Your Donald sucks. The one at Hong Kong Disneyland is more charismatic.

Recently, I took a trip down memory lane and ended up in Disneyland.

In line waiting for a Mickey-shaped rice crispy treat, I discovered I was within earshot of a perturbed middle-aged lady who deemed our happiest place on earth "ridiculous" because the manager of the Mad Hatter store wouldn't allow "P. Diddy" to be stitched on a mouse ears hat, as it was the name of a rapper. I went through a list of disallowed names myself before someone unwittingly stitched "Kool Moe Dee" onto my hat so pimp.

No one wanted to go on the Jungle Cruise in Adventureland. Too bad for the suckers who preferred to wait an hour to ride Space Mountain. Nothing rouses a venturesome spirit like the redolence of hot dogs coating the air as you're travelling down the dangerous Nile, shooting anything that's got eyeballs on him. That night, I dreamt of grilling franks in Africa.

Even the happiest place on earth couldn't keep me from frowning when I saw that It's a Small World was closed for maintenance. It wasn't a small world, after all: it was a shitty world, a shitty, shitty world.

Things got shittier when I saw for myself that people were no longer moved along the lines where the PeopleMover once moved. In the twenty-eight years that it provided low to moderate enjoyment to Disneyland goers, only two people died after boarding it. This was not the fault of the PeopleMover, however. This was the fault of the two people who hadn't the capacity to supplement the imaginatively open ride and therefore chose to cast themselves from the 2 mph travelling carts to extinguish their anguished boredom forevermore. I wonder if it worked.

The happiest place on earth? Barely. From the monorail above I witnessed with great horror that my beloved Submarine Voyage was no longer. Once a deep sea wonder filled with giant oysters and mythical mermaids, the space was now a parched tract, awaiting the installation of a stupid fish named Nemo, along with his wide-eyed Pixar cast of imagination destroyers.

Soles heavy, I trudged over to Star Tours, a Star Wars inspired simulated ride, which I, as a child, waited two hours in line to experience. No line this time, but I remembered the meandering path well, and it occurred to me that Tron really was a frightful movie and that Ewoks should never die under a pile of rocks when a child is watching.

On the whole, Disneyland remains pretty aight. I really like that ride where you sit on a boat going 1 mph and sail into a whale's mouth like Pinocchio.

Mr. Happy Crack Ain't the Only One that's Happy

Yesterday a Sidney Crackstein from St. Louis' Crack Team left a comment by my original Mr. Happy Crack post (making the streets of St. Louis safe again). I removed the post entirely and e-mailed Mr. Crackstein to be certain he was all right with my voluntary endorsement of his fine crack-loving company. Needless to say, I was struck with ultimate delight when I received the following e-mail from Mr. Happy Crack himself, addressing my concern that Minnesotans like myself have cracks up the wazoo--especially after the winter months:

Sylvia: Hopefully Minnesota will be seeing Mr. Happy Crack very soon, as we have plans on opening an office in your fair city within the next few months. I just can't sleep at night knowing a large group of very nice people have cracks up their wazoos. It pains me Sylvia. Regarding our image on your blog, don't be silly. Slap it up there as you wish...And as a reciprocal measure we'd be delighted to send you a free Mr. Happy Crack tshirt for the nice mention on your site. May all your cracks be happy, Mr. Happy Crack

Different Strokes

I've not recovered from being called an ego maniac--that is, I'm still blushing from the flattery. Other such fitting titles are welcomed. And yes, please stop me on the streets and ask for my autograph. I always have time for the groundlings--regardless of what they look like. They're usually the ones who ask if they could sit in my white limo, and that's when the tinted window separates me from them--as if I really need a window to do that.

Stevie Wonder is God

But don't take my word for it. Take the word of a college undergrad who needed a secondary activity while in a restroom stall. Some preexisting graffiti to serve as her premises, she attempted some deductive reasoning:

Stevie Wonder is awesome.
God is awesome.
Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

The bathroom brainiac even goes so far as to boast that she'd learned this in her logic class. The primitiveness of bathroom tagging disturbs me, yet I am troubled by something greater: that I myself never learned to construct a deductive fallacy by affirming the consequent.

A good lesson to gain is to save your smarts for the classroom--it is only there that your professor can offer feedback.

Death Be Gone!

Disclaimer: The following story does not advocate the use of narcotic substances. If you are young and impressionable, you have no business reading this blog. Besides, this entry is mostly about death, and, really, what do you know about death?

I entertained Death this weekend, but Death was not a gracious guest. Death was unfriendly, hung around the bar most of the time, ate all the good olives, and was too high and mighty to socialize with the other guests. I said, "Look, buddy, if you're going to be so anti-social, why did you come?" Acerbically, Death responded, "Hey now! I'm making an effort by coming to your stupid party, but everyone only wants to embrace Life, as if Life had anything to offer!" Touched by Death, I invited Death to smoke cigarettes in the yard with me while everyone inside raved about their drug-free lives and how high on Life they were. From the kitchen window, Life looked on me with disappointment, and I was sad.

Thinking: A Neophyte's Account

I ate my heart out, not because of envy, but because I had a hankering for heart. Now I think I'd made an illogical decision, but I will not apologize, for I am not sorry! Who but a fool with a heart would feel anything so foolish! I shall embrace my new rational self and rationalize henceforth! Feelings? Those are for pumpkins!

Dumb to the Demonstrative

The other night? At school? I came out of my class for water? And there was this girl on her cell phone? She was saying she got her test back? You know, the really hard one? For philosophy? And she got 30 out of 35!

After my ears finished bleeding into the drinking fountain, I walked over and tapped our successful test-taker on the shoulder, politely inquiring, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound or could it be that everyone is deaf, because no one seems to hear how fucking irritating it is when people? make questions? out of every few words? when they're talking?"