Eeyore Is Not Depressed

Every now and then, I'll run across a joke based on Eeyore's unhappy nature, something like this:

This doesn't bug me because it's clearly a joke and a murderous, blood-soaked Pooh is something anyone can get behind.

What bugs me is this one that's been making the rounds lately:

It bugs me because of the implication that the only possible reason that someone could be unhappy like Eeyore is if they're clinically depressed. In our overmedicated, post-ADHD-craze world, everyone seems to assume that if we were to stuff a few Zoloft down his gullet, Eeyore would be perfectly happy. I disagree.

Therefore, I submit for your consideration the theory that Eeyore is not depressed, he's just unhappy because his life sucks. Here's why:

His friends are all basket cases

As I mentioned in my last post, all of Eeyore's Hundred Acre Wood companions are all mentally unstable or on drugs. They wreck his house, nail random shit to his ass when they can't find his tail, and drag him along on "adventures" that nearly get him killed when he'd clearly rather just stay home.

He's lonely

Eeyore is the only donkey in the Hundred Acre Wood. Not only does this mean that he is forced to associate with other species for friendship, but he's never getting laid. Eeyore will die a lonely, unmarried virgin.

He's basically homeless

So... what's the monthly rent on this place?

Eeyore's "house" is A PILE OF STICKS. Not only is this a pretty crappy dwelling, but it's constantly getting knocked over by that cokehead Tigger or a wind storm or whatever. This leaves poor Eeyore (who doesn't have thumbs, mind you) to reconstruct his home over and over again, usually by himself because his friends are too high to be of any assistance.

He's constantly losing his tail

Your first reaction to this might be "Well, the stupid donkey should keep track of that thing. It's his own damned fault."

While this is true, consider what effect this has on him. He's losing a part of his body. King Missile (link probably NSFW) notwithstanding, we can't imagine what it's like to have a part of our body separated from us. It's got to be awful.

Worse yet is what happens when he finds it.

Whenever Eeyore's tail is recovered, his friends NAIL IT ONTO HIS ASS. No stitches, no surgeon, no anesthetic--hell, even Velcro would be an improvement. But instead his neurotic junkie friends get a hammer and a nail and literally pin the tail on the donkey.

Despite his shitty life, Eeyore rarely complains

It can also be postulated that Eeyore isn't actually as sad as everyone thinks he is. When his tail goes missing, he often tells his friends it's not a big deal and not to bother looking for it. Of course, whether this is because he's not bothered by losing it or is just more afraid of another ass-nailing remains uncertain.

He also is surprisingly calm about his house getting knocked over, saying "It's ok, it wasn't much of a house anyway" (an extremely valid assessment) when Tigger comes blundering through and wrecks it.

Conclusion

Just because someone is unhappy doesn't mean they're clinically depressed. Sometimes their unhappiness is a completely valid reflection of their circumstances.

Eeyore's life is total crap. He's a lonely, homeless, dismembered bum surrounded by psychopaths. Of course he's unhappy.

Or maybe he's on heroin.

So I'm to go to the East side and buy you these "medical supplies"?

Psychoanalyzing the Hundred Acre Wood

While thinking about a post that will be appearing later (edit: it's now here), I realized that all of the characters in the Winnie the Pooh stories are either on drugs or mentally disturbed.
Here for your information and enjoyment is a rundown of the details.

Winnie the Pooh

Pooh is either a bumbling idiot or a pothead. I'm leaning toward the latter, as evidenced by his occasional moments of philosophical clarity and (most notably) the fact that he constantly has the munchies. He sits around all day dimwittedly contemplating existence and wondering when the Hundred Acre Wood will be getting a Taco Bell. 

Piglet

Suffers from paranoia, delusions, a litany of phobias, and is possibly schizophrenic.
Piglet is a hot mess.

Tigger

Tigger's a cocaine user but doesn't want his friends to know. He shows up happy, excited, energetic--literally bouncing with glee. Usually he quickly buggers off to go do some more coke but sometimes he sticks around for a while. The longer he's around the more confused, irritable, and frustrated he gets. 
This is because Tigger is coming down from his high.
He doesn't want all of his friends to know what he's up to, so he never does it in front of them. This means than anything more than a few hours around his pals leaves him itching for another bump.

Rabbit

Rabbit wears an apron, meticulously tends his garden, and constantly fusses over things like his dinner parties, his silverware and dishes, the cleanliness of his house, and whatever he's currently cooking.
Rabbit is a closeted homosexual.
However, his uncontrollable outbursts when someone gets in the way of his obsessions or puts something out of order suggest that he's not just bitchy, he suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
The magnitude of its severity is hard to assess though, as he often exaggerates it to cover the fact that he is, as mentioned earlier, a closet-dweller.

Kanga

Like Pooh, Kanga is a major stoner. 
Even more so than Pooh (who will occasionally articulate his frustrations by saying "Oh bother"), she is extremely mellow. As chaos constantly and inevitably erupts around her via the other nutjobs, she calmly asserts that everything will be fine and everyone should just like, keep it cooool maaaan.
We know what's in that pouch, Kanga.

Gopher

Gopher, like Tigger, is constantly hopped up on stimulants. He's always working, always energetic, never stops, and never tires. Unlike Tigger, however, he lives underground and can thus hide his substance abuse better. 
What exactly he's on is uncertain; meth can be ruled out as his teeth are still in good condition. Whatever that old lady in Requiem for a Dream was using... Probably that.

Owl

Owl is actually quite sane, and once you understand his situation you can't help but pity him. The problem is that he's an idiot.
He has to live up to the "wise old owl" stereotype that is projected onto him by his friends, so he constantly spouts gibberish at them, misinterpreting things that he doesn't understand and presenting his word as gospel.
His friends, aware of their own ignorance and seeing him as "wise," believe everything he says.
These BS sessions always backfire, causing problems for himself and everyone else. A notable example of this was the incident where Christopher Robin went to school, which Owl misread as "skull." He then sent everyone on a wild goose chase to rescue Christopher, nearly getting them killed.
The sad part of this is that Owl knows he's full of shit. Even when his attempted highbrow babblings get them into trouble he must carry on the charade lest the others realize what a dolt he is. This is why he's one of the most rarely seen characters. He avoids the others for fear that they'll ask him questions for which he'll need to make up answers.
He's an idiot and a fraud and he hates himself for it.

Christopher Robin

First of all, where the hell are this kid's parents? He'll mention them from time to time but we never see them. Assuming the Hundred Acre Wood is aptly named, that's a pretty big tract of forest for some little kid to be mucking about in unsupervised.
Add to that the obvious fact that he's delusional (talking to toys all day) and it's clear that his parents' neglect has taken its toll on his emotional, social, and mental well-being. 
He likely won't make it to adulthood before he's committed to an asylum.

Eeyore

Everyone is quick to diagnose Eeyore with depression, but I disagree.
This, ladies and gentlemen, will be the topic of my next post.

Until then, good luck watching Winnie the Pooh without thinking about this.

Just a brief update

Not a lot to see here, sorry. Just a formal announcement that I'm having a go at the Twitter thing again. I often find myself with short and sweet witticisms that can't be expanded into full blog posts, so that'll be an outlet for those.
Post your Twitter handles and I'll follow you as well (then un-follow you a week later when I realize that all you tweet about is politics and breakfast burritos).
Follow me on the Twitter: @JakeIsAllRight

To make up for this being a really short post, here's a picture of Vince Wilfork being fat.

 

I Watched Game of Thrones.

"Jesus, Khaleesi, how far away did you park?"

As you may have read in my previous post, I've submitted to peer pressure and decided to watch Game of Thrones.
For those who missed it and can't be arsed to read the aforementioned post (though you really should do so now), the premise was that I'd heard so many people talking about GoT that I already knew everything that was going to happen. Thus, I made predictions so when I came back after watching it I could say I was right (as usual). Having watched the first four seasons, here are my main takeaways from it (possible spoilers ahead, as well as in those last two links. Oops.):

I was right about pretty much everything.

Big surprise there, right? 
Apart from some very minor details (I thought Joffrey died at the Red Wedding, for example) I was unfortunately very well-informed.
A few other details that I hadn't bothered/had forgotten to include in my first post were that HafÞór Björnsson kills some dude and there's a fella named Hodor who's apparently a Pokemon because all he says is his own name, which is ridiculous.
I was right about those things too.
I was right about all of the things. That's is why this post is so short.

It absolutely lives up to the hype.

During the first season, I pretty much wanted to never do anything other than watch this show ever again for the rest of my life.
Season two lulled a bit as did the first half of three, but through the end of the fourth it was back to being great again.
If you're easily offended or disgusted you won't want to watch it; there's some seriously messed up shit that probably would have gotten changed by any network other than HBO. Otherwise, I highly recommend it. Even knowing ahead of time what would happen I still thoroughly enjoyed it.

Natalie Dormer's evil smirk makes her look like she's about to steal Christmas.

Why is no one advocating population control?

You don't have to look far on the Internet to find people complaining about stuff. In fact, behind sex and cats, complaints comprise a larger portion of the Internet than any other topic ^{[citation needed]}.

Some of the aforementioned complainers are kind enough to offer solutions to the various problems, but I can't help but think one solution would knock out the vast majority of them all at once: population control.

I'll readily admit, for example, that Americans' meat-heavy diets aren't sustainable due to how much land and feed is required for the vast quantities of delicious cows we consume, but if we weren't feeding so many people we wouldn't need so many cows.

Class sizes too big in our schools? Maybe that's because there are too many children.

Unemployment? More people than jobs? We need fewer people.

Noxious clouds of pollutants? Global warming? Melting polar ice caps? All of these problems would be lessened--if not solved altogether--by a reduction in the number of humans we're asking our planet to support.

I'm not saying that a world with, say, two billion people instead of seven plus would be all roses and bunny rabbits. Plenty of our myriad maladies would need specific cures applied.
What I'm saying is that almost every single problem that humans face is either directly caused by or exacerbated by our massive population, and the voices calling for a population reduction are few, far between, and softly spoken. 

Why is this?
It's not like we don't know what's causing all of these births (for those who don't, I would refer you to the aforementioned most popular topic of the Internet).
Do we assume, perhaps, that it's just an unrealistic expectation? I'm convinced that this (fallacious) assumption is indeed to blame.

The instinct to reproduce is a strong one; I'd imagine that survival is the only one that outranks it. But our instincts can be fooled. Go have a ton of sex and your reproduction instinct will be satisfied; use birth control and you (probably) won't be making any little humans.

We all know this. And while there are more than a few unplanned pregnancies happening, most people learn their lesson after one or two "surprises" and surgically remove themselves from the breeding pool.

I'm willing to forgive the unintentional reproducers. These things happen, and as I mentioned most people who aren't total morons will figure out after one or two that they'd better clamp some tubes before they've got a whole baseball team worth of kids running around their home.

It's the people doing this on purpose that perplex me and in large part are causing the problem. Worse yet, I can't think of a good reason why.

I've discussed this sort of thing with plenty of people over the years, especially if they mention to me their desire to have children. Upon asking them why they want to have children, I'm met more often than not with blank stares and an inability to answer. They don't know why they want to have children. Those who do answer often say something along the line of "To carry on my family name," which is fucking retarded (to put it politely). You're not the king of France. Your family name probably exists elsewhere on the planet and if it doesn't, does it matter?

The next most common response is something along the lines of "To have someone to love," which is all well and good but do you really need five someones to love? Even three seems a bit much. Seriously, how much love do you have in there? Get a dog or something. 

Some will say that having kids "Would be fun" or "I want to have a daughter to dress up in pretty clothes" or similar nonsense.
YOUR CHILD IS NOT A DOLL. YOUR CHILD IS NOT A TOY.
One of the most frightening things I see in potential parents is their complete failure to consider that what they're making is another human being, not a source of their own entertainment. You're condemning this child to 65 or so years on Earth. Think long and hard about that before bringing another life into this world solely for your amusement.

Most people today don't have enough time for themselves, much less a horde of children. A hundred years ago, with infant mortality rates higher and more people needing kids to help on the farm it was understandable for parents to pop out a few extras, but those reasons are obsolete.
What reason is left?
I'm well aware that very few people can be convinced to forgo having kids entirely, but is it really so much to ask that we only have one or an absolute maximum of two?

It's either that or we have to convince the elderly to die sooner.

I've explained why I believe in limiting one's reproduction, but I want to emphasize the question I asked in the beginning: Why don't we hear about this more often? I can't be the only one who understands this.

Are we so selfish that we feel it's necessary to create an army of playthings for ourselves, heedless of the fact that they'll grow up to be as miserable as we are?

Are we so foolish that we think recycling, veganism, and electric cars will be a more effective environmental strategy than simply reducing the number of people making the trash we need to recycle and using the various products for which we're hacking down the rainforests?

You can't be an environmentalist and have eight kids.

You can't complain about how horrible this world has become and then turn around and thrust four more people into it.

Want to save the Earth? Depopulate it.


"Overcrowded Earth" image plundered from liveforevernow.com, ironically enough.

Cat Myths Debunked

The Internet has been lying to you.
Not like that's unusual or anything, but the Internet has been lying about one of its most prolific denizens.
After porn, cats are the most popular subject on the Internet, so it's no surprise to see a list of "facts" circling about lately that portray cats as cuddly, perfect little critters that love their humans to death. That may be true to some degree, but let's face it: cats are devious little sociopaths.
In honor of National Cat Day or whatever, I'm here to educate you.
The truth follows:

I brought you some lunch, moron.

Myth:

"Cats leave you dead animals as a gift because they love you so much."


Truth:
Well, sort of. The reality is that they think you're a dumbass. They've never seen you catch a bird, a mouse, or even a bug. The only logical conclusion they can draw is that you suck at hunting. They're trying to teach you how it's done. "Look, human. This is a mouse. You catch it and eat it. Idiot."

Myth:

Cats stick their arses in your face as a sign of love or respect or some such nonsense.

This is what I think of you.

Truth:

You're kidding, right? Engaging in involuntary amateur proctology isn't my idea of a good time. When dear Uncle Ned comes to the door for a visit, do you immediately drop your trousers and bellow "Look at my butthole!"?
I certainly hope not.
Your cat is mooning you. It thinks it's hilarious.

Myth:

Cats don't meow at other cats; they only do it to humans.

Truth:

If they thought that meowing at other cats would get their food dish filled, you can be damned sure they'd do it. Just as all dog barks mean "HEY!" all meows mean "feed me."

All day, every day.

Myth:

When cats look at you and close their eyes slowly it means they looooove you.

Truth:

The cat thinks you're boring. It's going to sleep.
Cats sleep for 23.9 hours per day. If you see a cat, it is--statistically speaking--probably asleep.

Get the dog off my mom or I'm strangling him.

Myth:

"Kneading" is something nursing kittens do to increase milk flow from their mothers, so if a cat does it to you it means the cat loves you and thinks you're its mother.

Truth:

I have a hard time believing that the cat stomping on my balls at 3am is a sign of affection rather than punishment for having him neutered. As to the "thinks you're its mother" thing--if that's true then my cat's retarded because he does it to the pillows on the couch as well.


Go forth and spread your newfound knowledge.



Images remorselessly stolen from punjabigraphics.com, vetstreet.com, viral-next.com, and dev.ibabuzz.com.

A Multi-Verse Haiku for That Guy in the White Car Next to Me This Morning

You're in the left lane.
I need to be in that lane.
You're right next to me.

Blinker on, speed up.
Now you speed up as well. Why?
Perhaps I'll slow down.

Now you've slowed down too.
What the hell is your problem?
You are an asshole.