My New Lawyer

This guy is awesome.

How could I lose a case with Irving Solnik by my side?

Preacher Mania

Religious Royal Rumble Announced
Friday, April 29 2005 Posted 7:59 AM - Shamus News Network)

Athens, Greece (SNN) --Newly sanctioned Benedict XVI will meet his first challenge as Pontiff next month as the World Religion Federation announced he will see Archbishop Christodoulos in the first of a series of WRF Tournament scheduled matches.

In the wake of Germany's Joseph Ratzinger being elected the 265th pope of the Roman Catholic Church at the Vatican City last week, the WRF began the match selection process.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what Ratzinger has." says Christodoulos, a Greek Orthodox priest with a multitude of bouts under his cassock, commented from a retreat/training center near Thessaloniki. "I think it was the Macho Man Randy Savage who said it best, 'Ohhhh yeahhhhhhh!' "



The WRF is the governing body of the world's major religions and hosts the little-publicised event on a small Bolivian Island. The matches are closed to outsiders and only available on EWTN, the religious cable station.

The Pope was unavailable for comment, but sources close to the Pontiff report that he is "looking forward" to the competition.

"I had to rent 'WrestleMania XVII - Smackdown in Chi-town' to show him what a greased cage match looked like," the source confided, "but after that, he got it."

All major religions send a representative to the contest, although some refrain from participating. The Dalai Lama confirmed with contest officials yesterday that he will tap out immediately upon entering the ring, as he has in past events. Analysts say it without full participation, the credibility of the contest is in question.

"I've seen the Dalia spar, he has a furious roundhouse that strikes like mad mule's kick. " Sports Illustrated analyst Mike Barr points out. "He could drop any of these guys like a sack of stolen bibles, but he chooses not to fight. I just don't get it."

The WRF also named Chris Rock as guest ring announcer, replacing Johnny Carson who preformed the secretive Master of Cerimony tasks for the past 20 years prior to his death this past year. Rock said he was surprised but humbled by the invitation.

"Hey, I'll try anything. I mean, I hosted the 'Tiger Beat Video Choice Awards' last month." Rock commented. "Am I curious as hell what's going to go on, you better bet your ass."

Lord of the Flush

Reading this entry from danielle, I was struck by my own embarrassing toilet drop story.

Back in the college years, my family came to town to visit and I decided to play tour guide to show them around the Empire State Plaza.

The Plaza is a serious homage to marble and granite, covering a vast amount of acreage in downtown Albany. It consists of the State Capital building, multiple skyscapers (filled with all kinds of state offices), the NY State Museum (with some great exhibits about the wooley mammouth and state bugs), and finally, there is an Egg. You heard me, a concrete egg. It's a performing arts center and it's an amazing venue to see an act. Small shows only, very intimate.

So you get the picture of where I was taking them. Excitement central.

After wandering around for an hour it was obvious that the wonder and enchanment of the place was lost on my tour group. My younger brother Pat and sister Anney were yawning and asking when we were going to be at the Status of Liberty. New York State geography is not on the B.C. school curriculum, so I kept stringing them along by saying, "Soon..." I was planning on driving by a large statue in Washington Park, which looks nothing like the Statuse of Liberty but what did these kids know about it?

Time to bail on the Plaza, but first a brief stop at the cavernous washroom facilities. My little bro and I lined up and started on business. Finishing, I jiggled and flushed at the same time. It was June, so I was wearing shorts with an elastic as opposed to a belt. the shorts had no popckets, so the car keys had been hung over the elastic, half in and half out. There was a 3 inch leather strap on the keys, so it was pretty comfortable. So when I returned my shorts to the full and upright position, the keys were launched by the elastic and took flight.

I was going to draw a picture, but I think you see where the keys are going. Yup. And since the flush was in motion, I had just enough time to wave goodbye as they dissapeared down the little hole with a swirl.

My brother zipped up next to me and said "Can we see the Status of Liberty now?"

Explaining the lack of car keys to my mother and grandmother was an embarassing experience. It was made worse by my Mom rehashing the incident through questions:

"Wait a minute, how did the keys get in there?"
"Well what were they doing in your waistband?"
"Why didn't you just pick them out and just wash them off?"
"I still don't know why you carried your keys in your shorts like that. Who ever heard of that?"

Then I had to convince them not to locate a janitor to try and locate the keys in the plumbing somewhere. Anney and Pat had no conceot of why we weren't getting in the car and leaving. I said, "walk around for 15 minutes and meet me back here."

I ran to the street level and managed to flag down a Yellow Cab. I gave him my address and I returned to get a new set of keys. I had to break into the house (no keys) and locate a spare set, then scrounge up cab fare (wallet was in the locked car), then back in the cab to the Plaza.

The car was uncomfortably quiet as I drove away from the Plaza, up Madison and past the statue in Washington Park. The fun had gone all out of being tour-guide.

"That's NOT the Statue of Liberty." Anney insisted.

"Don't get him mad," Pat said, his small voice rising from the back seat. "Or he'll flush you down the toilet."

The Empire Blogs Back

I have been made aware that Darth Vader now has a blog of his own. I didn't read them all, but "I Am Surrounded By Idiots" was amusing. It helps if you imagine the voice of James Earl Jones (the voice of Vadar in the movies) as you read the entries. And if you picture him hunched over a PC typing them in, big gloves getting in the way, then they are way funnier.

The blog also has some interesting links to more Star Wars sites, the best among them being the Star Wars Blooper Guide.

The usual frenzy of the release of a Star Wars movie has been lacking. I can recall much bigger hype for the first two of this latest series. But it won't stay calm forever. I already blogged this week about an interview I read with George Lucas, and now I see the toys are hitting the shelves, the ads are starting on tv - all signs that the marketing mechanics are creaking into action.

I would call myself a fan of the SW series, but not a superfan. I have a friend from college, Bill Smith, who has actually written novels, guides and games on and about Star Wars and he even was invited to the Skywalker Ranch to have drinks with Princess Leah. He said she was pretty hot.

It's fair to say that the six movies represent an amazing feat, and I salute Lucas for pulling it off. Especially the most recent installments, which occur prior to the first 3. That introduced a myriad of complexities to the story, and he did a fair job of keeping it all straight, and making it a fun bunch of movies to watch. Sure, he got caught up with Ewoks and the pernicious Jar-Jar Binks, but his heart was in the right place. I enjoy watching them with my kids, and seeing them get caught up in the adventure, and conducting light saber fights with cardboard tubes like we used to do.

And there's nothing funnier than listening to a 5-year old imitate Darth Vader.

Prank #51 The Purse Trick

I grew up in a place where the population in the summer swelled with an influx of in-land beach goers and lost tourists. As a result, much of our summer fun came from having laughs at the expense of these visitors. There were degrees to the extent we would torment them, depending on our mood.

This prank is a classic and never failed to cause a ruckus.

Step 1: Locate a purse. You want one semi-big, but not so bit it doesn't look like a purse. People don't stop for a duffle bag. I've heard of people using wallets, but they are harder to see. In a urban location (like a sidewalk) it may work, though.

Step 2; Location, location, location. You need the right place. A four way stop is best, because everybody has to stop, as opposed to a traffic light. Also, you need woods or something to hide behind near the road. Because people get mad and you may need to run.

Step 3: Attach fishing line. This is pretty important.

Step 4: Toss into road. Best is near the drivers door where they stop for crossing. Be careful of positioning, you don't want a car to stop on you fishing line or you're sunk.

Step 5: When the car stops and the person gets out, wait for them to reach for it, and YANK the fishing line.

Step 6: Depending on the reaction, run or just stand there laughing.

Best Execution I've Witnessed:
It was a moonless night in August. We had about 7 guys and we "borrowed" a purse from the sister of my best friend. We set up shop at a four way stop sign near his house, which had a single flood light over the intersection. Iain and I hid in a large wooden newspaper drop box (where the daily papers were left for the paper carriers) near the side of the road, everybody else was in the woods, out of sight. Someone in the woods had the fishing line.

Only minutes passed before a sedan pulled up. It creeped up, seeing the purse under the light. It stopped and a man got out and walked over to it. The fishing line was right between his legs, the absolute best configuration.

Think about it. It's a dark, lonely road and you see a purse just sitting there. You get out, wondering how it got there, where is the owner, so on. You reach down for it when suddenly it flies under you.

The purse flew between the man's legs and the guy jumped 3 feet in the air, yelling like a scalded dog. After a few seconds, he must have heard the commotion in the woods and walked toward our side of the road, yelling angrily. He kicked the side of the paper box in frustration, but we thought he had seen us, so we popped the lid. The man yelled again and fell over backwards, not expecting the jack-in-the-box to pop open. We jumped out and hi-tailed it into the woods as the guy regained his senses and began yelling again.

We regrouped in the woods and a few yards away and rolled around the grass laughing for 10 minutes then doubled back. The guy was gone and so was our purse (well, Leah's purse). To my knowledge, that was the funniest implementations of the Purse Trick.

I still crack up to this guy seeing the purse flying under him and his leaping reaction. It scared the bejesus out of him.


Jackass Warning - Shamus, nor any of his subsidiaries, are responsible for consequences as a result of reproducing the above-mentioned prank. The pranks described in this posting were executed by professionals in a controlled environment (a small Canadian town with no local police force and way before cell phones and road rage). Do not attempt in modern times under any circumstances.

Tough Guy

Reading to kids can be fun, and disturbing. Take this example from “Rescue Heroes - Storm of the Century”. I’ve copied the story text exactly as it is.

(ed note: Blogger is acting up and won't show these images correctly, so you'll have to click them to see them. Sorry)

Frame1

Frame 2


Billy obviously has some issues, but he’s a tough guy. You’ll never catch him crying in a movie. And maybe that's why Wendy wants him, because he so dark and brooding.

BTW, I read an interview with George Lucas in yesterday’s paper and in it he claimed that all women and most men who have previewed this installment “Revenge of the Sith” have shed tears at some point. Pansies.

I mean, I would never cry in a Star Wars movie, unless something absolutely shocking unheard of were to transpire, like, oh I don’t know, if Anakin Skywalker was to turn to the dark side, or something totally crazy like that. Which could never happen. I mean, he's like the greatest Jedi ever, right?

Because then you’d be totally justified for bawling like a baby being carried off by a dingo. Totally.

The Legend of Tagish Elvis

My blogger pal Steff recently posted a truly unique story. First, a little history. It turns out Steff grew up in the same tiny beach town in B.C as I, AND went to the same warped catholic elementary school though a few years behind me (so she knew my sisters). Small world. Anyhoo.

Steff told the story about a guy named Gilbert Nelles who was just an average guy in the Yukon until he snapped and legally changed his name to that of the King, Elvis Aaron Presley (aka Tagish Elvis) as well as took on his persona. It's a funny read. I especially like how he built a log home out of recycled telephone poles, the fumes from which may have contributed to his transformation.

If I ever lose it one day, I hope I do something creative and unique like this Elvis guy, not just flip out and climb a tree, refusing to come down like I did when I was 11. I stuck to my guns until about 4 am, when I finally relented and went inside. I could of swore I hear coyotes howling close by.

Angry Hair

I need a haircut, and that blows. The only place that does a good job is far from where I work and farther from where I live, so it's a hassle. The sad thing is, it isn't even a fancy place, or the kind of shop where the barber knows you. I never have luck with those places. I go to a chop house in the mall called "Super Mario's", but there's no Italians in sight. The people that run the place are Chinese, not that it has to do with anything except I always find it funny when store names are mismatched with the owner ethnicity. Anyways, I've been going there since college and they do a consistent job despite the fact I see a different person every time I am there. Go figure.

Last year I decided I had to ween myself of that place and began looking for closer venues to get my hair cut. I mean, it's not like I was getting it styled or anything, so what did it matter? I tried a small shop in a strip mall near my office, kind of a chick place but they took walk ins and that's what I am. I walk in.

It was a good cut, but the "stylist" as she called herself kept stopping to answer the phone and sop a cut took 30 minutes and cost more than I usually pay at SM. But ok. So I tried a place in Delmar, which was a bigger shop but again mostly a hair salon kind of place but they took me as a walk in and I had a very attractive snipper doing the work on me. Either on purpose or by accident she was rubbing against me the whole time NOT that I complained. That place was looking like trouble.

Next I found an older gent who opened a small barbershop in Glenmont which was right on my way home form work. The barber pole outside was a nice change from the frilly places I had been frequenting, and the smell of that blue sterilizing fluid they put the combs into, the talcom powder and generous helpings of "Old Leather" was a welcome combination of scents.

The barber, "Bob", liked to talk and carried both sides of the conversation which was fine with me. He had a small TV going set to CNBC or something and he was talking about this that and some politics stuff. I kind of zoned out and soon it was over. Not bad. A bit military in it's style, but it did the trick. I bid Bob farewell with a promise to return.

I visited Bob every seven weeks or so though last summer and almost was looking forward to bellying up to the barber chair for my usual trim cut. One day, Bob started in and got talking about the election news. This was last fall, so right in the midst of the battle, and Bob was fired up. He went on and on about Democrats this and Republicans that and how they all were crooks and so on. Apparently he was an Vet who'd been screwed over in multiple ways by several administrations. He paused often to jab the scissors at the tv and he was a bit strong on the shears, but otherwise I didn't clue in to the proceedings.

After the obligatory rear-view glance, head nod and payoff, I split. I did a double check in the car mirror, as I had noticed the hair was a bit shorter than usual, and a bit, well, choppy. Sure enough, I had kind of ragged cut almost like a bowl-cut but with some kind of Flo-Bee attachment malfunction thing going on /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ and a big chop on one side the opposite side from my part as a nice exclamation mark.

I went home and did a further inspection only to learn that Bob had truly butchered me. He had been so worked up on the election, he'd left me looking like my hair had just lost a fight with a salad shooter.

Kel tried to fix it, but she was laughing too hard and had nothing to work with. After snipping in a few places she gave up and just sat there, hand over her mouth and eyes brimming with a pent-up explosion of laughter that she kindly saved until after I left the room. When I went out to feed my dog - my friend through thick and thin - she gave me a look like "Now you know how I feel when I get back from the groomer."

My hair was popular at the lunch table all that week. People tried not to stare in the halls but the laugh usually escaped before they could clap their hand over their mouth. Several people submitted covert suggestions. "Try some gel." (no luck), "My sister might be able to fix that." (um, no thanks). It was hard to get work done with people sneaking up with digital cameras all day trying to get shot to send to friends on the Internet.

So next time I needed a hair cut (it was about 3 weeks before it was long enough to be able to fix it) I went right back to Super Mario's and they were able to restore my hair to something less hilarious. No conversation needed or wanted, thank you very much, lest you find yourself dancing with Angry Hair.

Stop SWAT Monkey

Police Force to Use SWAT Monkey
PHOENIX, Arizona (Reuters) -- "Send in the SWAT monkey" is not an order police commanders are accustomed to giving, but that could change if an Arizona police department follows through on a proposal to train a capuchin monkey for high-risk police operations.

Uh, ok. This sounds crazy, but I'm sure the rest of the news story will make it all seem logical. Please?

A Special Weapons and Tactics veteran from Mesa, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix, has researched the possibility of landing a $100,000 federal grant to fund a pilot program to train one monkey.

There's a federal grant for training monkeys to conduct hostage negotiations? Damn, that nutjob with all the question marks on his clothes is right! The government IS giving away free money.

"Everybody laughs about it until they really start thinking about it," Sean Truelove told the East Valley Tribune, a local newspaper. "It could change the way we do business."

I'm still laughing about it. WTF? It's a MONKEY. Yes, they have some intelligence, but does that mean we should use it to open the door behind which a shotgun-wielding maniac is hiding?



Major city police departments in the United States use paramilitary SWAT teams for hostage situations and in situations involving heavily armed criminals.

OK, so no explaination as to what a monkey brings to the table, other than being an expendable intelligent life form.

What happened to robots? They can do it all and if one of them takes a slug to the chassy you can rebuild it. You don't have to have a supply of bananas onhand for motivation, and you don't have to change their diapers. And what if the badguy has one of those boxes with the crank on it? How will SWAT Monkey be able to resist the call of the organgrinder?

Inscapee, weigh in on this one, would you? Tell me I'm missing something. Otherwise, I will offically be against SWAT Monkey. Done.

Kiss

In a disturbing trend, several blogs have been recounting their first kiss. I won't be participating at this time, you'll be happy to hear, but instead need to expound on a subject that has been a recent bafflement. Workplace kissing.

I work in a small-ish company, and several of the coworkers are, in fact, married or heading in that direction. The public shows of affection are effusive and regular, and nobody seems to notice. Not only is it the married folk that share these displays of unabridged warmth, but it spills over to those who are friends. There are several people so full of happiness and love for a fellow coworker (or feeling the zest of life perhaps) that they hug you, kiss your cheek, or generally are very warm and friendly in a manner that I am not used to on company grounds.

And maybe it's me. In fact, yeah, it is me. My previous employer was a rather large company where sexual harassment and nonproductive time were heavily monitored. Shaking hands is about as physical as people used to get (can't speak to today) but even that was a bit risque. I even worked with a couple who were married, but as far as I even noticed, they kept the smooching on the DL. It was supposed to be an emotionally sterile site, (although THIS recap by JV of an event that occured there kind of tarnished that claim) where relationships didn't exist, which made them all the more fun to talk about. And for some, to carry out.

I knew of two couples that conducted clandestine relationships over long periods of time. One kept it so secret our jaws dropped when we'd heard they broke up (since we never knew they were going out) but through it all, they gave no hint of it at work. The other couple, well, they haven't copped to anything as of yet and keep it separated at work, but they've been busted. The shared address, the email sent at odd hours from each otyher's mailboxes, the joint vacations kind of gave it away. They still deny it, mainly because they don't want it official. Well, it works for them, and if they're happy then that's what matters. Live and let live, as James Bond used to say.

What was my point? Oh, yeah. So if you work with me, please don't kiss me. It's not a germ thing, and I don't care about you any less, but let's just shake hands warmly or maybe hug if it's about something really emotional or if a new Pope gets chosen. Because I can see hugging about that.


Old Issues that require a few updates:

Goldie -I haven't been stopping in for a coffee and bagel much recently (trying to break the habit) but Goldie surprised me today by appearing to recognize me and conducting small talk. He didn't guess my order, but he recognized me, so that's cool.

Mega Loser
- nobody has won the Mega lotto, so now I've been buying in to the group for a few rounds and of course I can't NOT do it now, how dumb would I look if the numbers hit? Would somebody please win the NYS Mega Lotto so I can stop the insanity?

Vatican Idol - one of the Vatican Idols I featured in my pictorial became pope, Cardinal Ratzinger. I knew he was a strong contender, even though Randy said he wouldn't appeal to the hip crowd. Wrong again, Randy.

Pure Garbage

Albany is the capital of New York State, which tends to surprise a few folks who missed the "State Capitals Day" in 3rd grade. It would also surprise anyone who cracked open the main newspaper for the city, The Times Union. Locally, it's known as the "Times Useless", and today I'm going to demonstrate why.

In a place where backroom deals, corruption, scandals and rampant nepotism are the daily bread, along with the normal influx of shootings, stabbings and riotous domestic disputes that are the fare of the police blotter, how could a newspaper not flourish? Pressing social issues, a state government which has almost as many members as the entire population of Rhode Island, and a Riverfront that smells like the wrong end of a diaper-cleaning factory are just a few of the issues facing this area.

But what do we have on page one of the local section?



Take that, Washington Post.

By the way, this picture will win some kind of award, and then we'll have more of these stories that are as useless as a Canadian penny. And sorry to Carly and Johnny V, who had sit thru this rant already (although great to see you guys live and in person).

Burning Mad

Man Catches Fire During Surgery - Mon Apr 18, 9:09 AM ET
SEATTLE (Reuters) - Seattle police launched an investigation on Friday to determine how a patient undergoing emergency heart surgery caught on fire at a local hospital in 2003. The male patient, who was not identified, went up in flames after alcohol poured on his skin was ignited by a surgical instrument.

The patient died after the surgery but that was due to heart failure and not the fire, said Dr. Robert Caplan, medical quality director of Virginia Mason.
Right, because it's pretty hard to conduct heart surgery while the patient is ON FIRE! This is the part I can't believe, they're basically saying that the fire had no bearing on the procedure. What, they just kept plugging away while the fire burned itself out? No way, the doc ran like a scalded dog, probably knocking the nurses out of the way, every man for himself.

Caplan said fires are known to occur in operating rooms although they were extremely rare.
You know what's extremely rare? Winning the lottery. People end up coming out of hospitals in worse that they were before they went in almost every day in the U.S.

The two-year-old incident became publicly known after an anonymous letter sent to the media mentioned it as a sign of unsafe health care at the hospital, and said the patient burned to death. Caplan strongly disputed its contents. "That letter is factually incorrect," he said.

But substantively correct, right doc? Some poor soul came in for a little work on his ticker and instead became the "toast of the town" so to speak. Doctors love to gloss over the "collateral damage". You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, right doc?

What the heck are you supposed to do in this kind of situation? You can't exactly stop, drop and roll when you're laid out on the table hopped out on gas.

Christ, this was just what I needed.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Spinal Tap has a song called "Stinking Up The Great Outdoors", which has nothing to do with my issue today except that there’s nothing worse than being in a pristine, pastoral setting only to have it ruined by morons. Let me expound.

We took a brief ride to North Lake to do a hike yesterday. The state run campsite is still closed, so the only people up there are locals like us. We started with a nice little picnic lunch right there on the lake before our hike to the top of Kaaterskill Falls.

There were a few people fishing, another family cooking something that smelled awesome on a small grill, and pairs of hiker coming and going on the trails that intersected at this spot. It was calm, peaceful, and although there were a bunch of people around us, we couldn’t hear them over the sounds of nature. Until THEY showed up.

Now you might get the idea reading my entries that I have a chip on my shoulder about people from the city. Not so. I have many friends from very urban areas, and I lived in one prety urban place myself for quite a while. Nor do I have anything against people from NY City, Long Island or New Jersey. OK, so that’s not entirely true, I have to admit they are way too fucking LOUD and overall idiots when they get out in nature.

They are the people roaring up Lake George in a V8 motorboat that sounds like a jet plane with a flatulence problem. They are the people who ride your bumper on the thruway because you’re only doing 78 in a 65 zone. They are the people who toss trash from their windows as they fly down your country road. They drive up to our area in the fall and shoot cows during deer season, and sometimes bag a buddy as well. Oh well.

The first thing I hear is a guy yelling in the parking lot. He’s yelling to a guy in another car. No, don’t get OUT of your car, just yell over your engines and 70 yards of parking lot to each other. No problem. And hell yeah, just park your car right where you are, right in the middle of the lot so nobody could get in or out if the wanted to (not that there were any people wanting to, but it was the arrogance of their actions that pissed me off here) .

About now the cars empty and the people are milling around, like 10 of them from what appeared to be 3 cars now. All of them had cell phones, even the really young kids (looked about 10) and all were waving them in the air.

“I have a bar! Nope, I lost it.”
“No signal over here!”
“I got two bars!! Over HERE! Awwww SHIT I lost it.”

This went on for a while. The yelling, the waving of the cell phones and the utter ignorance of where they were, or what they were here for. Or what OTHERS might be there for.

The best line was from one of the women (imagine a wicked Long Island accent here). “You think they would have put in a cell tow-a up he-ya by NOW? It’s 2005 for gaud’s sake!”

You’re right, lady. It is a shame. A goddam, fucking shame that you get to breathe this fresh air! Get back in your SUV and drive south for 2 hours or so back to where you’re from. Look around, jackass, do you see ANYBODY else conducting themselves in a manner anything close to you and your friends? Why do you think that is, huh?

Kelly sensed my venom and said, “You can call the blog, ‘Can You Hear Me Now?’ “
Perfect. So I will.

We cleaned up our picnic and put the stuff in the car before setting off on our little hike. We had an awesome time and didn’t see a soul for 2 hours. When we got back, they were gone. The balance of nature was restored.

Vatican Idol

Taking a hint from the success of Americal Idol, the Vatican announced today that instead of using the centuries-old method for vetting a new pope, they will adopt a new format.

It will be called "Vatican Idol"





Cardinal Dias recites a prayer in the "Old Testiment competition"





Cardinal Ratzinger invigorates the crowd with a homily about John 3:16.





Simon doesn't think Cardinal Ruini has stage presence.





Never count out that crowd favorite - Cardinal William Hung!




The only bad thing is Ryan Seacrest was not available for the show. He was getting his hair transplant redone. Get well soon, Ryan!

Prank #43 - The Rope Trick

I grew up in a place where the population in the summer swelled with an influx of in-land beach goers and lost tourists. As a result, much of our summer fun came from having laughs at the expense of these visitors. There were degrees to the extent we would torment them, depending on our mood.

The "low hanging fruit" (easiest to pull off) was giving bogus directions. We'd be on our bikes and a station wagon with Ontario plates would pull along side and ask how to get to the beach. We lived on a friggin peninsula, so driving in any 3 directions was going to get you there in a few minutes, so we'd send them the only other way. Sure, it was pretty un-Canadian of us, but screw 'em. They clogged our roads and filled up our beaches in the summer, and we didn't care for that. Did I mention I had issues as a child? Well, yeah. I did.

One day we gave such directions to a preppy couple in a Porche. We were, in fact, headed down to the beach (we even had towels around our necks) and pointed the guy in the other direction and laughed as he roared off in the wrong direction. Later that day, we were camped out on the grass by the pier watching the cars parade past the beachfront (called the Strip) and the silver Carerra cruised by. We waved and then the guy recognized us. He stopped, leaned across his girlfriend/wife/whatever and yelled out the window all angry, "We drove halfway to Chilliwack, you little bastards!"

Aside from giving distinctly incorrect or wholly incoherent directions, the next easiest gag was the Rope Trick. I'll warn you that this one is kind of lame as far as pranks go (even lamer than the bad directions thing), but it's funny to watch.

Two people stand on the side of the road. As a car approaches, they mime the uncoiling of a rope, and one guy goes across the road with the fake roper. Then, when the car is maybe 100 yards away, both people lean back, pretending to be pulling a rope taunt across the road. The more animated the better, but 9 times out of 10, the car will come to a stop, trying to hit the "rope" or whatever is being stretched across the road. Then you just drop the pretend rope and pretend you're waiting for a bus, or wave, or just laugh at them.

The look of puzzlement on the faces of the people in the car is priceless. They're all "WTF?" and we're like, "How's it going, eh?"



Jackass Warning - Shamus, nor any of his subsidiaries, are responsible for consequences as a result of reproducing the above-mentioned prank. The pranks described in this posting were executed by professionals in a controlled environment (a small Canadian town with no local police force and way before cell phones and road rage). Do not attempt in modern times under any circumstances.

The Cat in the Trap

Today's issue: Wisconsin Residents Seek Legalized Cat Hunting
I couldn't make this up. Okay, I could, but I'm not. Here's the story.

The proposal would allow licensed hunters to kill free-roaming cats, including any domestic cat that isn't under the owner's direct control or any cat without a collar, just like skunks or gophers.

For the record, I'll say I'm in favor of this proposal. I'm not a hunter, but I think hunting deer is a good thing, because people eat the meat and it saves me from having to control the population with my car, which is a messy, messy business. For the same reason, I think that they should allow this. Not for the eating part, but for the menace issues.

I don't have a cat, and I am a bit biased as I have had cat issues in the past. Cats are not as evil as everyone says, just more of a free spirit than dogs are. I can appreciate cat owners being a bit put off by the concept, especially when the incidents of Fluffy getting plugged when she wandered out into the neighbors field start coming in. Nobody want to see a beloved pet meet that kind of ending.

Down by us we have problems every year with hunters (mostly from NY City) who shoot horses and cows instead of deer. Some farmers put blankets on their livestock on them now every fall with helpful warnings painted on them, like "HORSE" or "COW" to clue in the hunters that the animal in their crosshairs is not fair game, but indeed an animal that is, in fact, never in season. How a hunter with a 200X super scope w/night vision can get confused between bambi and a moo cow is beyond me, must be the intesity/fever of the hunt or something.

Two states, South Dakota and Minnesota currently allow the hunting of wild cats, and have for years after a rash of incidents where deer hunters were mauled, and in a few cases, taken down and dragged away, by wild cats. OK, so I'm making that part up, but it's true that those states allow the hunting currently.

What's the big deal? Every year in Wisconsin alone, an estimated 2 million wild cats kill 47 million to 139 million songbirds, according to state officials. So it comes down to what would you rather hear out your window, the crying-baby like cries of ferrel cats in heat, or the tweet tweet of the songbirds.

On the plus side, think of all the fur coats that could be produced by this influx of cat pelts, which would save the mink species from the brutal and barbaric treatment it is currently enduring. I'm sure PETA will be 100% behind this plan, based on this fact alone.

I know where my vote is. Here's a marketing poster they should use.

Bionic Suit : Ministration or Menace?

Bionic suit offers wearers super-strength
11 April 2005 - Exclusive from New Scientist Print Edition by John Boyd

The HAL 3A ROBOT suit has been developed that could help older people or those with disabilities to walk or lift heavy objects.

Dubbed HAL, or hybrid assistive limb, the latest versions of the suit will be unveiled this June at the 2005 World Expo in Aichi, Japan, which opened last month. A commercial product is slated for release by the end of the year.

The most fully developed prototype, HAL 3, is a motor-driven metal "exoskeleton" that you strap onto your legs to power-assist leg movements. A backpack holds a computer with a wireless network connection, and the batteries are on a belt.

The motors respond faster to signals from the wearer's brain than their own muscles. While the bio-cybernic system moves individual elements of the exoskeleton, a second system provides autonomous robotic control of the motors to coordinate these movements and make a task easier overall, helping someone to walk, for instance.

Besides assisting the ability to walk, they have an upper part to assist the arms, and will help a person lift up to 40 kilograms more than they can manage unaided. The new HALs will also eliminate the need for a backpack. Instead, the computer and wireless connection have been shrunk to fit in a pouch attached to the suit's belt. HAL 5 also has smaller motor housings, making the suit much less bulky around the hips and knees.

I'm all for this great modern technology and it's ability to provide self-reliance back to those who have disabilities. But have we thought this through? As the article clearly states, these Bionic Exoskeletons contain super-human strength, and can crush a man's larynx with a single thought. And even if the person wearing the suit is stable enough to resist the urge to bash open an ATM machine and race off with the ill-gotten gains, what if the computer chip interpreting their brain thoughts goes bad? Then you would end up like Dr. Octopus from Spiderman II, a servant to the exoskeleton designed to free you. And we don't have a real Spiderman to save our butts.

Take the case of Patrick, who was confined to a wheelchair since a rugby injury when he was 2 years old. HAL3 has given him the ability to be free - free to give life to his anger.

With all these "Super Villans" running around we'd be forced to fund a police force of "Super Cops", who could contain these rouge half robot / half people. Sure, it looks great in the movies, but this is real life, people!

I also foresee it won't be long until we'll have a sporting even in which people in these devices will fight each other for cool prizes. Kind of a cross between "The Contender" and "BattleBots". Think about it, it's not so crazy, especially if it get's picked up by FOX. I'm sure they could do a show in a classy and respectful manner.

Don't come crying to me when I get proved right YET AGAIN. All I'm saying is we have to be careful.

Mega Loser

Let me know if the following email has ever graced your inbox:

To: Computer Systems All
From: Michael Hunt
Subject: Mega Millions!

Mega Lotto is up to $120 Million!!!!! The drawing is Tuesday night, I'll probably pick them up at noon tomorrow, so make sure you sign up before then (noon on tuesday). Signup near front desk.


How much of a turd would you feel like if you were the only one who didn't buy in, then the numbers hit and the office is empty except for your sorry ass? Man, lunch would suck then. I'm not going to be that dude, dude.

So, yes, I fork over my dollar knowing it's more likely that the Pope will be calling me up to go for a beer after work to talk about the NHL lockout than it is that I'll be looking at any mega money.


PS: Anybody out there listen to The Flaming Lips? They have a song called "Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots, Part 1" (2002) Is there a part 2?? Just curious.

Goodie Bags

Kid’s birthday parities today are very different than the ones when I was a youth. Those events were just gatherings of tots, very little structure and mostly just cake and pin the tail on the donkey and open up the presents. The wildest party I remember being at they had a cooler full of McDonalds hamburgers and it was all you could eat. I remember being impressed by that.

By today’s standards, those parties would have sucked ass and the child would have been made pariahs among their classmates.

Let me fill you in on what it’s like today :

The Venue: in most cases, you don’t have it at your house unless you have a big abode or you have a pool or a game room or something. You don’t want all those kids running through your house anyways because they’ll just break crap. Summer birthday’s are way easier, you don’t need to worry about being indoors. You can convene at any town park that has a playground and let the kids run themselves ragged. Winter parties take some planning.

McDonalds is a popular choice because they have play sets inside and it’s a low-maintenance kind of deal, because there’s no clean up and the crack McD’s crew runs the show.

The next step up is to have it at a place like “Jeepers!” or “Chuck-E-Cheese”. These places are mini-amusement parks for mini-people. Bland pizza is the meal de-jour, and ice cream and cake are plentiful, as well as plenty of soda. There are games of all kinds (tokens required!), climbing tubes (like the ones they you can get for hamsters) and the obligatory ball pit. And yes, kids do whiz in the ball pit, so stay the hell out of there.

“Jeepers!” is another step up because they have rides, including a not-too-shabby roller coaster. I’ve seen children puke from it, and that’s how I judge ‘em.

The next level up are also of the “all-inclusive” type, but with some redeeming functions/education/creativity that go along with it. In some places they have a thing called "My Gym" which is a Golds Gym for shorties. The kids get to do all kinds of trampolines, ball games, and tumbling (intentional). Another new trend is parties at converted playhouses, where the youths conceive a story line and dialog for a small play and then act it out.

No matter where you have it, or what level party you have, there are two key ingredients - the piñyata and the goodie bag. When did these become part of the birthday tradition? I don’t know, but you have to have one these days. And make sure you have you video camera on, because somebody always gets a shot to the nuts.

Every party must end with the “Goodie bag”, filled with more candy in case they didn’t get enough from the piñyata, plus useless plastic toys made from a dubious plastic-like substance that smells like poorly refined motor oil.

So what did we do this past weekend? We bucked tradition slightly and had a 30-kid party on our own. We used the town barn, and had a list of games and activities all set to go, of which we only got through half. Our place is too small for that kind of crown indoors, even though it was a beauty of a day, we couldn’t bank on that around here.

Our piñyata was a killer whale and I did the voice while I held the whale aloft and the kids whacked on it. At first I was taunting the tots with "Is that all you got? You couldn't hurt a baby seal with a hit like that!" then as the whale started to get gashing wounds, I started making the “ouchy” sounds upon every strike. That went over really well, inspiring them to put more gusto into their swings. The whale bled treats in spurts, sending the kids diving into the “danger zone” for the candy. Then we had to clear the area before proceeding.

And no, I didn’t take a hit in the family jewels, so no appearances are expected on America’s Funniest Home videos anytime soon.

Spring Fling

I was totally out of control yesterday.

I was busier than a one-legged tap dancer in the office, shit flying in from all directions and yet I wasn’t stressed. The weather was just awesome. Sunny, warm, and the smell of Starbucks coffee which I had just spilled on my shirt on the way into the office. Why do they have a hole in their lids that you can’t plug with a little plastic thing like Dunkin Donuts has? It screws me up every time.

But aside from that I was just taking in the vibrance of the morning, enjoying an amazing Spring day. Spring is my favorite season, right after summer and fall. Why is it so great? One word. Skirts.

Even in a professional environment like the one I work in, something about the shackles of the winter oppression falling away drives some women to whip out the somewhat inappropriate attire. Capris pants that are a bit too snug, short sleeved tops that may plunge just a bit lower than the dress code deems proper, and skirts. Even when modestly displayed will get the attention of every male in the office, for it is the appearance of the unfettered leg making it’s appearance. Hello there!

Another returning Sprint thing is the lunchtime walk. We have a circular road the was can walk after lunch and it’s a great tradition both for the relaxing jaunt but we almost always find something fun to discuss. And what we usually discuss is skirts. Well, that and to bitch about work stuff. It’s great because you can vent it all and get some sun at the same time.

After work I was still in a great mood and drove home with the windows down, Kelly Clarkson, I mean RUSH blaring from my speakers and not a care that my check engine light came on. Noting could penetrate my happy little world. Well, until I almost hit a dog drumming along to “Spirit of the Radio”.

Hey, you try not tapping along to that friggin tune.

E.I.F !!

Emily was born 7 years ago today - Happy birthday Emmy!

Good Friends

Friendships are complex things. They come and go, and sometimes leave an impression and some don't.

A Blogger Pal from out where I grew up was asking where I went to high school and who I hung out with. Thinking back, I realized I had 2 really close pals in grade 8 & 9 that I hadn't seen since they were expelled for robbing a Bay store after Good Friday mass.

It was a warm Spring Vancouver day, the trees were blossoming and the sun shining down on the Shaunessey section of the town where our school was. We were walking the five blocks to the Church for the Good Friday services with our teachers, most of whom were Christian Brothers. I was horsing around with Casey and Andre, the aforementioned buddies. Adre was a smart guy, but a little bit reckless in his thought process (I'll step into this in a moment) whereas Casey was a gregarious fun-loving rabblerouser.

Andre was in the school band with me, and one day when killing time before after-school band practice we went to a back alley and he decided to shoot his new bow and arrow. Now, this is a highly residential city block filled with nice houses on quarter acre lots with alleys running behind. Instead of shooting at somebody's garage, Andre got had an Einstein moment and decided to shoot STRAIGHT UP, so could hit the ground and not hurt his arrow by shooting it at wood. Recently, I saw this same thing in the movie "Garden State", and it brought back a scarry memory. I remember him letting it go, then thinking, "Holy crap, this thing has to come back down...." I grabbed a metal garbage can lid, trying to get my whole body under the shelter of the round disk. Luckily, it only hit a parked car in the alley and gave it a minor dent, not impaling some poor schlub (like ME).

Casey was also kind of a rebel, but I saw it as cool. He was an only child and both of his parents both worked, so he had the house to himself after school. His dad had an impressive porn collection which we reviewed with gusto. He lived out by UBC (Univ. Of British Columbia) and so we walked around checking out all the cool college kids, hanging around the huge video game room or going for a draft or two in The Pit, the on-campus bar. We didn't look old enough, (drinking age is 19 in BC) but Casey knew a lot of the bartenders so it was never a problem.
Back to Good Friday. We survived the service and were told we were free to go home. Since many of the kids lived close to school, they were throwing a bone of freedom that they usually didn't, but must have felt a sense of charity as a result of the moving crucifixion ceremony. The kids broke for the exists, excited by the sudden freedom and getting out before the Brothers came to their senses and decided to resume classes.

This is where my memory gets a bit fuzzy, as I can't recall exactly why I declined joining Casey and Andre who wanted to stop by the Bay on the way home. I think it may have been that I hadn't brought my Addidas bag (the school bag of choice then) with me, as they had, so I needed to get back to school to get my stuff before going home. For whatever reason, I didn't go. They did.

The following Monday, there was an extended homeroom. A burly man in a suit walked through every classroom with Brother Rowland and just looked at us, no explanation. Neither Casey or Andre were in my homeroom, but I noticed neither was at our usual lunch table that day. Rumors began flying around like spitballs that they had been hauled out of homeroom by Brother Rowland and sent to Mr. Kavalack, the dreaded vice principle, who had once beaten a student to death with a yard stick, so the legend went.

That night I called Andre's house, and his sister Jacqueline answered. She was his twin, and I had a crush on her but Andre had made it clear he was sick of his friends dating his sister, so I had stayed away. I said hi and she said "Oh, hi Lisa, how are you?"
Huh? I could hear her walking into her bedroom and closing the door. I guessed Andre wasn't allowed to get calls, and she was covering for him.

She then told me in hushed, rushed whispers what she knew of the story. Andre and Casey had been arrested for shoplifting, and were going to be expelled. I was stunned. It was a few days before I got the whole story from Casey, who called one night and filled me in.

They had gone to the Bay, admiring the latest in Japanese technology, a small tape player called "The Walkman". The latest version was just out, and they had a large display of them right on the floor. Both of them had the money to buy one, but the thrill of the steal was what they were after, and quietly popped a few walkmans into Andre's Addidas bag. This is pre Vegas Casino-type security, but a security guard was astute enough to catch a glimpse of their activities, although not fast enough to get them before they fled the scene. Andre and Casey congratulated themselves on a Good Friday heist gone well.

They would have gotten away with it too, had it not been for one small detail. Andre had been wearing a school sweater - a very distinct and vibrant purple with a large gold "VC" on the breast. The security people knew exactly where to find them. Casey said Brother Rowland had been particularly incensed and angry as they were propelled down the hall to the office, for they had committed the heinous crime on the "holiest of Holy Days". Kavalack had expelled them as soon as their parents arrived.

Casey was sent to a military school in Calgary soon after that. I did talk to Andre a few times but we never got together. He lived way out in Richmond and so it wasn't like I would bump into him at Mac's (aka 7-11). I considered calling Jacqueline and exploring that crush but that would have been just too strange. "Hey Andre, how's it going? No, I was actually calling for Jackie, is she there?"

The real irony is I tried to get myself expelled about a year later, but Kavalack had just laughed and gave me a stern look over his thick-framed glasses, saying, "O'Drunkahan, you aren't ever getting out of here."

Is it any wonder I haven't been to any of my high school reunions?

Reservoir Guard Dogs

Ever since 9-11, we've all been undergoing a wave of insanity in the realm of security. Some of it is justified (airport screening has become absolutely fool-proof, for example). But some of it.... I'm not so sure about.

One thing I found particularly bizarre was that right after that disaster they started to post guards at a reservoir near where I live. It's a big lake, and a public road runs right across it. There are no fences, but they don't allow any public access to the lake, although I've often heard stories of locals pulling giant fish from the place. It's not close enough to my house to wander around there, but I would if I lived nearby. How could you not? The place is beautiful.

So after 9-11 they posted a guard to watch over the place, and by a guard, I'm talking about a guy sleeping in a blue truck with a yellow light on top. I would drive by two times a day and noticed he looked either really bored or asleep. He was guarding a lake with no fence, which borders public roads for miles and miles, and here he is sitting in a truck. It was laughable. I mean, come on! If some terrorist cell had it's heart set on dropping something in the water supply for that rinky dink city, they could pick a thousand places to get at the water, other than where the truck is parked. Or, even easier, toss it from their car as they drove over the causeway.

I have an experience with this. A few winters back I was skidding dangerously across the causeway and t-boned the metal cable and stanchion guard rail. The front bumper was hung up on it, and in my cool-headed manner (I was late for a hockey game) I slammed it into 4X4 LOW and backed off the fecker, popping the plastic bumper off into the night. I was going to drive away, until I realized my license plate was on that piece of bumper. So I trudged into the darkness onto the ice and snow and found it, hauling it back and throwing it i onto the back. Where were the boys in the blue truck with the little yellow light on top? I guess they figure terrorists don't come out in bad weather.

The city officials don't see this lame effort as a futile, or as waste of money. In fact, when one paper dug into the issue they found that the reservoir was listed as "extremely secure". From what? A troup of girl scouts could infiltrate that place and have a jamboree on the banks of the lake and nobody would know it. Then it was leaked that taxpayers could feel ok about the cost of the new security there, as it was being funded by the new Department of Homeland Security. Well A-MEN! Finally something for free. ::::cough:::::

Are token security measures worth it? Is it mitigating a risk or just burning money for the sake of perceived security?

Next Time, Take The Stairs

Deliveryman Stuck in Elevator Four Days
By TOM HAYS, Associated Press Writer

NEW YORK - A deliveryman who vanished after taking Chinese food to a Bronx high-rise apartment building was found alive Tuesday after apparently spending more than three days trapped in an elevator that had become stuck between floors.

Ming Kuang Chen, 35, had been the subject of a widespread search after he failed to return to his restaurant Friday night with $200 in receipts, prompting speculation that he was the victim of armed bandits or some other urban horror.

Chen had no food or water throughout his ordeal. He was given water at the scene before being taken to Montefiore Medical Center, where he was treated for minor dehydration and ate an apple, cereal and a roll. "He was in very good condition," said hospital spokesman Steve Osborne.

Authorities were questioning why police officers and the building's private security force found no sign of Chen, who claimed he had repeatedly cried out and pushed an alarm button in the elevator. And authorities had conducted a door-to-door canvass of the apartment complex over the weekend in search of Chen.

The parts I loved about this story:

• He got stuck AFTER his last delivery. DOH! Ten minutes earlier and he would have had plenty of General Tso's chicken and Pu Pu Platter to hold him for a few days.
• After what must have been the most brief and cursory search ever held for a lost deliveryman, he was written off as a "victem of the big bad city". Where the hell was all those detectives on Law & Order? (make the sound here)
• He was in good condition after very little food and no water for 4 days. Yeah, no kidding. The guy probably got to the US riding in a container for 2 weeks on less that he had with him in that elevator.
  
• The lesson? Life is cheap if you're an undocumented human living in a big port city.
  

I would have climbed out after one hour. I have no patience for being stuck anywhere.


On another note...
Hey, Erik with a K - watch the game yesterday? I'm not gloating, but how bad would it be if the Yanks spank the Sox on their opening day? Ouch.

Nice Move

I wish I could do this.

Not Good With Money

What you’re looking at is an un-doctored X-Ray of my son Dan with a quarter in his esophagus. That’s right, a quarter. No, he wasn’t trying to eat it. He had just finished a huge brunch of blueberry pancakes only 30 minutes before. He was “playing with it” in his mouth, and he swallowed it “by mistake”.

I was working on my computer in the dining room when I saw him run by with a worried look on his face. He is a very happy kid, so it got my attention. In the kitchen, he tried to tell me what he’d done, but I couldn’t understand him. He’s actually on medication for Kroop (kennel cough for kids) right now, so when he went into a coughing fit and we thought he was going to hurl, and ran him into the bathroom.

Over the next 10 minutes we got the story that he swallowed a dime. You could tell he had something in there, he was breathing OK, but it was freaking him out. A dime didn’t seem right,
wouldn't that just go right down? Then I recalled not 10 minutes previously their great grandfather “Poppy” had been there. Usually, he makes a game of dropping dollar bills that the kids pick up, today he used quarters.

Holy crap. A fuckin quarter! As soon as that hit me, we stopped trying to pat his back and making him puke (it wasn’t working anyways) and scooped him up and headed for the ER.

Emily was crying and asking, “Is he going to die? Am I going to lose my only brother?” I assured her that he’d be ok, although I was a bit nervous at this point.

We dropped Emily with a neighbor and then sped for Albany. Here I had the perfect excuse if I was going to get stopped by the troopers, but it was too wet to really speed. I got the hammer down on a few straightaways, especially after Kelly was on the phone with 911 and started losing it. Dan was doing OK, just drooling like a Labrador.

I drove the 30 mile ride to St. Peter‘s at a decent cliip, cutting off only one guy really blatantly. Hey, this is a goddam emergency, so bite me, Mr. Carolla. I skidded up to the emergency room and we rushed him in. The got in into X-ray pretty quickly and (see above) confirmed the location. I couldn't believe the size of the thing. It looked like an egg, not a quarter.

To get it out they had to sedate him to unconsciousness and then extract it in a minor surgery. It was a 10 minute procedure, but it took a a few hours to get him ready (he as a strong tolerance for pain EXCEPT needles. The kid hates them) so they had a few tries at putting in an IV.

The surgery was quick, but he would not wake up from the procdure. The commotion and tension leading up to him being knocked out had combined with the sedative so he was sleeping like an athiest on Sunday morning. We finally got him woke up by promising chocolate ice cream and popsicles. We had to hang around a few hours to ensure he was having no ill effects from the procedure, then back home. All in all, a 9 hour ordeal.

Dan wasn’t allowed to eat anything tonight when we got home, just juice. As he sat at the table drinking a cup before bed, he asked for the quarter back. Kelly was a bit taken back at his moxie. She told him the doctor had kept it and that really bothered him.

There's a new rule now - Dan's not allowed to see another quarter until he’s big enough to get it ALL the way down.

Good job, Pope.

Let's face it, it's a tough job.

Sure, you get a cool car and bodyguards with spears and uniforms that look like they should be in a sequel to the Wizard of Oz, but it's not all parties and fun. It's a lot of hard miles. The guy was shot, sued and forced to meet will all kinds of people over the years, including a guy who played guitar with his feet. No way I could have sat through that display without busting a stitch.

Pope J.P II, you done good. I hope you're in a place where you can take off that giant hat and let your hair down. You certainly have earned it.

In your honor, I say goodbye with a little pope joke....


In a small airplane there were four people: the pilot, the Pope, Bill Gates and a hitchhiker.

They were flying over mountains when suddenly the pilot burst through the doors to the passenger compartment and announced that there was a fuel leakage and the plane would crash in 5 minutes.

"There are only three parachutes I'm afraid," he said, as he hurredly grabbed one for himself and jumped out. That left the three passengers and two parachutes.

Bill Gates said, "I'm very important, and I'm the world's smartest man and I deserve to live." And with that he grabbed a pack and leaped out.

"Young man," said the Pope to the hitchhiker, "I am old, I have lived my life and it was a very good one. You're still young, please take the last parachute and save yourself. My life is in the hands of God."

"It's okay," said the hitchhiker. "Don't worry, we have a parachute each."

"How can that be?" asked the Pope.

"Well, the world's smartest man just jumped out with my backpack!"

UPDATE: Ziggy Still Sucks

Their attempt....





and Mine...



A little edgier, but I think the audience can handle it. No?

Dream Catcher

I sleep well.

There was a time not too long ago when I got very little sleep, mulling problems over all night and worrying about things I couldn't control. Then, I made a big change and have had almost 2 years of excellent sleep.

Last night, I had a sequence of dreams that were unusual. Kind of freaked me out, actually. They weren't bad dreams, but it was the quantity and vividness that was a bit unnerving. Everybody has intense dreams occasionally. Usually I wake up with a rapid heartbeat and a soaked shirt - you know you've been in a vivid dream when your body responds to activity like running, or playing a sport or (the freakiest one ) falling. But this bunch of dreams was unique in that I woke up calm, even though they had been extremely real.

The first one was kind of a flashback memory of a party at the warehouse from high school. A friend's family owned a kitchen renovation store and in the back was a huge warehouse and for some reason we partied there one night. Let me tell you that drinking and fork-lifts do NOT mix. Nothing major happened, just stupid high school antics. The people seemed so real, and the weird part was that I was who I am today, they were as they were then. I kept asking them questions about where they were now and what they were doing and they had no idea what I was talking about - they just treated me as an incoherent drunk.

In the second I was having a conversation with an Uncle, long deceased. The strange thing about this one was I had never really known this uncle, so I can't imagine why I would dream about him, or what we would talk about. I cannot recall anything he or I said, just the feeling that we were discussing something important. I'm still chewing on this one.

The third one was totally x-rated. I can't go into it here because my baby sisters read my blog. Sure, they're in their 20's & 30's now but they're still my baby sisters.

Things got a little strange in the fourth vignette. I was back in medieval times, and I had the ability to stop time. I was in a small kingdom with a jerkoff King and he was pushing people around (which is what they did) and when I tried to intervene, he tried to have me wasted. But because I could stop time, I was Merlin and I was able to boot his ass to the curb. I told everybody in the kingdom they could live their own lives and nobody had to pay taxes to the guy anymore, and things were good. Then the King tried to fight back but whenever he showed up with an army of men I stopped time, tied all the troops shoelaces together and then stole all of his clothes, then started time again. That freaked him out (King's hate to be seen naked, I guess) and when he saw all his troops tumble like domino's, well, it was pretty much over. Then I took over his castle and showed the cooks how to make pizza. (I just added the pizza part)
I think you can learn from your dreams - it is, after all, your subconscious trying to talk to you. Sometimes it's just idle fantasy, sometimes it's reliving memories and some of it's just baffling. I've had all these kinds before, but never on the same night.

By the way, if you eat a banana before bed the potassium heightens dreams. That freaked me out the one time I tried that.