My Two Cents

WT saw it coming.

Keeping up a blog is a lot of work, especially when you're a perfectionist with minimal free time. Until further notice, I'll be posting to Expressio Unius-- think My Two Cents with a political bent, sans pictures-- which is guaranteed to be updated more than once a month.

Happy reading!

Anyone who has heard DMB live-- via albums, bootlegs, or live concerts-- knows that Dave has a tendency to spurt out seemingly random (and often accented) anecdotes, confessions, and the like. I just happened to run across this timely one, and thought it was an apt eulogy for the much-loved "Crocodile Man," Steve Irwin.

I was a nice surprise to have Dave came out and share the mike with the opening band. It wasn't until I got home that I realized my camera does NOT record sound. D'OH! But he still looks dang good doing it. (To my regular readership, Dave Chappelle's the one rockin' out on the bass in the black baseball hat.)


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To kick off the encore, Dave came out solo and sang "Sister," one of several new tunes fans are hearing on this summer's tour. My commentary wouldn't do it justice, so listen for yourself.

(Thanks again to the VIPs for this awesome stage shot!)

Setting: Shoreline Amphitheater, Mountain View, CA, 9/9/06, about 8:00 PM

omg/ look/ there he is/ standing in the wing/ halfway hidden behind that big black curtain/ i can’t believe i am so close to THE dave matthews/ after all these years/ omg/ i swear he’s looking at me/ wave /wave so he can see you /oh no/ he’s looking/ now what/ geez i’m about to screw up the only chance i’ll ever have at conversation with him/ ummm ok/ blow him a kiss/ is he still looking/ wait/ why is he putting his hand up to his head like a gun/ i think he just killed himself/ let’s hope he was looking at someone else/ but just to be sure/ try to blow one more kiss/ wow/ it’s like he’s staring right at me/ hold on/ the gun to the head again/ this can’t be good/ he must hate me/ no no no/ don’t walk away/ well/ i guess i would get tired of perfect strangers always telling me they loved me when they don’t know the first thing about the real me/ but i do know you/ i do /wow/ i feel like such a/ wait/ what’s this/ he’s back/ he just has to be looking at me this time/ there’s no one else he could be looking at/ what’s he doing/ OMG/ OMG dave matthews just blew me a kiss/ dave matthews just blew me a kiss/ did anyone else just see that/ he loves me/ he really does love me/ i knew it all along



...though they did get some better photos than me (see below)... (What can I say? "Mr. Matthews asks that no flash photos be taken from the first 15 rows." Me? I was in row SEVEN.)

So next Saturday I’m heading north to catch my annual Dave Matthews Band concert, a rite I’ve maintained since 1998. If I can snap some pictures from my SEVENTH ROW SEAT, I’ll definitely post some here for your viewing pleasure. I checked out the opening band online, and not only did I get a sampling of their music, I also discovered just where Dave Chappell has been hiding out all this time. See for yourself at Robert Randolph and the Family Band. Now, if I only had enough spending cash to buy a Beerbelly before Saturday…

Knowing full well that I probably lost 40% of my readership in my extended absence, I decided to make a come-back, because I figured that 40% of my original readership is only 2 people (you do the math). Now that things have settled down a bit, I hope to post regularly once more. If you’re wondering, my blog fell by the wayside in the chaos that was the end of one school year and the beginning of another without so much as a summer vacation. I was able to make it to Iowa to visit my grandparents, but they’ve accepted the fact that technology has passed them by and thus, no Internet. Then, of course, I got the ritual cold that comes with a new batch of germy kids, which has morphed into a sinus infection and nasty cough. But I digress.

All the things that I planned to blog about are today old news: the German Chancellor’s unwanted backrub, the much-anticipated release of Snakes on a Plane, Kyra's dub of bathroom conversation over President Bush’s speech (and subsequent Top Ten list), John Mark Karr’s general creepiness… But a few of the links I saved haven’t gone out of style, namely because they deal with dumb people in front of the cameras.

First, we have a traffic reporter, whose Gwyneth Paltrow looks can’t save her from on-air humiliation. K-Fed, you’re off the hook—for now.

Then, we have a slow-on-the-uptake home shopping host, who possibly skipped a crucial biology class, or a trip to the zoo…

Ahh, yes. I could watch those two snippets over and over again. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not judging, because I embarrass myself on a daily basis. I just try not to do it on national television.

The most recent issue of California Educator, published by the California Teachers Association, debates the idea of social promotion (passing students to the next grade, regardless of academic performance). The articles, though biased, give some good background to the issue at hand if you’re interested in reading further. In any case, some of Fresno Unified’s intervention programs were highlighted in the magazine, and it just so happens I was working for a literacy clinic teacher the day they dropped by to snap some photos at my school site. Fame—just one more perk of the glamorous lives of teachers.

This guy is either a genius or a loser with way too much time on his hands. I’m leaning toward genius. Some of you may have already heard about Kyle MacDonald, seeing as he made his final trade on July 5 of this year. To make a long story short, MacDonald traded a red paperclip for a fish pen about a year ago via the bartering section of Craigslist. He continued to “trade up” until he acquired a house, the desired end to all these means. He’s now living comfortably up in Saskatchewan, Canada, in the beginning stages of—what else?—writing a book about his experiences.

Haven’t had a chance to read much of his blog, but it looks like fun. Other links abound, including several to his MySpace page. Maybe I’ll see what crap I can dig up around here starting Thursday, my first (and 12th to last) day of summer vacation…

I don't know which is weirder: the fact that this man is holding a huge piece of his own skull and living to tell about it, or the fact that the said piece looks a lot like the continent of Africa.

The miracle man told a reporter, "Doctors say a new skull covering has replaced the old one, but I am not letting go of this one." Hey, you never know when something like that could come in handy again.

Once upon a time, a man in Jordan forged an I.D. card in order to claim tens of thousands of dollars belonging to someone else. He was quickly found out, arrested, and is now on trial in U.A.E. for forgery and embezzlement. The name checked out, so what gave it away? The picture he downloaded from the Internet to use on the fake was one of Brad Pitt. Honestly, of ALL the pictures out there...

Of course, anything about snakes lately catches my eye, and they (snakes) seem to be everywhere right now! Today, during my usual round of blog-checking, I discovered (via wt’s legwork) that the person whose video I blogged about here (follow the link to watch the video, if you haven't already!) is also is the author of the one and only Snakes on a Blog.

Also, yesterday’s newspaper included an article (front page of the Local News section, no less) about a good Samaritan who rescued a 6-foot gopher snake from certain death as it tried to cross a busy street—a busy street near my work at that, since we’re on the subject of “coincidences.” The kind stranger carried the creature in his backpack as he rode his bike another 13 blocks to home, where he could decide what to do with it. In the end, the SPCA took the snake and released it in a ponding basin (which, in my opinion, leaves the options for "sequal" wide open).

Last, but not least, while checking out a link from a favorite site recently, I came upon another interesting link, yadda yadda yadda, I arrive here. About three posts down, I discovered that the blog’s creator is the very person whose “artwork” was used as a basis for the actual Snakes on a Plane logo. Favorite quote, from Defamer.com:

“Not that it takes a genius to throw together a couple of snakes and an airliner after the heavy conceptual lifting's already been done by the movie's self-consciously B-flick title, but at least the New Line folks seem to be paying attention to their potential audience, who may abandon their blogs long enough to show up on opening night wearing flight attendant uniforms and covered in rubber cobras.”

Folks, I think my plans for Friday, Aug. 18 just got a little spicier. Any coincidence that I now live with a pilot? I think not! Plastic snakes are a dime a dozen, but how else was I going to get my hands on the all-important uniform?

I had to double-check that I was reading a newspaper and not a sci-fi paperback when I learned of the worldwide efforts already in place to build the most secure vault on the planet on a remote island in the Arctic Circle. Besides being carved into the side of a mountain, other protective measures will include fences, motion detectors, steel airlock doors, and polar bears. Its purpose? To store millions of seeds from every kind of plant known to man as “an insurance policy for human civilization”—you know, should some global catastrophe decimate all food sources available to mankind. Dubbed the “doomsday vault,” the Svalbard International Seed Vault will begin accepting seed deposits as early as next fall.

How much would you pay to look like this? (Which is very different from, “How much would they have to pay you to look like this?”)

Depending on your price range and personal (dis)taste, you can order your own custom teeth from gangstagold.com for anywhere from 2 Franklins to 2 G’s (that’s $200 to $2,000, for the layman).

You choose the style (would you prefer lightning bolt zig-zags, or the four-leaf clover cut-outs with 2 slightly extended fangs?) and precious metal (what exactly is "rose gold"?), they do the rest.

My favorite model is GGT171, with the 3-D white gold-on-gold letters that spell out “Mike” across the front.

I’m not making this up.

I just posted my first, well, post, as a co-blogger on a friend's site, Expressio Unius. Since my links bar is still not working, I'll plug his blog here by saying wt's posts are intelligent, witty, and usually related to current events you should probably know about anyways, so visit often!

Now, since I'm already hurting for sleep, I just figured, hell, I might as well update my own blog while I'm here. So here's something I came across at work today, source unknown, which will be especially amusing to other educators:

No Child Left Behind-- Football Version

1. All teams must make the state playoffs, and all will win the championship. If a team does not win the championship, they will be on probation until they are the champions. Coaches will be held accountable.
2. All kids will be expected to have the same football skills at the same time and in the same conditions. No exceptions will be made for interest in football, a desire to perform athletically, or genetic abilities or disabilities. ALL KIDS WILL PLAY FOOTBALL AT A PROFICIENT LEVEL.
3. Talented players will be asked to work out on their own without instruction. This is because the coaches will be using all their instructional time with the athletes who aren’t interest in football, have limited athletic ability, or whose parents don’t like football.
4. Games will be played year-round, but statistics will only be kept in 4th, 8th, and 11th games.
5. This will create a New Age of sports in which every school is expected to have the same level of talent and all teams will reach the same minimal goals.

If no child gets ahead, then no child will be left behind.

Dare I say there exists another facial-based form of entertainment that may be even more ingenious than Expressions? You make the call:

Londoner Jonathan Stone began videoing people’s faces while playing relaxing music as a way to practice using his new video camera. (Those performance artists…) "I realized the videos were rich portraits of people and their musical tastes,” he says. And such are the humble beginnings of…facedancing.

People of all ages, backgrounds, etc. have accepted the invitation to facedance to their favorite music in front of Stone’s camera. Stone eventually had enough video to create “The FaceDance Show” and take it on the road. Though it hasn’t crossed the Pond as of yet, Stone is very interested in bringing the show to the U.S., specifically New Orleans.

Unfortunately, Stone’s website with example videos from his newest project seems to be inaccessible at the moment, but I’m sure it's worth tracking down. To wit:

One intriguing example of unexpected improvisation involved Stone’s accountant, whom he had invited to participate. "He asked me, do you mind if my dog joins me?" recalled Stone.

The accountant whipped a pug-nosed terrier from underneath his desk and held him in his arms while a double mandolin concerto by Vivaldi played.

"It was a very, very still image, with the dog licking him," said Stone, laughing. "You couldn’t write something like that!"

For reals, yo. What would you do if you found a snake on your plane? If you were Monty Coles, you would grab the snake with one hand, fly the plane with the other, and radio the nearest tower for clearance to land.

"They came back and asked what my problem was," he said. "I told them I had one hand full of snake and the other hand full of plane. They cleared me in."

Coles kept his cool and even remembered to pose for a picture before letting it get away.

Wow, has it really been that long? I’m embarrassed to have been away for so long, reading other people’s blogs but not updating my own. For one, school has been extremely hectic this time of year, and a little chaotic now that we’re moving from a year-round calendar to a traditional one (i.e. what we all grew up with). Stress definitely stifles creativity. In any case, there hasn’t been that much out there for me to work with and deem blog-worthy.

But you know the saying: “When it rains, it pours.” There’s so much I want to report I can’t even do it in one sitting. But I’ll start with the item that is nearest to my heart, namely, my birthday.

If you read the comment on this post, you already know that my birthday is coming up on Tuesday. Yes, that Tuesday, the one being criticized for its underworld-ly 06-06-06 moniker. Now, I’ve always allowed a little bit of the world’s sadness in on my special day—it is the anniversary of D-Day, after all—but this is taking things a little too far. I’ve read of more than one mother-to-be who is asking her doctor to induce labor so that her child won’t be forever marked by the Number. Hell, Michigan with be throwing a much-anticipated city-wide party to commemorate the once-in-a-lifetime event. Yes, a remake of the horror movie "Omen" is being released that day, and yes, it is the day of political decision in California (Darry Sragow says, “This settles it. I’m voting by mail.”), but none of the above should be used as evidence against my special day.

The idea of an apocalyptic date has spawned such speculation, mainly online, that I know the references will be impossible to escape come Tuesday. I, however, plan to celebrate as usual, without any fear of retribution or sense of impending doom, especially now that there’s no chance of sharing a birthday with Suri Holmes-Cruise.

Remember the game "Expressions" that I blogged about? Well, here’s your newest scenario: "You’re about to be interviewed on national television by a reporter who thinks you’re an expert on the Internet music business, when you’re really just the expert’s ride home—go!”

Yes, this really did happen. In the same sitting that I saw this video link on one of my favorite news feeds, I read about the same situation on a friend’s blog (props to wt).

With the seconds ticking down to a studio discussion about a court case involving Apple Computer and The Beatles' record label, a floor manager had run to reception and grabbed the man, thinking he was Guy Kewney, editor of Newswireless.net, a specialist internet publication.

Actually, he was a minicab driver who had been waiting to drive Mr. Kewney home.

Baffled, but compliant, the driver was fitted with a microphone and allowed himself to be marched in to the studio.

Kudos to the cabbie for taking Expressions to the next level!

So I’m supposed to give the family dog her meds, one pill twice a day. Sounds pretty easy, right? WRONG! My step-dad showed me how to do it: cover the pill in a glob of peanut butter, grasp her snout from above, and then, when she opens her mouth, stick it in the back so that she swallows it. I have tried to do this myself more times than I can count now, and somehow the pill pops back out every time, sans peanut butter. Meanwhile, the other dog keeps trying to snag the pill because it seems edible, which is an adjective he uses rather broadly, considering that his favorite snack is bits of paper. At this point, I can't even get the dog to open her mouth anymore, and I'm left with enough peanut butter lodged underneath my fingernails to sustain me for several days, should I find myself stranded in some deserted location.

Needless to say, I have moved past frustration to that state of mind where you just have to laugh at your predicament, or else you’ll go mad. I’m also guessing I’ll have to clean up PB puke here before too long… It brings to mind a hilarious episode of "My Name Is Earl" where he has to give a friend’s grandmother her eye drops (which she hates) every 10 minutes so that her lids don’t dry out.

From the transcript for “Monkeys in Space”:

Earl: Alright, let’s get going. Hank is waiting.
Grandma: Okey dokey.
Nurse: You have to take her drops.
Earl: What?
Nurse: Her eye drops. You have to put drops in her eyes every ten minutes or they’ll dry out and her lids will stick to the balls. You don’t want to see that. Her watch has a timer on it to remind you. Oh, and she hates it, so good luck. (Earl looks at the eye drops.)
Cut to Earl driving down the road. The timer goes off.
Earl: Does that mean its time for your drops?
Grandma: No.
Earl: I think that means it’s time for your drops.
Grandma: No, it doesn’t.
Earl: (pulls car over) Now, I have to give you your drops or they’ll dry out.
Grandma: I don’t like them.
Earl: I know, just give me your head.
Grandma: I don’t wanna.
Earl: Give me your head.
Grandma: No.
Earl: You’re gonna make me wrestle you, aren’t you?
Grandma: Yes.

*Update (5/15/06): The Knight in Shining Armor Award goes to Ryan, who should be the next Dog Whisperer, seriously. After spending precious minutes this morning cleaning up crusted peanut butter from the dog's face and the living room carpet, I stuck the pill into a piece of bread-- per Ryan's advice-- and rolled it up into a little dough ball. Voila! Within seconds, the medicine was downed, and I enjoyed a day without orange fingernail gunk. Thanks, Ryan!

The cover story of this week's U.S. News & World Report, entitled "What Dreams Are Made Of," seeks to make sense of our dream lives based on evidence gleaned from studies of the human brain using today's technology. The article was interspersed with a few interesting stories about celebrities having discovered or created something in a dream, which they then put to use upon awakening. My favorite: the tune for "Yesterday" came to John Lennon in a dream in May 1965. "At first, lacking lyrics, he improvised with 'Scrambled eggs, oh my baby, how I love your legs.'" (This becomes doubly funny when you start singing these words to the well-known melody, and equally annoying when it gets stuck replaying in your head all day.)

The article also included several narratives of dream sequences as provided by everyday individuals to UCSC scientists. Their databank of approximately 16,000 dreams is available on-line. I went to check it out and let the computer pull up a random dream for me to read. How eerie that this is the one I was given:

John Lennon and Paul McCartney were sitting on the floor in a hallway. They were on the second floor of their mansion. They were young with looks as if it were the late 1960's. Occasionally, George Harrison walked by and said something, but mostly John and Paul were there. Sitting next to them was a cameraman filming them. He was about their age. John and Paul kept getting annoyed with him and they'd push him by the forehead, so that he'd fall on his back. John had a guitar, and they were singing and writing a new song. They decided to live and sleep there, in the hall, naked, except for shorts made out of paper bags, with leg holes cut out of them, and the bag going up to their chests. They had a pillow inside it for a cushion to sit on. Then they poured Ruffles potato chips in their paper bag shorts, and crushed them by sitting on them. They laughed, and declared that it was for some unknown political cause.

While I'm not out to write an opinion piece about immigration reform, I thought I'd share some things I've thought or learned over the past couple of weeks.

Interesting facts (in no particular order):

• There are currently about 12 million illegal immigrants living in the United States, with the majority having come from Mexico.
• The number of illegal immigrants that enter the U.S. each year from any country is about 1.1 million.
• 10% of all births in the U.S. are to illegal immigrants.
• The average American wage exceeds the average Mexican wage by 10 times.
• Many American companies often hire workers for 3-month periods to avoid paying for benefits.

Ironies:

• Many of the large, U.S. owned companies that were boycotted on May 1 are the same ones that employ many immigrants and consistently lobby Congress in favor of changing immigration laws.
• The contents of this letter to the editor of The Fresno Bee:

The Mexican Constitution, the "Ley General de Poblacion," spells out in detail the country's immigration policy.

Immigration authorities have a record of each foreign visitor; foreign visitors do not violate their visa status; foreign visitors are banned from interfering in the country's internal politics; foreign visitors who enter under false pretenses are imprisoned or deported; foreign visitors violating the terms of their entry are imprisoned or deported; those who aid in illegal immigration will be sent to prison.

Yet, if the United States adopted such statutes, Mexico no doubt would denounce it as a manifestation of American racism and bigotry.

Why is our southern neighbor pushing us to gut our own immigration laws, when its own immigration restrictions are the harshest on the continent?

Stupidities:

“Above all, we want legalization, because many of them [immigrants] have lived up there for many years.”

--Nice logic.

“Hispanics are taking away our jobs. They are moving into our neighborhoods, so now where are we going to go?”

--Who says you have to go anywhere? Would it be so horrible to live in the same neighborhood as—gasp!—a Hispanic family?

(Sources: The Fresno Bee, http://www.pbs.org/newshour/extra/)

“I simply do not remember getting out of bed, being pulled over by police, or being cited for three driving infractions. That’s not how I want to live my life.”

As soon as I heard these words from Rhode Island’s Representative Patrick Kennedy, I knew the culprit cited would be Ambien. Sure enough, Kennedy was taking Ambien along with Phenergan, an anti-nausea drug that can also cause drowsiness.

Several have expressed their disdain for Kennedy’s “excuse” and decried police for not administering a sobriety test to see if alcohol was the real reason for his car accident on Capitol Hill last Thursday. I, however, can certainly see how it could have been directly related to the collision, even if Ambien were not the sole factor in the crash. I wonder if they found any McDonald’s wrappers in the vehicle...

Awhile back, I saw a newspaper article about a new sewage pump plant that, when built, will be hidden under a building designed to look like a barn from the early 20th century. The city’s special projects manager, John Lovejoy, wanted to be a “good neighbor” to the homes already existing in the area.

At the same time, the city planning director, Dwight Kroll, wanted to create more open space for the public. Therefore, the sewage plant will also include a landscaped park, trails, tables and benches, a creek with a stone bridge, and plenty of parking.

Apparently, the technology that is being incorporated into the project can eliminate odors “in the high 90% range.” That seems pretty good, I guess, but not good enough for this: “[Kroll] envisions young couples perhaps using the garden and accompanying park for weddings and other family events.”

Cover the plumbing with a façade of the Eiffel Tower if you want, but I don’t know of any girl who would send out wedding invitations that read,

Appropriately filed under “Can’t Possibly Be True,” this tidbit, courtesy of the Duluth News Tribune-Cox News Service, is quite possibly THE sign of our times:

Teachers at several nursery schools in Oxfordshire, England, have been encouraging kids to learn the verse "Baa, baa, black sheep/Have you any wool?" without the word "black," but in its place a variety of emotions (e.g., "Baa, baa, sad sheep") or colors (including "Baa, baa, rainbow sheep") because they believe that kids with black skin might feel disrespected.

*Editor's note: I apologize for publishing posts less frequently in recent weeks...it appears one does not have much time for blogs and such when one is no longer on vacation.

My, my! Where to begin? Do I start off with the incredible story of one man’s failed suicide attempt, despite having nail-gunned 12 nails into his skull (“‘No one before is known to have survived after intentionally firing so many foreign objects into the head,’ according to the report.”), or something more absurd, like Tony Blair’s wife, Cherie, and her $13,700 hairstyling bill for last month alone (“So what? Mrs. Blair has worked fantastically hard during the election.”). Maybe I should tell a naked story, like the one about the carpenter who was found working in the nude by a homeowner (“[He] said Thursday that working au naturel gave him a better range of motion.”), or the one about the guy stuck for 5 hours in his step-mother’s chimney, naked (“He tells us he took his clothes off because there would be less friction going down the chute.”).

I’m not making these up, people!

No, I’ve chosen to tell you about something a little closer to my heart: the importance of junk food access at any hour of the day and night. How many times have I myself longed for some sort of ice-cream delivery service? Let’s just say I should have put the idea to work before Matthew Mandell did.

Yep, if you live within 1 mile of the White House, give or take, you can place orders for more than 800 products every night of the week, sometimes as late as 4:00 AM, thanks to DCSnacks, the brainchild of GW University grad Mandell. And by products I mean Ben & Jerry’s, Gatorade, Funyuns, Hot Pockets, beef jerky, Red Bull…you crave it, he’s got it. And even better, he can bring it to your doorstep in about 20 minutes.

Naturally, I don’t think I would rely on the service as much as Rashid al-Khalifa: “For two years, [he] has ordered almost every night -- chicken potpie, Gatorade, lasagna, whatever. He often has guests in his apartment, and a man's got to play host.” I mean, grocery stores were invented for a reason. But I think Adam’s testimonial on the DCSnacks website best summarizes why Mandell’s business is sure to thrive: “My lifestyle is supported by your convenience!”

While an eye patch was a key player in one episode, the writers of Seinfeld never made use of its translucent cousin, the monocle. And it looks like they should have.

Geoff Boucher composed this hilarious article for the LA Times about monocles-as-fashion through the ages. He writes, "History tells us the monocle was devised in the 19th century by the British, who also invented mutton-chop sideburns and the term 'harrumph,' and all three go together quite nicely."

However, the money quote is not provided by Boucher, but by a 1961 magazine article on the personal advantages of wearing a monocle:

"By its very insertion between cheekbone and brow, the monocle gives you a new interesting face. The keystone of the new look is the sneer, due less to a state of mind than a muscle contraction necessary to screw, so to speak, the monocle in the eye socket. The social value of the sneer? Incalculable."

“I'd like to talk about this painting. I find this painting disturbing.”



So began the controversy over the painting Study for Pilgrim Mural that hangs in Provincetown, Massachusetts’s Town Hall.

Apparently, Selectwoman Sarah Peake objected to the painting because it did not include any women in the scene.

Isn't there a statute of limitations on political correctness somewhere?

As noted by the painter’s granddaughter, “I think it’s trying to change history. What do the selectmen want to do next, take down the statute of Iwo Jima…because there’s no women in it?”

Last weekend on the Fresno Pacific University campus, the Mennonites had their annual west coast fundraiser, which is always a good time of food, friends, music, auctions, and this year, for me, counting money (I'm such a dork). But that's not what I'm here to talk about. On display was a '99 Volkswagen Jetta, modified to run on vegetable oil instead of environmentally-unfriendly gasoline. The lengthy article in today's paper about the two men who plan to drive it across the country reported that sales of such the conversion kits are on the rise, and apparently they're so easy to install that most people do it themselves at home. Vegetable oils are obtained from local restaurants, upon which rests one minor drawback: would you rather your car smell like sushi or McDonald's french fries?

If you're interested in following the pair on their journey, you can check out their on-the-road blog, beginning May 27, at www.mcc.org/frittercar.

In the meantime, read about this space-saving vehicle , able to fit into the smallest of parking spots. As in, 20,000 of the cars could be parked on the tip of a human hair. Best quote of the week, by a scientist to the NewScientistTech: "We think the car would drive along, but we wouldn't be able to see it and I don't think people would believe us."

So I read recently that a man in Malaysia received a $218 trillion phone bill, along with court orders to settle the matter within 10 days or face prosecution. It wasn't even his phone; the man had turned off his father's service after his death last January and settled accounts by paying the remaining balance of $23. The man, actually, says he "can't wait" to face the court. (How much would I like to be a fly on the wall at that trial? It's like the Seinfeld that never was.) But the best line, at the end of the article, read, "It wasn't clear whether the bill was a mistake." Well, I'm pretty sure that if you called China when you were born, put the phone down, and didn't go back to hang it up until your last day on earth-- heck, leave it there and let your grandkids hang it up-- you still wouldn't accumulate that much debt in phone charges. Unless, of course, your phone service was provided by the same company that owns this Burger King franchise.

(Sorry for the prolonged absence...it’s been a busy week for me and a slow week for the news. At least, the kind of news I can poke fun at. My apologies.)

While I’m not at all condoning a 911 dispatch operator’s recent dismissal of a young boy’s very real plea for help, I’m sure the emergency number gets its fair share of pranks. I just ran across this article from the Pittsburgh Tribune Review, describing a caller’s request for assistance regarding a squirrel...in a tree.

"What's the problem?"

"I have a large tree in my backyard ... there's a squirrel stuck in the tree."

"Ma'am, this is a squirrel? In a tree? What's the problem?"

"It's been there for about an hour. It's crying; it needs help. There's a problem."

"Ma'am, sorry, but this isn't necessarily a police issue. It's a wild animal, sitting in a tree. It's supposed to be doing that. The squirrel will be OK. It'll climb down when it's ready."

"Are you telling me you're not sending me an officer?"

"Sorry ma'am, this isn't a police issue. An officer wouldn't be able to do anything. The squirrel will be just fine, really."

"But police officers help people in need right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Squirrels are not people."

"Well, never mind, anyway. You've spent so much time explaining why an officer won't help me, the squirrel left. Thanks."

Now I will take this opportunity to include an adorable picture of Finnegan the squirrel napping with his adoptive Papillon family:


Anyways, the article even mentioned a new trend in “butt calls,” which are calls inadvertently placed when a person sits on their cell phone. I checked the Urban Dictionary, and yes, “butt calls” is a verifiable phrase.

And stupid is as stupid does: some individuals actually “want to talk with police because they were sold fake crack cocaine.”

No matter who you are, I'm sure you've never seen anything like it. Unless you watch The Montel Williams Show.

If you have 5 minutes, check out this amazing video of Faith, the only known bipedal canine.


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If your friends and family members are dorky like mine, you've probably gotten several emails recently, putting you on alert regarding today's once-in-a-lifetime relationship between the date and time, i.e. today, at two minutes and three seconds after one o'clock, the time and date was 01:02:03 04/05/06. Mildly interesting, yes (although the people writing "this will never happen again" obviously were forgetting about 3006, etc). That being said, I'll be celebrating my birthday this year at 06:06:06 06/06/06. Now what's up, suckas?

This is the true story of snakes and humans, picked to live together, share a mode of transportation, and have their lives taped, to find out what happens, when snakes stop being polite, and start getting real.

NAPLES, Fla. -- A man crashed his car after a pet snake he had wrapped around his neck began attacking him, authorities said.

Witnesses reported that Courtland Page Johnson, 30, of East Naples, was driving erratically and crashed his PT Cruiser into several barricades about 9 p.m. Tuesday. He got out of his car, wrestled with the snake and then drove off, reports said.

When authorities caught up with Johnson at his home, he told them he crashed into another car that had stopped short in front of him. After questioning, Johnson admitted he panicked when his snake bit him.

Some of you, no doubt, have already heard a thing or two about the summer thriller coming to a theater near you: Snakes on a Plane, starring Samuel L. Jackson.

The Internet has allowed fans of the movie—well, really, fans of the title of the movie—to take their love of snakes on planes to the masses. (Even Jackson himself was going to renege if the title was changed to Flight 121.) Though still in production, there has been at least one line leaked: "Enough is enough. I’ve had it with the snakes.” This has spawned all kinds of blogs, homemade movie trailers, screen-printed T-shirts, music videos, and even methods of self-expression.

When used as slang, “snakes on a plane” can refer to something terribly harmful, like, “You wouldn’t believe how many people I had to fight to get this last Tickle-Me Elmo! It was like snakes on a plane!” I, however, prefer to use the phrase in one of its alternative contexts—something of a cross between “Well, what can you do?” and “Dang it!”

Person: “…But by the time my parachute opened, I was already falling at terminal velocity.”
Me: “Dude, snakes on a plane.”

www.snakesonaplanemovie.com

www.snakesonablog.com

Just what happens to rejected ideas for Hallmark cards?

At the Hallmark Inc. headquarters in Kansas City, Missouri, tiny prototypes of greeting cards that don’t make the grade are displayed on a big fat “NO” made of fabric and hung on an office wall.

Some of the best of the worst:

For a birthday
Front: “My ex-girlfriend had a cat named Love because she said that’s what it gave her.”
Inside: “So I called it Bloody Forearms. Hope no one gets you a cat for your birthday.”

For Christmas
Front: “Spread some holiday cheer.”
Inside: “Or drink alone. Who am I to judge?

Front: “Christmas just wouldn’t be the same without peanut brittle.”
Inside: “Or Jesus.”

Survey Says

Which card idea do you think is the funniest? "Bloody Forearms" holiday cheer peanut brittle and Jesus

If you read my very first post (scroll to the bottom of page if you haven't yet), you are aware that, under certain circumstances, people are capable of acting strangely and/or dangerously while sleeping, unaware of the reality surrounding them. However, this is the first time I've heard of someone who unknowingly divorced his wife while asleep.

According to Reuters, a Muslim woman in, you guessed it—India (see yesterday’s post), heard her husband talking in his sleep, during which he used their word for divorce (talaq) three times. Somehow after talking with her friends, Islamic leaders got word of the incident and ruled that the couple was required to divorce under the laws of “triple talaq.”

“The religious leaders ruled that if the couple wanted to remarry they would have to wait at least 100 days. [Wife] Sohela would also have to spend a night with another man and be divorced by him in turn.”

Another strike against the makers of Ambien?

Apparently, things can go horribly wrong when people prepare and attempt to serve meatless meals. According to Reuters, the series of unfortunate events described in the following news article took place Sunday in Ahmedabad, India.

A jobless man burned himself to death after his wife refused to serve him meat for dinner, Indian police said Sunday. Sixty-year-old Mithailal Ram Sanjivan doused his body with a flammable liquid and set himself ablaze outside his one-room house in Ahmedabad, the main city of western Gujarat state.

Police said the victim, who had been without a job for years, and his wife, Geeta Sanjivan, 54, had a scuffle over the dinner menu. The wife, who works as a domestic, refused to cook meat, saying they could not afford it. Irritated by this, Sanjivan locked her in the house before setting himself on fire outside.

Lesson learned. I will keep my mouth shut unless I have all the facts.

I'm not joking; this was right inside the front section of today's newspaper, as taken from the LA Times:

"The FBI, while waging a highly publicized war against terrorism, has spent resources gathering information on antiwar and environmental protestors, and activists who feed vegetarian meals to the homeless, the agency's internal memos show."

Did I read that right? "Activists who feed vegetarian meals to the homeless"?

The article continues,

"Officials say that international terrorists pose the greatest threat to the nation, but they cannot ignore crimes committed by some activists."

Let me make it clear--I am not disagreeing with that statement. We've all heard reports of radical-- and I would say fringe-- antiwar and environmental protestors vandalizing memorials to fallen soldiers and setting fire to SUV-selling car dealerships. The part I don't understand is why activists who feed vegetarian meals to the homeless are tossed into the same category. Is the government honestly disturbed by people who feed other people a meatless, though likely an otherwise balanced and healthy, meal?

I have, on more than one occasion, assembled healthy, brown-bag lunches-- albeit, without (gasp!) meat-- and passed them out to homeless people I met while spending time with them in public parks and similar areas. Come and get me.

A good friend of mine who is a screenwriter recently won a prestigious award at the Movieguide Faith and Values Awards gala for his screenplay adaptation of Howard Pyle's book Men of Iron. Movieguide is an organization with a two-fold goal: 1) to help families make wise choices about the movies they watch, and 2) to influence the entertainment industry to bring more inspirational films to the American audience.

Before you scoff at the conservative Christian mission of Movieguide, you might be surprised to know that the 10 Best 2005 Films for Mature Audiences list includes the likes of Batman Begins, The Interpreter, Cinderella Man, and Hitch, because of the Bible-based values inherent in their messages to audiences.

I don't think I'm nearly as conservative as the writers of Movieguide; however, the ratings they give are geared more for parents.

To read more about the Men of Iron screenplay and where it heads now, check out The Fresno Bee, either online or in today's Life section.

Apparently, we are as arrogant as the French would have us believe.

A poll taken earlier this year, and reported by The Washington Post, shows that the majority of our countrymen believe they are above average in the following categories: honesty, common sense, intelligence, and looks.

Now, call me crazy, but the fact that 94% of American believe they are above average in honesty seems a rather ironic. And the idea that 89% of Americans label themselves above average when it comes to common sense is, well, nonsense. (See Exhibit A) Many of the 86% of Americans who believe they have above average intelligence are just plain wrong. When I read that 79% of Americans reported above average looks, I immediately thought of an old Seinfeld episode, The Wink:

JERRY: Elaine, what percentage of people would you say are good looking?

ELAINE: Twenty-five percent.

JERRY: Twenty-five percent, you say? No way! It's like 4 to 6 percent. It's a twenty to one
shot.

ELAINE: You're way off.

JERRY: Way off? Have you been to the motor vehicle bureau? It's like a leper colony down there.

ELAINE: So what you are saying is that 90 to 95 percent of the population is undateable?

JERRY: UNDATEABLE!

ELAINE: Then how are all these people getting together?

JERRY: Alcohol.

Funny, yes. But I think my grandpa put it best when he, while sitting on a bench in a busy shopping center, calmly conjectured, “Looking around, I don’t know how people can think God doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

The Local, a Swedish newspaper written in English, ran an article yesterday about a nurse at a hospital in Stockholm who was asked to change his name. From now on, Nurse Jesus shall be called by his middle name, Manuel. What’s up with that? (Never mind the odd fact that there’s a Jesus Manuel living in Sweden…)

According to Jesus [and by Jesus, I’m pretty sure they meant Manuel], an auxiliary nurse at Huddinge Hospital, his superiors were worried that patients told "Jesus will be coming soon" might get the wrong idea.

"If they thought that Jesus was coming, they might believe that they were already dead," the nurse told The Local.

The last thing Manuel reportedly wanted to do was to cause any confusion among the patients.

#29 down, 24 3/7 more to go...

What goes around, comes around, right?

Yesterday I had a voicemail from Napoleon, as in Dynamite. Yeah, I wish! Thanks to late nights in college dorm rooms, I knew the then-unidentified caller was using a soundboard to make me think I was hearing the real deal, when in fact he was stringing together several short sound clips from the movie with the same name.

Should you want to do the same-- and may I recommend speakerphone for the enjoyment of those around you-- I can personally vouch for the success to be had using the soundboard for Miss Cleo, everyone’s favorite TV psychic, and most of the soundboard for Arnold Schwarzenegger as Det. John Kimble.

Want more proof? Listen to an actual prank call made using the Miss Cleo soundboard.

I always thought SUV stood for sport-utility vehicle. Apparently, it can also be used to describe the new Hoover z400-- that’s right, the world’s first sport-utility vacuum.
Unfortunately for Hoover, I’m pretty sure that people who live in remote locations only reachable by unpaved roads face other, more pressing hardships than the embarrassment of filthy carpets.

So it's not the kissing picture I promised, but now that I know how to post video to my blog, I thought this was kind of cool! I'm the bobbing head on the far left...


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So I know I'm not the first blogger to poke fun at the recent trend with safety razors, but a novel article at Economist.com included this helpful graphic:

Apparently, "shavers are going to get more blades whether they need them or not."

I'm rootin' for the hyperbolic curve. Otherwise, I might not get to see them fit 14 blades on a single razor in this lifetime.

Think you've heard every rant and rave about Katrina-related events in New Orleans? Think you know how to spell the word "mutt"? Think again. This woman, lovingly known as Mama D, makes her case for the government's organized campaign to kill people by intentionally blowing up levees. Mama D's "logic" would make for a pretty hilarious interview with Tucker Carlson-- who, at one point, she referred to as "Boo"-- if it wasn't so sad. Watch for: Carlson's use of the phrase "huh..." to respond to many of Mama D's claims. Wonder if he ever dropped by her home as he (hesitatingly) promised?

Koza, if you're out there, this one's for you.

Back in college, a dear friend and I invented the fast-paced game "Expressions," in which one person calls out a specific situation (for example, you're taking a Sunday stroll through the park when you accidentally step on a squirrel), and the other person immediately shows the appropriate facial expression. Hilarity ensues.

Unbeknownst to us, we were being spied on.

In photographer Howard Schatz's new book, In Character: Actors Acting, actors were to communicate emotions for the camera based on complex story lines suggested by Schatz. Sound familiar? And I quote: "If you give an actor a scene, it's an 'I dare you.' It's like throwing a ball to a baseball player. They're going to catch it," he says, explaining why so many actors took him up on the challenge.

Shouldn't we get some sort of royalties for this?

Yesterday I went to bed around 1 AM and woke up about 5:45. PM, that is. That makes for almost 17 hours of nearly uninterrupted sleep. That beats my old record, set as a college freshman, that was brought to an end when a friend woke me up to go to dinner. (You know who you are...that DO!)

So I decided to search the web for the world record of the longest sleep, and have only come up with 14 and a half days, set by Randy Gardiner in 1965. But considering only 1 person wrote 2 sentences about him on the entire WWW-- and the second sentence doesn't even make sense to me-- I'm not sure how reliable that information is. In related news, the world's longest hypnotic sleep is 8 continuous days, set by Peter Powers, who also holds the world record as the fastest hypnotist.

But the most scientifically reliable tidbit I found during my search was this person's answer to a forum entitled "How long was your longest sleep?":

My longest sleep is coming soon, I'm 66 years old and I was a heavy smoker for 50 years.

I just made it back tonight from a 4 night stay in Xcaret, which is on the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico, about 40 miles south of Cancun. I wasn't planning on posting anything tonight, having just traveled 8 straight hours, but in order to build up some goodwill in the blogger community (thanks for the kick in the pants, WT), here I am. I'm happy to report that my Things To Do Before I Die list just got a little bit shorter, since I got to swim with dolphins while in Xcaret (sounds like sh-cah-RET). When I get the chance, I'll post a picture of me getting a kiss from Abril, a super-smart 19-year-old cutie (who's a dolphin, to clarify). Anyways, I still have a long ways to go on my list, so I'm going to throw some out there and see if anyone can be of assistance!

4. play with a monkey

7. be in the audience of The Price Is Right (preferably before Bob Barker dies)

8. learn to name the constellations

18. drive on the other side of the road (legally)

27. try surfing

31. ride in the cockpit of a commercial airplane

34. take someone to the ocean who has never been before (any takers?)

My blog might not be worth a dime, but apparently my person is worth $1,490,640. Why this would ever be helpful, I don't know, but let me know how you compare...

I suspect most older white males such as this one could not tell you the difference between Snoop Dogg and LL Cool J, let alone impersonate them. Hilarious and impressive.

http://www.qarxis.com/steve_harvey_show_white_man_rapping

Air pollution is always a hot topic here in the Central Valley, mainly because we have so much of it. Every day there seems to be a letter to the editor of The Fresno Bee from somebody complaining about the pollution leaf blowers make-- first for emitting fumes through use, secondly for kicking up all sorts of dust and debris from the ground. Now, I despise leaf blowers, and would even throw noise pollution into the hat. But if we have to have them, is there any reason why they couldn't suck the junk up, like a vacuum, rather than merely relocating it? It seems like a pretty good partial-solution to me, but I've never offered up my idea. It seems so ridiculously logical that the argument must be flawed, otherwise why haven't I heard anyone else make the same point? Am I missing something here?

President Bush, after watching a small bulldozer push a pile of debris on a New Orleans street littered with a mattress, toys, a cooking pot, several pairs of blue jeans, a box of Pasta Roni and a pair of women's underwear:

"You've got a pile of stuff here." (origin: AP)

Turns out I'm not the only one. Both Wednesday's and Thursday's Fresno Bee included lengthy articles about people who "sleep-drive" after taking the prescription sleeping pill Ambien. These drivers "tend to stand out from other under-the-influence motorists. The behavior can include driving in the wrong direction or slamming into light poles or parked vehicles, as well as seeming oblivious to the arresting officers..."

A couple years back, I found a business card for a tow-truck company in my kitchen. Long story short, it turns out I had run over a speed-limit sign after jumping a curb. I have no memory of this whatsoever! (And yes, I was on Ambien at the time.) Apparently, I called my then-boyfriend to bring me my tool kit because, according to my interpretation of the situation, a sign was stuck under my car. Scary to think of what else could have happened when I was in that state; thank God no one was injured.

At least nothing like this happened to me (keep in mind this woman has no recollection of this incident):

"A registered nurse...got into her car wearing only a thin nightshirt in 20-degree weather, had a fender bender, urinated in the middle of an intersection, then became violent with police officers."

Or this:

"Jim Stewart says his wife began getting up in the night shortly after she began using the sleeping pill. He would find her doing strange things-- throwing a heavy toy at their dog while it slept, peeling ten pounds of potatoes, making sandwiches for imaginary Boy Scouts."

Or this (the scariest one of all, for those who know me):

"She quit taking Ambien three weeks ago on the morning she found McDonald's food wrappers in her bed."

All of this would be pretty funny if it wasn't a serious situation with such dangerous potential. And I would never laugh at a sleeping animal getting hit by flying objects.