Can I Be President?

Time for a new profound question! For the super-special tenth column, I wanted to help you, the reader, figure out if you can ever be the president. Obviously, the Constitution has something to say about that, but who wants to read the Constitution? They amended it like, 27 or 30 times already, so if they're just gonna keep changing it, why bother?

I believe we are at the halfway point for profound questions -- I have ten more scheduled. Thanks to everyone who sent in suggestions so far; even if I haven't answered your question directly, it might have inspired me to think along a new path. I appreciate your help.

What I've Been Up To

Uh ... not a ton, actually. Just the usual wedding planning and living my life. Somehow the blog fell by the wayside for a week. Plus, it was like 70 degrees all last week, and as you might have read in this truly mediocre short story, sunny days are a cruel master.

As the weather does improve, I would like to say something. Everyone -- really, everyone -- has inner beauty. But very few people have the outer beauty to justify short shorts. If you're putting them on, think for a second about anyone who might have to ride behind you on an escalator. Should you feel even the slightest bit of discomfort, change. There's no shame in it.

Some people have a "wardrobe switch," where on the first sunny day, they just decide that the time for long sleeves and pants is completely over. This leads to the great transitional spring phase, when it drops down to 50 for a day, and some guy still feels the need to act like flip flops and a t-shirt with no jacket is OBVIOUSLY weather appropriate. Do you keep half your clothes in a public storage locker at all times? Is there only one day you can make the switch? Huh, you dirty hippie? Huh?

And finally, a word on flip-flops. They are made for the beach. They aren't for going out. If you are a guy, and you've used a urinal while wearing flip-flops, you have urine on your feet -- and probably not even your urine! Take a day and closely observe what people do to city sidewalks. Then ask yourself if you want a thin rubber line as the only thing between your skin and that mess.

SPATS AND WOOL OVERCOATS FOR ALL! Grumble grumble grumble.

Sharktopus

Finally for today, my brother Dave, who sat through "Dinoshark" with me, sends along this link to Sharktopus. It will be about a shark-octopus hybrid, it will be directed by the great Roger Corman, and of course, it will air on SyFy.

Clearly, SyFy has made a conscious decision to corner the market on direct-to-TV shark hybrid movies. I wholeheartedly endorse this choice, and I suggest the following titles:

Hipstershark

Dinosharktopus

Davecouliershark

Giraffeshark

Sharkira

Tetrashark

Cuisinshark

Sharkretary of Housing and Urban Development

Hannah Sharktana

Puppyshark

OBGYShark

Pigeonshark

Shark1N1

Tags: presidents

Trivia Recap 3/24

It was a fine, crowded time at HHT this Wednesday, with a lot of new faces there to enjoy ... uh, a game that I might have made a little too hard. Not impossible, by any means, but in a perfect world I think I'd have given a few more hints on some of the pop culture stuff.

We had the return of the music round, with "Before Part B" -- given clips of songs with "party" in the title, you had to name the performer. "Part B" tested teams on all things B, such as: which great American invented the geodesic dome? "Pub Crawl" was my humble attempt at throwing the crowd a bone. I gave them 14 fictional watering holes, and they had to identify the movie or TV show for each one. "Everyone loves TV shows, movies and bars," I thought. "This will be easy." Well, I was wrong. It was actually pretty hard.

And then we closed with "March Madness," nine questions on marching. Not basketball. Remember, I'm strange. The Golden Triangle Gun Club returned to the top of the mountain with a 27 out of 48. Monkey Pants came in second with a 26. And Joe F***ing Biden tied with We Ain't Dancing This Time at 25, but only the dancers stuck around for the photo. Here they are, in order of finish:

Tags: trivia

Dinoshark Revisited

I put out some feelers on Facebook for more shark hybrids, and I gotta say I like what you people came up with:

Rob Devereux (no relation to Blanche):
Shiger: Part shark, part tiger
Mansharkpig: Half man, half shark, half pig
Shark pei: Shark and shar pei
Shoodle: Shark and poodle
Sharquido: Shark and mosquito
Sharkanzee: Shark and chimp
Great white blood cell: Think "The Fantastic Voyage" with people chased by shark shaped blood cells.

Allyson Jaffe:
Vulshark: half vulture, half shark.
Sharkiepus: half shark, half cookiepus

Andrea Klee:
Shnarky: A snarky person/shark
Snookharki: What happens when Snooki breeds with a Jersey shark
High Jumping the Shark: An Olympic athlete shark who took things too far and lost its edge

I think if we add those to my suggestions, we have half a year of Saturdays blocked out for SyFy. Network executives, please send your checks c/o Chris White. You're welcome.

Baseball Trivia Stumper

At trivia on Wednesday, I had a 3-point bonus question that teams could work on all night. No one got it. But why don't you give it a try? E-mail your guesses to chris@dcstandup.com, and I'll let you know how you did:

START WITH Hank Aaron's career home run total

SUBTRACT number of inches from home plate to the pitching rubber

MULTIPLY BY minimum number of at bats a leadoff hitter can have playing an entire doubleheader

THEN ADD number of MLB teams currently named for animals (humans aren't animals, for our purposes)

What's the final number?

Tags: sharks, trivia

123 Lexington Ave.

Chester A. Arthur, werewolf and possible Canadian, became our fearless leader above Indian grocery in Mahattan.

Sort of. Kalustyan's is old -- around since 1944 -- but it's not like Chet was popping downstairs every few days to pick up curry powder. He lived in the building back in 1881, and it's where he was hanging out when the word came about James Garfield's death. Today Joe Biden probably clocks a significant number of hours at an undisclosed location (obviously not a barber shop), but back then the vice president really did almost nothing. If he wanted to hang out in Mahattan in his free time -- and it was mostly free time -- no one cared. If not for his bad kidneys, he probably could have hit the bars in Chelsea without anyone buying him shots.

So when Garfield kicked the bucket at the Jersey Shore, Chester was chilling at home in NYC. You can't get into his former apartment, since someone lives there. They probably throw awesome Chester Arthur-themed parties every month where the guests dress fancy and wear fake sideburns -- who wouldn't? But you'll have to make do with a tiny plaque behind a plexiglass shield near the door: "Here on Sept. 20, 1881, Chester A. Arthur took his oath of office as 21st president of the United States upon the death of President James A. Garfield, killed by a disgruntled office seeker." It's a notch a above "We don't swim in your toilet, so don't pee in our pool" on the grandeur scale, but it's something -- if nothing else, the whole setup is a reminder of how history just keeps plowing ahead. Only two presidents were inaugurated in New York City. Washington's ascent is still pretty well preseved down by Wall Street, because he's George F'n Washington. Chester's home, on the other hand, is an afterthought on a block dotted with Indian carryout places. There's only so much space in the national memory, so a plaque is as good as it's getting.

As it turns out, Chester also died at 123 Lexington Ave., about two years after leaving D.C. He kept his health problems secret from the public during his presidency, which was also a cool thing to do right up through 1963, but he never got to enjoy much of a retirement. He died way before Coyote Ugly even opened.

But stop by if you're in the neighborhood! There's no tour, or museum, or people who could pick Chester Arthur out of a police lineup. But sometimes it's nice just to wade into history, buy an imported jar of honey for $3.99, and then contemplate leadership until the Indian lady at the register starts to wonder what the hell your problem is and asks you to leave.

Tags: presidents