Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?

Forgot to mention, my swan song as I exited the building. I set up my computer speakers in a hard to reach place, maxed out the volume, and set off "Charlie the Unicorn" as I exited the building. As I drove off into the night I could see several folks standing in my office, no doubt looking for the off switch.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Charlie the Unicorn, behold!!


It is impossible not to smile or question your grip on sanity while witnessing this fine animation. And it gets better with repeated applications. Soon you and all your friends will be calling "Charleeeee" to each other.

SA

Bart: Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?
Howard Johnson: We don't care if it's the first act of Henry V, we're leaving!

-Blazing Saddles

Last Day in Office

One of those things that have been keeping me busy and not posting regularly is that I am changing jobs. And today happens to be my very last day at my current position. While it had become clear that it was time to move on, there are things I will miss.

I'll miss my colleagues for sure. While they are all irritatingly younger, more attractive and healthier than I, they are also a rather entertaining lot. If you spend eight hours a day with the same folks, make sure you like them, they become a little like family (maybe better, because I would dread eight hours a day with my family.) I'll even miss aspects of my job, I did enjoy feeling like I was helping a prestigious non-profit modernize some of their processes. Welcome to the late '90s, soon-to-be-ex-employer. Embrace the future!

I will not miss the commute. Two and a half hours a day on the road really begins to make me feel like I am missing a lot of life. That's 27 freaking days a year, just driving to and from work!

However, now that I have the opportunity to work from home, I will miss my office.

Here I am pondering some of life's deeper mysteries on my last day...



Now it is time to pack up all the important personal possessions:



Done.

Can't forget my aquatic art....



Look out the window one last time....



And meander down the long hall one last time. . . (like horror-movie long)



And leap into the unknown. . .

SA has left the building!

Speaking out for a Muzzled Hero of Mine.

As you may know, the Hollywood writers strike looks to bitterly continue for some time, and while many shows are now affected, the ones I miss the most are the late night talk shows.

For me, (being their target demographic and all) none are missed more that the Daily Show and Colbert Report. I enjoy both, but I feel that Jon Stewart can ride out this strike with relative ease.

It's Colbert that I worry about.



Being a marketing professional for most of my adult life, I have seen many glossy pitches, heard many speeches delivered in dulcet tones that invoke a feeling of wanting to be part of whatever they are hawking (that's sales and marketing in a nutshell, folks.) But in my short tenure on this planet, I have never seen such a brilliant self-promotionalist as Stephen Colbert.

Now, some of you may argue that Stephen Colbert is normal a man, or just a character he portrays, or a talking head that reads what ever his brilliant writers put in front of him, but I say there is no need to parse up his identity. He is all those things, and he is set forth up this world to entertain me. (OK you too, but more for me. :P )

I imagine Stephen Colbert as more like Xerxes as portrayed in "300." Sitting upon his giant golden throne, God-King supreme, his every wish and need fulfilled by a countless horde of adoring slaves. All he asks from the rest of us is our subservience and love, and he will make all our wishes come true.



Now many of his adoring slaves have abandoned his golden throne and joined the picket line in Hollywood. How can the God-King survive this drought of endless love??

Fear not, mister Colbert. There are are those of us that lurk in the shadows who will support you during this time. Allow me to show my bonafides:



I am waiting to surrender it, but no one more famous than I has meandered by yet.

So Colbert, I am here to keep your name in the news, starting with my tiny daily audience. Perhaps others will be inspired to take up the challenge of keeping you in the spotlight. I pledge to mention you at least once a week until the strike is over, and then you won't need my humble offerings.

You may think that he will never know of my support, but thanks to the power of Google Alerts, he or his duly designated majordomo or hunchback sidekick will see my little post sooner or later. And yes, he does already have an adoring fanbase that can be readily found at Colbert Nation, but they offer nothing as insightful or snarky as I can.

And Stephen, (may I call you that, or do you prefer God-King?) should you feel the need to get some pressing news tidbit out though a trusted news source, I stand ready to pass it on to the adoring proletariat masses.

SA

P.S. Being a hand model is harder than it looks. I never knew I could be so vain about shots of my appendages, this was the 5th take, before I lost the light...

The Dark Horse Gains from Behind

Now that I am out of my funk for a moment to post regularly, there has been a surge in visitors to my little blog. I wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you, but that is rather time consuming, so let's settle on a blanket THANK YOU! to all, shall we?

I especially I want to thank you to some of the newest members of my MyBlogLog Posse.

Due to your efforts, I have been propelled into the top 100 in the "MyBlogLog Problogger Contest!"



It is an honor just to be mentioned, and to be in the top 100 is all I hoped for. (how many blogs are on here anyway? 106? :)

I see that some of the leaders in this contest are offering possible rewards for joining their little cliques. For any prospective members thinking of joining mine, let me make it clear that I offer nothing but snarky musings and occasional humorous photos (although it seems to me I promised an award on my "Pushing Daisies" trivia. I'll get to it...)And really, isn't that enough. . . ?

However, GorrillaSushi's prize of 184 kittens is rather tempting. . .

And for those of you that have been members for a long time, or have been so good to award me trophys or mention me elsewhere in the ether, I've been making my list of links to your blogs out there. As many of you already know, that is also a rather tedious task, but I'll get there.

SA

How do you Say Lazy in Spanish?

*SA climbs onto his tattered soapbox*

Hello all, and welcome to another installment of things that irritate me that I must now point out and lambaste for the collective good.

You know what I really despise? When an accomplished blogger that I like falls into a rut, and starts showing endless Youtube clips or meme lists of what they like or dislike and whatnot instead of using their personal energy and creativity to entertain me. Dance for me monkeyboy, dance!!

C'mon people, bloggers are supposed to be the untamed voices of the free peoples of this earth, the creative artistic spirits empassioned with the need to share their views with others, not the third-grader class clowns passing on silly jokes during science class.

Pay attention smarty pants, or you'll end of in the seventh cirle of hell on earth:

Retail.

I digress. Where was I?

Oh yes, I was surfing Youtube and found the most romantic video yet. Here, let me jump off this box and show you. *jumps off*



Now, I'm only kitchen bilingual, but that is hot, right? The way "biblioteca" just rolls off his tongue...just magic. The ladies must line up for that one.

Course, in my day, I found this to be a much hotter bilingual song. You know, when I was pitching woo. . .



SA

P.S. Are soapboxes really safe to be standing on in the first place? It's just a box. Maybe they just don't make them like that anymore. I can't imagine one single thing that I would feel safe standing on from the Container Store.

These are the thoughts that keep me awake at night.

Hold me.

Are you there God? It's me, Sarcasm

Hi God,

I know I don't come calling often, and when I do, it's because I want something. Sorry, but that's the deal. I mean really, what can you get for an omnipotent being? Socks?

Look, here's the reason I am invoking your attentions today. I want to talk to you about the fairness of biology.

I realized some time ago that I was never going to reach six feet tall. I can live with that, I am still the tallest male my family have produced in at least 150 years.

I furthermore realize that my swimmers body has gone to seed with my own innattention to excercise and love of guacamole, but I'm working on it.

Now my red hair has gone grey, leaving me with a dusty brown pelo. It's kind of distinguished, I think. I was hoping for more of a Dashell Hammett silver on the sides with silky locks on top, but it looks okay. I was rather hoping to look that way when I was in my mid-40's, but I am not vain enough to rub shoe polish in it.

Now...I have reached my tolerance limit with your so-called biology. While recieving a haircut from a heartless harpy (say that five times fast), she uttered the words that turned my blood to icewater: "You know, we do have some shampoo products for men with thinning hair...?" Gaaa! Nooooooooooooooo!



Look, I understand that my paternal and maternal grandfathers were both shiny bald and that this day might come, but not yet! I've been taking care of these folicles!

To be honest, I hadn't noticed. I have a busy life, and I hadn't obsessed about my hair since the days when I went to clubs four nights a week. However, I refuse to yield in this issue, and I plan to defy your will on this! There will be a victory of science over God here, and if a lotion/potion/poultice/torniquet exists will do the trick, I'm so there.

However, if it comes down to joining the Pubic Hair Club for Men or strapping a dead animal to my head...well...then usher me in the Bald Brotherhood.



And God... if I take your name in vain (a lot) during these trying times, please don't judge me too harshly.

SA

Push the Little Daisies, make them Pop Up!

While I have been very busy as of late, I am quite the couch commando in the darkest of night. Sorry books, no time for love.

Over the last couple of months, I have mentioned a couple of shows on TV (Dexter, Meercat Manor) that I am really enjoying, and now it is time to add to the list. There is a single show on network television deserves my snarky attentions, and it goes by the name of Pushing Daisies.



If RoaldDahl and and Edward Gory had a literary lovechild,(Think James and the Giant Peach vs The Gashlycrumb Tinies) this would be it, as narrated by Lemony Snicket. Every character, even the most mundane never-will-see-again wallflower has a deep back story.

The main character, Ned (a.k.a "The Piemaker") discovered at a tender young age that he had a special gift. If he touched a dead thing, he could bring it back to life. If he touched it again, it would stay return to being dead, and nothing could bring it back. However, if he allowed it to live longer that sixty seconds, something else would have to die in it's place to restore the balance.

And so when his Mother died unexpectedly, he brought her back. Unfortunately this act killed his best friend's Dad instead. Then, his mother touched him and died again, so his efforts were for naught. Bummer.



Skipping ahead to adulthood, Ned now owns a pie shop, but really pays the bills by going halfsies with a crafty private investigator (love watching Chi Mcbride) on solving bizarre deaths. Ned brings them back, questions them on how they die, and then they split the cash. All is going well in their morally gray scheme when Ned gets the news that his childhood best (well only) friend Chuck (a.k.a. "Lonely Tourist Charlotte Charles") has been murdered.



When Ned revives her to find out what happened, he finds he cannot bring himself to let her slip back into death, and so Chuck lives on to join their team, at a price. However, as their love grows deeper, so do the many complications, as Ned can never, ever touch her again. Comedy ensues.



Besides the decent chemistry between our lovelorn leads, the narrator is a brilliant part of the show, with his lightly delivered deadpan announcing what is going to happen, right before it does. Even the most gruesome death is rather hilarious when an off camera narration foreshadows the goings on on-screen.

This show has everything Mr. SA needs: snarky, cynical, dry, creative, witty and sweet. Oh, and the best named clubhouse to hang out in:



It even inspired me to re-read James and the Giant Peach and defy my parents and corporate masters at every turn. I see that ABC has just picked it up for a whole season, lets hope the writer's strike doesn't crimp it.

While I wholeheartedly encourage you to watch this show, be warned! I too have a gift and a curse. While I have the eye to spot really good television, and the creative talent to advocate for it, I also have the uncanny ability to enjoy shows that are DOOMED!!!

So many litter that cemetery of not-on-the-air-long-enough shows, Profit, Briscoe County Jr.(hey I liked it!)Wiseguy, Firefly, etc. The only exception being Northern Exposure, which really should have been done two seasons earlier.

This earns my Snarky Seal of Approval (I'll make one in Photoshop)and time will tell if the curse stays true to form.

SA

P.S.

Trivia bonus! You to could earn said seal if you can tell me where the title of this post comes from.

P.P.S.
It is my goal to have a fresh post every weekday this week, to get some of the post ideas rolling around out of my head, finally, and to reward my loyal fans who patiently wait for me to recover from life burnout. Let's see together how that goes, shall we?

My Apologies

Hello loyal readers. (or newbie stopping by for the first time)

I am here to apologize for the sporadic updates over these last couple of weeks. My schedule have been really full as of late, and I haven't had a good stockpile of snarkiness to unleash upon the world.

I know you are asking yourself, "Well, what the hell does Sarcasm Abounds have to do that is more important that entertaining me??"

Well, I work full time, I consult a bit, I am trying to finish my degree (I walked away in '92 from college) and I drive to and from work 2 1/2 hours a day. Oh, and I am a slum lord, gotta go shake down tenants for the rent, although that has lessened as we just sold the house that was was killing me (2 diff tenants in 15 months = 15k in damage and 7k in legal fees = nothing recovered yet.)

Normally, I can laugh all that off and muse about whatever crosses my creative mind, but this last two weeks have been a bit much even for one as snarky as me. Family matters, which we will cover another day, when I can find how exactly I want to put it.

So, there might be a bit a a gap in my musings, but if you bear with me just for a bit, I promise the best is yet to come. I have not yet begun to snark! (going for the John Paul Jones riff there...)

Until then, please enjoy my cat enjoying being the remote commander.




SA