It seems like one of the most prevalent “reality” TV genres these days involves anything having to do with paranormal activity, ghosts, hauntings, etc.  With the exception of a couple of them – namely the Discovery Channel’s A Haunting – I find these programs to be more funny than they are suspenseful/scary.  For instance, I have watched bits and pieces of Syfy’s Ghost Hunters on a few occasions, and the only constant on the show (besides the One Night in Paris camera work) is listening to these pseudo scientists exclaim, “Did you hear that?!?”, “Did you see that?!?”, or “What was that?!?” every ten seconds – and the viewing audience’s answer to these questions is almost always “No”, “No”, and “You tell me”.  Well last night I came across another new supernatural series while flipping through the channels titled Unsolved Ghost Mysteries; even though it wasn’t hosted by Robert Stack as I had hoped, this particular episode featured a riveting story detailing one man’s struggle to live with one of the worst types of apparitions imaginable – even worse than the ghost of Rip Taylor (if he were dead).

I recently found out that New Zealand is the youngest country on earth, which can probably be filed under the useless information category.  They do have an interesting motto though; it is a 100% guarantee that if you come to New Zealand, they’ll promise to give you your life back at the end of the trip.  That’s all and good, but if it’s as taterific as the commercials showed, why in the hell would I want my life back after going there?  It sounds to me like those bastards need a new monarchy, or some other type of family who gets paid tons of money for no apparent reason or benefit.  I would jump all over some of that if given the opportunity.  Hell, I could tell them that my parents house is on Old Zealand Field Road, and that is was meant to be.  I’m booking the tickets now in an effort to realize this goal.  My biggest cultural influence on my new subjects will be the wearing of the Snuggie.  It will be the official dress of the New Zealander after I refuse to take my life back.  If these people bought into all that J.R. Tolkien stuff while they were filming Lord of The Rings marathons there, they could just as easily buy into my bullshit.  Instead of the ring, I’ll have the Snuggie.  If everything works out, I’ll write when it’s time for all of you to come over and assume your parliamentary/government positions.

Do ghosts exist? And if they do, is it possible to touch them inappropriately in a sexual manner?  Who knows?  Maybe that is why Casper is so damned friendly.  In the movie Ghost, the first thing Patrick Swayze did was take over Whoopi Goldberg’s body and get it on with that chick - so I’d have to say that, on average, spooks are pretty horny.  Like anything else, it comes down to consent in the end.  But with a ghost, how would you know if they consented to you touching them?  What if the mondus operandi of your sexuality, per se or not to se, just happened to go right through them?  My understanding of ghosts – all of which comes from movies, television, and pilled/swilled out people who are only a shadow of their former selves – is that they are not a “solid-bodied” and things pass through them like cash through the hands of Illinois politicians.  So, even if you wanted to sexually touch a ghost, could you?  If a ghost wanted to sexually touch you, could it?  If you want to get it on with a ghost, does Dan Akroyd or Whoopi Goldberg have to supervise?

Personally, I don’t believe in ghosts - but I do believe in The Force.  The Force just makes much so more sense to me.  I don’t know about all that making things fly through the air, choking people from across the room, seeing shit in the dark, and all that jazz however.  I’m talking about the feelings you get when you’ve got to pee, or the thing that keeps you – or me at least – from getting more than two inches off the ground whenever I try to jump.  That’s The Force.  You don’t have to be Yogurt or B.O. Won Ton Kenobi to know what will happen when my fat ass drinks too much tequila, and trips over one of my son’s superhero toys for the umpteenth million time.  The Force is most definitely going to be involved, and it will probably be quite noticeable as I fall face first on the floor and black my eye.