modern televised entertainment, is one glorious click away, then how will Netflix Original "comedy gold" such as "The Do Over" with Adam Sandler fair? Yes Netflix I'm beginning to see your hand...

In addition to this, Netflix removed the use of addons that allowed a savvy consumer to view their content as though from another region. In England you bet your trousers they have Doctor Who available, as well as Red Dwarf and all the Monty Python and Mr Bean one can stomach. So this begs the question; why?

Why Netflix do you tease and take away? It made me think of our dog and how I used to find it amusing to tease him with a slice of pizza, chuckling as I drew back again and again, each time taking a bite and laughing riotously...ignorantly... I see now that I am the dog and Netflix is the Large Sized American taunting me with a denied slice of entertainment. As soon as I realized this, I ordered a second large meat lovers pizza to share with my old friend. Netflix, what is your end game? Will you replace all the shows we know and love with your so called "originals"? Will you continue to pull out right at the moment of perceived satisfaction? Only time will tell...

And so it begins...

And so it begins. The election is over, and the victor has been chosen. Donald Trump, is the 45th president of the United State of America. What does this mean for us though? I have been perusing the usual hot spots for accurate information on the subject such as the Onion and Reddit. Even these luminaries can not forecast the future with the precision I so hunger for. Therefore I decided to take matters into my own hands and consult an old standby in such times of uncertainty; the Tarot.



The Tarot is an ancient practice used to glean insight into events veiled in the mists of an unrevealed future. As no other news or social media resource can seem to see beyond election day I felt it was my duty to pierce the fog of tomorrow and bring forth the possibilities. To do this I knew the first step was to relax, and in order to do so, I switched from my khaki's into a pair of elastic waste sweat pants. I gathered my materials. Several candles to light the room that I may focus on the act of scrying. A 64 oz bottle of "Voltage" Mountain Dew that I may raise my mind to a level that could communicate with the spirits. A deck on Tarot cards purchased from an ancient and powerful witch in Salem MA on October 30th 2015 (as I was unwilling to deal with the crowds on Halloween proper). I also put a CD by Enya on repeat, that I may summon the wisdom of the Celtic deities to bless by reading. Then, I began.

After four hours of flipping cards, drinking soda and asking the spirits for a sign, I came to the following conclusion; we are boned. The cards said it all. Donald Trump, the prince of coins, would bring about the the fall of the tower (america) after defeating the wicked witch of the west (Hillary).
I have decided that the only logical thing to do now is to amass as many canned goods, guns and bibles as possible because this is where the train stops people. This is the end of times!
I realized immediately that the wisest course of action was to sell all my earthly goods and take up residents within the safety of a compound and pray for salvation from the welling madness...

Then I remembered. Mr Trump, whether the salvation or downfall of America is just one man in a system designed to ensure that one man (or woman someday) didn't have the power to single handedly F up the entire free world. I took a deep breath and emptied my cart on Cabela's website. Things will be tough, I realized, but only as tough as we make them. Mr Trump was elected, some may back him, others may revile, but all have to wake up tomorrow and deal with their rotten kids and soul sucking job. In this state of shared misery, can't we all just get along?

Conspiracy!!!

A compatriot of mine linked a video in his one man unending anti Hillary campaign. I watched and I critiqued as always. As I did I had a profound revelation, one that chilled me to my very core...what if he is right...what if "Killary" is indeed the harbinger of the end times.

Tomorrow is Super Tuesday and I felt that it is my duty as an American citizen to offer this terrifying revelation to you my dear readers...brace yourselves.

What if Mr Jones, is in fact a staunch Hillary supporter, in league with the dark ones and acting the part of a far right caricaturized boob as a means of discrediting those of us with a none liberal bent? As I watched this circus of folly I realized one thing; if there is some conspiracy to be in on, this Alex Jones surely has a part in it. Allow me to explain my reasoning. Mr Jones,exposes the truth of a satanic conspiracy in an over the top and, to be quite honest, crazy sort of way. His highly agitated and manic delivery builds steadily throughout this display. His tales of tearing doors off of hinges? Punching holes in walls? Going to fly down to New York on a hunt for justice? That just screams mental instability.


He offers proof, wikileaks article x, y and z. Hmmm this unstable man is suggesting I look on wikileaks for proof of his crazy discoveries. As a reasonable person wikileaks is now highly suspect. Oh and look at the Bill Clinton highlighted material that he quotes from...yet allows the camera to zoom into so that anyone could pause the video, read the full text and see that he is pulling things out of context.

I decided to look more into this charade and checked out his "infowars" website with comments under every post such as "Hillary Clinton is the modern day Jezebel. She gets drunk on the blood of the Saints, Aborted Babies. Her soul is infested with demons. She has to be stopped." This suggest his supporters are crazy conspiracy theorist types. Seeing this my first gut reaction is "Wow, these people are crazy, I'm not crazy like these people, so I'm not going to consider another word pertaining to the now quite evident fact that Hillary is truly an earthly manifestation of Beelzebub!" Its a brilliant tactic, hats off Mr. Jones.


And then, I had a Mountain Dew and watched Star Trek Season 3 episode 1: "Spocks Brain". Taking a breath I soon felt my cool returning. I post this in hopes that those reading will choose an earthly evil rather than an extra dimensional one on election day. One last note, I would like to say that I am very happy with my life and would never seek to see it end abruptly. Therefore, if I am found face down in a pecan pie in a sleazy motel, know that I was silenced.

Star Bores.

I am a proud member of my local Starfleet chapter. When I first heard that a new Star Trek film would be created back in 2009 I must say I had my reservations. After all who but the legendary Bill Shatner could take the role of James T Kirk to such heights of acting brilliance? I however did not do what some of my comrades did; protested and shunned a film before seeing it. These reactions are to be expected at ensign rank, but even my superiors held staunch to their resistance.

 I on the other hand upheld my commitment to the federation charter and reserved judgement until the credits rolled. I marched off to the theater, as any commander worth his pips would do, and watched. I left entertained with buttered fingers and a much needed hypospray of hope for the future of an alternate timeline that left the original series and events unscathed. I won't speak of "Into the Darkness" nor "Beyond." as those titles, though worth mention and review, are not the focus of this particular post.

Word then came of a continuation of the Star Wars franchise that would release in 2015. Again, I was reserved, but not nearly as much as I had been with the reboot of Star Trek. Maybe it was because I saw and enjoyed JJ's treatment of the Trekiverse and had a "New Hope", even though my memories of the last 3/first 3 in the Star Wars series left a bitter taste. Again, I went off with an open mind...sigh...

I left the theater with buttered fingers, but a grim vision of tomorrow. For those of you who have not yet seen the newest entry entitled "The Force Awakens" I would not dissuade you from viewing. Star Wars is a franchise like the Red Sox, you watch them good or bad, it is worthy of the fans support even in the dark days of Binks. That said. I was not at all impressed.

Unlike the treatment of Trek, this film for me personally gutted my childhood and showed me my entrails while I choked on a mouthful of buttery delight. For years this franchise has sadly slipped into a watered down toy grind from which I fear it may never return. It has catered to the lowest common denominator, shallow action scenes and nostalgia rhetoric. God though it was grand to see Han and Chewy again...

Now the series is again jumping, this time to events between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope. The nostalgia bomb for this insertion is the Vader teaser (and the Death Star of course). The question that haunts me is; will Rogue One bring balance to the force, or just line Mickey Mouses filthy pockets with gold? We shall see...we shall see...