Tao of Gabe: Cookie is a Sometimes Topic

Tao of Gabe

Gabe the Delightful Beaver here with a preposterous claim: Cookie Monster never eats cookies!!

Check it out the next time you see him. He always yells and moves his hands in a purposeful manner, but every single cookie crumb bounces out of his mouth as if it hit a mysterious, black wall.

I’m not one to lob accusations, but he’s a phony, phony, phony! I’m sure he goes backstage after every show and throws up all the crumbs that might have made it in. The producers of Sesame Street (the letter C and the number 13) have denied these and other allegations for years, but denial’s not just a river in Egypt.

Actually, it’s not a river at all; it’s a state of mind in which you refuse to accept something as fact. I should know: I have a doctorate in phrenologic psychology. (Phrenology is the study of the bumps on people’s heads to determine their intelligence, personality, and potential criminality. It was dismissed as quackery in the 19th century, but it has now grown widely accepted as chirpery.)

To tell you the truth, I’m not allowed to call myself a doctor as degrees from my graduation year only count as a certificate of completion in remedial art from any other school. Furthermore, I cannot even prove I graduated as the University matriculated from burned to the ground the year before I graduated.

Even if my records were somehow obtainable (assuming they hadn’t been sealed after the fire in the Wax & Records library), they would prove nothing as I was going by my mother’s maiden name and my father’s middle name at the time: Habib D. Johnson.

In any case, I’m not the one on trial here—which is good, because if people were to ask me questions, I have a psychological condition where I forget the answers to the simplest of my lies under pressure—the scary cookie-eating monster on television’s Sesame Street is.

Luckily, I am able to diagnose Cookie Monster’s bulimia anxiosa (part of the ‘worried weightloss’ family) using meaningless speculation and one recently-renewed class C poetic license with restriction M: Must wear Monocle.

Cookie Monster has the brainpan of a mop, the cranial capacity of a puppet, and the criminal tendencies of a monster. Furthermore, as his birthday is November 2nd, which means that he is a Scorpio, just like me.

That’s right, I investigated Cookie’s birthday? So? That’s nothing if not thorough. Perhaps I just wanted to wish him a happy birthday, the way nobody wished me this year. Not that I’m bitter or anything… but I hope you need to light lots of fires in the next few years because you’re going to come into a large lump of coal soon…

Aimed at the back of your head!

(But that’s okay: it’ll knock the ‘evil’ bumps right out of your head.)

The feeling of the day is love,
Gabe D. Beaver, completed remedial art, specializing in Phrenological Psychology.

“Remember Kids: Class C is for Cookie Monster’s medical condition and that’s good enough for me.”

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Hovering makes Spanish fun!

Damn, I love my mom,

Hola Chaparrito,
Es muy triste cuando nos pasa eso.
A mi una vez se me perdio el disquete y tuve que hacer todo el trabajo de nuevo.
Otra vez trabaje todo el fin de semana para perder el trabajo.
Pero de alguna u otra manera volvi a hacer el trabajo.
Tu puedes.
Te quiero
Mami

Well, maybe it just sounds great imagining her say it. Especially when you take into consideration that half the time it was probably my fault that she lost her documents… Ooopsie!!!

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Shocking revelation from my subconscious to yours

You know what I just remembered? When I was a kid, my godmother used to electrocute me.

She thought it was therapeutic or beneficial or something, but the point is that the woman shocked me!

She also used to have… contests… with my brother after eating eggs. It was disgusting. Sometimes I’d have to leave the room because of the smell.

Not that I’m saying she was a bad godmother, far from it. She was and probably still is my favourite aunt. She just had a very immature way about her. Not that that’s bad or anything.

~~~
And another thing: I’ve been afraid and ashamed of going to cut my hair for years. I’d not realized that.

Before I was 11, I’d be ashamed for my bumpy, bumpy head (calling all phrenologists), after that, I’d be ashamed of my bald spot. See if you can find it, it looks pleasantly like a bullet hole.

At some point I convinced myself that it was because I hated spending money on what I considered an eternal recurrence, but now I’m thinking I just didn’t like it from an early age.

I always wanted my haircuts to be new and sharp and inventive, but my father kept saying that the mark of a good haircut is that nobody knows you had one.

Bah! That’s the mark of a good Japanese wife, not a haircut. What good is doing something for appearance if the entire goal is to not appear as if you did something for your appearance?

It’s silly, if you ask me. And nobody mention deodorant or showering: there are personal reasons for those. Haircuts are purely social.

Aren’t they?

~~~

This guy’s character tablet is gold.

~~~

And this is random fun, but again I find myself reading every single comic and moving on, likely to never come back.

~~~

Whoa. I just got an e-mail from myself. It was thoughtful, but frankly, a little scary.
It’s like he knew exactly what I thought!
(note to self: think nothing. You’re already blunt, but now there’s a set of twins with mindreading powers and a time-travelling Pixel to look out for)

~~~

So I finally figured out Deviant Art. Thank Gosh. I was afraid I would be completely ignorant. My problem before was in knowing which ‘deviations’ where done by whom. It was silly, really, but I’d never looked for more than a few minutes.

~~~

Despite all evidence to the contrary, my suicidality has officially ended. I’m ‘Oomphed‘ to the extreme.

Oh, and by the way, I’ve had a death wish for the past six months. I didn’t want to say anything for fear it might make people start caring and stuff. But now that that’s over, and that I’m looking both ways before I cross the street again, I can let you know.

Update: Apparently I did let you all know, but nobody did anything. Now don’t you just feel like jerks?

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