XMan's death ends blog

The Snooze Button Generation blog and all of its subsidiaries will be taking an extremely long hiatus following the untimely, unexpected and earth-shattering death of the XMan today. The XMan was 63.

"I kid around a lot on this blog, and some people might think this is some sort of twisted or cruel joke," Snooze Button Generation founder and CEO Joe Stevens said. "But this is no hoax. My dad is dead. Can you (expletive) believe this?"

The Xman was vacationing in Hilton Head, S.C., where his focus was playing golf. It appears that he had a stroke while sleeping and was found dead in the morning, but details about exactly what happened are sketchy. He also might have fallen awkwardly - and somehow, fatally - in the middle of the night. This fact has emerged, though: He shot a 40 in his final nine holes.

"I'm not going to lie," Joe Stevens said. "All of this news is surreal to me. This hasn't sunk in. I spent the day pacing. My body doesn't know what to do with itself. Is this really happening?"Anyone who knows the SBG founder well knows the tight relationship he held with the XMan. Hell, anyone who knew the XMan knew how cool he was.

The Stevens family is simply in shock. This came out of nowhere.

Stevens will be traveling to Cleveland Thursday to be with his mom, brother, the World's Most Sophisticated Man, Meathooks and many others dear to him. Funeral arrangements eventually will be done with the Rybicki & Son Funeral Home in Garfield Hts., Ohio, but the XMan's body is still in South Carolina.

"I'm speechless," Stevens said. "I did numerous stories about death, pain and loss as a journalist, and when it happens to you, you realize how insignificant the stories are."

Sun Chips promote LOUD message

I'm all for helping the environment, but the big question I'm wondering is this: Is it worth going deaf to save the planet?

I am a big fan of hearing. According to my vast Internet research, auditory reception helps communication between humans. However, my anecdotal research makes me feel that head nods and chest bumps could easily replace hearing.

Hearing's importance is being called into question because of the current bag of Sun Chips. On the bag, it reads: "This Bag Is Louder Because It Is Compostable." That is an understatement.

I do not know how it is possible, but an amplifier has been placed inside Sun Chips bags. Holy balls, they are mega-loud!Whenever I grab chips from the environmentally conscious bag, I feel the need to accentuate the sound by whirling my hand in the bag for five seconds before grabbing a chip. That was very funny the first three times I did it; now, family members and friends scold me when I do that.

A few videos on YouTube have recorded the Sun Chip bag phenomenon. And upon further review, I commend Sun Chips for using such a bag.

I have realized that the environment is more important than being greedy and having five senses. Ludwig van Beethoven didn't even need hearing, and his occupation was vaguely connected to hearing.

You hearing snobs, go ahead, and keep listening to reason or whatever it is you listen to. I'm saving the planet.

Psychology today: Way too touchy-feely

The problem with modern-day psychology is that way too much weight is devoted to what patients say. Jeez, will they ever shut up?

Any psychologist worth his salt will simply not listen to his patients and command them on what to do.

"Be a man!"
"Find your inner child."
"Maybe you should just kill yourself!"

Those are the necessary statements a psychologist should say to his properly sedated patient. Sometimes, a patient needs to be slapped. And why the heck are lobotomies outlawed?

I am not exactly sure when psychology took a turn for the worse, but Sigmund Freud had it right. The only proper therapy consists of hard-core, psychoanalysis of pain, struggles and sexual taboos. If the psychologist doesn't smoke a pipe and if it's not done with the patient on a long, austere couch, it simply is quackery.The last depiction of a proper psychoanalyst in pop culture was the Dr. Finch character in Augusten Burroughs' "Running with Scissors." That guy pulled no punches with his patients and even had a room called "The Masturbatorium." Who wouldn't be healed from him?

Unfortunately, the American Psychologist Association (APA) is way too political to implement proper care like that of Dr. Finch. But one day, the field will wake up and realize that all this touchy-feely stuff finally will end.

Too much Air in my Buick

I don't perceive cars as status symbols. To me, they're simply modes of transportation.

However, I must admit that when I drove my 1991 Buick Century across the country in 1998 and owned it for five more years, that I did treat it as a status symbol that said, "That's right, California. I'm rocking the Buick Century. Get out my way! Get out my way!"

It didn't take me long to realize that there are a distinct lack of American-made cars in Los Angeles and that my Buick Century typically was the coolest ride on the street.

The only negative with my Buick was that for approximately one year, the 1998 album "Moon Safari" by Air was stuck in my tape deck and prevented any other music from being played except that album. And, yes, it was a cassette tape. In fact, come to think of it, it was the last cassette tape I ever listened to.

I approximate that I listened to "Moon Safari" 104 times. The album is good enough to hold up for the first 70 plays, but after that, it starts to get old.
With Air stuck in the tape deck, the worst thing that would happen is when a friend was in the car and wonder why it was so quiet. That friend undoubtedly would insist on listening to "Moon Safari," despite my reservations.

Air, by the way, is a pretty darn good French electronica band. "Air" actually is an acronym for Amour, Imagination, Rêve, which translates to Love, Imagination, Dream. If it weren't for the tape being stuck in my Buick, I might like the band, but I just had Air overload.

If it weren't for the World's Most Sophisticated Man, I might still be listening to "Moon Safari" in my Buick (although I sold the car for $500 in 2003). During a visit, Mr. Sophistication listened to "Moon Safari" a mere three times and demanded to "get that damn tape out of there."

Gone for approximately 90 seconds from my apartment, Mr. Sophistication returned with the Air cassette in hand and said, "It really wasn't that big of a deal. I just needed a butter knife."