Wednesday, March 10

Terror Alert: Elevated

Just last night, as I was settling in for a night of wholesome FOX programming, I received a phone call. The voice on the other end was foreign to me, but sounded urgent. I listened carefully as they delivered to me the shocking news.

I was a terrorist. Or at least I looked like one.

Frightened, telephone shaking in my hand, I shouted "Who is this?" "Who are you working for?!" But there was nothing but silence on the other end. I slowly hung the phone up and thought to myself for a long amount of time. "How could I be a terrorist?" I thought to myself. "When did this happen? Last week? I didn't even leave the house last week!" I juggled all the possibilities around in my head for hours. How could I have become a terrorist without even knowing it?

Immediately, I became defensive. Surely, this was a joke. A cruel joke. It's hard to accept such a terrible accusation when you spend most of your days playing with cats and doing crossword puzzles. It seemed irrational.

But nevertheless, I tried to get to the bottom of it. So I went online and did a search for "terrorists". Within seconds, my computer was red-flagged by the US Government, and my savings and checking accounts were instantly terminated. They were on to me, and I knew it. Eventually, I managed to get some information on terrorists.

Now, I don't even want to get into all the many reasons why I could NOT be a terrorist (afraid of guns, can't swim, allergies, etc.). I suspect that even the least capable terrorist can walk to the mailbox without getting an ear infection. It was becoming clear that I was not the terrorist they claimed I was, and I was involved in a case of mistaken identity.

But I remembered that they never really said that I "was" a terrorist. There was just suspicion of it because of the way I looked. Racial profiling has been a big deal since September 11, and I fully understood that some people were keeping their eyes open for the bad guys. "I must really look like a terrorist", I said to myself. So again, I went online and did a search for "terrorist pictures".

This is a picture of one of the more recently captured terrorists:



And here is a picture of me taken this previous Thanksgiving:



Almost instantly, I could spot some differences in our appearances. First off, the amount of hair visible above the neck of his t-shirt is more hair than I have on my entire body. Secondly, I would never let someone take a picture of me with my hair like that. I do my best to keep it well-groomed and straight. Concerning the beard, Celia would never let me out of the house with a growth like that. She would mumble something about me looking like a caveman, and I would saunter up the stairs to charge the electric razor, no questions asked.

Despite all the damning evidence supporting my claim of not being a terrorist, I still tried to understand the reasons for my accusal. I do wear glasses I don't need, and I do dye my hair black, so someone might think I'm disguising myself for an upcoming bombing. Still, I thought those reasons alone were paper-thin, and certainly not enough to be locked up for suspicion of terrorism.

I was just about to close the case on my freedom, and declare it a stunning victory. Just then, a UPS man came to my door with a slender envelope. Slowly, I opened it up, and was horrified by what I saw.



The final nail in the coffin. They had found me out. How anyone could have snapped a picture of me while I was undercover will always be a mystery to me. My hearing is on Thursday, and I'm looking at 20 to life.

Pray for me.

Monday, March 8

Clear!



Poor Tom Servo. 2 weeks ago, Mystery Science Theater 3000, the greatest show in television history, went off the air for good. They will be missed.

In regards to my upcoming wedding in June, I'm planning on changing my last name back to Zeinert. So, my question is, how does the name Ryan Zeinert sound? I need opinions here. At the very least, I'll know for sure that my kids will always get to sit in the back row in school. I always had to sit in the middle, which was terrifying for me. I need to sit where I can see everything, and nothing is behind me. When I go out to eat I need to sit in a corner or up against the wall. I fear assassination attempts. Screw having people look at me when I don't know it. Enough of this.

Go Kentucky Wildcats!