Monday, Feb 26 – 10:47 am MDT

Sonofa

Well, if it isn't already painfully obvious, the laptop replacement project at work went slightly less well than expected. Primary item missing: Dreamweaver.

Yes, yes, I should probably get some blogging software up and running, but that involves finding out a bit more about my FTP protocols from my web host, and I'm not certain I want to do that. Actually, there are many things I'm not certain of any longer...we shall see. Just know that if I haven't updated in a while, it's because I lack some of the critical software to do so with, and not because I've been killed in some bizarre accident involving a horse drawn carriage, two kilos of magnesium, a butter churn, and 14 live ferrets. No sir, that remains firmly buried in my past...let's not even dwell on it.

Today's coffee tasted like: Snickers

Friday, Feb 16 – 2:29 pm MDT

Hmmmm...

Don't mind me...I've spent the entire week wondering if a circular Halbach Array could be modified from a circle into a sphere, amplifying the fields being sent outward from it uniformly so that a field of aligned northerly poles from magnets could repulse it strong enough to keep it from touching the ground, and if the direction of the northern poles could be given a 'tilt' in some way which could serve to propel the levitating object either forward in an X/Y vector, or cause it to spin in place along the Z-axis.

I bet you that you're all thinking the same thing I am...Wouldn't it require a vacuum in order to negate the effects of air resistance? I don't think so, but I'm still putting together the pieces...

What? You weren't thinking that? You were thinking "What the heck is wrong with this guy?"...

Hmmm...a point. Is it the weekend yet?

Today's coffee tasted like: Boron

Thursday, Feb 15 – 11:36 am MDT

Deep Thoughts...

By Jack Handy

I think one way the cops could make money would be to hold a murder weapons sale. Many people could really use used ice picks.

If you ever reach total enlightenment while drinking beer, I bet you could shoot beer out of you nose.

I believe in making the world safe for our children, but not our children's children, because I don't think children should be having sex.

Even though I was their captive, the Indians allowed me quite a bit of freedom. I could walk freely, make my own meals, and even hurl large rocks at their heads. It was only later that I discovered that they were not Indians at all but only dirty-clothes hampers.

I wish outer space guys would conquer the Earth and make people their pets, because I'd like to have one of those little beds with my name on it.

It's true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what they don't tell you is that every time you hear a mouse trap snap, and Angel gets set on fire.

If you're in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it'll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a real grenade at them.

I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.

The next time I have meat and mashed potatoes, I think I'll put a very large blob of potatoes on my plate with just a little piece of meat. And if someone asks me why I didn't get more meat, I'll just say, "Oh, you mean this?" and pull out a big piece of meat from inside the blob of potatoes, where I've hidden it. Good magic trick, huh?

Life, to me, is like a quiet forest pool, one that needs a direct hit from a big rock half-buried in the ground. You pull and you pull, but you can't get the rock out of the ground. So you give it a good kick, but you lose your balance and go skidding down the hill toward the pool. Then out comes a big Hawaiian man who was screwing his wife beside the pool because they thought it was real pretty. He tells you to get out of there, but you start faking it, like you're talking Hawaiian, and then he gets mad and chases you...

Sometimes, when I drive across the desert in the middle of the night, with no other cars around, I start imagining: What if there were no civilization out there? No cities, no factories, no people? And then I think: No people or factories? Then who made this car? And this highway? And I get so confused I have to stick my head out the window into the driving rain---unless there's lightning, because I could get struck on the head by a bolt.

The whole town laughed at my great-grandfather, just because he worked hard and saved his money. True, working at the hardware store didn't pay much, but he felt it was better than what everybody else did, which was go up to the volcano and collect the gold nuggets it shot out every day. It turned out he was right. After forty years, the volcano petered out. Everybody left town, and the hardware store went broke. Finally he decided to collect gold nuggets too, but there weren't many left by then. Plus, he broke his leg and the doctor's bills were real high.

Too bad when I was a kid there wasn't a guy in our class that everybody called the "Cricket Boy", because I would have liked to stand up in class and tell everybody, "You can make fun of the Cricket Boy if you want to, but to me he's just like everybody else." Then everybody would leave the Cricket Boy alone, and I'd invite him over to spend the night at my house, but after about five minutes of that loud chirping I'd have to kick him out. Maybe later we could get up a petition to get the Cricket Family run out of town. Bye, Cricket Boy.

I think a good product would be "Baby Duck Hat". It's a fake baby duck, which you strap on top of your head. Then you go swimming underwater until you find a mommy duck and her babies, and you join them. Then, all of a sudden, you stand up out of the water and roar like Godzilla. Man, those ducks really take off! Also, Baby Duck Hat is good for parties.

I wish I lived back in the old west days, because I'd save up my money for about twenty years so I could buy a solid-gold pick. Then I'd go out West and start digging for gold. When someone came up and asked what I was doing, I'd say, "Looking for gold, ya durn fool." He'd say, "Your pick is gold," and I'd say, "Well, that was easy." Good joke, huh.

A funny thing to do is, if you're out hiking and your friend gets bitten by a poisonous snake, tell him you're going to go for help, then go about ten feet and pretend that *you* got bit by a snake. Then start an argument with him about who's going to go get help. A lot of guys will start crying. That's why it makes you feel good when you tell them it was just a joke.

I guess I kinda lost control, because in the middle of the play I ran up and lit the evil puppet villain on fire. No, I didn't. Just kidding. I just said that to help illustrate one of the human emotions, which is freaking out. Another emotion is greed, as when you kill someone for money, or something like that. Another emotion is generosity, as when you pay someone double what he paid for his stupid puppet.

Many people think that history is a dull subject. Dull? Is it "dull" that Jesse James once got bitten on the forehead by an ant, and at first it didn't seem like anything, but then the bite got worse and worse, so he went to a doctor in town, and the secretary told him to wait, so he sat down and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and then finally he got to see the doctor, and the doctor put some salve on it? You call that dull?

I scrambled to the top of the precipice where Nick was waiting. "That was fun," I said. "You bet it was," said Nick. "Let's climb higher." "No," I said. "I think we should be heading back now." "We have time," Nick insisted. I said we didn't, and Nick said we did. We argued back and forth like that for about 20 minutes, then finally decided to head back. I didn't say it was an interesting story.

If you're a Thanksgiving dinner, but you don't like the stuffing or the cranberry sauce or anything else, just pretend like you're eating it, but instead, put it all in your lap and form it into a big mushy ball. Then, later, when you're out back having cigars with the boys, let out a big fake cough and throw the ball to the ground. Then say, "Boy, these are good cigars!"

I remember that one fateful day when Coach took me aside. I knew what was coming. "You don't have to tell me," I said. "I'm off the team, aren't I?" "Well," said Coach, "you never were really ON the team. You made that uniform you're wearing out of rags and towels, and your helmet is a toy space helmet. You show up at practice and then either steal the ball and make us chase you to get it back, or you try to tackle people at inappropriate times." It was all true what he was saying. And yet, I thought something is brewing inside the head of this Coach. He sees something in me, some kind of raw talent that he can mold. But that's when I felt the handcuffs go on.

If I ever opened a trampoline store, I don't think I'd call it Trampo-Land, because you might think it was a store for tramps, which is not the inpression we are trying to convey with our store. On the other hand, we would not prohibit tramps from browsing, or testing the trampolines, unless a tramp's gyrations seemed to be getting out of control.

I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out, "Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!" We all thought he was crazy. But then we had some growing up to do.

Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, "Okay, as long as it's not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know." He stared telling hes story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought: "This story isn't too long." But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, "Uh-oh, this story is getting long." But then the story was over, and I said to myself: "You know, that story wasn't too long after all." I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though.

I bet a fun thing would be to go way back in time to where there was going to be an eclipse and tell the cave men, "If I have come to destroy you, may the sun be blotted out from the sky." Just then the eclipse would start, and they'd probably try to kill you or something, but then you could explain about the rotation of the moon and all, and everyone would get a good laugh.

I wouldn't be surprised if someday some fishermen caught a big shark and cut it open, and there inside was a whole person. Then they cut the person open, and in him is a little baby shark. And in the baby shark there isn't a person, because it would be too small. But there's a little doll or something, like a Johnny Combat little toy guy---something like that.

Today's coffee tasted like: A New Car

Wednesday, Feb 7 – 10:59 am MDT

Next up: Fear!

It got so bad that I was literally laughing until the tears came. I mean, I knew it was bad...but that bad? And obvious?

Hang on, I’m getting ahead of myself here.

So I go home the other day (how odd!) and I turn on my fantastic spanky new TV. It’s got a fantastic set of speakers built into it, making things sound fantastic, allowing me to listen to what is going on while doing the dishes and preparing diced-steak chili from scratch. Fantastic.

The last channel that I was on was SPIKE TV, and I’ve got no particular channel in mind when I turn it on, so I leave it there. I go to start working on my food/dishes/etc.

Well...

The show that was on was probably something to the effect of “When the world’s most dangerous car-crashes, catastrophies, stupid criminals and their pets attack, part 2”...you know, something of that ilk. Look here, it’s a video of human misery and the practice of Darwinism recorded on tape!

Well, I guess this portion of the show was devoted to accidents involving animals, and the structure of the entire show was based on just one premise: At any second, for no good reason, something terrible could happen to you.

That’s right...it wasn’t a “Hey everybody! Check out what happened to this poor guy.” or “Here’s what this guy did wrong, and look at the consequences...”, it was straight-up fear, no ice, hold the mayo. I kept hearing things like this:

Narrator: This news reporter is doing a piece on circus animals, and has arranged for this bear and his trainer to be brought into a room for an in-depth look at the world of performing bears. Little did he realize that this seemingly ‘tame bear’ would suddenly become (artful pause) a vicious killing machine!

Trainer (from footage): Now, Bobo here is a...oh, crap!

Bobo: Rawr! (half-hearted swipe)

Interviewer: Oh my *bleep*...I just *bleep*ed my pants!

Bobo: Rawr! (sniff) Ewww...

Trainer: Don’t panic, I’ll...(sniff)...Ewww.

Narrator: The bear trainer desperately tries to free the interviewer from the bear’s deadly sharp claws...(artful pause)...but to no avail!

Trainer: Ok, just move back. I’ll grab-

Interviewer: AAaaaahhh! There’s a bear sniffing me!

Bobo: (sniff) Rawr!

Narrator: With *mere seconds* left to live, before the bear can decapitate him and go on a murderous rampage and kill all of his coworkers and everyone else in the building, the interviewer manages to break free (artful pause) from the icy claws of death!

Trainer: There we go. Atta-boy. Calm down now...

Bobo: Rawr!

Narrator: Stark reminder of the fact that all bears are brutal killing machines, with no regard for human life! Maybe next time (artful pause, close up of bear face) this man won’t be so lucky.

Now...while all this was going on, there was ominous jaws-like music going on in the background...kind of a cross between a tuba and a violin being played by a nest of hornets. Also...and I swear this was true...the sound of a screaming woman was dubbed over the entire mess, like really bad horror movie sounds being played in a loop at a haunted house display.

Everything...the close-ups of fangs, the dramatic zoom, the announcer’s deep booming voice coming over the speakers like a portent of doom...everything about the show was designed to calculate this overall effect of ‘THIS...is something to be afraid of!’

Now, I’m not certain about any of you...but if I were an interviewer doing a piece on circus bears, I don’t think that I’d be expecting a feeling of peace and tranquility when going into a small room with a bear in order to do an interview. Why? Well, it’s a freaking bear, and it might...oh, I dunno...attack me! Look, here’s proof! Why didn’t the Narrator say *this* instead?

Narrator: This guy has voluntarily walked into a room with a bear. Dude...that’s a bear. Dude, why aren’t you walking out of the room? Look out! Oh...okay, see? That’s why you should have left.

But no...the show’s not about common sense stuff like that. It’s about Fear...because it ‘could happen to anyone, (artful pause) at any time...’ and because once you’re afraid, you’ll want to know what it is you should be afraid of! Once they hook you like that, you’re being spoon-fed things like “Baby Food: Are we poisoning our children?” and “Mimes: The Silent Killer!”

Same goes with the other crap of this nature too. “Watch as his body is flung through the air, and comes crashing down into the water where it is pummeled by wave after merciless wave...of terror!” Oh please, just shut up! Just stop talking, put a sock in your face, drown yourself with jell-o, anything! The guy was in a boat...with no top...going at speeds of over 150 mph on water...why in the blue hell are we surprised that this has the potential to be catastrophic? Why are we surprised and ‘shocked’ when a guy hand-feeding marshmallows to a grizzly gets his arm torn off? Why, because of Fear...

...and some swelling suspenseful music played at the right moment.

I swear, I’d be hard pressed to find any other time this month that I laughed that hard.

Narrator: Coming up...Dogs are man’s best friend. But watch what happens as man’s best friend becomes (artful pause) his deadliest enemy!

Me: BWAHAHAHAHAHAaaaaaaa.....(stomp floor, wipe eyes)

Today's coffee tasted like: Grape Jam

Friday, Feb 2 – 10:18 am MDT - Groundhog Day

When the dam bursts

Yeah, there’s a certain amount of stupid that I can tolerate...it just kind of washes up against the sturdy stupid-resistant bunker of ‘I don’t really care’ that I’ve constructed for myself and then ebbs like the tide, free to rejoin the ocean of stupidity that spawned it. Yes, that thing as big as the ocean, that big body of stupid that I’ve come to know and loathe, which I like to refer to as simply ‘The rest of the world’.

Quite often I come upon something stupid that makes me think to myself “Huh...well that is certainly stupid! I’d better share it with people!” and my fingers begin typing away at the problem of how to illustrate this stupidity without participating in it directly. It’s much like trying to measure the water level without getting wet...and sometimes involves a big stick.

Oh...if only I could find a big ‘stupid’ stick.

So most recently there has been this Hollywood Hoo-Ha that has sprung up between Rosie O’Donnell and Donald Trump, and in the process of attempting to measure this stupidity I managed to get splashed. Now, I’m cold...I’m wet...and I’m angry. Never a good thing when dealing with ‘stupid’.

(Before I begin, I will preface my litany of despair and anguish with the words ‘This is my opinion’, since both of these guys could probably sue me into oblivion.)

So here’s the thing...Rosie comes out in December (she actually came out much earlier than that...) and criticizes Donald Trump for allowing Miss USA to keep her title and perform her duties as ‘pageant winner’ after allegations of alcohol abuse, drug abuse, and ‘inappropriate sexual behavior’ surfaced. She’s not content with simply criticizing his decision either...she makes fun of his hair, pokes fun at his failed marriages, and does a few unflattering impressions of him.

Now, I would have respected Donald had he just taken the comments in stride, but I’m also familiar with that seething ball of rage in the pit of the stomach that feels like it’s going to bubble to the surface and throttle your brain, forcing you to head-butt moving cars and Strangle An Entire COLONY Of Manatees IN THE NUDE!! ARGHSPLATKILLBLAH!!!11oneone...

(pant...pant...)

Where was I? Oh yes...

So instead of doing the big thing that I can admire...he does the thing that I at least can understand, which is to say “Neener-neener, I’m rich and you’re fat.” Ok, fair enough. The woman made fun of his hair, after all...

Then, stupid me, I began to wonder about wrong vs. right, and the sense of responsibility/entitlement. I began to look into the situation a little...and my fair and even-handed nature began to shift away from the lesbian, and gravitate more towards the rich guy. As an artist, this is tantamount to saying something like “...and then, my head exploded.”

See, I started thinking to myself, “Hey, Rosie is criticizing Donald for his decision. Hang on...why was it up to Donald to make a decision? That’s kind of odd.” I look it up. Turns out that in addition to owning a large chunk of New York and over a third of all the world’s penguins, he’s a co-owner of the Miss USA pageant. Wow, the things you learn! Ok, maybe he’s got a vested interest in this whole ‘Miss USA’ thing...it’s going to be brought to his attention.

“Sir, we’ve received some disturbing reports regarding Miss USA...reports involving inappropriate sexual conduct, drugs, and drinking.”

“...@#%*#$!”

“Is that what I should tell the New York Times?”

“No. You’re fired.”

Ok, so it’s brought to his attention, and I’m pretty certain that a guy savvy enough to amass more wealth than can be conveniently carried in a suitcase has the ability to make decent decisions...weigh the pro’s and cons. So, he sits down, talks it over with some people, considers all possible options and their impacts, and oh my God...rich guy with a heart, he says “Yeah, let’s give her a chance to clean herself up, figure things out.” Who knew?

So what impact did this decision have on Rosie?

Why, none at all from what I can see...

Weight, hair, marriage and lesbian jokes aside, what possible reason could Rosie have to thumb her nose at the decision to keep Miss USA? It’s not like she came in 2nd place at that same pageant or something. Further to the point, who is she to judge? She’s never done anything wrong I guess, and is thus in a position to judge others and say stuff on national television, like the fact that Donald Trump has no right to act as the ‘moral compass’ for America.

Well, let’s see here...

Apparently, Rosie was invited to Liza Manelli’s wedding and was told that there would be no cameras allowed...so she gets herself fitted with a custom-made spy camera that fits right into her dress so she can take pictures anyways. Don’t like this rule, so I’m going to do it anyways.

Hmmm...

In Vanity Fair, employees on the ‘Rosie’ show were interviewed as saying that O’Donnell as a boss was like a cross between a 5-year-old and the head-spinning child on the exorcist. One employee apparently survived breast cancer and was accused of lying (about something, I dunno) by Rosie, who yelled at the woman and said ‘You know what happens to liars? They get cancer!’ She’s also reputedly said that people who disagree with her ‘get cancer’ as well.

Hmmm...

Dec 5th, she’s talking about Danny Devito’s drinking making news everywhere, and attempts to illustrate what the Chinese news must sound like by saying “Ching-chong Danny Devito, Ching chong drunk, The View, ching-chong.”, much to the horror of any Asians who happened to be watching.

Hmmm...

Call me wacky, but I get this feeling that Rosie isn’t Oprah. She doesn’t care about what other people think, which is cool...but it seems like she thinks that everybody should care about what she thinks or what she cares about, and that’s just stupid. That’s the kind of thinking that gets you into the headspace where your definition of ‘Idiot’ becomes ‘people who disagree with me’.

Kind of a dangerous thing to start believing when your entire career is based on the number of people who ‘like’ you. As for the ‘moral compass’ aspect, I’m hearing this little radio voice in my head yelling “Kettle, are you there? This is Pot. Come in, Kettle. Just heard word that you were black, please confirm. Over. (chkkkkt!)”

What does this mean? Nothing, really...my views aren’t going to save the world, and it certainly doesn’t affect my life in any way shape or form. I’m just saying that the more I learn about the situation and the players involved, the more I start to nod my head when wondering why a billionaire is saying ‘Neener-neener’ and calling someone a fat pig on national tv. Not noble behavior by any stretch of the imagination, but still somewhat understandable. And like I mentioned, there’s only so many times that you can see something stupid and wonder ‘Why are they being so stupid?’

Hey...look at me, judging people on how judgmental they are, and involving myself in something that doesn’t involve me because I’m upset someone’s involved themselves in something that doesn’t involve them!

Tuesday, Jan 30 – 1:00 pm MDT

Drug Ads

I laugh, I chortle...sometimes I even guffaw.

The question they’re asking: Does the fact that pharmaceutical companies now advertise their products directly to consumers have the potential to negatively impact your health.

My question: Is that a rhetorical question?!?

Never mind. Turns out that *my* question was rhetorical just now.

Yes of course it has that potential...exposure to information is at an all time high, and hypochondriacs the world over are embracing all new forms of media as potential tools to better analyze the several dozen diseases that are plaguing them. Just imagine what will happen once you start actually telling them what they suddenly have. They’ll be lining up around the block!

And then there’s the side effect issue...which is just the thing we need to introduce hypochondriacs to. “Oh no, I’ve got avian flu...I’d better take Tamiflu. Oh no, now I’ve got hives! I’d better take this brand new medication I just saw on the TV! Oh no, now I’m vomiting and headachy, I’d better take this other one I saw an ad for in a magazine! Oh no, now I’ve got rectal bleeding and my skin is sloughing off!”

Part of me, the evil part that I keep locked in the basement and barely feed, thinks that pharmaceutical companies are really just part of Darwin’s plan. If you’re silly enough to think that *really* bad headaches can only be fixed by downing 25 asprin, and then die from pulmonary edema...well, we don’t really want you around making copies of yourself, really. It just means that there’s more people out there that we’ll feel sorry for when we hear about them dying because of something stupid...and there’s enough of that already out there in my opinion.

Still, it’s funny. Someone posts an article on the effects of something painfully obvious and says ‘Were you aware? Is the public at risk?’

“Next up on ABC News, we talk to a woman who has been drinking bleach while routinely electrocuting herself for the past two years. Could this be responsible for the amazingly poor health she’s found herself in? We find out, next...”

Today's coffee tasted like: Dentistry