No Fear, Big Johnson!

It occurred to me yesterday that modern man's (or woman's) lifespan can be broken down into periods of different types of fear. I'm going to list ages and the appropriate fear for that period in life.

0-2.5 years old: Shaken baby syndrome [fear, per se, doesn't exist.]
2.5-5 years old: Mental retardation [this is a parental fear, though.]
5-7 years old: Strangers/kidnapping
7-8 years old: Forest Fires/Clowns



8-10 years old: The Boogeyman/Scary movies
10-15 years old: Girls (or, Guys)
15-17 years old: Lifelong virginity
17-18 years old: Teen pregnancy



19-21 years old: Inability to find booze
21-24 years old: Your own proclivities/vices
24-26 years old: QUARTER LIFE CRISIS [inadequacies, death, illness, marriage, et c.]
26-30 years old: Job loss
30-35 years old: Hair loss



35-40 years old: Regret
40-60 years old: SARS/Anthrax/Terrorist Attack/Bird Flu



60-70 years old: Mad Cow
70-80 years old: Robots


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80-100 years old: Anything shiny
100-120 years old: God
120-150 years old: The Devil [since you must've made a deal with him to live this long] or the fountain of youth [that the government will steal it from you somehow]

Oh, and the title is a reference to two of my favorite clothing lines from the early 90's. No Fear, obviously, and Big Johnson. Behold!




P.S. You'll notice that I have a few trademarked items on here. Until I figure out if posting these is breaking any law, I'll leave them up. Because pictures make it so much more pretty, right?

Killing like Conan.... O'Brien

Here's a headline that caught my eye this morning, from The Record, Wash U's medical school paper.



How appropriate, since I was just in California, the land of medicinal marijuana and its resulting subculture... Also, I heard a joke recently, and although I can't take credit for it, I'll pass it along.



Q: Why are there no jokes about Jonestown anymore?
A: Because the punch lines are too short.

And here's a classic joke, my favorite of all time.



Enzo Ferrari passed away and, of course, ends up in heaven. While up there, he runs into God. God says to him "Hey, Ferrari, I like your work. Everything on your cars was perfect. Absolutely perfect. One minor thing bothers me though. I don't think the F512M needed the 4 round rear headlights."

Ferrari looked at God, thought for a minute and said, "It's funny you should say that. I like your work, too. The woman is perfect. Except for one minor thing."

"Really," God said, "and what is that?"

Ferrari replied, "The accelerator is too close to the exhaust."