Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Places My Remote Control Isn’t

  • Where it should be.
  • Where I left it.
  • The last place I saw it.
  • Next to the banana guacamole.
  • By the sink, because sometimes I put it there when I’m shaving.
  • I did not use it for sex stuff, so it is not up my butt.
  • It was not in the unopened tube of BBQ Pringles, but to make sure, I cracked that sucker and ate all the “potato chips.”
  • Seriously: ever look at the ingredients of Pringles?
  • Why the fuck is there wheat?
  • And rice?
  • I got a feeling Pringles are just whatever’s left on the floor at the end of the day, shoved into a press and stamped into a hyperbola.
  • The remote control is not under the bucket of kitty litter I bought when I stole that cat and haven’t had the heart to put away.
  • Why do I have five coffee machines?
  • Three of them I recognize; I legitimately cannot account for the other two.
  • The washing machine.
  • The dryer.
  • Dishwasher.
  • In the oven.
  • Ditto microwave.
  • It is not under the sink in the bathroom.
  • When did I buy Mexican Crest?
  • I’m learning a lot about myself here.
  • It is not down the burgundy pants of my stuffed Garcia.
  • Okay, maybe I just checked so that I could tell you that I had checked, but the fact remains: I dug around in Teddy Garcia’s potato salad for my remote.
  • Where’s my Webby award?
  • Still not where it’s supposed to be.
  • Thought I’d check again to make sure.
  • It is also still not up my butt.


  1. Check the freezer, Spencer left it there…twice. I married a dipshit (but an excellent father when he came remember where he left the kids). Keep up the good work ToTD, you make this world a better place.

  2. The roof of the Capital Centre looked like a Pringle.

  3. I can’t understand how you can only have one remote. I have minimal electronic equipment here, but there are still five remotes on the coffee table. I can easily see how a single remote, unable to satisfy its herding instincts, may become lost.

  4. Two things:

    -Did you check in between and under the couch? Any surfaces that may be the same color as the remote? The pantry, your bedroom, and even your cat’s ass?


  5. Those remotes are shifty little critters. They seem to end up being in the last place you look.

    Seriously, think about the last time your viewing pleasure was rudely interrupted, e.g., cat locked in the wine cellar without a corkscrew, upstairs toilet stopped up, Jehova Witnesses at the door, etc., and you got up, pissed off, and paused the tv but didn’t put the remote down. It’s probably where ever you stopped to secure the tool that solves the problem, e.g., the bar where the corkscrew is, the utility room where the plunger is, the closet with the taser, etc.

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