Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing the Invisible Man.

No one knows for sure if the Invisible Man exists or not because no one has seen him. One time I saw a mummy in a museum and I thought it might be the Invisible Man taking a nap. I pulled out my camera to get some evidence of his existence, when I saw a sign that said no photos were allowed. Then I saw another sign that said it was a mummy.

The Invisible Man gained his powers from a science experiment gone wrong, but I kind of envy him. Now he doesn’t need to worry about his appearance. No more bad hair days or having to brush his teeth. He doesn’t need to wear clothes, so fashion is no concern and he must save a ton of money. If he gets cold he can just wear a blanket.

He doesn’t have to pretend to be happy when he’s not, because no one can see his expression. If the Invisible Wife asks him if he liked dinner, and he hated it, he can lie without the disgusted look on his face betraying him.

It must be liberating to live a life where no one can see or judge you, but also pretty lonely. No one smiles at the Invisible Man as they pass him on the street. If he waves, he is ignored. If he says hello, he is met with only a startled look of confusion. I don’t know what he looked like before he turned invisible, so maybe invisible is a step up.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing sperm.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing crash test dummies.

According to the internet, there’s a band called Crash Test Dummies, but that’s not what I’m reviewing this week. This week I’m talking about the actual dummies used to test the effects of car accidents on humans.

On the one hand, crash test dummies creep me out. It might be their expressionless semi-faces, or maybe the way they move in slow motion, mimicking the tragedy of car accidents. Whatever it is, I don’t feel comfortable looking at them. One year someone showed up at my door on Halloween dressed as a crash test dummy. I still gave him candy, but I pushed it through the mail slot, and I didn’t give him any of the good candy.

At the same time, crash test dummies seem rather pathetic. Not only are they horrible drivers, but I’m frankly a little disgusted by how they allow themselves to be used for such dark purposes. I went through a phase when I would let women use me. It was a period of my life that I don’t want to be reminded of.

I suppose the selflessness of crash test dummies could be regarded as heroic. I certainly wouldn’t be willing to do that job. I’d have to wear all kinds of protective gear, and I don’t look good in a helmet. It’s admirable that they do the work no one else can, like Johnny 5 in Wall-E. He cleaned up earth while the humans hung out in space. In that way crash test dummies are admirable. They are less admirable when you catch one of them in bed with your girlfriend. That’s why I broke up with Janet.

Crash test dummies also don’t ignite easily. And once you get them going the fumes smell horrible and can make you dizzy.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing the nap my neighbor took.

In my closet is a small window, and if I stand on my tiptoes (or set a chair on top of a small table) I can see across the way into my neighbor’s bedroom. Today he was taking a nap.

He was under the covers with an open book face down on his chest, and was most likely dreaming about whatever the book was about. I couldn’t make out the title, but there was a dragon on the cover of the book (Harry Potter?), so it was probably a pretty wild dream. My guess is that he was being attacked by the dragon, because about 40 minutes into the nap he started thrashing his arms around like something horrible was happening in his head. He looked a little sweaty.

The thrashing only lasted less than a minute. He either defeated the dragon, was killed by the dragon and continued the dream as a corpse, or moved onto a new dream. It looked to me like he had a slight erection under the blanket, so it might have been a sex dream. I hope he wasn’t involved in some strange dragon-sex. I don’t feel comfortable imagining him in such a situation.

It occurred to me that if he had died in the dream, the dragon could be defiling his corpse. Also, some people have said that when you die in your dream you die in real life, and I suddenly became panicked. I grabbed my phone to call 911 but then decided to try calling my neighbor first, just to check. What a relief it was to see him wake up.

He sounded very groggy and I hung up immediately. I felt a little bad for waking him, especially since he wasn’t able to get back to sleep, but it was either me or the paramedics.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing Jesus.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing camping.

Camping is hard. I’d never done it intentionally before, so this past weekend I decided it was time. I gathered together everything I might need and put it all into my car. I left a note telling my mailman where I would be in case I disappeared.

None of the camping advice out there describes what to do when you find a family camping in the spot you wanted, just because they reserved it and you didn’t. This is exactly what happened to me. I figured we could share the space, but they had different ideas.

When I set my mattress up next to their tent, I immediately began to receive a lot of cold stares and whispers. And when I stared longingly at their dinner because I had forgotten to bring any food of my own, there was a lot of turned backs and over-the-shoulder glances.

I felt bad for causing any tension during their vacation, so I decided to extend the olive branch with an improvised shadow puppet show, cast on the wall of their tent with my car headlights. Unfortunately they had to leave before I could finish.

Laying on a mattress under the stars is both beautiful and terrifying when you don’t have the awkward company of a strange family. With no one else around, every little sound sounded like a bear or puma waiting to attack me. At one point I actually crawled under my mattress. For a calmer camping experience suggest bringing earplugs.

Another tip is to put your parking break on, otherwise you may find the next morning that your car has silently rolled away and is hiding in a meadow and that a park ranger is writing you a ticket.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing my left shoelace.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing the human tongue.

There’s room for improvement with the human tongue. Yes, it allows for speech and the tasting of things and a variety of types of kisses, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get in the way sometimes. Like when my doctor needs to look at the back of my throat and he has to press my tongue out of the way. Or whenever I’m in a pie-eating contest, all I can think of is how much more pie I could fit in my mouth if there wasn’t a tongue taking up so much space. That rock singer who had the really long tongue must have been really bad at pie-eating contests. That’s probably why he went into music.

I will say that I’m glad I have my tongue every time I stick it out to catch a snowflake for the first snow of the season. And without my tongue I could never have performed cunnilingus all those times. I would have had to have done it with just my lips.

Sticking your tongue out is a very succinct way of saying, “I’m not fond of you,” to a stranger you pass by while driving down the street, but it’s nothing that a finger or some spit can’t do.

Using one’s tongue is also the least efficient way to tie a cherry stem into a knot. Just use your hands if you want to do that. No one is impressed by such an inefficient use of time.

Anatomy is not my strong suit, but they say that taste is 99% smell, which makes me wonder why my tongue has taste buds. They seem pointless if they are just counting on the nose to do all the work for them. It also made me wonder if I could taste things by putting them in my nose.

First, I tried laying on my back and sprinkling salt into my nose. I could taste it, but that was because a lot of it fell into my mouth. I decided to try this test again but with my mouth closed. Instead of salt I used pepper. Bad idea. That just made me sneeze. I hadn’t been shopping in a while so my only two remaining options were flour or frozen fish sticks. I tried both but couldn’t taste a thing.

Curiously, I wonder why my tongue doesn’t dissolve from all that saliva all the time. If I leave a cracker in my mouth for more than an hour it turns to mush. My tongue has been in there for decades and except for the hole where I got it pierced, it looks exactly the same as when I was a kid. What’s up with that?

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing Batman.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing gusto.

There are a lot of things I like in the world. Some of them are obvious, like sandwiches or pens. Any time someone mentions a sandwich and a pen in the same sentence my face just lights up! Not literally, unless it’s by coincidence.

One of my most favorite things is gusto. With gusto is how I get up in the morning. It’s how I approach most things in life, especially the things that deserve it least. I didn’t want to tell the child down the street that her cat would never be the same after I found that I accidentally locked it in my car for a few days (it didn’t die, but it wasn’t quite right), but I did so with gusto. It made the whole situation seem much less concerning, almost celebratory. Though she definitely didn’t celebrate when she actually saw what Mr. Whiskers had become.

If it weren’t for gusto, I wouldn’t be able to write my reviews of the world every week. The more I review, the more I realize how much I haven’t reviewed. It’s a daunting task, and one that couldn’t be done if gusto didn’t blind me to the impossibleness of what I’m trying to do. I have rare moments when I think that I should stop because there’s no way I can review everything. Then gusto kicks in and helps me power through.

In a lot of ways gusto can be like a powerful optimism or even delusion. The difference is those things are passive. Gusto makes you get up and go! It puts a smile on your face and excites you about the possibility, regardless of whether the possibility exists.

Another great thing about gusto is it sounds like musto, which reminds me of the word mustard. I love mustard.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing wormholes.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing We Bought a Zoo.

I haven’t literally seen We Bought a Zoo, but I have heard of it and I think I might have seen some of the trailer. It’s about a group of people – possibly a family, or maybe business partners – who purchase a zoo.

Buying a zoo must be expensive, especially if it comes with animals. Zoo animals are usually very expensive. I don’t have exact numbers, but I know a single giraffe can cost over a hundred dollars.

Fans of animals, zoos, and risky business ventures will enjoy this film. Matt Damon fans, too, because he is in this. He plays either the purchaser of the zoo, or the seller. I wouldn’t expect any of that Bourne Identity stuff in this one. Probably just a lot of zoo purchasing and the things that go along with that.

If I were to purchase a zoo, there’s no way I would pay in cash, because if the zoo had any goats they might eat the money. That would be a real debacle. Instead, I would pay with Paypal. Goats can’t eat that and if I decided I didn’t want the zoo, I could claim that someone hacked my computer and it wasn’t me who bought the zoo.

It’s called We Bought a Zoo rather than I Bought a Zoo, because it would be really hard for just one person to take care of an entire zoo. Think about it. He or she would have to feed the animals, clean up, try to make the animals mate, take tickets, and give tours. Too much! If I had to do that I would just sell the zoo.

The ending of We Bought a Zoo is most likely a happy one. There may be some sadness, such as a panda dying, but if that happens, I’m sure a very valuable lesson is learned and some people are brought together by this experience.

I’m very excited by the sure-to-be sequel, We Bought Another Zoo. I imagine the We Bought a Zoo series to be a trilogy. They start with one zoo, but it turns out to be such a thrill that they just can’t stop buying zoos. Eventually they become a zoo monopoly and then the Justice Department begins an investigation. That’s when Matt Damon would start to use his Jason Bourne skills against the government and things would get really exciting. Imagine Jason Bourne riding a hippopotamus!

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing safety pins.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing the bowl of water on my porch.

A few weeks ago I looked out my window and saw a stray dog wandering around my neighborhood. I love dogs, but I was also worried he might have rabies, so I stayed inside and watched him from where it was safe. When he was far enough away, I quickly stepped onto my porch and put out a bowl of water for him in case he was thirsty.

After a few days, the water was still there, untouched, and the dog was nowhere to be seen. I was a little annoyed that he didn’t drink any because who was he to turn down free water? I never turn down free water even though drinking water from questionable sources has been the cause of many stomach ailments.

The bowl of water is still on my porch and has a bunch of dead bugs floating on the surface. I even had to chase away a bird who decided he would use it as his personal bath. What was once a perfectly good bowl of water has been ruined, and it’s sitting out on my front porch for everyone to see, making me look like some kind of an idiot who can’t tell when a dog is thirsty.

I think the only answer is to replace it with a bowl of clean water, and then rent a thirsty dog to drink it all. I’m not sure what to do with the old water. I might put it in my freezer in case that stray dog comes back. Then, if he’s thirsty next time, I’ll put out a bowl of ice and watch him try in vain to drink it. Hopefully PETA won’t get angry at me for playing a practical joke on a dog.

If you have a thirsty dog, or if you’re not discriminating about what you drink, the bowl of water will be on my porch until midnight tonight.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing Princess Diana.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing Cadbury Creme Eggs.

According to the makers of the Cadbury Creme Egg, the eggs are laid by bunnies. I’m not sure I believe this is possible. Then again, I didn’t think reanimating ants was possible after they’d been put in a freezer, but my microwave proved me wrong.

Besides, I’ve seen no evidence to support the claim that bunnies can’t lay candied eggs. After all, if turtles can do it, why can’t bunnies? Obviously the eggs are not laid fully wrapped. Low-income workers make that happen.

I wonder what happens when a Cadbury Creme Egg is fertilized. Does it mature into a chocolate bunny filled with a gooey happiness? Probably not. The fact that I’ve never seen a living chocolate bunny makes me think this special breed of bunnies must be unable to reproduce, like mules. (But this is much more tragic because I’ve almost never wanted to eat a mule.)

Cadbury Creme Eggs are, for some reason, very divisive. People tend to either love them, or find them disgusting. Those who fall into the latter group are commonly known as “lame-o’s.” In my interview with Wylie Dufresne, he told me he used to eat Cadbury Creme Eggs “all the time as a kid,” but now he finds them too sweet.

I tried to get my own bunny to lay Cadbury Creme Eggs. First I had to buy a bunny. Then I tried feeding him only Cadbury Creme Eggs. Then, when I bought a replacement bunny, I tried a new tactic. I yelled at him whenever he didn’t lay a Cadbury Creme Egg. That’s how the Herricks down the street teach their kids things. It didn’t work either. I would have settled for even just a regular egg, but this bunny was too good for that.

Whatever the Cadbury company has done to breed or maybe even genetically engineer these egg-laying bunnies, my hats are off to them. Kudos! I spent over six months trying and the closest I got was a dream I had where my bunny sweated Skittles.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing Dollywood.

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Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing the foxtrot.

Of all the dances, locomotion included, the foxtrot is my favorite. This won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me and my love for all things fox-related, no matter how loosely. There are plenty of obvious reasons to love the foxtrot, but there are also some hidden wonders.

When done correctly, the dance is so smooth it feels like you’re literally flying. Without the power of flight I can’t say this with absolute authority, but prove me wrong if you can.

There are health benefits to the foxtrot. It’s been scientifically hypothesized that this dance also combats Down syndrome. This is great news for anyone who feels they may be gaining an extra chromosome or those who want to ensure they don’t.

Possibly the most interesting fact about the foxtrot is that I think I may have invented it. I’m not 100% positive but I can’t remember learning it from anyone. Someone else may have invented it before me, but completely independently, in which case I still invented it, just not as first as I could have.

As much as I love the foxtrot dance, I’m not a fan of the comic strip FoxTrot. It’s not that I don’t think it’s funny. It’s hilarious. The problem is that every time I see it in the paper, for a split second I think it’s going to be about my favorite dance. Then, when I realize what it actually is, I am met with disappointment. Sometimes I white out the punchline and write in my own with something about the dance. This always proves to be more fulfilling than the original. That’s why I’m planning to start my own comic called The Real Foxtrot. My lawyer says I shouldn’t but my heart says I should.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing Kony.

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