Limited only by your limited imagination

Over at fluxblog I found this mp3 (right-click and "Save as ..."), which I would have found over at WFMU if I'd been paying attention. The Ed Shepp Radio Experiment is so completely insane that I can listen to only fifteen minutes of it at a time and at one-week intervals. But oh, this clip ...

I meant to write something along the lines of "If I could accomplish something like this only once in my life, I'd consider myself funny." I got laughs when I did my Magic Bullet Guy impression at the bar on Saturday, and I got a pretty good laugh when recounting it over the phone to someone who's never seen the infomercial, but that's not really "funny" in the way I'd like to be.

Does it even matter? I've shown no signs of wanting to be professionally funny (because that would go against my life-plan of turning my back on anything I might be good at); people seem to appreciate my company regardless; and people who say they're funny are generally less funny than people who don't advertise the fact. If I meet one more person who says, "People love my sarcastic sense of humour," I'll strangle them. Or maybe I'll just say, "People tolerate your terrible sense of humour because murder is illegal. As soon as homicide stops warranting imprisonment, yours will be the first body in a shallow grave. Hell, we'll bring a mickey and pass it around as we take turns digging, because I imagine there are a lot of people who would like to see you kick the oxygen habit."

If there's one thing I hate more than myself, it's people who think they're funny but aren't. And people who commit sex crimes. And Evangelical Christians. And fans of professional wrestling. And people who say, "You hate Kevin Smith movies? Well, I don't see you making better ones." And people who have so few social skills and/or outlets for self-expression that they need bumperstickers to be their personality surrogates.

And what's the deal with airplane food?