That whole 6 degrees of separation thing - I tend to think (based on my own ability to do this) that is a pretty plausible idea. But when I really contemplate the idea that I could probably be on the phone with Vladimir Putin in a couple of hours (and with a couple of favors) it kind of freaks me out. The world is supposed to be a lot bigger than that.
Sock puppets/ventiloquist’s dummies - Giving personality to an inanimate object like that is a little weird. But, the really scary thing is when they are left sitting on chair in the corner of the room. Oh sure, deep down I know it’s just a hunk of plastic or an empty sock with felt eyes, but when the lights go out and I fall asleep I am pretty sure they come to life with the express goal of harvesting my organs for their own use.
Clowns - There is nothing whimisical or magical about a clown. There is, however, something vaguely disturbing about painting on a garish smile with thick makeup and going by names like Bozo, Floppy, and Mr. Chuckles.
24 hour laundromats that are empty when you drive by at 2 AM. Because I just know that if I were to stop and enter, the last thing anyone would ever see me do is disappear screaming as I fall into some abondoned laundry related vortex.
Cars with fake wood paneling on the outside - Do people really drive these by choice? I think it’s all a code for some secret group of paneling Illuminati.
Waddaya mean “fake” wood?
May the mediocrity of several greeting-card salesman inhabit your soul like unmatched buttons in a empty mayonaise jar.
I have some nice Pumas with wood paneling. It is a secret code, but I can’t tell you what it is about.
I am very disturbed by commercials oftimes.
I’m with you on the clowns. But the dummy thing, I’d say you’ve watched too much Buffy.
Septic tank cleaners - What do you say when you call those guys? “Look, don’t take this personally but I’d like for you to come and…” And is it rude if you go while they’re sucking your stuff out?
Hotel and Resort hot tubs - Why don’t I just relax in a bidet instead?
Caviar - I don’t care how stylish it is, it was still recently in a pond and covered with moss.
Golf - I enjoy the relaxation, enjoy being outside but it’s still a pretty dang silly game.
Hmmm, never seen Buffy. Are organ harvesting dummies a running storyline.
One more thing I though of.
San Francisco Giants manager Dusty Baker’s sweatbands. It’s not like he has a sweat inducing job, yet he wears enough sweatbands to keep a sauna full of Tennessee Williams characters dry.
The first thing I thought of when I saw the thread title was: Ventriloquist Dummies!
The next thing I thought of was: Clowns!
Also, chimps and little dogs in people clothes.
Ooooh, yeah, I’m with you on the little animals wearing people clothes thing. There’s something very wrong about this and it oogs me out.
I sometimes freak myself out if I ponder too long on the whole concept of going to sleep. And I love to sleep, I’m one of those people who likes nothing better than a delicious nap in 400 thread count sheets with a warm cat. But sometimes I start thinking about how weird sleep is … it’s so vulnerable, you’re not seeing or hearing anything that happens around you, any lunatic could sneak up on you and stand there looking at you while you sleep, there’s no guarantee you’re going to wake up. And yet we willingly drop off to sleep all the time.
Those friggin Chihuahua dogs. What sick type of person whould want one of those rat things?
Folks, our planet is just floating in space. There’s nothing for zillions of light years in any direction. That seems odd.
Have you noticed how close the stomach and lungs are? What a poor design. How come 100,000 people don’t die from trying to breath pie? Air and pie try to be in the same place on the way down.
People that forget lines in plays.
This is a stunner. Everyone wondering what’s going on with the nice actor. No help from anyone. Dead silence. OK, lead him off the stage.
Maybe no one is in that car/airplane/train at night.
How do you know? Could be they’ve passed out together. All you see are lights.
For some reason mascara scares the bejesus out of me. Poking yourself in the eye with a pen type thingy just doesn’t seem sensible.
Driving - Think about it… you’re doing 75 in a Lazy-Boy with bumpers and a horn. Not a problem if everybody’s going the same direction at the same speed but how about when you pass someone 3 feet away on an undivided 2 lane that could turn you into papyrus?
Haircuts - Aren’t you glad it doesn’t hurt?
Scary movies - We build nice safe houses so we can lock ourselves in and scare the shit out of ourselves.
And damn those people with their big gas-guzzling couches!
Definately driving scares the bejeezus out of me if I think about it too much. Driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic on 635 in Dallas at 70 mph. Jeez, I don’t think I trust you people enoughtoputmylifeinyourhandsthisway! I’mgettingoffthisrollercoaster!
Whew! That’s why I left the city.
Aaaaah! I never even THOUGHT of being scared of that. Now, I’ll never drive at night again!
Here are some other things to worry about:
Yet another freaky automotive thing: ** Rotaries ** (or Traffic Circles, or Roundabouts, or whatever you want to call them). You just go around and around and around and around until you see your exit. What if you don’t see it? You’d keep going around forever. Or until ou collide with one of those nonexistant nighttime drivers ** Marine_One ** was talking about.
** The appendix ** I know it’s doing SOMETHING down there. The fact that science hasn’t yet figured out what makes me suspect it’s something sinister. Sneaky appendix!
** elevators ** you get in a little box, and you let it haul you twenty stories up into the sky. Who’s to say it will let you out again? Or that the doors will open when they’re supposed to? Or that it won’t just decide to let you plummet?
That was well done.
No, technically it was ripped from the body cavity of a fish with overlapping rubbery scales, then packed in either salt or borax by hairy Russian or Iranian guys, then driven overland about four hundred miles before it got on a boat.
Doesn’t that make it better?
As for myself, it’s the likelihood that someone’s messed themselves on my public transit seat. It’s like wondering what’s in hotdogs–try not to think about it and you’re fine. Let that doubt start creeping in, and suddenly every gristly bit is a perforated hog anus, and you wonder why the bench is really that warm.
Many people find the idea that caterpillars turn into butterflies a beautiful metaphor for something-or-other. Personally, I find it extremely creepy.