WE GET MAIL
Dear CM PRESS:
I recently misplaced my MENSA membership card, and I'm afraid that, because it's shiny, the tiny brain squish may have picked it up and may be trying to pass himself off as sentient. What do I do?
Mensa Bob
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Dear Mensa Bob:
No need to worry. Anyone who reads anything the tiny brain squish has written knows he's strictly from the petri dish.
He writes the most pedestrian and obvious tripe with no insights and no internal logic.
Laughingly, he can't seem to resist reflexively commenting on every item that comes down the pike. It's all brain stem stuff from the tiny brain squish. No higher thought processes. No understanding of subtle differences or shadings and no ability to distinguish this from that except in a ham handed way.
If the tiny brain squish were in a forest, for example, he would see no differences among the many trees. "Duh. There a tree, there another tree, there one, too. Just all trees, samey same. Me see trees. All same."
Take a look at the tiny brain squish's latest drivel about the need to raise taxes as another example.
As he so often does in his ignorant knee-jerk scrawls, he starts off with assumptive and empty boot-licking praise for selected authority figures and then follows with a fallacious appeal to the authority figures he has just "established" as authorities, to "prove" his weak argument that taxes have to be raised.
And, then, in best Chicken Little fashion--and, yes, this is one of the alternate names for the tiny brain squish--he shrilly proclaims that important services will have to be cut--"Cluck, cluck, cluck, the sky is falling, the sky is falling!"
Does he ever list those important services that he says have to be cut? Nope. That's because, as usual, he's wrong.
You see, Mensa Bob, the old saying: "Speak so I can see you," applies in spades to the tiny brain squish. The more he writes, the more people see him for what he is.
Then, more people simply laugh at him behind his back and dismiss him. Of course, since the tiny brain squish craves attention and wants to be seen as an important person, this dismissiveness just deepens his life long despair about being a loser, so he writes more.
Poor sad little man. Just doesn't get it. What he is attempting to overcome is himself, and he is unable to do that. He is what he is, and transcendence eludes him. He cries out for validation that doesn't come: "Look at me, look at me, notice me, I am somebody." No one looks. No one notices. The big nothing awaits.
Just ignore the tiny brain squish, Mensa Bob, as you would ignore a guy standing on a bench at the bus station wearing a "The End is Near" sandwich board while mumbling incoherently to himself and waving his arms in the air.
Mensa Bob, the tiny brain squish is, as we say on the streets, risible, and not to be taken seriously.
But, Mensa Bob, be thankful that the tiny brain squish will be backing Katrina Foley and other lefties this year in the Costa Mesa municipal election. We can once again use him as an example of what is wrong with Costa Mesa and why we need change away from Foley and Dixon and their fellow travellers.
CM PRESS
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MAJOR SOLAR ENERGY DISCOVERY FROM MIT
This might be the breakthrough that will make solar energy more than a boutique energy source. The
n again, how many times have we heard similar claims? Still, we publish this, because, in this case, this discovery is based on observations of how nature does it.LINK
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TEAM TRASH CAN BURNING IN EVERY PARK!
Almost-daily Daily Pilot resident scold Auntie Steve Smith, who famously burned up a Costa Mesa Sanitary District trash container (worth about $ 80.00; the last time we checked) on July 4th, continues to think like his pal the tiny brain squish, and fails to understand that many of the small, almost-pocket, parks in Costa Mesa are not up to snuff for and in some cases not safe for use as sports fields.
As with the tiny brain squish, Auntie Smith seems incapable of being able to properly distinguish between different things and circumstances.
Our guess is that Smith may have had his brain hard wired as a child into always defining "park," as a large open field where he and his pals, Pin Head, Stoopid, and Numbnut, went to play whatever games that Smith liked to play--such as, perhaps, hop scotch, jumping rope, Cinderella, burn the trash cans, and dress up.
Well, Auntie Smith, not every park in Costa Mesa is suitable for your favorite games. Each park is different and the people who live near these small neighborhood parks are the ones who should decide what is appropriate in their parks.
So, we suggest, Auntie Smith, that you focus on the park that is nearest your home and stop trying to dictate what you think is appropriate to people who live near other parks.
We know you're a liberal, Auntie Smith, and therefore want a centralized government to dictate to all, but a wiser way of governing is to let the neighborhoods decide on matters such as park usage that impacts the people in those neighborhoods.
Hike up your skirts, Auntie Smith, and rally your neighbors to demand that the park near your home, in your own neighborhood, be open to your sport of trash can burning. It's the American way!
However, people who live near other parks may not share your idea of what is appropriate. Some may feel their homes are too close to the parks and may catch on fire if you and your incendiary pals are allowed to have teams of trash can burners burning up trash cans in these parks.
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Those are our opinions. Thanks for reading them.
