Keep Arms Inside the Car at All Times

As some of you may know, when I was a child I thought I could act. In fact, I had some modicum of success with this, which culminated in my role in the straight-to-video kids movie Here Comes a Roller Coaster:



You can read some reviews on Amazon of this masterpiece.

Enough backstory. Yesterday at work I was stewing in my own collective boredom juices because my boss had gone home, and I had run out of things to do. The director of my entire division walked by and saw me sitting there reading an article that one of our lobbyists had written.

"Do you have nothing to do?"
"Good observation, Captain Obvious," I replied as I tried to communicate my seething rage via body language.

"You want to write a letter to Congressman Markey from Massachusetts for me?"
"Have I ever told you how awesome you are?"

She waddles back into her office to collect some materials I should address in my letter, and comes out to present me with Markey's bill that we're writing to him in support of.


That's when it hits me. The bill is The National Roller Coaster Safety Act of 2007. Well fuck me... something I have a background in! There's not really much of a point to this post except to say that my life has ultimately completed an Irony Loop-de-loop. I think I'm preparing for the Existential Corkscrew next, and I'll probably die somewhere during the second to last Hairpin Turn of Failure. I hope this ride will at least go fast enough that I'll get to feel some breeze on my face.

Also, during my research of various deaths at theme parks over the last 10 years, I have learned that Disneyland is in fact NOT the happiest place on Earth. Kids are getting fucked up there all the time. Some girl severed her finger on Tom Sawyer Island and they didn't even take her to the hospital. She had to pay for her ambulance ride with Mickey Mouse Dollars.