I want to be the best at something, and I don’t care what it is. I’ve struggled all my life, huffing and puffing and fighting for success. Trying. Have I achieved success? Yes, I have achieved success. But anyone can do that, because it’s totally subjective. The real question is, am I the best? No, I guess I’m not the best.

So I need to figure out something I can be the best at. Shouldn’t be hard, because the possibilities are infinite. Maybe I could be the best at recognizing what a person does for a living? I’m already great at that. I can tell that a dude with a tool belt probably is some sort of tool-maker, or that guy in the hard hat riding in the lift of one of those utility trucks and working on the power lines is most likely a thief or a website hackster. Woman delivering water? I can tell she’s a water rationer of some sort. Guy on the corner asking me for money? He’s obviously a banker or an IRS agent.

Or maybe I could be the best at counting things, or juggling, or computer science, or something else that requires basically no practice. It really doesn’t matter; I’ll take whatever. Name something, anything. Example: Avoiding cracks in the sidewalk. That’s something we’ve all probably done at one time or another, but somewhere out there is a person who’s the best at it. This is what I mean. It doesn’t have to be curing cancer or playing sports — there are an unlimited number of things to be the best at. Tying shoes. Eating an apple. Anticipating which way an ant will run. For every activity, there’s someone out there who is the best. Why can’t it be me? Cussing is a good one.

I know what you’re thinking: “This post better get good.” Also, you might be wondering how, for example, I might determine where I rank among everyone in the world in a discipline like shoe-tying. Interesting question. Hey, maybe you’re the best at making me feel bad about myself. Ever thought of that?

But you do have a point. For most things it would be impossible to determine who is the best. It’s a large world, and it’s full of people doing all sorts of random shit really well. Making tacos, closing the door quietly so as not to wake someone up, shouting “bingo” with the perfect level of excitement but without rubbing it in. The possibilities truly are limitless.

You can even be the best at negative things, like annoying people or messing everything up. Obviously that’s not ideal, but hey, at least you’re the best at something.

So now that I think about it, it’s probably hard not to be the best at one thing or another, and that’s all I wanted when I started this post. Problem solved.

That journey was not completely selfish, I hope you realize. Based on all this I’ve come up with Charley’s Law of Invisible Greatness, which proclaims that because there are an infinite number of things you can be the best at, you’re almost certainly the best at something, even if you never figure out what it is. Do yourself a favor and use it as an excuse to give up today.

Most of you probably think it’s real easy to stay on the good side of the law, but what does that really mean? I do more legal things than illegal things, because let’s face it, most things aren’t illegal. That said, is there anyone who does only legal things? I don’t know how you could. Everyone breaks the law at some point, and maybe without even knowing it! That’s because the line between lawful and criminal often hangs on a nuance or detail. Like, it’s not illegal to sleep in, unless you’re in a bed that’s in a house that you’re not technically supposed to be in. A small detail.

It’s totally legal to steal away into the night, but most other kinds of stealing are not allowed. That seems picky.

It’s not illegal to kill someone with kindness, because that’s just a cliche. Unless the person actually dies, then it’s probably illegal unless you can prove you didn’t mean to actually kill him. Also illegal: if Kindness is the name of your pet crocodile.

Drinking and singing is fine. Drinking and dancing is encouraged (with some exceptions). Drinking and painting, drinking and video games, drinking and passing out in the living room — all fine. But the moment you drink and kidnap a politician’s kid for ransom, the law comes down on you big time. Who can keep all this straight?

Can you be an arsonist without committing arson? Probably technically, but then what kind of pathetic arsonist are you really?

It’s perfectly legal to look out your neighbors’ windows, if they’ve invited you over to hang out. But — even later that same night — if you decide to look into the same exact windows at 3 a.m., it’s suddenly against the law.

I hope I’m not confusing anyone by pointing out how often the difference between legal things and illegal things is too close to call. Here’s a tip: If you’re unsure whether what you’re doing is ok, just stand still a minute, take a deep breath, and listen for sirens. If you hear them, well, that could be your answer (also, run!). If you don’t, it isn’t really a definitive answer, but at least you know that what you’re doing isn’t illegal yet. Perception is reality, and if no one is around to perceive your activities and call the police, the reality is you should keep doing whatever you want.

Sometimes it seems like it just comes down to verbs. Verbs are a part of speech that police officers and district attorneys accuse you of doing “blatantly” and “without regard to other people’s well-being.” You know, verbs. It’s very polite to say hi to someone, but if you try to get high with someone, prepare to face the consequences, especially if that someone is an undercover officer. Identify a safety hazard, you’re a hero; create a safety hazard, you’re in trouble. Who can keep track of what’s right or wrong when such subtlety is at play?

In the end, it all comes down to math. Or luck. Or some combination of the two that no one has invented a word for yet. Luckmatics. And even though determining the difference between legal and illegal is difficult in theory, in practice it’s actually pretty simple: When in doubt, odds are it’s legal. And even if it’s not, there’s a luckmatical chance you won’t get caught anyway, so go for it.

1. Find a piece of bread

2. Spread some olive oil on it with a brush or your finger or something.

3. Set it aside, but make sure you remember where you put it.

4. Find a pan or a pot or something metal that can hold liquid and be cooked on a stove.

5. Turn on your stove and oven simultaneously, twisting the knobs at the exact same time. Make sure people are watching, because this really makes it look like you know what you’re doing.

6. Put the water-filled pot or pan or whatever on the stove and bring it to a boil.

7. You can maybe watch TV for a few minutes while you wait for it to boil. But don’t keep checking it! You know the old saying: “What a loser.”

8. Once the water reaches a rolling boil, turn the burner down to low and open your oven.

9. Remember where you put the olive-oiled bread. Keep trying until you actually remember.

10. Put the bread in the oven and close the door.

11. Wait, you don’t have an egg ready? Jesus, that’s the whole point.

12. Crack the egg into the rolling-boil, water-filled pot or pan or whatever.

13. But first, start a whirlpool in the pot or pan or whatever by swirling the water in a clockwise direction. Use something other than your finger.

14. Note the time.

15. After about one or two commercial breaks, depending on how you like your egg, remove the bread from the oven.

16. Remove the egg from the pot or pan or whatever, but try not to inhale as you do so.

17. Precariously suspend the egg on a slotted spoon above the pot or pan or whatever, so it can drip dry.

18. Remember that you should have cut up the avocado sometime during the cooking process and cuss about your forgetfulness.

19. Realize that you don’t even like avocado, or egg for that matter, that you never had any bread in the house and no oven or stove either, so you’re not even sure what you’ve been doing.

20. Pour yourself another cocktail.

21. Blame your third grade teacher for where you are in life.

22. Now you’re cooking with Charley.

Well, it’s that time of year when some of us start making a list of things we’re going to try for the first time, or do better, or quit doing entirely. The only problem with lists is that they’re so hard to follow. Like when I take a list to the grocery store, I never end up with only the stuff on the list. In fact, sometimes I forget the list in the car and just wander around the store for hours.

There are times I think lists are designed to make you ignore them. Like that list of “rules” by the swimming pool. Or the one on the side of my prescription. My police record is a list of sorts. The point is, lists can become your enemy if you let them, much like the neighbor kids or your mechanic. But they’re not all bad. Lists can also tell you a lot about things in a certain, arbitrarily defined group. Lists reveal how much you know about the world in general, or how much you don’t know about your own family. It’s time to embrace lists.

So for the first time ever, I have a New Year’s resolution: to make more of those things I’ve already referred to so many times that the word is starting to sound weird to me. You know what I mean.

Following is a list of just some of the lists I’ll be making in 2009.

• Things I can do instead of that thing I was supposed to do
• Snacks I can eat in one bite
• Colors my hair will never be
• People around whom I should probably at least pretend that I’m sober
• Stuff I really should dust
• College degrees I would have failed to receive had I attempted them
• People whom I’ll never sleep with
• People whom I’ll never sleep near, because they frighten me
• Things you can do with allergy medication other than mitigate the symptoms of allergies
• Things better said in writing
• Meadows I’ve run across into the open arms of a woman
• Women whose open arms I’ve run across a meadow to be embraced by
• Meadows that are too geographically risky to run across, regardless of whose arms are waiting, open
• Ways I’m like a robot
• Different sets of last words for various situations
• Best of 2009: The Lists

What else should I list in 2009?

Yet another thing that fills me with holiday cheer this mid-December, courtesy of Amazon.com’s “latest discussion” feature:

Divorce, becoming a recluse, dementia — there are a number of contenders on there, but you can see which one I immediately clicked on. I mean, who isn’t curious what to get for the parent with dementia who actually believes that he or she has everything?

People in general put way too much stock in things that don’t matter. Hey people, why do that? IT DOESN’T MATTER.

It doesn’t matter what a person’s skin color is, or what a person’s religious beliefs are. It doesn’t matter where someone went to school or for how long. It doesn’t matter whom someone voted for, or politics in general, or socio-economic status. Quit focusing on what sort of clothes people wear, or how often someone “messes up” at work. It doesn’t matter how many spouses we’ve had, or jobs, or felony convictions.

How much money someone makes. What kind of car a person drives. What sort of shoes you wear. So many things mean absolutely nothing! The size of someone’s house. Who a person’s friends are. What I was doing between 5 p.m. and 3 a.m. on the evening of Nov. 13. Can’t we just move on?

Look, I know societal pressures push you to focus on certain things. But does it really matter how many drinks a person had before noon? I submit that it doesn’t. It’s almost as if it’s popular to get all hung up on insignificant stuff, like whether someone has a permanent address, or whether he owes you money. I mean, it’s like bathing or not bathing is affecting the global financial crisis. It’s not! Quit worrying about stuff that totally doesn’t matter.

People seem to think it matters so much how many hit-and-runs you’ve perpetrated not even counting the ones where you didn’t get caught. Why are people so worried about petty details? Is there really a substantive difference between “misdemeanor” or “felony” or “just an oopsie”? Not really. So quit asking questions like it matters.

Some of you are probably thinking, “But wait: In your world, does anything matter?” Of course things matter. Of course. But that’s a different post. This one is about the things that don’t matter, such as the spotted owl, orange traffic signs, and relatives twice removed.

Here’s an example: At your party the other day, you asked me how I intended to pay for that. I was too busy at the time to respond, because I was trying to keep my own belongings from catching fire, but now I have an answer: Does it really matter?

The main point here is people seem to care an awful lot about things that have no consequence in the Grand Scheme. And the more you focus on stuff that is neither here nor there, the more the important things slip by unnoticed. You might be all worked up about whether you bought lunch the last three times we went out, and suddenly terrorists attack somewhere. Notice what happened? You were focusing on things that don’t matter. While it’s not your fault that terrorists attacked … or is it? See, you might need to seriously rethink some stuff.

Thing is, it’s high time you stand up (do this now), thrust your fist in the air, and start focusing only on things that actually matter, while burying somewhere in your subconscious stuff that clearly does not matter, which is a list that includes these things:

• Which neighborhood a person lives in
• Bengal tigers
• Commitments
• Grooming
• Taxes on gambling winnings
• Step children
• Other types of children
• The color mauve
• Representin’
• Alley cattin’
• Listenin’
• Debts owed to weak or otherwise non-threatening people
• Birthdays
• Setting a good example
• Loaning me expensive equipment
• Promises not covered under the term “commitments”
• Non-Indo-European languages
• Niceties, pleasantries, saying the right thing, etc.
• Balanced nutrition
• Watching where you walk
• Watching what you say around elders, people in general
• Feelings
• Account balances
• Other

As usual, feel free to continue the list in the comments. Next time: something that matters!

00.05

Each second is an eternity now, but it’s simultaneously really fast, almost like a single tick of a clock. We’re getting close. There are only a few numbers after five, but I’m not quite sure how many.

Then I start thinking about the number itself. Five? What’s “five” to me? Nothing, that’s what. It doesn’t even rhyme with anything important. Although, I guess “hive” is important if you’re a bee or some sort of jerk who harnesses bees to do your evil. I may have spoken too soon there, but just when I start ruminating on ill-formulated assertions–

00.04

Ah jeez. I’m really in it now. I’m dreading what happens next, but I also welcome it. Do you know what I mean? It’s like, let’s just get this over with. So many things in life feel that way — but what a waste! “Just tear the bandage off, man.” That’s crazy. Don’t just tear the bandage off, man! Life is what happens between the time you pry up the grubby corner of that bandage and the time you’re hopping around screaming, embarrassing yourself, while holding an abnormally hairy bandage in your pulling hand.

It’s funny that humans invented bandages to tape over our bloody wounds. And it’s funny how many we go through in a week.

Countdowns are like unrequited love: You can see clearly where it’s going, but you still watch each moment in case the inevitable somehow doesn’t happen.

00.03

This is where it gets intense. Or, intenser, anyway. Whatever chance there was that I might have been able to turn back is now two seconds older than it was a couple seconds ago. Think about it.

Can I stop this thing? There are some buttons on there, but what if pressing them speeds up the process, or makes some sort of high-pitched shrieking noise that’s really annoying? There has to be something I can do, because I’m dreading what happens when this mother gets to zero.

Sorry for sort-of swearing, but I’m under a bit of pressure right now.

Hey, why didn’t I start trying to figure out a way to stop this thing 87 seconds ago, when the counter said 01:30? Or three minutes before that, when it was almost at five minutes? Guess I wasn’t really in that frame of mind back then.

00.02

Wow. I guess this is the part where things flash before your eyes, or something. A few things are flashing for me. Like, the time I burned popcorn, or that day when I cut my thumb slicing an apple that turned out to be really mealy and flavorless. So, mostly bad food experiences are flashing before my eyes, which sort of makes sense if you know me at all.

But what’s going to happen next? Euphoria? Painful burning? I honestly have no idea, because I’ve never been in a spot exactly like this before.

Remember what I said earlier about five? I realize now that I was actually thinking of two when I said that. See, I get them confused. Easy to do, because just look at them, like mirror images of one another. So, to recap: “Two”? It doesn’t even rhyme with anything important, etc. etc. etc.

Man, these last couple seconds are really creeping along, aren’t they?

00.01

I never had a nickname, so maybe this will lead to that. You know, like “Hot Button” or “Seconds Left” — something quirky but sort of cool. “Countdown.” I dunno, maybe not.

The sad thing is, I didn’t even want this. Not that anyone ever does, probably, but I really didn’t mean to get myself into this mess. Most people in this situation, I think, go in with the mind that it’s a great idea, only to realize later that it wasn’t a good idea at all. Me? I knew from the start. So what happened?

00.01

I think the timer must be broken or som- Oh no, there it goes.

00.00

Well, time is officially up. I guess I have to eat this dollar-store microwave burrito now, unless it’s still frozen hard inside, in which case I’ll probably put it back in for a minute or two.

This has been five seconds with a melodramatic guy whose diet is somewhat questionable and who has no friends. [end scene]

(full size)

[via Tcritic]

It’s a historic day for Americans who have citizen status and are over 18 and are not convicted felons. Election day! Even though Barack Obama and John McCain have both run on a platform of change, here are a few things that won’t be changing no matter who the next president is.

• The rich will continue to get richer and the poor poorer
• Broccoli and spinach will still get stuck in your teeth
• Exercise won’t become any more fun
• We’ll still be involved in at least one questionable war
• Far too many people will still be offended if you’re drunk on a Wednesday morning and still drunk by Thursday morning
• We’ll all continue to strive for the same basic things, and we’ll still argue vehemently about whose method of achieving those goals is stupider, or less patriotic
• Bad smells will still smell bad
• Turtles will not have become the national animal, even though it’s their time
• Dick Cheney will still be in charge of something, somewhere
• I won’t suddenly look good in purple
• A good chunk of your income will continue to be wasted by the government
• If you make a face, it may or may not get stuck that way — to this day I’m not sure about that — but whichever it is, it will still be that way after the election

What else, people?

Bill O’Reilly and Dennis Miller don’t like The Hollywood Reporter:

Things to do before I die:
…
#3,186) Work for a publication that O’Reilly thinks is for “pinheads.”
…

Sorry for the lack of updates, but you know how it is. If it makes you feel any better, I had two great starts for blog posts that I ended up going back to and not liking. So I guess they weren’t “great,” after all. And I don’t know why that would make you feel better, either. It shouldn’t. Everything I just said was a lie.

Isabelle posted a few pictures from Halloween:

That’s me on the right. I’m a sailor from the neck up, and on the left is Alex … I wish Alex had dressed up.

I don’t even know what I’m doing. You know? Some days, I just get up, do my morning thing, put on my neutron sandals, and hover off to the station. But what am I really doing on those days?

Other days I stay in the bunker, sequencing genes and sharpening sticks. I’ll watch old LaserDiscs of 1940s science and eat Pop Tarts and beer for lunch. But even on those days I sometimes have to walk over to the mirror, wipe away the ants, and wonder aloud what the hell I’m even doing.

When you think about your life, all the little choices and chances that led you to the place you are right now, it’s probably just one wild coincidence after another, right? Right. So what are you doing? Are you doing what you really want to be doing? Are you skiing on lava? Are you training dolphins to fire a rifle? Are you inventing real-life Smurfs? Well, what are you doing? Maybe you’re grooming your unicorn or spending way too much time talking to a stump, at which point I’m sure you take a step back and question what you’re actually doing.

My guess is, you’re doing something close to what you want to be doing, or something that’s exactly like what you want to be doing, or something not very close to what you want to be doing, or something you totally don’t want to be doing. Don’t freak; I’m pretty good at guessing stuff. But even if it’s exactly what you want, is it really? Or is it just what you think you should want to be doing? I bet it’s really healthy to question what you’re doing, because then you don’t get too complacent.

Do you ever drive along the road, maybe going twice as fast as the law allows and twice as drunk too, and wonder what you’re doing? And does that lead you to a further internal discussion about physics and destiny and whether there really is such a thing as dying “instantly” or “on impact”? If so, that’s pretty messed up, and instead of wondering what you’re doing, you should be wondering about a therapist and when her next available appointment is.

On the days when I’m tricking my neighbors into thinking that we’re under attack or trying to teach a llama to play the piano, it’s not uncommon for me to wonder what I’m doing with this life. What could I have been? What could I still be, if I make different choices from now on? What is a choice, really, but “the mental process of thinking involved with the process of judging the merits of multiple options and selecting one of them for action.” You know?

[via hodg-man]

So I was completing my LinkedIn profile, mostly because I like to find excuses to stay up way too late, and totally not because I’m hoping to make new connections on there that might lead me to a different job and maybe even a completely new career path (beekeeper beekeeper oh please beeeeeeekeeper). Not that at all.

Anyway, I was doing the LinkedIn thing and it was mocking me with its “your profile is only 75% complete” taunt, which meant I had to put a picture on there (5% for such an easy task!). So I was looking through the archives, trying to find a picture that conveyed the right amount of “I’m totally the professional candidate you’re looking for” combined with a good dose of “but I’m so fun-loving and carefree that I’ll feel more like a buddy than an employee,” when I came across a picture of these two dicks:

What the hell, you know? I don’t remember that picture being taken, but I’m certain no one said, “Okay, now let’s do a pretentious one!” Do I look like this? Do I make this face casually, for no reason? Is Isabelle mocking me? WHAT’S GOING ON!?

It sort of puts me on edge, like I don’t know what my face might be doing at any given moment. Goddamn cameras and their capturing lenses! Luckily I found one from later that night, where things were more as they should be:

Back from Las Vegas, and with good news, too! Hey, maybe you didn’t even know I was in Las Vegas. In that case, surprise! I went to Las Vegas! And now I’m back, and I’m happy to report the following good things that happened to me as a result of my mini-vacation:

• I got a lot of useful, hands-on practice nursing hangovers
• I heard only one person say, “What happens in Vegas…”
• My wallet is way less crowded than it was on Friday
• I didn’t get married
• I learned the difference between a $5 bottle of water and a $2 bottle of water (it’s the price)
• Colors seem brighter now, and children’s laughter more “laffy”
• The ratio of embarrassing things I did to embarrassing things I got to see was very favorable

It may seem foolish to do mock battle with the vice presidential candidate running on the Republican ticket (read: a person who refers to her “arsenal” the way you or I might talk about our salt and pepper shakers), but I’m not one to shy away from a challenge. In previous “Charley vs” matches, I’ve gone against God, T-Rex, and Gandhi. They’re not slouches, lemme tell you. Could be why I lost to all three. Speaking of, does anyone know the difference between a news editor and a tyrannosaur? One has pointy teeth, a bad temper, and a long tail, and the other wears lipstick (if it’s a woman, or if it’s a dude who likes to wear lipstick). Ha ha! Look, I was being totally humorous there, but you get the point. And, in case you don’t, let me explain: The point is, news editors can be compared humorously to T-Rexes, and so we are both fit to run the country. But I digress. Let’s get it on!

Round 1: Naming things

Her daughters: Bristol, Piper, Willow

Some fish I used to keep as pets (RIP): Parallel Parker, Little Richie

Her sons: Trig, Track

The thing that I use to carry my toiletries on vacation: Mobile Hygiene Command

Charley: 1
Sarah Palin: 0

Round 2: Making the right choice

She’s obviously done something right, as becoming the vice presidential nominee on a major party ticket isn’t exactly easy, while I’ve sort of stumbled into a career in words and sentences and articles, if you can call them that. I just never seem to be able to make the right choice, like when the question is, “How about another?” That’s a tough one for me, and I basically never choose correctly. When the “another” is a mile on the treadmill, I almost always pass. When it’s something with booze in it, I just can’t say no. Also, look at what I choose to wear!

Charley: 1
Sarah Palin: 1

Round 3: Being the right choice

In 1992, some kid I barely knew chose me first in a game of kickball. That game, I kicked a home run. Seriously.

In 2008, John McCain made Sarah Palin his first choice for vice president. During that election, Sarah Palin did an interview with Katie Couric that a bunch of people watched.

Charley: 2
Sarah Palin: 1

Round 4: Finding a way to enjoy Saturday Night Live

It used to be that I would stay up late Saturday nights recording SNL on VHS. Back then, Kevin Nealon did Weekend Update, and the cast included Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Phil Hartman, and Chris Farley. Jack Handey was one of the writers. Those were good days, but now? Ugh. Kristen Wiig is funny, but she’s no Phil Hartman. It can be consistently enjoyable these days only if you’re a person who likes that feeling of being embarrassed for someone. And then Sarah Palin comes along and she’s all, “I watched it without the sound.” WHY THE HELL DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT?

Charley: 2
Sarah Palin: 2

Round 5: Fooling people

My best trick is that thing where it looks like I’m pulling my thumb off, but fooled you! It’s actually not my thumb at all. Sometimes a tiny kid falls for that. Sarah Palin, on the other hand (get it? hand?) has fooled a good portion of the country. Unfortunately, there’s no “thumb removal trick” convention I can go to and give a Big Amazing Speech and suddenly everyone believes that my thumb, indeed, has come off. If there were such a convention, this category could have gone either way. But as it stands, I’ll have to defer to Miss “I told congress ‘thanks, but no thanks’ on that bridge to nowhere.”

Final score

Charley: 2
Sarah Palin: 3

If you’ve been arrested and had to post bail or were otherwise not released on your own recognizance, this blog post is not for you, and you are now trespassing here. I doubt you want me to call the police with that record you have, am I right?

For the rest of you, the mostly upstanding citizens that comprise my reading audience, a question: Do you know who you would call if you got arrested? Okay, I know, that question might inspire certain reactions. Chuckles? Eye rolls? Whatever, but it’s actually a good question, so try to come along with me here.

If you’re like me, you’re generally law-abiding (except for the laws that don’t count, like speed limits in L.A. and “laws” that interfere with fun), but you might occasionally find yourself hanging with people who will almost certainly get arrested at some point and will likely take you down with them. Through no fault of your own, certainly.

But who are you going to call when it happens? You can’t call the friend most likely to get arrested too, for obvious reasons. So who? WHO?!

If you’re cycling through names in your head — your significant other, for instance, or a close relative — just stop right now, because that’s not how this works, amateur. You can’t decide before you know what you did. So, for example, you’re hooked up for civil disobedience after chaining yourself to a tree to protest deforestation. Pretty benign — even heroic to some. Call whoever. Now, you’re accused (they can’t prove anything, you were just giving her a ride, she was actually kidnapping you) of attempting some shenanigans that you really don’t want most people to know about. Who do you call now? Yeah, see, it’s a little different.

And because you’re probably drunk, since that’s how these things often happen, you’re not thinking straight and you might not realize that there’s a spectrum to this crime stuff. You might call the wrong person to get your ass out of jail!

That’s why you should just call me if you get arrested. I’ve got a decent-sized car and nothing going on. Best of all, my fees are reasonable and I never judge. I also operate with the utmost discretion, so you never have to worry about your dirt winding up all over the internet*.

Don’t wait until it’s too late. Take down my number right now, so you’re prepared when the inevitable happens. You won’t be sorry.

*Especially if you join my subscription service, where you pay a low monthly fee so that I keep quiet

The proprietor of Headsup: The Blog says it best, so I’ll just send you over there:

How to lie with pictures

This video where a leopard befriends a newborn baboon reminds me of a Jack Handey essay.

Both require some time, but depending on your mood, one or the other will definitely be worth it. Probably both!