Meet Rice.

Nice guy, right? He has that slim body so hounded after in modern society; his texture is always smooth and…well, a bit slimy; and his acclaim–why, everyone loves Rice; he should be an American icon…but for that he came originally from China…

Rice is in need of a good ear, no, not Goodyear, the tire manufacturer, a good ear! Get your hearing fixed, would ya?

He has started to feel inferior in his social life: all around him his relatives and friends are experiencing what he refers to as, “a grand old time;” while he is trapped, as it were, in a hole of alike faces. There is Rice Junior; Brown Rice; Uncle Ben; and each one of them are exactly as he imagines himself…but better.

I don’t know how many of you are psychologists; but perhaps you could tell me, and Rice here, what it means to understand yourself. Rice is having a hell of a time–from nine to five he basks in a cooking pot for that special slimness; on weekends he is restrained to a black storage container wherein sleep his equally bored brethren; however he never finds the time to examine this…life, or as he calls it the Scalding Oven.

I want anyone reading this to invest some time, right now, in aiding Rice in his quest for self acceptance. Remember he’s not a big guy–at Rice Training Center, when he started smooching on Missie Soy Sauce in the–whoah, Rice, calm down! Anyhow, at Rice Training Center they had him lifting peas and swimming four laps in a salt pool.

Put it this way: he looked like the same skinny, no-good, dry piece of rice–

Okay, okay, sorry, Rice! I was trying to make them feel bad for you, and I guess I got a little carried away. Would you go back to your cooking pot and sulk in there? You’re getting salt on this nice beige carpet.

Good God…he is…

Oh, still there. Right. Rice is such a sensitive person, you know; you say one thing and he takes it as a threat to eat him.

Rice, ol’ boy; what else is there to say about him? He cares a lot about the environment. He also likes to sunbathe; get a little tan on his starched white backside. And he is always, always, putting others before himself, like the time when he let his friends jump on to the orange chicken in that one restaurant…yeah, they loved it up until the Fork showed up–silver pronged bastard.

Whenever you find yourself in a rut, a seriously deep rut, kinda like if your hand fell off; I want you to remember Rice and his self esteem issues. Tell yourself, “Man, Rice is an example of how screwy life can be; but he somehow makes it work, spending the majority of his time avoiding overhead death from those bastard forks.”

And then, once you have climbed out of that rut, throw away any bags of rice–this goes to all you Uncle Ben lovers–for the sake of preserving the mental health of Rice and others like him around the world.

Rice! Come back and say bye to the nice bloggers!

Think daily,

A Southpaw