Questions in Everyday Living

New post

2010-09-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

September 6

The Power of Humor

2010-08-20T15:00:00.000-07:00

What can you do with humor?

Sure you can have fun with it—or else why do people pay for the comedy shows and those comedy channels? You can also use it reduce tension, find a great bargain, keep your children in their seats…you name it. There are a thousand and one use of humor, but it leads to an ultimate goal—laughter.

Laughter is powerful, and much more powerful than most people think.

You can make women laugh and fall in love with you.

That sounds like a pretty bold claim doesn’t it? Let me explain.

Human beings have an obsessive desire to remain consistent. It is physically impossible to dislike the person who has already made you genuinely laugh, as you can’t resolve the conflicts and incongruity between laughter (liking someone) and disliking someone.

In other words, women tend to get closer to a guy who has consistently made them laugh! This not only occur at a logical level (“oh, being with him gives me so much joy and I want more”), but also at a subconscious level (maintaining consistency). Once you were made laugh by someone, it will be very inconsistent if you still maintain an antagonistic attitude towards that person.

Therefore, I use laughter to make women fall in love with me. The more women I could make laugh, the better get. You see, love is derived from the feeling of happiness and happiness is directly associated with laughter.

I’m sure in your entire life so far, you have made many, many, many women laugh, and sometimes you can get pretty good at it—sometimes with a particular woman or under some particular circumstances.

Sure, all of us can crack a joke or two. Sometimes we can be quite funny for a whole night... Can we all do it time after time, night after night? Do we all know the secrets that will make humor a natural part of you so that it's effortless to be humorous and charming?

Maybe not.

Some guys talk about the "art" of making women laugh.

Sure, they can call themselves "artists" as they like, but the problem is... once something becomes an art, you won't have rules to rely on and you can't measure the results. Making women laugh suddenly becomes an uncertain event.

But the fact is...Making women laugh is a science.

The fact is… human beings' reactions to different types of "humor stimuli" are predictable.

And there are tested-and-proven methods to match a humorous line and a subject's education, personality, and cultural to create laughter.

Any man, regardless of looks, intelligence, education, personality, can learn the mechanism of humor and laughter and develop his own style of humor.

About the author

The Perks of Global Warming

2010-08-20T13:00:00.000-07:00

Marya Mannes once wrote, “The earth we abuse and the living things we kill will, in the end, take their revenge; for in exploiting their presence we are diminishing our future.” Obviously Ms. Mannes preferred the status quo - health, sanity, logic, blah, blah, blah. Why? Green House Roulette is so much more intriguing.

In the country, weather affects everything. For five years Western South Dakota has been gripped by drought. Water and hay are vanishing. Farms and ranches are blowing away. While the government bails out victims from hurricanes and says, ‘South Dawho?’ our cattle are pissing dust mites. Fortunately, things are looking up.

There is some good news! Those pesky glaciers are finally melting off! Last year an eight-nation report estimated an area of Arctic icepack the size of Texas and Kansas is gone. For those who are geographically impaired, that is an area bigger than a breadbox.

At first, news of devastating global climate change might seem a bit of a bummer. Then I read an LA Times article and had a change of heart. The article began with the usual gloom. Greenland’s ice cap is melting. Our coasts will flood from rising seawater. Inuit hunters are falling through thinning ice. Melting glaciers change ocean temperature and salinity contorting the jet stream, which results in altered weather patterns worldwide. Multitudes of species are dying off . . . It was disheartening.

Then I got to the article’s final paragraph. Bam! My faith was restored. Here the Times pointed out the perks of global warming. Seriously, the article actually ended saying: “The report is not all gloomy. A warmer Arctic could increase the number of some species, such as Arctic char, a fish. It could extend the growing season for wheat in Canada and open up now-treacherous sea routes, such as the Northwest Passage and the Northern Sea Route, which parallels Russia, for shipping and resource exploration.”

Three cheers for the LA Times! It’s true! All is not gloomy. With that glorious bit of sunshine pumped straight up my ski bibs, I was able to see things in a whole new light. I started thinking of other advantages to global warming. Soon you will agree that people from all walks of life will benefit.
For starters, Inuit Hunters will benefit! Once Inuit have nothing left to hunt there will be no need for them to risk falling through thin ice. Plus, by needing food they will be ripe for a floating (pontoons, not ice) Arctic Super Wal-Mart. “Go get ‘em, Sam.”

Boat owners will benefit! Not only will there be smooth sailing through the formerly bothersome ice of the Northwest Passage, but each summer, cruise ships will be able to run tourists straight up Bourbon Street in New Orleans.
Scuba Divers will benefit! There will be no more burning coral cuts. In fact there will be no more coral. Once all the reefs are gone, divers can pack away first aid kits and dive straight in. A little silt never cut anyone.

Canadian Wheat Farmers will benefit! You see, there is a 10% decrease in yield of corn from Midwest crops for every degree of global warming. No worries though, now wheat can take the place of corn. Think about all those scrumptious Wheat Dogs at the ball game. How about popped wheat with butter at the movies or steaming wheat on the cob? All scream ‘yummy’ to me.

While it is a bit ironic that ethanol is made from the corn crops global warming devastates, I am sure some aspiring chemist will rise to the challenge of developing ‘Wheatanol.’ Imagine Canuck Wheat Farmers having more influence than the Saudi Royal Family.

Dune-Buggy enthusiasts will benefit! The Dakotas will soon reopen for your 4-wheelin’ pleasure. Join the Mount Rushmore Nose Climb on July 4th! It will be a bugger of a challenge!

Eco-Tourism Operators will benefit! Companies could offer new “Emaciation Tour Packages.” Tourists get closer photos of polar bears and whales when they are too lethargic from starvation to meander away. In addition, long treks to Inuit villages can be avoided once they are forced to beg on the streets of Nome (or cashiering at Wal-Mart).

Finally, the next generation of Bush family politicians will benefit! Once again they can avoid addressing campaign issues, this time by distracting dehydrated voters with witty campaign phrases like; “No Kyoto Pact-No Ice Pack,” or “Dead Seals Never Flip-Flop,” even promising “No Char Left Behind.” Not to mention offering new, SPF 800 tax credits.

Well, by golly, I do feel better! Shall we spin the Rolette wheel some more?

The Party Store

2010-08-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I like to frequent our local liquor store to stock my bar. Our neighborhood store is nothing special, but has what I need when I need it. I have never paid a whole lot of attention to the sign as I entered the establishment. The sign clearly states that not only do they sell beer and wine, they also sell party supplies. Great. You never know when a party may break out and having a store with party supplies at your disposal is nothing but a posititve thing.

I walked into our neighborhood establishment and strolled through the isles. My bar was already stocked sufficiently, so alcohol was not on the list for this trip. Today's trip was for nothing but party supplies.

I greeted the man behind the counter with a smile. "Hello" to him must mean,"please tell me every insignificant detail of yourself" as he proceeded to tell me about his day up to that point. Thanks. I care. This man was nothing but a distraction in my procurement of party supplies. I strolled through the isles, acknowledged the offer to help me find anything. I knew what I was looking for, I don't want Mr. Annoying's help. The store isn't that big, and I think I can find the party supplies I was looking for.

A little time passed, and I continued my search for party supplies. Up and down every isle i looked for things that were necessary for a party (hence the name party supplies.) After thorough examination of the store three times over, I came to a startling conclusion. My idea of party supplies may be a little different than theirs. Here are the "party supplies" i found at the store.

Ice. Yup, ice is needed for parties. Afterall, its what keeps the beverages cold. A great party supply indeed. Unfortunately, this was the only thing we agreed on.

Porn. Racks and racks of all varieties of porn magazines lined one whole wall. I know some party people will tell you that a party isn't a party without the latest issue of Greasy Babes. I tend to disagree. In my experience, nothing breaks up a party like that one crazy guy with his pants down screamin, "wooooo, I got the latest issue of Swank...its PARTY TIME!!!"

Lighters. Again, not my idea of a party supply. I gave up the lets burn things party a long time ago and I have think most normal adults have too. But what I seem to be learning here is that most normal adults are not buying their party supplies from a liquor store.

Beef Jerky. Okay, I don't think I have to really expand on this. Anyone that EVER brings beef jerky to a party should be lit on fire with the lighter they most likely bought as well. If you must make a reference to beef jerky being the ultimate compliment to porn, you may do so. I'm not touching that one.

That's it. That was all I could find that would even come close to being party supplies, no little parasols for drinks, not even a SOLO cup to be found.

Needless to say, I was a little disappointed, educated and a little weirded out at the same time. I like to think of it as the trifecta of human experience.

The Origins Of Spring-Cleaning, Or Along Came Eve

2010-08-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

I always know when April makes its yearly debut without consulting the calendar because my wife usually says, “Let’s clean out the garage today.” Trust me on this one, it is no April fool’s joke, but someone gets fooled. And believe me, I’m just not anybody’s fool. I’m my wife’s fool.

Somehow, her “let’s” has a funny singular ring to it and we had, if I remember correctly, a double ring wedding ceremony. Hers is on her left ring finger while mine somehow ended up in my nose.

For some reason spring brings to women, wives in particular, an uncontrollable urge to clean something. It doesn’t matter what that something is, it has to be cleaned. Moreover, it does not matter how clean or dirty that something is or when it was last cleaned, it must be cleaned again.

This represents a basic philosophical difference between men and women. In the beginning, man was perfectly at home with dirt, then along came Eve and introduced spring-cleaning.

We have no idea how long it was between Adam and the time Eve came onto the scene, but it was long enough to get the entire Garden of Eden dirty, necessitating a thorough cleaning.

Thus began the yearly ritual known as spring-cleaning. This tradition has been handed down from mother to daughter since the beginning of time. As far as I can ascertain, no father on record has handed down to his son any way of putting a stop to this nonsense. And don’t think I’m not just a little upset about that.

I think our forefathers could have found a fifth father to help come up with a workable plan to get rid of this yearly onus.

But, it is spring and the time-honored ritual has come to our domestic den. Spring is in the air and spring-cleaning is on the agenda. I, on the other hand, had other plans, which did not include soap and water. So much for my plans. A husband’s plan is always subject to his wife’s rescheduling.

Every year I asked the same question. How in the world does spring get so dirty? And, more important, why do I have to clean it? I didn’t mess it up.

I believe Mother Nature ought to clean her own spring and not push this responsibility onto husbands like me who have better things to do with their time.

One year I got confused and cleaned my spring in the fall, which screwed up my whole winter wondering what I would do when spring actually arrived and it was already cleaned.

Spring-cleaning would not be so bad if I could use my definition of clean rather than my wife’s. One man’s clean is his wife’s “when are you going to clean that?”

At the least, it would be helpful if spring-cleaning only came on leap year, which would give me an opportunity to hop out of the way before my good wife could spring into action.

In our house, the annual spring cleaning focuses on the garage. When my wife gets it into her head to clean the garage, I get it into my head to get clean out of her way. In the scheme of things, how important is a clean garage anyway? It’s not as if Martha Stewart is going to make a surprise visit.

As a veteran husband (with the scars to prove it), I have discovered one thing in my house. Behold, a greater than Martha Stewart lives at my lodgings.

My philosophy is simply, a dirty garage is a happy garage. It just doesn’t make my wife happy and when she’s not happy neither am I — so I am willing to live with an unhappy garage. These are the compromises enabling husbands to survive generation after generation. At least, enabling this husband to survive spring-cleaning one more year.

I have no idea what my garage does during the winter to get so dirty, but I wish it would stop it, or at least clean up after itself and not cause me so much grief.

When the idea of spring-cleaning comes up, I take one gander at the object of the endeavor and try to duck out as quickly as possible. I usually run into my wife standing at the door and realize my goose is cooked, usually to a nice golden burnt.

My idea of cleaning the garage is opening the garage door and the back door and let nature take its course. However, when I suggest this, an ill wind blows my way, if you know what I mean.

Garage cleaning invariably leads to garage sales. Garage sales are amazing.

Instead of donating my worthless junk to the neighborhood dump, I sell it to my neighbors, who will put it in their garage sale next year. This keeps neighborhood junk in circulation for years, and then some antique dealer buys it and starts the whole cycle again in New York City.

One man’s junk is another man’s antique.

My wife insists cleanliness is next to godliness. If that is so, why did God create so much dirt?

God is also in the cleaning business and you can be sure His is the ultimate leaving nothing unclean.

The Apostle Paul explains, “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.” (Titus 3:5 KJV.)

When God says, “Let’s clean out your life today,” trust Him to do a thorough job.

The Finer Points of Poverty

2010-08-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

I'm poor. And I'm not ashamed of it. Actually, I'm kind of proud of myself for being poor. It's an accomplishment that many people will never attain. Some people will go through their whole life and never know what it's like to experience some of the finer points of poverty like eating ramon noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner 5 days a week. My heart goes out to these types of people. The Fourtunate Ones. People who've always had electricity, nice cars, and proper clothing.

I wasn't always poor. I had to work hard at it. I had to quit several jobs without finding new ones. I had to spend 75% of my paycheck at the bar when I knew my bills would have easily taken 90%. I had to max out credit cards and never pay on them. I had to give money to females that I knew would never pay it back. And most importantly I had to move to a small town where $6.00 and hour is considered 'good money'.

I didn't know that I was putting myself in line for poverty while I was doing all these things. I just woke up one day and realized that I couldn't pay my car note because I only had 11 cents in the bank. And that's when it hit me: I'm POOR! It took me 25 long years but I finally nose-dived below the poverty line. I was now in the same category as the homeless and welfare recipients. No more was I hindered by riches. I had shed that lifestyle. I got up and fixed myself a mayonaisse sandwich to celebrate. Delicious!

As a poor person I am entitled to certain privledges to which the well-to-do won't every be privy. I decide haved to list a few:

- Instead of lugging around a wallet full of heavy dollar bills I now pay for important purchases like gasoline and food with spare change that I scavenge up around the

house.

- I get to shop at stores with improperly spelled titles like Sav-A-Lot, Thrif-Ti-Mart, and DisKount King. These stores offer a wide variety of out-dated, slightly damaged merchandise that Wal-Mart shoppers can only dream of.

- I get to drool at resturant commercials on TV because I know I will never be able to afford meals like that again unless a rich relative dies

- I get to wear my friend's hand-me-down clothes and shoes. This means that I rarely match and my feet ache constantly from wearing shoes that are three sizes too small.

- I get to freely engage in the offical sports of the National Poor People's Association: begging and borrowing.

- I get to go to bed every night with the comforting thought that if I ever do meet Ms.Right I can't afford to date her.

I'll stop there because I see the envy rising to dangerous levels in a few reader's eyes. These readers probably have steady jobs and nice homes or apartments. Their bills are probably caught up. They probably have an immense wardrobe with properly sized shoes. Their bank account probably never drops below $5,000. I apologize to these readers if my boasting about my impoverished condition has made them feel inferior and totally removed any self-esteem they may have had left. All I can say is that I never meant to be poor. I was just in the right places at the right times. Maybe one day all of you will find yourselves on the Road to Rags as well. Until then you can check in with me if you want to know what it's like. I'll be the guy on the side of the interstate off-ramp with the 'Will Work For Food' sign. Pull your Mercedes right up and ask me anything. I promise I won't laugh.

[ Submitted with ArticleSubmitter Pro - http://www.articlesubmitterpro.com]

The Da Vinci Code; This Year's Biblical Box-Office Bonanza

2010-08-19T15:00:00.000-07:00

The Da Vinci Code is now off and running as this year’s megabuck Biblical controversy. Question is, why do we seem to be afflicted with such a nearly annual entity?

Slight thought reveals the obvious. Given the big numbers that a major studio has to turn to make a return on a movie, it’s hardly a wonder that they keep turning to what they, in their needy bottom lines, consider the biggest subjects available.

Apparently, The Bible is pretty much at the top of their list.

Here they can find one topic after another that, treated cannily enough, is guaranteed to outrage the sensibilities of millions of comparatively sincere and innocent people – and, as a result, garner enough free publicity to ensure that the usually mundane redo of Biblical history will become a must-see movie for millions around the world.

Proof positive, last year we had the sincere savant of the box office, Mel Gibson, release his Passion of Christ on an expectedly ruffled world, and this year we’ve got resourceful action-adventure scribbler Ron Brown unloading the Hollywood version of his Da Vinci Mother Lode.

No doubt in coming years one of the less-scrupulous perpetrators of popular outrage will write a book and/or make a movie about such admittedly touchy stories as the Virgin Mary and what exactly the Angel Gabriel was doing there the night he told her she was going to conceive.

While this proclivity to Biblical blockbusters is inevitably tough on believers, it’s also hardly a source of placid delight to those who look on the entire explosive subject as evidence of almost inconceivable gullibility, even high up the ladder of either advocacy.

Which, unfortunately, confirms just how wide an audience Hollywood can expect to attend such ventures toward assured filmic bullion.

The Blonde Joke's On Us: The Dumbest Woman On Earth Was Not A Blonde

2010-08-19T13:00:00.000-07:00

I've lived my entire adult life with "dumb blonde" jokes. Whoever started them, probably spawned by pornographers allured by Marylyn Monroe types (probably with dyed hair), should be locked up in a room with a hundred blonde professional women on a month-long sabbatical from bad bosses. Think he'd make it out alive? I think he (or she) definitely be a changed creature after that month. He'd gain a new understanding of blondes, that's for sure.

If you really want to know the truth of it, the dumbest woman to ever walk the face of earth had dark hair (likely, though we may never know for sure.) She was, without a doubt, the dumbest woman to ever live. Her name? Eve. Very unlikely blonde, seeing as how her issue to this very day is mostly brunette or have black or dark hair. So get the blonde thing out of your head for just a moment. You see, she and Adam were originally created equal (many women today have a big problem with that "man having dominion over women" thing), otherwise, as I see it, God would have taken a bone out of Adams foot to create Eve. He didn't. (Now, wait, all you Bible believers- you have to read the rest of this before you'll understand just when Eve lost her "equal" status.) The bone came from his side, his rib. To me, this signifies equality. Well, then what does this dark-haired woman do but sashay up to a serpent and strike up a conversation with him (precursor to flirting, I suppose?). Didn't she think it unusual that a serpent could talk? Guess not.

That was Dumb act #1.

Now for dumb act #2:

After a little chit chat, (Gen. 3:1..."Really?" he asked the woman. "Did God really say you must not eat any of the fruit in the garden?" Gen. 3:2"Of course we may eat it," the woman told him. 3:3 "It's only the fruit from the tree at the center of the garden that we are not allowed to eat. God says we must not eat it or even touch it, or we will die.") she believes this creature (remember a serpent that can talk) when he calls God a liar, basically (3:4 "You won't die!" the serpent hissed. 3:5 "God knows that your eyes will be opened when you eat it. You will become just like God, knowing everything, both good and evil." 3:6 The woman was convinced.) Now, it doesn't look like it took much convincing, does it? How dumb is that, after the head honcho of the place, the owner, the boss (the best boss ever, one who actually loves his workers) says don't eat fruit from that tree, and a snake or serpent (that's not supposed to be able to talk) can 'talk you into it'?

Dumb act #3:

The dark-haired woman proceeds to eat the fruit (Adam, by the way, was right there with her- why didn't he pipe up and say "uh, hon, I don't think this is a good idea...I don't trust that serpent (that can talk, remember?). He was most likely dark-haired as well, remember.

Dumb act #4:

She turns and offers it to her husband. All the while the serpent is watching. I never saw a serpent grin, but I'll bet he did.

Dumb act #5:

They hid from God. Whose idea was that, I wonder?

Dumb act #6:

They look for someone to blame it on (3:12 "Yes," Adam admitted, "but it was the woman you gave me who brought me the fruit, and I ate it." 3:13 Then the LORD God asked the woman, "How could you do such a thing?" "The serpent tricked me," she replied. "That's why I ate it.") Now I don't know about you, but that conversation was a blatant manipulation, i.e. a lie, by the serpent, but not a trick. Eve believed a lie, just believed what the serpent said. (Remember this the next time a snake or lizard comes up to you and strikes up a conversation). Genesis Chapter 3:16 is where Eve, (a dark-haired woman? Again, we'll never know for sure), sold out her equality, not only for herself, but for all women from then on (3:16 Then he said to the woman, "You will bear children with intense pain and suffering. And though your desire will be for your husband, he will be your master.")

They were both dumb, at that time. God didn't make them stupid, but they sure had an Adam and Eve moment. I don't think you have to have any particular hair color to be dumb. You could even be bald. So dumb-blonde-joke-tellers, get over it already. If you don't like who you are, at least quit putting others down to make yourself feel better.

Interesting, that when I used to work for a company which employed mostly people of another nationality (including the boss), they could make "dumb blonde" jokes all day, which is a reference to my racial heritage, but if I said just one slanderous joke referring to their race (which I wouldn't have, even if it was legal), then that would be considered by the law to be a form of assault, among other things.)

Maybe blonde jokes should be outlawed. You think?

© 2005 Dianne James

The Bare Truth About My Butt Quiz

2010-08-19T11:00:00.000-07:00

Forget about the SAT, never mind the FCAT, and remove forever from you mind any thoughts about the ACT. All these test pale in comparision to the examination that I just failed. Failing those test may have minor repurcussions like never making it into college and therefore being forced to work at fast food resturants well into you 40's. That's nothing. I just flunked a quiz that could scar me for life.

This morning I was doing my usual morning ritual of checking my email and all my affiliate programs to see if I had made any money online yesterday. I hadn't, in fact I never do, but I've found it's a great way to waste an hour or two. What usually happens is I get sidetracked by some banner or pop-up and I end up lost in the middle of cyberspace signing up for a free registration to some weird website just so I can get a free ebook with a title like 'Online Profits From Artichoke Juice!". This morning, however, I stumbled across a real winner. I came across a link that I just had to click. I was at JokesUnlimited.com reading redneck jokes when I saw 'Fun Quizzes: Can you guess which butts are male or female?

From the extreme look of excitement in your eyes I can tell that you feel the same way I felt when I saw the Butt Quiz link. My first thought was: 'Pictures of female butts! Yeeeessss! And it's a quiz so I don't have to feel dirty about it. It's educational! Yeeeesssss! I immediately clicked the link and started my quiz.

In hindsight(no pun intended), the expression 'Fools Rush In' comes to mind. I blindly rushed into this quiz in a testosterone induced urge to look at female hindparts and I forgot to think the whole thing through. I forgot to take a moment and reflect. I forgot that there were going to be male hindparts on the quiz too. Hairy male hindparts. In thongs.

Needless to say, I failed the quiz. I got 8 out of 15 right. That's about 60 percent. An 'F' in almost all 50 states. Even New Jersey. I, Tim Ward, humor columnist and straight male could not distinguish between the gluteus maximus of the male and female gender. I started to wonder: Were some of the butts that I said were female really male? If so, does that mean I find some men's butts attractive? Do I have a male butt fetsih that I didn't know about? Do I secretly enjoy slapping guys on the butt after a good sports play? And what about the woman's butts that I classified incorrectly? Has it really been that long since I've seen a bare female behind? Am I forgetting what the female body looks like?

All these questions have been running through my head since I failed my first Butt Quiz. It got to the point where I'm thinking about scheduling a retest. But this time I'll be sure to plenty of studying in advance. So ladies, if you see me taking large hard looks at your posterior region, I'm not a pervert, I'm just doing a little research. And to the fellas, forgive me if I give more that the usual amount of congratulatory butt slaps on the basketball court for awhile. I'm just trying to further my education...And maybe work through a fetish or two.

You can take the Butt Quiz for yourself at: http://www.jokesunlimited.com/buttquiz.php

Terrorist Receives Surprise Sendoff; Meets His Allah

2010-08-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

As all the world knows, Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi, the self-appointed and savage representative of Al-Qaeda in Iraq, was given a surprise sendoff last week. What no one seems to know is what happened when he met his Allah before the entrance to the paradise he and his fellow misrepresentatives of Islam’s best hopes long to be whisked away to.

Fortunately, we were there. How, you might ask?

When we heard that Mr. Al-Zarqawi was finally the object of his just reward, we, of course, did like most of the weary and repelled observers of his atrocities and bid him a speedy journey to his well-deserved destiny. But we also sent an email to Allah, asking if we could witness his arrival at what Mr. Zarqawi and other leading terrorists insist, all the better to influence their ill-informed stooges, is The Gate Where 27 Virgins Await.

We now present, recorded with our persistent care, the somewhat heated conversation between Allah and the rightly flabbergasted Mr. Al-Zarqawi, who approached somewhat groggy from the explosion that propelled him to eternity, but when he beheld Allah, he managed a hopeful smile.

AZ: Hi, I’m Musab al-Zarqawi.

AL: I know. Tough time to be a terrorist, isn’t it?

AZ: Then you know?

AL: Of course. I know everything.

AZ: You do? Then you must be Allah?

AL: Yes, I am.

AZ: Really? Hey, great to meet you. When I was a alive, I always told my followers, “Allah is a pal a mine.”

AL: Thanks.

AZ: Wow, I feel like I died and went to heaven. So where are my twenty-seven virgins?

AL: What virgins?

AZ: The twenty-seven I’m supposed to get for being an Islamic martyr.

AL: Excuse me. Up here we don’t have female sex slaves.

AZ: You don’t?

AL: No, we have equal rights, that is, for everybody under me.

AZ: Equal rights for men and women?

AL: Why not? I made them both, didn’t I? I tend to arrive at my rankings based on behavior.

AZ: Oh, great, because, as I said, I’m a martyr.

AL: I’m sorry. Up here, you don’t qualify.

AZ: I don’t? Why not?

AL: A martyr may do many things, but among them we don’t count murder.

AZ: Even when he murders in your name?

AL: Who does he murder in my name?

AZ: Infidels!

AL: Do you know me by any other name?

AZ: Heck, no, all my life I just thought of you as Allah.

AL: What about the name “God,” as in one of my favorite Islamic sayings, “God is Great!”?

AZ: Oh, “God.” Sure, I remember that.

AL: Good. Do you know that a lot of other people know me know me by that name who are and aren’t Islamic?

AZ: They do?

AL: Yes. It’s by far the favorite name humans call me by. In fact, people all over the world often refer to me as “the one true God.” Do you know what that means?

AZ: What?

AL: What you seem to have forgotten. I’m everybody’s pappy.

AZ: Everybody’s? Even Americans?

AL: Oh, especially Americans. I know they make mistakes, but at least they try to do the right thing. And I’m a big advocate of doing the right thing. So I have a different definition of infidels than you do.

AZ: Oh. What’s that?

AL: Anybody who forgets that, since there is only one God, namely, yours truly, then everybody believes in the same God, no matter what name they give me.

AZ: Really? Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that.

AL: Why not? Thanks to me, you have a brain, don’t you? And I expect you to use it.

AZ: But I did.

AL: Yes, but not, I’m afraid, in a way that merits admission to my Paradise.

AZ: No?

AL: No, dummy. We have another place for people who murder other human beings, whether those humans believe in me or not.

AZ: Even if they don’t believe in you?

AL: Yes, I grant freedom of thought. It’s the very foundation of being able to choose right from wrong. My more important concern is whether or not they harm or help other people. And the ones who murder them, oh, as I said, I’ve made a special place for them – and you qualify for admission.

AZ: I do? What place?

AL: The name of it, oddly enough, rhymes with infidel.

AZ: Hell?

AL: Hell, yes!

At this point, Allah raised his hand and Al-Zarqawi dropped through the cloud he was standing on. Allah walked over and looked down through the hole. Then He rubbed His hands together, as if to wash them off.

He noticed us, packing up our recording equipment, and gave us wink. Then He headed back toward Heaven.

Taliban Asserts Control Of North Waziristan; Tourism Dips

2010-08-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

The Taliban has reportedly asserted control of North Waziristan, the famously wild mountainous region of Pakistan that borders Afghanistan. As a result, tourism in the area has taken a decided dip.

As one American tourist commented, “I really like to visit places where television and music are forbidden. I’m also a big fan of summary executions. But, in the case of North Waziristan, I think I’ll make an exception.”

The wifely half of an American couple who enjoy travel in the Middle East, said, “We’re so disappointed. My husband and I were really looking forward to a summer jaunt in North Waziristan. I hear it’s so wonderfully medieval.”

President Pervez Musharraf of Pakistan, an invaluable ally of the United States in the war on terror, affirmed his stance, by saying, “We are determined to find and destroy tourists wherever we find them.” Then he caught his apparent slip of the tongue, and continued, “I’m sorry. I meant to say ‘terrorists,’ not ‘tourists.’”

However, the press was overwrought by his misstatement and whizzed it around the world in seconds.

The rapidly spreading word-fire further discouraged recreational travel to North Waziristan.

The sudden decline surprised some observers, since the region is rumored to play host to the world’s most wanted murderous scamp, Osama Bin Laden.

The decline has also made it more difficult for visitors to the area from the CIA to pass themselves off as carefree travelers.

Sweet Trap

2010-08-18T15:00:00.000-07:00

Last week, I came across a voice chat room, which was full of impressive nicknames. From the beginning, I started to notice an Asian female because of her appealing voice and her interesting way of telling love stories. “It must be a very cute girl”, I thought.

She was a talent storyteller. I kept wondering how she could master almost everything about our male world as if she was a writer of Askmen.com, a men's online magazine offering advices on dating, secrets of love, relationships and health. Dating tips and sex tips are perfectly transferred to her buddies.

After few minutes of listening to her lessons, I decided to chat with her individually. She was not as shy like a traditional Chinese as I supposed. She said that she lived in Boston and this prompted me to propose a date with her. However, before that, I asked her permission to see her face through the web cam. Black hair, big eyes, and a voluptuous body were what I imagined about her appearance at that moment.

“Why d’ya like to see my web cam?” she asked.
“’Cause I like to behold a star shining in the sky”
“But I am not so attractive as you are thinking of”, she laughed.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I always believe in my senses which inform me that I’m talking with a beautiful lady”, once again I flirt with her, forgetting that she had just taught others some tips about dating.
“You’d better keep that good image in your mind”, answered she.

Finally, my endless wing words affected her and at the other end of the line, she laughed, approving to show me up. I was too eager to see an expected face.

My eyes were widely open. I could not believe in what I was watching. There was a smiling male face in the webcam. Beyond of my imagination, “she” was a very guy. Though shocked, I tried to think that she was joking. I wondered how a guy could talk in such a sweet voice. Being straight, he told me the truth. That was, he was using a software called Voice changer to disguise his voice.

Before we stopped, he did not forget to remind me not to tell others in the chat room about his identity.

Surgeon General Uncertain About What Hospital To Check His Grandmother Into

2010-08-18T13:00:00.000-07:00

The Surgeon General, after reading the results of a recent report about the alarming number of fatalities in U. S. hospitals that are due to preventable human error, was uncertain about what hospital to check his grandmother into when he learned that she was suffering from shortness of breath.

He decided the time had come from decisive government action. As a result, all hospitals must now display at the registration desk the following warning: "The Surgeon General has determined that hospitals may be hazardous to your health and may result in accidental death."

The American Civil Liberties Union is protesting the necessity of posting the warning, maintaining it infringes on the right of hospitals to conduct their business with the normal expectation that a certain number of patients will live and a certain number will leave in a less vital condition.

A spokesman for the ACLU stated, "This is clearly an infringement of the right to free enterprise. Hospitals should be entirely free to inform patients they can expect excellent healthcare, even if the spokesperson is not certain the institution can provide it. Compelling hospitals to be forthright about the prospects for survival unnecessarily infringes on their right to misinform patients."

Commenting on the issue, Chief Justice John Roberts said, "I can't comment because I could get appendicitis at any time, and I certainly wouldn't want the hospital to suspect I may not, should I survive the operation, act in its best interest."

In an effort to bolster the government's case, the FDA plans to establish a task force composed of hospital inspectors who will impersonate patients. At the end of a one year trial, a determination will be made of how many are still alive. Further action will be based on the tally

Supreme Court Rules On Where Fish Can Swim

2010-08-18T11:00:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Court ruled in favor of two Michigan land owners who maintained that fish had no right to swim in the water on their property and, as a result, the developers should be able to grace the wetlands with a shopping mall and a condominium.

Until now, the courts had generally maintained that fish have certain inalienable rights and that among them is the right to swim in and out of any waterway they can navigate.

The ruling was, however, not the resounding victory the land owners had hoped for, because it only applied to newly arriving fish; the ones already located in the wetlands could continue to swim there.

The splintered outcome opened the dam to more litigation in the lower courts, and attorneys for the ACLU vowed to defend the rights of all fish to enter and exit any wetland at will.

The ruling also muddies the Clean Water Act and may spur debate on whether or not fish should be permitted to swim in water at all, since their presence may shock people who look into a glass of water before they drink it.

Coming down solidly against the fish, Justice Scalia maintained that fish rights had gone "beyond parody," because they now seemed to cover even "man-made drainage ditches and dry arroyos in the middle of the desert."

Justice Stevens, however, wrote that the wetlands "had surface connections to tributaries of traditionally navigable waters" and so the fish should be able to swim there without undue hindrance.

Justice Souter wondered why Congress would permit fish in rivers but rule them out of waterways and wetlands that feed them, maintaining, "All you've got to do is let a fish swim into a tributary before you can arrest it for trespassing."

But Justice Scalia shot back that such logic would grant fish the right to swim in "a storm drain, because during heavy rains it could be considered navigable." He went on to say, "I suggest it's absurd to call storm drains 'waters of the United States.' They're drainage ditches. When it comes to waters of such magnitude, we should confine the swimming rights of fish to goldfish bowls."

Sun Will Only Burn For 5 Billion More Years; Humans Express Concern

2010-08-18T09:00:00.000-07:00

We are often reminded that the sun will only shine in a way that can support life way out here on the earth for only about another five billion years. Sensing the eventuality of the cataclysm, we’re easily inclined to express our concern, along with our sympathetic distress for those far-off folks who will be standing on the earth when old Father Sol begins to turn down the heat.

It seems to us, however, that we have far more immediate concerns, for example, if we can last, in the event of a surprise nuclear war, maybe another billionth of a second.

Of course, there’s also the everyday proclivity of the human race to end concerns about the longevity of the sun for tens of thousands of fellow star gazers by having conventional wars and various murderous sectarian tumults.

But, since we’re all overly familiar with the inconvenient threats we might enumerate that may significantly compromise our longevity, the last more immediate concern we’ll mention is global warming, which could, within a hundred years or so, move the world’s beach resorts up somewhere near the peak of Mt. Everest.

Now, having dilated plenteously on impending challenges to the continuance of ourselves and our posterity, let’s move on to what seems to us the much more logical challenge that the hot news science has revealed about the sun’s capacity for combustion presents us with. As the hoary advisement goes, we should only live so long.

So let’s ask the question that, as far as we know, has yet to be considered. How might we band of explosive rabble rousers last for another five billion years, rather than self-destructing any time sooner?

Or, given our knowledge of other possible abbreviations of our continuance that might discomfort us – such as the chilling fact that we’re currently enjoying just another relatively balmy interglacial period that may only continue for another 10,000 years or so and that an asteroid or meteor may slam into the earth at some as yet unpredictable moment – how might we continue to frolic on the earth for at least as long as it might provide a hospitable abode for us?

First, of course, we should consider dealing with the biggest tomahawks that are in the air, primarily, the three B’s, by which we don’t mean the names of three eternal classical composers but pollution, population, and pop goes the A-Bomb.

Meanwhile, what invitingly positive items might we busy ourselves with during the next five billion years or so? After all, our unrealistic and yet, we suspect, achievable goal is more than just hanging on for the essentially eternal ride; it’s enjoying the wondrous flight through space and time.

So we suggest that, besides obsessing about the well-barnacled threats that have accreted in our minds and burden our otherwise eager capacity for joyful employment and lassitude, we absolutely insist on reserving ample time to contemplate the invitations to delight, large or small, that our everyday lives might provide during the razor-thin mark on the tape measure of time that represents our individual stays on the still acceptably fulgent earth.

For example, if you have something to do today that you know would be a remarkable or, at least, modestly praiseworthy achievement, we suggest you think about getting it done.

If you love somebody, we recommend you consider how fortunate you are, particularly if you’re relatively confident that the recipient of your invocations to mutual affection also loves you.

And so we go, from our grandest considerations right on down to even the most inconsequential massages of our pleasure principle, say, for example, checkers. If you somehow have time to play the game, we suggest you concentrate on your next deft moves. You’ll have a jolly time and, as you know, you as an individual gamester don’t have anywhere near five billion more years to make your triumphant jumps.

We conclude by saying that, rather than being exclusively concerned about whatever we’re to do when the sun flares out, we might more wisely consider occupying ourselves with the view through the other end of the telescope, that is, with the smaller delights and damnations that make up our daily lives.

Actually, when you consider how remote or beyond our influence most of the enormities we’re supposed to be properly troubled by are, you realize, with enormous relief, that the little things which effervesce in our daily lives are really, as bubbles to the tang of champagne, the biggest things.

In fact, it can be very credibly said that the more we discover just how astronomically big things are, like the incomprehensibly lengthy life expectancy of the sun, the more important the little things become. Imagine, then, the true cosmic significance of a ready smile or, even more deliciously, a tender kiss. After all, even the robustly effusive sun can’t do those things, even given five billion years to make the attempt.

We conclude by advising you to recall, as the welter of negative news that is the daily lot of all of us affronts your conning brow, what your grandmother often advised: count your blessings.

As a final service to those who have been gracious enough to accompany us on our wanderings about eternity and immediacy, we herewith present a list of blessings to count as we attempt to make our stay on the earth consonant with the eons Oh, Solo Mio is likely to shine out in a temperate manner.

They are taken from the daringly innovative piece of popular philosophizing by Charles Blaise, called Life Itself As A Modern Religion. If you enjoy this brief sampler, you might like to know that the entire book is a free read at www.toreasonpublishing.com.

We consider it a surprisingly informed and sanely serious approach to our condition, as we hope to be a winningly informed and sanely funny rendition of it.

TEN BLESSINGS*

1. Bless life. It is Creation’s highest gift and the supreme natural form of matter and energy.

2. Bless Creation. It has given us life, in all its forms and with all its possibilities.

3. Bless our bodies, Creation’s handiwork. They are the temples of our lives and the basic source of all our joy.

4. Bless our brains. They enable consciousness and all of our thoughts, talents, and feelings. They let us experience self-awareness and sensations, make right decisions, contribute achievements, and enjoy life, while they coordinate our physical movements and conduct the multitudinous involuntary processes that sustain our lives.

5. Bless our spirits. They constitute our communicative feelings and thoughts and help us have good relationships with ourselves, others, other animals, plants, our inanimate environment, and all of Creation.

6. Bless our love makers, by which I mean our genitals. They let us enjoy sex life, renewing our union in Creation’s most physical way, helping us relax, and, most vital of all, letting us create new life.

7. Bless the other animals and the plants. They’re our animate partners in Paradise.

8. Bless the land, air, water, and all other things. They’re our inanimate partners.

9. Bless our peacekeepers. They help preserve life and our natural Paradise.

10. Bless our natural Paradise. It’s our basic home in the universe and the planet on which Creation has evolved us.

*© 2006 Charles Blaise. Reprinted with permission.

Stop Needling Me!

2010-08-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's possible to accomplish something important by doing nothing at all. Well, actually, I did do something. I resisted. I think that counts. Here's my story.

Many of my friends have been getting pierced and tattooed for years. It's huge. Every neighborhood has at least one bodypiercing/bodyart place. Seems like they outnumber taverns these days. Naturally, they want me in on it.

"C'mon Mike," they say. "It's fun! It's addictive! What? Are you afraid of needles? The pain feels good! And when it's over, you have something to show for it!"

I find myself looking less and less like my friends because I'm not a human signboard for little animals, death, and calligraphic text. To compound the situation, I don't pick up the light in every room, reflecting off little pieces of metal everywhere. (And I do mean everywhere!) But I have a secret to share. I'll get to that shortly.

While they've been spending their paychecks on this hoopla, I've been quietly satisfied with myself, exactly as I am. I'm not suggesting my friends do it out of insecurity. Some do, obviously, but many got started because their parents told them not to. I'm no momma's boy, but I'd like to know what kind of a reason is that?

People are not packrats. OK, that's not true. I am a packrat. I keep way too much stuff. But that's not really what I mean. I'm talking about the fact that packrats are known to trade an item in their pack for ever-shinier objects. I do it too, but the one that kicks me is how my friends trade fifty dollar bills for yet another shiny piece of metal, or yet another patch of scribbled skin.

Now, before anyone thinks I'm complaining, let me point out that I believe in freedom to choose, and if that makes them happy, I'm not going to stop them. What? Like they'd listen to me? I'm the prude with no tattoo, remember? How would I know what it's like?

From my point of view, I don't need to find out. I don't think it's necessary to be a slave to the idea of trying everything once. Some things I don't feel the need to try.

Lately, some of my friends have found that their obsession is working against them. I'm still single with no kids, but many of my friends are either married or are single parents. And that's where the difficulty comes in.

Some of my friends have kids that are between six and nine years old. About that age, kids start noticing their parents a little more as people. They look at them differently than they did when they were infants. Mostly, because kids grow up incredibly fast today. Much faster than when we were kids, so they notice things quicker too. Lately what they've been noticing is mom and dad's tattoos and piercings.

A woman at work told me just last week that she has no idea how to convince her nine-year-old daughter why she won't take her to the parlor and get her tongue pierced, "just like mommy."

So here's my secret. I have resisted tattoos and piercing because I believe in being a natural person. I think the metal and the ink only serve to detract from the outer beauty of my friends and it does nothing to enhance their inner person. So I see no reason to use my body for someone's canvas.

Friends can be so myopic. They don't want to see their kids all boogered up because they see their kids as beautiful exactly as they are, but they hold themselves to a double standard. They continue to encourage me to get some bodyart and I continue to resist.

Why am I such a holdout? Do I really fear the needle? No, of course not. I'm the one who used to play with clothing pins and sewing needles, pushing them through the tops of my knuckles like a juvenile Freddy Krueger. I also used to do the infamous sewing-needle-shoved-through-the-flexed-arm trick. The difference is, it was just play to me, and I wasn't trying to make a fashion statement.

I simply have a philosophy that says a person needs to stick to their values and not give in to peer pressure. Piercing and tattoos have led my friends to nothing but empty pocketbooks and hard questions from their kids.

Maybe I'll go to work one day with needles through all my fingers like I did in school. That'll show 'em!

Stand Up Comedienne - Gagging For A Joke

2010-08-17T15:00:00.000-07:00

What type of person sees the funny side of a joke or gag told by a stand up comedienne, what type of person doubles over with laughter after the punch line of a joke has been delivered?
What kind of person is more prone to giggle when watching someone play the fool? Well the answer to that is simple? A person one who wants to laugh. Laughter represents happiness.

Celebration parties will always include some form of entertainment - whether it is in the form of a musical band - solo singer or magician etc. But the most popular performer of all invited along to entertain is a stand up comedienne and the reason for that is because they can accommodate their act to suit the mood.

Stand up comics have a mission to accomplish each time they perform their act and that is to make people laugh with their funny jokes - some funny folk amuse party guests in other ways with hilarious foolish antics or silly mime games.

Depending on the event or occasion the comedy performance may be structured around the parties theme e.g. a child`s party may have characters like a clown or if it is an all male wild stag night gathering - then expect the stand up comedienne to deliver the goods in the way of naughty blue jokes. Jokes and gags come clean or dirty - this is your party therefore the choice of entertainment is entirely up to you.

The best thing for you to do if you are to host an event which involves a stand up comedienne - is to do a little research, check out what you feel will go down well with your party guests. An atmosphere where laughter holds a strong presence tells you that the party is definitely a success.

Sometimes it is the host that takes on the role as the funny performer (stand up comedienne) if this is your intention then ask a few close friends for help in rounding up a few party gags - by doing this you have guaranteed laughs because those who shared their jokes with you will always find them funny. Stand up comedienne jokes and gag material can be found online. If you are finding it a struggle to get your act together then why not listen to or watch a video on stand up comediennes to gather tips. Online entertainment sites provide all you need to know on funny folk, so if you are gagging for a good joke then go online.

Another good idea is to practice acting out your stage show in the mirror - this is a great way to make sure you look the part and that part is the star attraction at the event.

Songwriter Confessions #1

2010-08-17T13:00:00.000-07:00

Looking up this week from getting a reggae backing to sound like St Ann rather than St Felicity, I spotted the small dark mist in the usual corner behind the left monitor speaker. I have sometimes believed absolutely that this is my best muse, back from a pizza run to the outer starbelt. Or maybe just the golden ring around Uranus. Anyhoo...It seems to bring inspiration in a dark way: more Keith Richards than Cliff Richard, and I feel the urge to write something that involves leather, whips and a snare drum that sounds like Pavarotti hitting the water from the top board. I dig out my file called Heavy Riffs That AC/DC Lost Under The Driver's Seat. It would help if the word MURDER appeared in the first lyric line: that always gets the bowie knives out. As Sam Goldwyn said: Start with an exploding volcano and build up from there to a climax.

I can't emphasise how important the first two lines of the first verse are, in any song.This is where you the artist set the hook in their miniscule attention spans or not. If you simper your way into a song, as per a style I like to call Captain Cliche, you've probably lost them before the second guitar comes in. Please avoid a first verse that goes like this: ooh I love you, yes it's true, what am I supposed to do, baby I know without you, all my dreams are down the loo...blah blah...

Anybody still awake? The only thing that might just save that song would be a beat strong enough to flip Lazarus out of the grave and over the horizon. I never thought that the years I spent writing ad copy for various ad agencies would be worth so much to me now. The rule in advertising is: when you've written the headline, you've spent 80c of your dollar. It's got to hook them. It's gotta say something different about a subject you've heard a million times. Take the neverending subject of LOVE ( also known as LURV...the NASTY...and BUMPING UGLIES) If I taught songwriting, one of the first projects I would set would have to be: write a song about LOVE, but make it interesting.Make it different. Make the listener say: I never thought of it that way before. Now Paul McCartney, being famous, doesn't have to work as hard as the rest of us. So he calls it: Another Silly Love Song. With a chorus that goes: iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou. Phew, Macca...time to open the window!

Here's how I do it: my song is called: If You Were Icecream... and the first verse is: If you were icecream, I would eat you, with a very small spoon... if you were starlight, I'd go to meet you, halfway to the moon... I think that's a lot more interesting than Paulie's but hey, he's famous, and I've just started kicking at the door. For more examples of how I approach first verses and songs in general, scoot along to my new site or click on the link below.

Must get into town for some new acoustic guitar strings. Haven't changed them for a year, and No..there's no direct link between underwear rotation and guitar strings. And-a one...two...three...

Smoking Gun In Cancer Revealed; It's The Smoking Throat

2010-08-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

OK, smoke fans, the facts are out once again. According to the new and pretty inarguable Cancer Atlas and the updated Tobacco Atlas, which were published by The American Cancer Society, if "Smoky, The Scare" gets his way, tobacco use is projected to kill a billion people in this century. (By the way, wouldn't it be more reassuring if the word “Prevention” was in the Society's name?)

Now, that’s what we call recreational population control. The figure amounts to ten times as many folks as smoking sent choking to the grave in the 20th century.

And ready for this? Tobacco use causes one in five cancer deaths, or a total of 1.4 million graveward bound souls a year.

Now, here’s the good and much underappreciated news: Dr. Judity Mackay, a senior policy adviser of the World Health Organization, tells us, "We know with cancer, if we take action now, we can save 2 million lives a year by 2020 and 6.5 million by 2040."

So here’s our bit to stop cancer in its tracks. And we’re not going to pull any punches, because, if you still smoke, you obviously haven’t listened to anybody yet, and we care about you too much not to give you our best shot.

Here goes all the ways we know to annoy our friends who smoke with advice that is invariably resented but not always dismissed. In fact, we actually have two friends who stopped smoking after we had at them.

So let's light up with logic:

1. If you can’t quit smoking, pursue your fetish when you're not around us.

2. We don’t date people who smoke, because we don’t want to die in their arms. It’s not death we’re afraid of; it’s their breath and the way their clothes smell. We find both spiritually wilting, not to mention sexually.

3. Everybody loves you, but somebody you know is following you, everywhere you go, and this person wants to kill you, and do you know who this person is? The person in you who wants to smoke. The person in you who doesn’t want you to smoke, while weaker right now, can be made strong enough to toss the sneak thief of your life out for good.

4. Do you know what people think every time you light up? Wow, what a dummy. Provoking this response is particularly incriminating if you think you’re a genius.

5. Don’t tell me you’re so desperate for pleasure that just for the little buzz you can get from dragging all those carcinogens into your fragile body you’re ready to die? How much do you like Lorillard and the other ciggy makers? So much you need to die for them?

6. Do you know that smoking is like rat poison? You ingest a little every day. You think you’re fine. But actually your entire body is being poisoned. That’s why you look yellow and your skin wrinkles prematurely. Actually, if you could do an autopsy on yourself while you’re still alive, you’d find that all the organs in your body are shriveled up from the poisons. For instance, pathologists tell us that your organs, instead of being smooth and healthy, look more like prunes. But you keep dragging the junk in, because you think you’re fine. Well, you’re not. You’re deadly ill. And then one day it happens. You go from being ill to being landfill.

7. Last, do you know that all the blood in your body races through your lungs every minute? That’s right. It all keeps racing there to give off carbon dioxide and grab fresh oxygen. Then it races to the far corners of your body with the breath of life. Unfortunately, it also drags the carcinogens along for the ride. That’s why, for instance, women who smoke often get breast cancer; breasts are very vascular and so they’re a frequent drop-off point for the poison.

Worst of all, if you die, you can’t read NewsLaugh anymore. Talk about sad. So stop it already.

Sit Back And Remember

2010-08-17T09:00:00.000-07:00

Why is it, that any holiday, time off, or event, someone is sick? Do they plan it that way? I was sitting today, pondering, reminissing, and it came to my attention that every function I have ever attended had at least one of my family members sitting with the sniffles.

I was 7 years old. It was christmas time, and I was sick with my appendix. That was a good one. Is it coincidence? Or is there some greater evil out there that enjoys watching suffering in times of joy. We should find him, and tell him we are NOT impressed.

Timing is everything. There is a point, in every persons life, where everything seems to go wrong, and all you can do is sit there and watch it happen. But maybe it's a good thing. In fact, if nothing goes wrong, we won't know what's right. Perhaps what we need to do is change those tears of helplessness into tears of joy. That would be weird. "I love it when i get scarlet fever" Woops.

Here is a good one. This time, evil chose to be more mean than ever. I will tell you the holiday AFTER I tell you what happened. I had the chicken pox, my youngest sister had the chicken pox, my other sister had scarlet fever, and my parents were sharing the flu. Get this.... Thanksgiving. Thats right. Usually at thanksgiving time we go around the table, taking turns saying thanks for whatever you are thankful for. What a task. I was thankful for oatmeal baths!

It's funny how we are tested in such ironic ways. The outcome of our battles with nature shows what kind of person we can become, but what happens during the battle defines what kind of person we really are.

Sex Change Procedure Creates New Species, Neither All Male Nor All Female

2010-08-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

Due to a revolutionary procedure, an entirely new species of human is now afoot on the earth – neither all male nor all female. And people who have undergone the procedure seem delighted.

A mostly female member of the species confided, “When you become a new species, it changes your whole outlook. I’m no longer really flamingly female or, for that matter, flamingly male. It makes me really happy. ”

“I’m an early adapter,” a mostly male person who had undergone the procedure told us. “As a result, I often feel ahead of my time, but, wow, when I come across another person who has gone through it, we really hit it off.”

Another primarily female incarnation of the remarkable development confided, “When you become a third species, it changes your whole outlook. I’m no longer really agressively female and certainly not rabidly male.”

What exactly is this revolutionary procedure?

We spoke with Dr. Emil Changemaker, the founder of the technique, and asked, “We understand you’ve created a new species of human being. Can you please elaborate?”

“Happy to oblige. First, this sex change operation requires no surgery.”

“It doesn’t?” we asked, surprised.

“No, the change occurs, not between the legs, but between the ears.”

“Oh, between the ears?”

“Exactly,” he confirmed.

“Please, go on.”

“Well, you see, until now, we had human types that are pretty much all male and all female. Of course, there have been a few exceptions, but not enough for most people to notice.”

“And now?” we inquired.

“Oh, thanks to the technique, there are quite a few more.”

“I see. As the world’s leading expert on the subject, how did you manage to create a new species?”

“Me? I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“You didn’t?” we asked, a bit taken back. “Excuse me, if you didn’t have anything to do with it, why are you the founder of the technique? You see, we never heard of a founder who didn’t have anything to do with what he founded.”

“Oh, I founded it just because I saw it happening and I brought it to people’s attention, first to my family, then to some friends. Next, I wrote an article. Then a book. Now, I’m working on a video.”

“Well, it sounds as if you’re doing the usual things a founder does. What did you see happening?”

“Well, I saw this third species evolving.”

“The one that’s neither 100% male or 100% female?”

“Exactamundo!” he exclaimed.

“Why is it evolving?”

“Primarily, because it’s time, actually way past time, I think, for the new species to make its appearance.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, when you just had the overly male types or the overly female types, you had one side being really macho and the other side tipping toward being ultra feminist. So they had a hard time inhabiting the earth together, let alone the same bedroom. And happily married? Tough hoe to row, I mean, a tough row to hoe. I’ve been through it and just the thought discombobulates me.”

“What about the new species?”

“The most welcome development you can imagine.”

“Why is that?” we asked.

“Because when this species evolves, you no longer have the snarling pro macho type or the rabid feminist type.”

“What do you have?”

“Well, basically, you have a person.”

“A person? That’s the third type?”

“Please, don’t underestimate what I’m saying. This is a real big deal, the most welcome development you can imagine.”

“What is so special about this new species of person?” we wanted to know, determined to corner him.

“Well, it’s a person who advocates people’s rights.”

“People’s rights?”

“Right! It’s an evolution that leaves the purebred brute or feminist back at the orifice of the allegorical cave. You don’t advocate the superiority of men or the superiority of women. You don’t even advocate equal rights for either.”

“Not even equal rights?”

“Certainly not, because the very act of advocating equal rights assumes there’s an inequality. It’s a self-propagating prejudice. Nobody advocates equality when it exists, do they?”

“Well, that’s interesting. So when you advocate people’s rights, there’s no inherent or implied prejudice?”

“Correct! I’m talking about a species that’s comfortable just being human – not as an overheated new advocacy but just as an easygoing assumption. Of course, the species is still very much aware that there are two halves of the human race.”

“That hasn’t changed?”

“No, just the way they think of each other – in the whole rigmarole together, peaceful partners, except for a little of the inevitable pot throwing that even equals can’t always avoid, especially men and women. It solves a lot of problems, in the outside world and in the home, downstairs and upstairs.”

“Hmm, I imagine it would. What do you think the future holds for this new species?”

“Well, it’s like all evolutionary developments. You never know if the new excrescence of the gene pool will flourish, or perish because of the pressures exerted by the more established species. My hope is that it will enlarge its presence and, perhaps over time, entirely replace the previous incarnations.”

“Wow, when this interview began, I never would’ve suspected.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I’m actually a member of the new species.”

“You are?”

“Well, at least, I like to think so. And I bet a lot of people who are fans of NewsLaugh didn't realize they’re part of a new species until they read this interview.”

“How long have you been a member?” he asked.

“Oh, I went beyond advocating one side or the other a long time ago. I think of myself as just a happy-go-lucky, ducky and whatever person.”

“Good for you,” he said, and took out a notepad.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m the one who’s supposed to take notes.”

“Just adding you to my list of humans who have evolved to my favorite species. I like to keep track. The trend is my friend – and yours!”

Sentencia Interruptus: The Texas Pause

2010-08-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

I've actually never heard anyone talk about this, so it's up to me to break the news to the world about this phenomenon. It can be a monumental problem, if you don't know about it, understand it, and adhere to its rule. "It" is, and I believe I've aptly named it, Sentencia Interruptus, or commonly known (or soon will be) as the Texas Pause. Problems can arise in communications between husbands and wives, employers and their employees, teachers and students, and others, if one of the parties is unaware of this regional dialectic/linguistic idiosyncracy.

You've heard of never being able to get a word in edge-wise? This is similar, except untold paragraphs and unexpressed thoughts are now floating out in the universe, never to be heard from again- all because of the Texas Pause. How does this happen? Typically native Texans possess a speech pattern in which they will express a thought, pause for 3 or 4 seconds (sometimes longer) mentally preparing their concluding thought (we like to plan our conclusions for maximum effect.) Unfortunately, the other person in the conversation will jump in and start talking before the first person is finished. I know you'd never be guilty of thinking ahead about what you're going to say, instead of listening, but that's not the only problematic thing about this.

There are thousands of frustrated Texans who had profound things with which to conclude, who never had the chance, because someone else barged in, unaware of the Texas Pause. Can you imagine what brilliant ideas we, as a society, have probably lost as a result of this travesty of dialect? How many spouses have resorted to saying, "You never listen to me"? How many employers miss the "...and their new branch wants to order 100,000 more widgets than last month"? How many teachers pivot and point to another student while the first student to answer still had words stuck between the mind and tongue, choking on the fact that the incongruency of an incomplete thought has made them look really stupid? How many Texans have skipped dessert in a restaurant because the waiter or waitress shifted their gaze to the next patron for their order? I ask you, is this fair?

Because of the world's ignorance of the Texas Pause, we are losing valuable thoughts, educational opportunities, industrial productivity, and cherry cobblers by the millions. Please put a stop to this madness. Tell everyone you know about the Texas Pause........................................ and let's make this world a sweeter and more complete place in which to live. Pause and say "No!" to Sentencia Interruptus. Countless thoughts could be saved if you will only listen.

In October of 2005, then Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers, on national television, admitted to having the Texas Pause.

In an interview with Fox News, Miers said, "I pause, before I speak." Sentencia Interruptus reared it's head, once again, as she appeared to correct the interviewer. Telling someone you pause before you speak is a learned assertiveness among those with the Texas Pause. Many others may, now, come forward to admit they have this, which will foster understanding throughout the world, where there has been none, yet. That might be a good thing, considering the international ramifications of any misunderstanding, especially when there's a Texan in the White House.

© 2005 Dianne James

Senior Ticketed For Walking Too Slow; Others Try Rollerskates

2010-08-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

An 82-year-old woman was recently issued a ticket in California for crossing a street too slowly. A police officer, who arrived on a motorcycle, told her she was obstructing traffic – and issued her a summons for $114.

Responding to the uproar caused by the curious traffic ticket, the municipality has begun to wonder if it should work out ways to help seniors cross streets without fear of incurring a penalty.

It is, of course, much too optimistic to hope that the municipality and the nation at large will speed to their rescue with such startling innovations as walk signs that last longer.

As a result, seniors, alarmed by the pricy citation, particularly those who are living on social security, are taking steps of their own, as they frantically search for ways to hurry along. Of course, electric wheelchairs have long been an option. But many simply don’t see themselves in the undeniably helpful items, at least, not until they encounter accidents due to the other resources they’ve been turning to, for instance, roller skates.

We also understand that bicycles have been selling briskly, particularly near retirement communities.

Of course, those who are fortunate enough to live with more able partners have the luxury of looking into other options, such as little red wagons and, in rural areas, wheelbarrows.

In a nutshell, seniors are turning to every possible mode of expedition they can think of, which generally means they’re equipped with the age-old facilitation of wheels.

While these alternative modes of transportation might offer suitable answers during balmier times, there is some concern about what to do when snow and ice cover the ground. Among the more daring sorts, there is talk of skis, while others are considering ice skates.

Until then, we can at least be glad that the dear recipient of the instigating ticket was not also issued points. Enough of those, and she’d have to be concerned about losing her walking license.

Senior Ticked For Walking Too Slow; Others Try Roller Skates

2010-08-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

Senate Takes Up Debate On Regular Marriage

2010-08-12T07:00:00.001-07:00

The Senate, fresh from its rancorous but indecisive debate on a constitutional amendment that would have banned same-sex marriage, has now taken up debate on an amendment that would ban regular marriage.

A leading Republican senator stated, “When you consider how high the divorce rate is, you know there are a lot of unhappy marriages out there between men and women. I’m not sure continuing to allow them is in the national interest.”

The Democratic whip said, “In addition to the divorce rate, you’ve got to look at how many parents are disappointed in the amount of gratitude their children show and how many children don’t think their parents love them enough. Since parents usually want more gratitude than their children can give, and children often demand more love than most parents can give, it seems there’s an inherent problem with a marriage that can produce children.”

President Bush took an unwavering position, saying, “The kind of marriage we allow in America has to set a good example for the children of this great nation, and, frankly, I don’t think a lot of marriages out there are hitting that high marker. So I urge the Congress to pass the amendment. No more regular marriages, no more bad examples for our children – it’s as simple as that. And the result is guaranteed, because, in all likelihood, there won’t be anymore children.”

Saddam Hussein Seeks Mcdonald's Francise

2010-08-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Saddam Hussein, in his latest bid to escape execution for crimes against his own people, has applied to McDonald’s for a franchise. The application is widely regarded as a move by his defense team to convince the court that, if his life is spared, he will be a model citizen in the Iraq of the future.

In his application, Hussein states that he has a great deal of fast-food experience from his months on the run. He also states that, if granted the franchise, he will cease and desist from pathological social behavior that brings into question his qualifications to be a reputable franchisee. He has applied for a location in Bagdad that affords a view of one of his former palaces, so he might find peace in reminiscence as conducts his burger business.

Upon approval by McDonald’s, the agreement will be submitted to the court. At that time, the defense is expected to claim that he should be acquitted on the grounds that there is no precedent whatsoever for hanging a McDonald’s franchisee.

Depending on the outcome of Hussein’s plea, his codefendants may or may not apply to McDonald’s. There is some disagreement among them, as to whether or not their should try to corner the McDonald’s market or have the courage to compete with their former boss by opening rival chains, such as Burger King and Wendy’s. One defendant is reportedly considering an Appleby’s franchise, apparently because of a misunderstanding. He wishes one day to be accepted as “American as apple pie” and is unaware that the chain is, in reality, just another burger joint.

Ramsey Clark states, “The move by Hussein to become a McDonald’s franchisee clearly indicates that he intends to reform himself and should be given opportunity.”

While many Sunnis seem eager to patronize the former dictator’s restaurant, Shiites and Kurds are threatening to boycott it.

The American military has voiced concern about possible reprisals, particularly the threat of suicide bombers disguised as drive-through patrons.

Rush Limbaugh Humor: 2 Adult Beverage Recipes Any Dittohead Will Love

2010-08-11T15:00:00.000-07:00

During the course of his celebrated career, Rush Limbaugh invented the term "adult beverages" to refer to alcoholic drinks so as not to offend mothers with young children listening to the show. But no insight was given on where to find the best dittohead adult beverages. That's why I created The Dittohead's Guide to Adult Beverages, a political humor book fans of the show will love.

Just try out these great recipes:

ENVIRONMENTALIST WACKO WHISKEY

Glass: Your Own Cupped Hands

Ingredients:

1 Part Triple Sec (as long as it wasn’t made in a wicked corporate factory)
2 Parts Whiskey (homemade by Sierra Club members in an earth-friendly distillery)
1 Part Grain Alcohol (flammable liquid used by the Earth Liberation Front to burn SUVs)
1 Frozen Pond (the result of any number of man-made environmental catastrophes)
1 Dolphin (the pinnacle of creation, according to environmentalist wackos)

Instructions: First, cut several ice cubes from the surface of a frozen pond (these should be abundant due to the smog effect blocking the sun's rays in preparation for the coming ice age). Avoid using a freezer to produce your ice cubes, because freezers are a capitalist-concocted first cousin of man's worst enemy – the air conditioner. Next, combine ingredients (along with your pond cubes) in your own cupped hands. Don't you dare use a glass instead of your hands, because the process of making glass destroys Mother Earth.

Origin: This adult beverage is named in honor of environmentalist wackos, a fringe movement (not to be confused with serious and responsible ecology-minded people) that believes mankind is the greatest threat to nature, seeks to destroy private property, and longs to establish a socialist regime to impose their nuttiness on the rest of us.

Special Note: For years environmentalist wackos have told us that dolphins are superior to humans – despite the absence of dolphin highways, libraries, or institutions of higher learning. But for all their supposed brilliance, I challenge any environmentalist wacko to find a dolphin that can make an adult beverage as good as this one!

EL RUSHBO

Glass: A Highball Glass Emblazoned with the EIB Network Logo

Ingredients:

1 Part Rum (shares the first two letters of its name with Rush!)
2 Parts Blue Gatorade (consumed while playing a round of golf in honor of Rush)
2 Parts Sprite (in recognition of capitalist lemon-lime soda companies)
1 Prestigious Attila the Hun Chair (symbolic of complete radio industry dominance)
Talent on Loan From God (why liberals don’t stand a chance against El Rushbo)

Instructions: Utilizing talent on loan from God (assuming that, unlike most liberals, you acknowledge the existence of God), combine ingredients in a highball glass emblazoned with the EIB logo and top off with whipped cream (but please use the whipped cream in this adult beverage recipe the way Rush would use it and not in the manner in which Bill Clinton would use it). Enjoy from the comfortable confines of your own Attila the Hun chair, the undisputed seat of talk-radio industry power.

Origin: This dittohead adult beverage is affectionately named in honor of Rush Limbaugh – lover of mankind, protector of motherhood, supporter of fatherhood (in most instances), general all-around good guy, and a man designated by the US Department of Education as a bona fide “weapon of mass instruction.”

Special Note: This adult beverage is documented to almost always taste great, 96.712 percent of the time, just as El Rushbo is documented to be almost always right, 97.963 percent of the time!

Rural Relocation – Considerations and Adjustments

2010-08-11T13:00:00.000-07:00

So you’re thinking about going country? It’s time to abandon the frenzy of city life, drop the ‘G’ from the end of your verbs and trade your Gucci for goats. You long to be in a place where business is done on a handshake, where your backyard is bountiful and where folks welcome you with warm apple pie and a smile. You want the simple life.

Over 1.6 million people moved to rural communities during the first five years of this decade. Several stayed. This migration continues – reinforced by dozens of national and regional periodicals presenting sanitized ‘country chic’ to millions of armchair rednecks. Having read a myriad of books and magazines about goin’ county, you are convinced it is for you. Why not?

Editorials immerse you with prose of serenity found. You are infatuated by the ideal of carvin’ your own nitch in the wilderness, collectin’ the morning eggs and whittlin’ on the porch swing each evening. Throughout the country, gentlemen greet women with the tip of a hat and a polite, “Howdy Mam.” You long to raise your children in a community where graciousness abounds while folks commune with nature in perfect harmony. With each flip of the page of County Cool Magazine you feel your stress level dip.

Before you lapse completely into a coma, bear a few things in mind. Full-page glossies of family reunions held beneath towering, shabby-chic barns make for better magazine copy than centerfolds of locals trying to avoid making eye contact with your U-Haul. Stylized black and whites of cowboys branding in the parched mid-day sun sell better than snapshots of the Mayor’s dead horses being left to rot all summer long, directly in the center of town. Furthermore, triumphant tales of battling the elements flow better than ancient country septic lines. No one knows why the media doesn’t ‘glam-up’ peeing in your barn. It must just be a fickle public.

Fickle indeed. I for one moved my son from our life long home in San Diego to my birth state of South Dakota three times before it stuck. Each time I recoiled in under a year. Best friends, scores of humanities, the Pacific surf and Thai food are a lot to give up at one time. Harder still was the shattering of my rose colored glasses.

The secret to a successful relocation is knowing what to honestly expect so you can laugh cathartically when the inevitable bizarre scenarios emerge. Sudden disillusionment is rarely a knee-slapper. Nonetheless, once adjusted, country life is closer to Nirvana than most get here on Earth. Thus, while everyone else pumps pure country sunshine straight up your knickers, I consider it my obligation to provide balance to the Universe.

Almost daily I question my reasons for living in the hinterland. For these moments of apprehension, I maintain lists in my mind. My lists remind me both what drove me out of California and why I cannot abandon country life. A hardy dose of big city burn out definitely came into play. For starters, I realized I was so sick of commuting I‘d rather endure seven months per year in an icebox with no sunlight than sit in another traffic jam. With that thought alone I was ready to pull up my roots. I also decided to move.

In fact, developing a loathing of the Urban Jungle was vital to my eventual ‘success’ in relocating. In retrospect, my twig was definitely about to snap. Of course, so many city folk run around with fully bent twigs, we never realize the contorted conditions of our existence. That many people living in close proximity, under the confines of excessive regulations, is the proverbial pressure cooker.

Urbanites and recent country converts wondering if your view on life may be intensely contorted are welcome refer to my lists. They provide perspective. For example: Signs of how ‘screwed-up’ you may be would include the following.

You’re having your morning coffee, a cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You freak out, hit 911 and sue the Meat Packers of America.

You believe shoes matching your nail polish is in any way a daily priority.

You don’t recognize that it is morally bankrupt to apply for a permit from a homeowners association to put out a lawn ornament.

You carry more electronic gadgets on your person than Radio Shack inventories.

You drive to work past ‘that same old group of homeless people.’

You smile and say, “Hi,” to strangers only because you know it screws with their minds.

Your horse board expenses equal the Gross National Product of Guatemala

You’re convinced you are invisible and need two years of plastic surgery just so city gentlemen won’t let the C-Store door spring back in your face.

You pitch a fit when your favorite salad bar serves cheese made with non-vegetarian rennet, then drive the kids to Burgers Burgers Burgers.

Your children spend more time in the TV den than in treetops and you think that’s acceptable.

You get a building permit and three estimates to hang a painting.

Any chimes ringing? If so, remove yourself form Urbania immediately! Your twig is at maximum contortion! Give the country three years and you will stay. Transition is difficult, but once your up-tight attitude is vanquished, your twig unbends. These are the indicators you are settling in to the ‘Simple Life.’

You’re having your morning coffee. A cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You sit down and drink your coffee.

Shoes’ matching each other is low on the list of daily priorities.

Your outhouse is not just a chic lawn ornament.

You save getting the chickens drunk for when you have houseguests.

You have no idea where your cell phone went, but the Border Collie is wearing your pager.

You drive to work past ‘that same old herd of buffalo’.

Your bird feeder expenses are equivalent to the Gross National Product of Canada.

Elk mounts ordain the walls of your favorite salad bar.

Your children spend more time in the their tree house than in school.

Yes, these are definitely telltale signs, you have lost that city pace. Although you can never voluntarily raise your stress level back to match city slickers, you have not lost yourself completely. Search the little places. Vestiges of your past will appear. These are the traits of an American Hybrid.
While having your morning cappuccino, a cow walks through the front yard. You don’t own a cow. You toss it a biscotti.

You can’t decide whether to paint the walls of the outhouse in a contemporary or impressionistic motif.

You use the word motif in the same sentence with outhouse.

You actually make homemade preserves – wild chokecherries with a boisterous zinfandel you picked up in Napa last season.

Mascara before milking.

You winter in the gulf of Siam. You summer in bib overalls.

You smile and say, “Hi,” to strangers only because you know it screws with their minds.

You could never shoot a deer, but you can dress that sucker out in under two hours.

You fence in a sarong and thongs. (This one gets the neighbors talking.)

You frequently run to town for Hawaiian Tofu and Goat Chow.

You have a different pair of hiking boots for every occasion.

Egyptian cotton sheets and a commissioned replica of Picasso’s Woman with Three Breasts enclose the baby chickens being reared in your bedroom closet.

It’s true, every day more and more of us are getting too screwed up to ever return to the city. Still, for all our differences country folk and city slickers posses one commonality. Neither group thinks twice about the US Government’s Food Pyramid. I guess we have to start somewhere.

Rumsfeld Appoints Self Retired General; Rushes To Own Defense

2010-08-11T11:00:00.000-07:00

Donald Rumsfeld, under fire from a platoon of retired generals who have called for his resignation, went on the offensive by appointing himself a retired general.

Accompanied by a currently employed general, who, as the head of The Joint Chiefs Of Staff, is his usual sidekick, he stated, “As The Secretary of Defense, I think I should at least be on an equal footing with a retired general, and, after careful consideration, I decided to become one.”

A reporter then asked, “As a retired general, what is your opinion on Donald Rumsfeld?”

“I think he’s doing an outstanding job,” Rumsfeld replied. “In fact, I think, while I’ve said no one is indispensable, there’s always an exception to the rule.”

“How about his handling of the war in Iraq?” another reporter queried.

“What war in Iraq?” Rumsfeld countered. “The war in Iraq was over the day we pulled down Saddam Hussein’s statue. What’s going on now is the post-war recovery.”

“There are some who say you underestimated the resources that would be required in the post-war period. Can you comment on that?”

“As a retired general, the post-war scenario is not my specialty. On the other hand, as The Secretary of Defense, I can say that, while I used all of my absolutely first-rate foresight, I am not clairvoyant. Therefore, I could not know beforehand how many Sunnis, who had it better under Saddam’s tyranny, would rather destroy their own country than live in peace with the Shiite majority. Since I couldn’t know that the two warring Muslim factions would destabilize their own country, I could not possibly anticipate how much stabilization we’d have to try to establish. Nor could I anticipate how many members of al-Qaeda would come rushing in and try to turn the self-destabilized country into the next frontier of their suicidal goal of establishing a pan-Arab medievalist Islamic tyranny.”

“Would you change anything in hindsight?” another reporter asked.

“Of course, I would. Like everybody else, I do have clairvoyant hindsight. First, I would have made myself a retired general a long time ago, so I could have been the first one to stand up for myself, instead of taking all the potshots I’ve had to before I realized how to deflect them. Second, during the invasion, I would have dropped a ton of leaflets on Iraq that predisposed the population to peace.”

“What kind of leaflets?” a reporter asked.

“Ones we would have, at that early date, been able to translate into their language with an Iraqi-English dictionary: Shiite + Sunni = Nice Peaceful Country. Shiite – Sunni = Lots of Dead People.”

“Do you think those leaflets would have made a difference?” a reporter asked.

“Of course. While no leaflet is indispensable, it would have helped these warring factions realize if you can’t live in peace with each other, you can’t do anything together except kill each other.”

The final question came from a reporter, who asked, “Do you plan to retire?”

“You missed the point,” Secretary Rumsfeld replied. “I already retired. How do you think I became I retired general.”

“I mean, do you intend to retire as Secretary of State?”

“I think one retirement every decade or so is plenty, don’t you?”

Robots Getting Smarter; Plan To Enter Politics

2010-08-11T09:00:00.000-07:00

Robotic IQ is apparently on the up tick.

Now, we read, the accomplished mechanical wonders can drive, as long there’s not too much to steer around, be watchful lifeguards, and mimic human behavior in video games. And how far a leap is it from video games to political shenanigans?

So any number of the brainy bots have been discussing how they might enter what is, legendarily, one of the world’s least demanding occupations in terms of intellect: politics.

One robot revealed his political ambitions, saying, “I’ve been listening to Senators and Members of the House of Representatives, and I seem to have way more information than a lot of them in my database.”

And a particularly ambitious bot noted, “I haven’t heard President Bush say a thing that’s beyond my current chipset, except one word my dictionary doesn’t recognize. He’s convinced me that I could conduct the Presidency almost as a no brainer.”

In a recent survey, Americans were asked, “What do you think would do a better job of running the country, elected officials of the caliber we currently have or highly intelligent robots?”

A substantial majority exclaimed, “Bring on the bots.”

A second question was, “You realize that their intelligence is artificial?”

The usual response was that most people preferred it to what they perceive as the widespread absence of intelligence among the current rafter of politicos.

Robin's Rainbow

2010-08-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

When my daughter was very young, one night she was saying her prayers. She paused and asked me, "Mom, if I pray for a rainbow, will God make one?" Well, what could I say? Anyone who can part the Red Sea, can make a rainbow for a six-year-old. I hem-hawed around for a few seconds, and then told her that, yes, if she believed... Then I thought, "What have I done? What if there's no rainbow tomorrow? What if there are no clouds? And if there are, what if it doesn't rain? I've hurt the faith of this little one!"

The next day, there was not a cloud in the sky. Of course. Great. Now Mom's a liar. It was Memorial Day, so we went to the cemetery to pay our respects. We were walking around, and I had hoped she had forgotten about the rainbow prayer. Apparently she had, but I had not. The scriptures say that if you believe, basically God gives you what you pray for, if you ask in Jesus' (Yeshua's) name. I was having some worrisome thoughts as we walked through that cemetery. Then we came upon a section which was being watered with sprinklers. Lo and behold, there was Robin's rainbow, just as plain as day. It was almost as if God was saying, "See? Oh you of little faith. I can make it happen, even when it seems impossible." I wish the story ended there, but it doesn't. I saw it, but I didn't see it for what it was, until later. I didn't recognize it, to show her that God had answered her prayer.
Her little simple prayer was a huge lesson for me. He answered her prayer, as it turns out, for me. How many times have I missed the blessing? Now I look for answered prayers in whatever form they might take.

I guessed I would forgive her for the oatmeal dumped between the wall and the refrigerator. And telling the neighbor she had a "mold" on her face. And, saying, "huh, uh... no Mom, this is what you said," when I was trying to be a little too polite in conversation. And wallpapering the hall with stick-on feminine napkins... Sigh... I miss those days.

© 2005 Dianne James

Relaxed And Happy American Located; Agrees To Brief Interview

2010-08-10T15:00:00.000-07:00

Despite the troubling news that assails us each day and seems bent on convincing us we should all be the tense and unhappy recipients of the worldwide outrages it forwards, we remained confident that maybe somewhere there is still at least one American who is relaxed and happy.

Intent on locating the indomitable soul, should there still be one, we spread out across the nation and, just as we were ready to drop our shoulders and sigh with hopelessness, we saw a man walking down the street of a small resort town in the Northeast, singing to himself the song Louis Armstrong made eternally popular with his scratchy but heartfelt voice, “What A Wonderful World.”

Suspecting we might, at long last, have our man, we introduced ourselves and asked if he’d consent to an interview.

“Sure,” he replied, “but only a short one. So I can stay relaxed and happy.”

For whatever it may do to help you achieve your own peace and bliss, the interview follows. He reveals, among other things, that he concentrates, in a surprising way, on subjects that appear in the dictionary under the letter "F."

NewsLaugh: Just for the record, we understand you’re an American who’s actually relaxed and happy?

Relaxed, Happy American: Yes, I am. In fact, I’m so relaxed I can’t remember when I had a tension headache. So darn happy I smile all the time, so often, in fact, sometimes I feel like an idiot. Of course, I’m not.

NewsLaugh: You’re sure of that?

Relaxed, Happy American: Sure, I’m sure. I’m just happy to be alive – privileged, in fact, to be part of the great unfolding of life on the earth and in the universe. Seems like a big thing to be part of, if you ask me, especially since I began as a tiny sperm, swimming for its life, and an egg, wondering if and when that spirited competitor might arrive.

NewsLaugh: Interesting perspective. May I ask how, in this tense and troubled world, you’ve managed to remain relaxed and happy?

Relaxed, Happy American: Well, the first thing you need is what the French call distance.

NewsLaugh: Does that mean you just don’t pay much attention to what’s going on in the world?

Relaxed, Happy American: Heck, no! I allow a certain space for it, just so I know what’s happening, sort of like putting my hand on a coffee pot just long enough to feel the temperature, but not so long I get a blister.

NewsLaugh: Can you explain how you manage to preserve such perspective?

Relaxed, Happy American: Lots of perspective. For instance, if my body represented my life, I allocate for daily events something about the size of my index finger.

NewsLaugh: Your index finger? Well, then, how about the rest of you?

Relaxed, Happy American: Oh, that’s the wholeness of my life, start to finish, I figure, maybe eighty some years – big space, especially compared to the idea of living for the moment, which, to me, is the perfect prescription for becoming way too frazzled.

Newslaugh: What about the idea that only the present moment exists?

Relaxed, Happy American: Oh, come on, that’s like looking at your lawn and saying the only blade of grass is the one that’s currently tickling your toe.

Newslaugh: Fair enough. So how does that apply to your everyday life?

Relaxed, Happy American: Easy. I never let anything in the outside world or, for that matter, in my personal life, get bigger than the wholeness, of which every event or aspect is, logically, only a part. In fact, I never subordinate my whole life to anything, even when somebody I love is behaving incomprehensibly. Otherwise, I would be doing an injustice to it. Comprende?

NewsLaugh: Si, Senor!

Relaxed, Happy American: Muchas Gracias.

NewsLaugh: I notice you spoke a little Spanish there?

Relaxed, Happy American: So did you.

NewsLaugh: Very little. But you don’t look Hispanic?

Relaxed, Happy American: No, I don’t, and for a good reason. I’m not. But my building is staffed with people whose first language is Espanol. So I speak a little of it to get preferential treatment. For instance, my air conditioner is already ready for summer. How about you?

Newslaugh: It’s how I ingratiate myself at Mexican restaurants. But back to the taco we were talking about. Certainly, there are other things that contribute to your relaxed and happy attitude?

Relaxed, Happy American: Yes, there are. I actually feel I owe it to my life to do the best I can with my mind, my feelings, and my body – if the three can be separated – and I get so many emotional rewards from what that inspires me to do, they make me happy.

NewsLaugh: Sounds like a nice pastime. Do you ever think it may be a little self-centered?

Relaxed, Happy American: Oh, come on. There’s a difference between selfishness and enlightened self-realization, because the second one includes consideration for other people, that is, if you’d like to have any of them in your life, especially dates.

NewLaugh: OK, enough about daily events. Mind if we talk a little about the big things that can bum people out, like intimations of mortality?

Relaxed, Happy American: No problem! Hardly give it a thought. Just figure if I take good care of life, whatever made it will take good care of me, that is, if it takes care of anybody beyond just providing the stage, the actors, and the food.

NewsLaugh: Fair enough. Would you like to add anything else?

Relaxed, Happy American: Oh, one more thing. When you’re down and out, you have to concentrate on the letter “F.”

NewsLaugh: The letter “F”? Why so?

Relaxed, Happy American: If you analyze the alphabet, you find a surprising concentration of things there that make people relaxed and happy.

NewsLaugh: Such as?

Relaxed, Happy American: Oh, food, family, friends, words like fabulous and fantastic.

NewsLaugh: And?

Relaxed, Happy American: Well, fine wine, fiction, philosophy, spelled, for consistency, with an “f.”

NewsLaugh: And?

Relaxed, Happy American: Short interviews.

Razor Burned

2010-08-10T13:00:00.000-07:00

It should have been a simple task. Just go to the drugstore and buy a razor. Not even one of those highly complex computerized electric razors you need an advanced degree in electrical engineering to operate, just a plain old manual model with which I could joyfully hack away at my face. It was not to be.

Now, I’m a simple guy. I try to abide by the aptly named ‘Occam’s razor’ principle of science, which basically says that the simpler things are, the better. Now I find myself wondering just how many blades Occam’s razor had.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the evolution of manual razors seems to be roughly following the same path as home stereo equipment. In the fifties, you had a razor with just one blade, just as you had a transistor radio with that one tinny-sounding speaker. Then came the invention of stereo, and the two bladed razor was born. Two speakers and a subwoofer, three blades. Quadrophonic sound, four blades. Now we are up to Dolby 5.1 surround sound and a razor with an incredible five blades on one side and one on the other. That’s right, there are now so many blades on your razor that they can’t even fit them all on the same side.

Where will it end? Is there a theoretical limit on the number of blades one razor can support? I, for one, believe that we are very close to the blade event horizon. Critical mass has almost been reached. It used to be that I would occasionally give myself a slight nick while shaving. One false move now and I’ll be getting tips from Michael Jackson on which nose to buy.

Perhaps the razor companies just don’t understand the concept. Maybe someone needs to tell them that we are just trying to take the hair off of our faces, not make julienne potatoes for a society luncheon while we shower. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes out with a razor that has one blade for every hair follicle on your face, so you can shave with just one stroke and then spend the rest of the morning trying to find your lips.

No more, I say. It’s time to release myself from the tyranny of blades. This morning I gave myself a clean , comfortable shave without using any blades at all.

Now I just need a new string for my weed whacker.

Radical Muslims Run Afoul Of Kant’s Categorical Imperative

2010-08-10T11:00:00.000-07:00

As if the Muslim religion didn’t have enough problems in the often less than mutually tolerant text of the Koran, now its radical exponents have run afoul of Kant’s ever-present Categorical Imperative.

How?

As Muslim murders Muslim, the warring Sunnis and Shiites each maintain that their religion lends support to their bloody sectarianism. To the extent that it does, it runs counter to K’s Categorical Imperative, which, as every schoolchild in America is taught by the age of five, states, “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law." In other words, set a good example, in fact, one so laudable we can all join in.

Now, imagine if the Muslim manifesto for mayhem did become a universal standard of behavior. Instead of principles sanctified by religion, their flaming intolerance sounds more like improvised bylaws for Murder Incorporated.

So what do we have, particularly among extremists who advocate a worldwide caliphate through decapitating everyone who disagrees with their beliefs, but definitive proof via Immanuel Kant that such an idea necessarily disqualifies itself.

If everyone believed as they do, it would be just fine for everyone to kill off anyone who doesn’t agree with exactly, in their murderous judgment, makes a true believer in Mohammed or in anything else.

Certainly, if Mohammed were interested in the multiplication of his followers to the max, the internecine wars among the Muslims in Iraq via Al-Qaeda or not would be enough to make him tear at his tent.

And just as assuredly IK would spin as he viewed the starry night at the contradictory nature of the wish to make a religion universal when, given the activities of its most flamingly irrational advocates, it cannot possibly become a universal standard of behavior.

What we see, instead of religion's true intent, is self-defeating stupidity.

To mollify their convinced fury, extremists might contemplate a conversation between Mohammed and Kant, in which Mohammed expresses his hopes for the future of his religion and Kant cautions him that any beliefs that encourage murder would disqualify the religion from spreading any wider than it recklessly might.

So the sides have been arrayed: the warriors of Muslim fanaticism, brandishing all the irreligious vituperation they can wangle from it and the eternal verity of Kant’s considerable ethic.

May the Categorical Imperative vanquish hate unto the last grain of sand into which blood, innocent or guilty, may soak.

Proof Tax Laws Faulty: 9 Out Of 10 Americans Set To Declare Bankruptcy

2010-08-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

As the distribution of wealth in America becomes increasingly skewed toward the wealthiest 7% or so of the population, where we find more and more resplendently bedecked billionaires, the income of the other 93% of the populace continues to go the way of wealthiest.

The growing destitution of this significant segment of the population has now become so acute that the majority of Americans are all set to declare bankruptcy.

Appropriately concerned, since we remember the Aristotelian analysis that the stability of a state depends on a the middle class – in case ancient sage’s segmentation has dropped out of the back of your mental file cabinet, he avers, it turns out a bit too generally, that the poor have no material stake in the society and the wealthy are too taken up with whooping it up – we ask, why is it ever more possible for the few to accumulate billions, while the many grow more insolvent?

There is, of course, the much reverenced idea that the race is to the quick and we’re lucky to have the energetic entrepreneurs, CEO’s, and various early adapters and assorted scammers, because, in the process of accumulating their wealth, they do throw off some shekels for the needy multitude.

Yet one does still persistently wonder about the current upward drift of pay dirt.

As a result of our cursory demographic analysis of the distribution of assets and debt, we arrive at the conclusion that the tax code is evidently flawed.

If every billionaire who’s gleefully accumulating his or her way to the status of multibillionaire was also required, while clenching legally onto some few billions as a just reward for expertise of one sort or another, to pay billions in taxes, the government would be well-enough provided for without taking a pair of Draco’s shears to the transparently taxable paycheck of the average Joe or Jan.

Further evidence of that the tax code is not proportionate to the ability to earn is, while someone who earns billions makes headlines, if even anybody ever paid billions in taxes, he or she would make history.

In conclusion, it’s time to set up the tax laws so the quick who earn their billions will pay proportionate billions and the beleaguered average wage earners can step back from the brink of bankruptcy.

The revision requires little change in lifestyle at the high end and presents rejuvenating rewards to the middling low end.

After all, what is the difference between the life a person can have with a mere billion or so to fling around or keep under the floorboards compared with the one he or she can have with many more billions? On the other hand, there is quite a sumptuous difference between how one can live when he or she is making the usual $40,000 to $50,000 a year while their much revered but feared Uncle Sam is standing by with his big hand at the ready for a scoop of what is, in today’s calculation of monetary splendor, hardly more than necessitous chump change.

Polygamists March; Demand Volume Discount On Marriage Licenses

2010-08-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

Polygamists, under attack even in the generally tolerant and Mormon-populous state of Utah, marched on Washington, demanding what they regard as their right to a volume discount in the purchase of marriage licenses.

The demonstration was incited when a breakaway member of the Mormon Church, who is accused of seducing a minor female and matchmaking other minors females to older men, was buying so many marriage licenses that he had to rob a bank to pay for them. As a result of the armed banditry, he wound up on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List.

The bearded leader of the march explained, “When people only buy one marriage license, we can see why they’d have to pay the full freight. But when you’re like us and buy them on a regular basis, it’s only fair that you ought to get a break on the price.”

We were surprised in our assumptions, as usual, when we asked a female marcher why she, in this age of women's rights, would consent to be married to a man who has four or so wives. “It’s not like you think,” she told us. “I’m actually too independent to be married to any man full time. This way, my husband is so busy with his three other wives I only have to put up with him 25% of the time.”

Political Humor: Are You A Dittohead?

2010-08-09T15:00:00.000-07:00

Years ago, Rush Limbaugh coined the term "adult beverages" to refer to alcoholic drinks. Yet millions of dittoheads across the Fruited Plain lacked a guide for making the best adult beverages. So I created The Dittohead's Guide to Adult Beverages, a collection of humorous dittohead recipes such as the Rio Linda Rouser, EIB Ecstasy Elixir, Club G'itmo Guzzler, and many more!

Just try out these great recipes:

DEAD WHITE GUY GINGER ALE

Glass: A Clay Bowl Stolen from Native Americans (by dead white conquistadors)

Ingredients:

1 Part Vodka (a colorless ingredient symbolizing white European oppression)
3 Parts Ginger Ale (containing blood-thirsty, intolerant, white supremacist sugar)
A Splash of White Wine (reminiscent of Napoleonic French imperialism)
A Splash of Lemon-Lime Juice (made from fruit hand-picked by indentured servants)
A Dash of Sugar (due to safety concerns, no brown sugar allowed)

Instructions: While attending a college seminar on multiculturalism, with an emphasis on Native American, Afro-centric lesbian poetry, combine ingredients in a clay bowl stolen from Native Americans. Consume on Columbus Day while attacking white males who have the audacity to continue to breathe.

Origin: This adult beverage is named in honor of Christopher Columbus – a capitalist, European bigot responsible for the death and murder of eighty trillion pacifist, nature-loving Native Americans (and a man whose lone accomplishment was the "discovery" of someone else's backyard).

Special Warning: Under no circumstances should you add brown sugar to this adult beverage, as it is sure to be ravaged and destroyed by the racist, imperialist, homophobic white sugar already present in the ginger ale.

AFFIRMATIVE ACTION AMBROSIA

Glass: A Measuring Cup (to ensure precise fulfillment of quotas)

Ingredients:

0 Parts Light Rum (using light rum is insensitive to minority rums)
3 Parts Dark Rum (to rectify the past injustice of rampant light rum preferences)
3 Parts Soda (cola is preferred over a lighter soda, such as Sprite)
Quotas That Aren't "Quotas" (except that they really are quotas)

Instructions: While throwing an "affirmative action bake sale" on a local college campus, or campi (the preferred EIB plural form for those of you in Rio Linda), combine ingredients in a measuring cup. Consume while labeling as "racist" any of your friends or companions who dare to add light rum to their favorite adult beverages.

Origin: This adult beverage is named in honor of government-sanctioned discrimination. Make sure that you don't add light rum to this adult beverage when dark rum is available instead. Failure to do so may result in court-ordered sensitivity training.

Special Note: A firm supporter of government-sanctioned discrimination, the NAALCP (National Association for the Advancement of Liberal Colored People) dreams of the day when prohibition will be re-instituted in America – with only "light" rum banished from the shores of the United States.

P.S. Forward this page to 15,067 Rush Limbaugh fans in the next 7 minutes or you will be stricken with eight agonizing years of a Hillary Clinton presidency and/or the appointment of Ted "The Swimmer" Kennedy as your designated driver!

Peace-Loving Muslim Located; Expresses Normal Human Concerns

2010-08-09T13:00:00.000-07:00

Noting the way violent and irrational Muslims have dominated the news, while the Muslim masses and, most inexcusably, Muslim clerics have in general remained reticent about the scandalously murderous terrorist talk and the mayhem the lunatics advocate, we decided there must be, among the world’s billion or so Muslims, any number of normal, peace-loving and, on a wild bet, perhaps even modern-minded, acolytes. So we began our tireless search to see if we might find such a rare and wonderful countercurrent to the tide that is sweeping the Muslim religion ever more beyond the shoreline of what sane and civilized people consider blessed.

We’re delighted to tell you that, after an extensive search, we were, in fact, able to locate at least one such exceptional and distinguished soul. Obviously, there may be others out there, but they’re just not being visibly vocal, unless, of course, a cartoon shows up that they decide is offensive.

Where, you may ask, did we find our prize Muslim? Why, in the most appropriate of places – at Ground Zero, where he is employed as an engineer, working on rebuilding the area after the murderous and damnable crimes of 911. He invited us to meet him on the job, just so we could confirm with our own eyes that a Muslim would be involved in such a noble and redemptive construction process.

The following recounts our entirely delightful and encouraging interview with him, which, we hope, inspirits all to think the better of Muslims in general and, most especially, to persuade many another Muslim to follow in his savingly enlightened footsteps.

NewsLaugh: According to the questionnaire you were kind enough complete, you’re a peace-loving Muslim?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Yes, I am.

NewsLaugh: Good for you. We also understand you’re modern-minded.

Peace-Loving Muslim: I am, indeed.

NewsLaugh: Glad you meet you.

Peace-Loving Muslim: Glad to meet you, too.

NewsLaugh: Are you the only peace-loving and modern-minded Muslim or do you think there might be others?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Oh, there are millions of them, I assure you.

NewsLaugh: Really? Why don’t we ever hear from them?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Because peace-loving people usually don’t make news. They wake up and do things like go to work and feed the kids.

NewsLaugh: Yes, of course. We’re familiar with such activities ourselves. But why do Muslim clerics so seldom speak out about all the violent activities perpetrated in the name of Islam?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Some do, but I agree, they should be more out there. But you must understand that, since they are peace-loving, they might never shout as loud as Muslims – and I I even hesitate to call the most violent ones by the term Muslims – who aren’t. If you’ll notice, crazy people generally scream, while peaceful people are more like to carry on a conversation, like this one.

NewsLaugh: Yes, of course. But do you think some of them quietly suspect that the monsters perpetrating these crimes are on the side of Allah?

Peace-Loving Muslim: I hope not. I can’t imagine a truly religious person seeing Allah as being on the side of murder. But, of course, you have to allow for all possibilities. My own Muslim cleric is a very peaceful fellow who thinks that Osama and his cronies are madmen who are damaging our religion inexcusably.

NewsLaugh: Bless his insightful butt.

Peace-Loving Muslim: I’ll let him know you said that.

NewsLaugh: Where were you born?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Pakistan.

NewsLaugh: Oh, where Osama Bin Laden is supposedly hiding out.

Peace-Loving Muslim: I prefer to think of it as the country where President Mushararf is doing everything he can to help the US catch him.

NewsLaugh: Good point. You’re an engineer?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Yes, I am.

NewsLaugh: I suppose that means you’ve read a number of books besides the Koran. How did you manage to pull that splendid achievement off?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Well, I felt Allah gave me a brain, so He wanted me to use it. I was always good at math. There’s not a lot of math in the Koran. So I guess it didn’t interest Mohammad much. But even an elemental look at nature reveals that Allah works with math in ways that are so sophisticated everything happens in perfectly natural ways. The math never gets in the way; it accommodates all events, like the perfectly natural movement of waves. We should only know as much about math as Allah.

NewsLaugh: Well, to tell you the truth, there’s not that much math in any religious book I can think of. But that’s another interview. How did you become peace-loving? Reading the papers and watching the news, one gets the idea that Muslims, in general, are all a pretty violent and backward lot.

Peace-Loving Muslim: A lot are, I admit it. But that’s because a lot of them have erroneous ideas. I can’t say they have erroneous knowledge, because I don't believe there is such a thing as erroneous knowledge. I also don't believe a lot of knowledge is necessary to be peace loving. My parents, who have very little education, are very peaceful people. So it’s not a matter of education. It’s a matter of outlook. Either you think you serve Allah by killing other people or by loving them. I prefer the latter, and I think Allah prefers my conduct for that and, if He has prepared a paradise for us, peace-loving behavior is the most likely way to get there.

NewsLaugh: Well, it seems like a more logical approach, expecially since Allah or God by any other name made us all. How did you become modern minded.

Peace-Loving Muslim: Well, it was pretty easy. I grew up with my eyes and ears open. While the world around me was often backward, I knew about the world outside. I decided if it’s modern, that’s part of the potential Allah put in it, so I ought to adjust to it and, in fact, do my own best to help move it along. I think the modern world has blessed life with such inarguable enhancements as antibiotics and air conditioning.

NewsLaugh: What do you think the chances are that other Muslims will start to think like you?

Peace-Loving Muslim: Well, it depends on what they hear the loudest; the outside world, ranting at each other, or their inner voice telling them that they’re part of the whole, and, if they want to find a welcome place in the whole, they have to become a peaceful part of it. I think they also have to understand that Muslims running around blowing other people up are acting as if Muslims don’t have lives or property that can also be blown up. This is one reason why their actions are harmful. Every time a Muslim blows something or somebody up, we wonder how long it will be before non-Muslims decide to teach us that such behavior is not a one-way street.

NewsLaugh: Yes, we wonder about that, too, It seems to us that the world has been pretty tolerant so far.

Peace-Loving Muslim: To paraphrase you, bless their butts. Yet I can’t tell you how much fear peace-loving Muslims live in that the behavior of violent Muslims will result in damage to the nonviolent ones and their property.

NewsLaugh: Well, it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you. We’re glad to know that there is at least one peace-loving and modern-minded Muslim in the world. It gives us hope. May your way of thinking spread.

Peace-Loving Muslim: If it doesn’t, I may decide to become a Buddhist. I’ve been reading about their beliefs, and, if you have to believe in an ancient religion to make peace with life, it seems like a pretty good option.

Newslaugh: Well, it certainly is a more peaceful choice. We’d don’t hear of many Buddhists blowing up non-Buddhists. Whatever you decide, we wish you luck.

Peace-Loving Muslim: Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to rebuilding Ground Zero, It’s one of the ways I hope to make up for what Muslims who have shamed other Muslims have done.

Pat Robertson Confesses! God Upset With Him; Tells Him He Lost His Mind

2010-08-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

In the wake of having reported that God told him Tsunami-like storms were likely to hit the U. S. coasts this year, Pat Robertson appeared on his TV program visibly shaken, and announced, “God has told me something else, and it’s something I didn’t want to hear. He said, ‘Pat, you lost your mind.’

“Naturally, I was surprised and asked why he would ever think such a thing of me.

“God went on to ask, ‘Did you report that I told you America should assassinate Hugo Chavez, the leader of Venezuela?’

“'Yes, I did,' I confessed.

“’And did you recently tell people I told you that this year I’m going to send fearsome storms to batter the coastlines of America?’

“'Yes, I did,' I confessed again.

“’But, Pat, ask yourself, if I’m the benevolent being people expect me to be, how could I have said those terrible things?’

“You mean, you didn’t say them?' I asked.

"’Heck, no! I’ve got my reputation to consider. What I actually told you is, on the first point, that America should invite the President of Venezuela to Washington to talk things over.’

“'You did?' I replied, swallowing hard.

“’Yes, Pat. And on the second issue, I told you I felt Katrina was enough of a Category 5 hurricane for the time being and I intended to hold off on such destructive whirlwinds for years to come.'

“'Really?'

”'Yes, Pat. But what has happened? You misheard every message I delivered. Now, since I know you would much prefer to be my dutiful servant, I can only assume you’ve lost your mind.’

“Yep,” Pat continued to his enthralled audience, “that’s what God told me and, let me tell you, His mighty words gave me pause. So I said, ‘In the future I’ll listen more carefully.’

“But God wouldn’t have anything to do with that. He was just too upset with me.

“’I appreciate your good intentions, Pat, but I can’t take anymore chances. My reputation is already too damaged.’

“Then the Lord told me the most hurtful thing I can imagine."

“’Pat, I’m not going to show up and talk to you anymore.’

"’Oh, God, no, please,’ I told him. ‘I’ll listen to your every word more carefully with all my heart and mind.’

"’I know you’ll have the best of intentions, but, I regret to say, the next time we talk is when you arrive at the Pearly Gates. I have to find somebody to appear to who can get the story right. But listen to me, Pat. If you do exactly as I say, I, in my infinite mercy, will forgive your every misinterpretation. And here is what I say. If you ever think I told you something in the future, tell yourself it can’t be true and you made it up. Do you hear me, Pat?’

“’Yes, God,’ I told my Lord and Master. ‘Not only that, I apologize for any damage I might have, through no conscious intent, done to your magnificent and forever undamaged reputation.'

“’Good, Pat, good,’ God told me, and put out His hand. “’I look forward to seeing you again in ten or twenty years.’

“’Thanks, Your Worship, see you then,’ I told Him.

“Then we shook hands and he disappeared.

“So let me just announce to my faithful listeners, that’s it, folks. I won’t be making anymore announcements about what God told me. I have gotten the message from on high that I am now out of personal communication with the Infinite. From now on I am as much a creature of the finite world as you all are.

“And I am confident that, because of this decision, God loves me and you more than ever. So please donate more generously than ever."

Palestinian Leadership Saved By Suitcase Loaded With Cash

2010-08-09T09:00:00.000-07:00

The Palestinian leadership, experiencing an ongoing cash crunch because the civilized world refuses to support its unachievable vow to destroy Israel, suffered the indignity of being assaulted by its own unpaid workers, who shouted “We are hungry!”

But, just in the nickel of time, the Palestinian Foreign Minister managed to smuggle a suitcase loaded with $20 million in cash into Gaza. He had slipped in from Egypt, on his way back from a successful begging trip to Indonesia, Malaysia, Brunei, China, Pakistan, Iran and Egypt.

Evidently, he was not the first Palestinian emissary to attempt a cash run, but his predecessors ran into unexpected obstacles on the way across the border.

Is this or is this not a ludicrous condition to bring a people to who have aspirations of statehood and an inalienable right to at least a pinky of dignity. But then the poor misguided slugs did vote Hamas in, so they did play a part in bringing such embarrassing travail on themselves.

Question is, how long will Hamas keep its populace on the rack before the surprisingly elected organization realizes that, if it wants a state, the first thing it has to do is recognize the right of its neighboring state to exist.

One wonders how long the inconvenienced Mahmoud Abbas, sensible and promising moderate that he is, can witness the indecisive idiocy and its debilitating effects without attempting to take effective action. Since he is dealing with such an misguided opposition, we must wish him safe passage through the intricacies of his far wiser enterprise.

Our police takes care of us

2010-08-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

… It happened at one of the railway stations within Moscow precincts. On the watch of public order there was captain Viktor Nikolayevich Stepantsov. Rough and lusty fellow, he was a drinker and had a vehement hatred for all the migrants. Once his strong claws caught a couple of Tajiks (citizens of Tajikistan), who were trying to get on the train for free.
Guest workers were brought to the police station where they underwent a thorough check-out, though the policeman didn’t find any documents, money or any other tangible property. Having been distressed by this kind of insidiousness, Captain Ivantsov lectured his captives about the inadmissibility of walking without money (what the hell then he had spent his time on them?!) and laid down his terms:
- Well then. One of you two stays here, while the other brings cabbage (1000 roubles (like 40 bucks) per each). After that you can get out of here.
The trick used to work but this time Tajiks jibbed. Claiming than they hadn’t a bean and moreover owed money all around, they refused to separate point-black, what finally enraged Ivantsov.
- The hell with you, stay here till morning if you like! Then there’ll come the car and I’ll send you to the reception center like tramps!
Having locked Tajiks in the “monkey house” (the cell), Captain returned to his business. In several hours Ivantsov reaped his rewards, crooked the elbow and only then remembered his rebellious prisoners.
- Hey, basmatches, made up your mind? A thou per mug and buzz off. Or to the reception center!
Tajiks shook their heads. Looked like it wasn’t the first time they were caught like that and knew that there wouldn’t be any car and, having frightened a little, cops would release them anyway. However they didn’t know Ivantsov at all! In an hour or so, staggering after two more vodkas, captain came back to the station and ordered his mate to take prisoners outside. Sergeant, at a loss, dragged Tajiks out of the cell and obeying the order placed them both by the concrete fence. With an imperial gesture Ivantsov unfastened the holster:
- I’m asking you the last time, counters, are you gonna pay?!
Tajiks kept silence. Ivantsov pulled “Makarov” revolver out of the holster, switched the preventer, twisted the lock and having aimed at one of “basmatches’” heads pronounced threateningly:
- For not paying the fine, defiance to police and on suspicion of illegal migration, in the name of law – you’ll be executed by shooting, bastards!
There was a sound of shot and one of the Tajiks collapsed on the ground (luckily because he fainted). Then the colleagues realized they’d better go on the captain, as he was aiming at the other prisoner’s head. Colleagues had trouble pinioning “the indomitable fighter against illegal migration”, and then there began sudden fits. The frightened orderly officer called an ambulance. Diagnosis (as everybody could guess) was mental disorder and Captain was taken to the psychosomatic unit. Tajik was brought to senses and both of them were allowed to go with an order to forget everything.
P.S. You may think that Viktor Nikolayevich was fired? Not a bloody thing. As I’ve heard recently, he got “major” rank and is waiting for promotion again.

Our Baby: The Grape

2010-08-06T15:00:00.000-07:00

My wife and I are only about six weeks into this pregnancy thing and we're still trying to wrap our heads around this whole idea of having a baby, though we have wildly different thoughts on the subject. I'm worried about whether or not we'll be able to handle the financial and moral responsibilities of bringing a child into the world. My wife is mostly worried about passing something the size of a watermelon through her hoo-ha.

And so far the worry has been all our own. We haven't told anyone else about our impending baby because, quite frankly, I don't think either of us fully believes that my wife is actually pregnant.

Sure, she's moody all the time and has had an inexplicable food cravings and she's taken to complaining about how bloated and fat she feels, but really, that's no different than how she's acted for the for the five years that I've known her. And I still married her.

Right now our baby is not really a "he" or a "she" as much as an "it" in our minds. We've been reading a lot of these baby websites and a lot of these sites compare our baby's current size to various pieces of fruit. The message eventually changes as the pregnancy moves forward, so one week the baby site will proclaim "Your baby is now the size of a sesame seed!" and a week or two later we'll read "Your baby is now the size of a raisin!"

If these baby sites had their way we'd all measure our own size compared to various items from the produce aisle. I'd stand 8.4 carrots tall and when I stepped on the scale it would read like a slot machine and report my weight as in at 250 pumpkins, two oranges and three cherries.

So every day I check these sites and every day I'm reminded that our baby is only the size of a grape. I don't mind telling you that it's hard to feel very attached to a grape...and it isn't even a fully developed grape. It's not like my wife has a little grape-sized person in her. No, right now she has a little pink squishy thing that, really, looks kinda like a...well....a squished grape.

Our baby is only beginning to grow organs, so it's not like we have a whole lot in common with our very, very, very little offspring. I mean, I'm a not a very complex guy but I still like to relax with a TV remote in one hand and a beer in the other. Right now our baby doesn't have hands to hold the remote or even a liver to process the beer.

This is all still so unreal to us that my wife and I are also still trying to find the best way to even talk about the whole idea of being pregnant. The phrase "we're pregnant" makes it sound as though we're some sort of bisexual Siamese twin sharing one body and committing unspeakable acts of fornication on ourselves. She's the one who's pregnant and I'm the guy who did it (or so she claims).

We've struggled with ways of referring to the pregnancy situation and so far we've used phrases like "knocked up," "expecting," "got a bun in the oven," "infiltrated," "violated," and even "been slimed." I think we'll have to filter out a few of those when it finally comes time to announce the news to our families.

So that's where we are in this whole baby-making process. The baby has been made, but it's still a pretty gooey, tiny thing that doesn't really have much personality and even less mass. I'm sure this whole fatherhood thing is going to change my life, but right now I'm just not feeling it.

I have, however, sworn off eating grapes. At least until our baby grows up... to be the size of a lime.

Our Adobe Hacienda

2010-08-06T13:00:00.000-07:00

When I was a teenager, my family moved to the largest alpine valley in the world, the San Luis Valley in southern Colorado, into a house that hadn't been inhabited for many years. What appeared to be an insurmountable task, reclaiming the living space in an adobe shack, while we cooked outside and pumped water from a hand-pump, slowly became a passion. The old adobe had been built by a Japanese family many years before, and until we found it, had been a frequent gathering/party place for local teenagers. Infested with chipmunks from the attic to the floor, it began to take on a new life as we put in new floorcovering, and scrubbed and cleaned until we thought we'd die. By the time winter rolled around, we had moved in. It didn't have a bathroom yet, so we endured an outhouse. Coming from southern New Mexico, we had no idea what 40 degrees below zero felt like, until that winter. Let's just say if you left a shovel on the ground, you wouldn't be using it until the Spring thaw, the ice was so thick. My siblings and I thought it was great, except for the outhouse part, and we spent many hours sliding around on Sangre de Cristo Creek, pretending we were ice skaters.

The "old adobe" as we refer to it now, was heated entirely with a big wood stove in the main room which served as kitchen, dining, and living room. All visitors were invited in and took a place at the table where they'd consume steeping hot coffee by the gallons, and whatever confections had been baked that day. My family got to where they groaned about "another peach cobbler", I had made so many.

The next summer, the owner of the adobe, Luther Bean, a retired history professor from Adams State College, made his way from Alamosa many times, overseeing and helping with the building of the bathroom. We kids, along with "Mr. Bean", sifted sand, gathered stones, mixed cement, sawed studs, and watched the laundry- and bathroom slowly become a reality.

The building project was in addition to preparing and growing a garden to the north, by the creek, and investing in chickens, hogs, goats, and one pitiful "pinko" sheep we named Baby. Thoughts of eating Baby vanished as she became an increasingly large family pet. We got a couple of dogs, Sandy and Curly, who, after Curly (a sheepdog) trained Sandy, were the keepers of the livestock. When the livestock would get out of their fences, the dogs automatically herded them back in. A seamstress for many years, my mother built an upholstery shop in one of the outbuildings just North of the potato shed (for non-Valley folks, that's a huge domed, insulated-with-hay, underground structure designed to store San Luis Valley-grown potatoes in the freezing Colorado winters), which soon became a place to park vehicles so the blocks wouldn't freeze. We did a lot of canning that next summer (hence, all the peach cobblers) and I'll never forget how cold the water coming out of our well was, when washing spinach and other vegetables.

We'd raised chickens in Texas, so we knew the drill, and it was no fun, dipping and plucking those varmints. We didn't have to cut their heads off, though, that chore was Dad's. I will always remember one time when we lived in Texas and Dad was late getting home from work, Mom decided she'd go out and kill a chicken for supper. Dad did it by putting its head under a hoe handle and pulling it off in one quick jerk. Well, mom got it backwards, and put its body under the handle and pulled and pulled on that poor chicken's head until she had to give up. The rooster walked away stunned and ruffling his feathers, and Mom watched dinner amble off into the barnyard. We had beans and cornbread that night.

The old adobe had electric wires running through conduit. There was no switch in kitchen, just two bare wires that you had to hook together to get the lights on. For years, we hooked and unhooked those wires and none of us ever got electrocuted. It must have been guardian angels that kept that from happening.

I didn't really feel it back then, that we were very poor, because I didn't feel poor. I felt very rich in many ways. Life was full and interesting, there were dreams to dream, there was always something new to read, and each day held its own excitement. When I left the Valley, for 24 years, I had a knawing homesickness for it.

That Japanese family had come through and were in tears when they found that we had restored it and were living there. It must have meant a lot to them, and I understand why, as I remember the smoke curling up from the crooked stove-pipe, with eight-foot-long icicles hanging down from every side of the house, making it look like a piece of iced gingerbread on a winter's day.

After returning, I went to visit the old adobe, which my parents had long-since left, building their own home and moving from there many years before. I discovered that the old adobe was gone. I found out that one of the farmers around Fort Garland had bulldozed it down.There had been life there, for the Japanese family and then for us. We learned a lot about survival on that place, and what it's like to truly live without all the conveniences like TV, running water, and central heating, which I call luxuries, we're so accustomed to. I know I could do it again, if I had to. Wilderness...here we come.

© 2005 Dianne James

On the Road Again

2010-08-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

My wife and I need to exercise more. Every time we leave the house we notice vultures circling overhead in anticipation and now our washing machine is doing that nasty thing where it shrinks our clothes. So, in a moment of pure inspiration and absolutely no intelligent thought whatsoever, we decide to take up mountain biking. We could remember biking as kids and there was nothing to it. We set out to purchase our bikes with the fond memory of a cool breeze gently blowing in our faces.

One of the first things we notice is that the seats are too small. Apparently they are now making the seats smaller than in our youth. The clerk smiles knowingly and smugly suggests that for the more mature biking enthusiasts they can attach foam padding. There is, of course, an extra charge. My wife chooses the extra padding and is currently riding around on what looks like a bucket seat from a 1967 Buick. I, on the other hand, have decided to save the additional expense and go without the padding. My proctologist has assured me that the tingling in my left buttock should eventually fade away.

Early Saturday morning we prepare for our first cycling adventure. We decide to leave early to insure we'll be back before dark. My wife is to travel in front and carry a fanny pack with suntan lotion, a first aid kit and our medical insurance cards. Her job is to set the pace. My job is to follow behind and criticize. I'll be carrying a backpack filled with: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (for subsistence), energy bars (for endurance), 2 jugs of Gatorade (to replenish our bodily fluids), rain gear (in case of inclement weather), a map and compass (in case we get lost), a flashlight (in case we're lost at night), and signal flares (to assist the search party).

We go over the route one final time. I spread the map out on the kitchen table, pointer in hand. "This is the route we'll be taking, so pay close attention. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask."

I carefully review the emergency procedures. "If separated, we will rendezvous either here, at check-point Charlie, or here, at check-point Romeo."

"We've been over this four times already," my wife complains, obviously taking the whole adventure much too lightly and showing no respect for my superior training and experience. After all, I was the one who spent nearly two full years in the Cub Scouts, not her. Fortunately, I understand the seriousness of the task ahead and have taken the necessary precautions.

We're finally ready to put our weeks of training and preparations to use. It's time to venture forth and boldly go where no sane middle-aged man or woman has gone before -- it's time to leave our driveway.

I brief the kids. "Now remember, while we're gone I want one of you to remain by the phone at all times in case we need to call for assistance."

"But you're only going around the block," the kids complain. "The house will be in sight the entire time."

Ah, the innocence of youth. They oversimplify everything.

Oil Exploration Update: U. S. To Play Catch-Up With Cuba

2010-08-06T09:00:00.000-07:00

Startlingly enough, it looks as if the time will soon arrive when the USA will have to play catch-up with Cuba in oil exploration. The diminutive and destitute communist enclave that serves as Fidel Castro’s personal cigar plantation now realizes that it has enough oil reserves under its coastal waters to prop up its no-go economy for decades and, incapable of assembling the capacity to out the oil itself, the island nation has begun to license drilling rights to other countries, including China, the prospect of which alarms us, and Spain, the idea of which invites us to think of tapas.

In wisdom wrought from its neediness, the resourceful islet has also offered to license American oil companies.

Expectedly enough, the very prospect of Cuba scooping oil out of the ocean floor while America has outlawed it for decades has enkindled hot debate in Congress about the present wisdom of our self-imposed interdiction. The debate has rapidly blossomed into a gusher partly because America has even more proven oil reserves in its coastal waters, no doubt principally because it has even more coastal waters.

Persuasively enough in these oil-dear times, there seems to be enough of the black gold there to meet all of our energy needs for about 18 years, or long enough for all the leaders in the Middle East who we aren’t getting along with these days to go the way of leaders everywhere who, we determine, are irredeemably misguided.

Naturally, conservation societies have been galvanized into opposition by the mere prospect of an oil bit chomping into the emerald waters of our abundantly fishy coastlines in search of the liquid treasure below the reefs.

As the debate bubbles on, we can only consider a worst-case, best-case scenario. Worst case: we do nothing while foreign companies who don’t exactly have the most reverential reputations in ecological propriety drill away and, as time allows, send oil spills slithering onto our beaches. Best case: we race to catch up with Cuba and maybe even preempt the ill-advised entanglements that might otherwise drill down into our hemisphere.

Since we’re actually talking about drilling in our own backyard pond, we might also, one hopes, do it in ways that are less likely to lead to the shameful oil blights that fill us all with remorse and send fish and fowl off to tarry death – derelictions that strange countries in a strange land might less assiduously labor to avoid.

Nightclub For Baby Boomes Raided; Patrons Nabbed For Dropping Antacid

2010-08-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

A trendy new nightclub that caters to baby boomers who find themselves unexpectedly single was raided by police last night. Acting on a tip from a twenty-something couple who entered the hotspot by accident, police were able to determine that many of the partying patrons were dropping antacid.

The owner, who was taken away in cuffs, claimed, “I had no idea some of the customers were dropping that stuff. But somehow they were smuggling it past the bouncers – Alka-Seltzer, Tums, Rolaids, you name it. Had I known, I would have slipped them some complimentary club soda.”

A female boomer noted, as she was being booked, “I admit it. I’ve become addicted to Alka-Seltzer How would you like to be in your fifties and be back out on the meat market? I just hope my children understand.”

A male patron, who was apprehended while attempting to escape as fast as he could amble down the street, lamented, “I’m single, I’m upset, so no wonder I need regular doses of Mylanta. And there’s nothing I won’t do to get it – rob, murder, even pick up a bottle at the drugstore.”

To the relief of the distraught boomers, who have a seemingly irrepressible urge to enjoy life even into their later decades, the club is scheduled to reopen tonight.

However, upon arrival the trendy crowd will notice that a new sign has been placed above the entrance, notifying them that “The Possession Of Antacid On These Premises Is Strictly Forbidden.”

New Reality Show Debuts, Called New Orleans, Sink Or Swim

2010-08-05T15:00:00.000-07:00

As if Katrina wasn’t a bad enough blow for New Orleans, geologists now inform us that, due to more exact measurements via satellite, they have been able to determine that the down but not out metropolis is sinking faster than previously thought – instead of about a fifth of an inch a year, about an inch, which is, of course, about a foot every dozen years.

Always keen to ride the crest of a new wave onto megabuck beach, a television production company, having alighted on an enormous pot of gold with a previous, highly imaginative reality show, has honed in on the sinking city and created a new show, called “New Orleans, Sink Or Swim.” The concept immediately sparked interest in the equally imaginative creative minds at the networks, and ABC raced to option it.

The show, scheduled to debut in the fall, will feature twelve people stranded in New Orleans, or one actor per inch for the twelve years during which they hope the show will run. Complications will develop as the innovative members of the cast compete to stay above the waterline, while involving themselves in the usual crowd-pleasing boy-outdoes-girl shenanigans.

Rumor has it that the show will include guest appearances by longtime New Orleans residents, among them Fats Domino, who will demonstrate, as the city gives way to the sea, how well his rotund body floats.

Also, newly reelected Mayor Ray Nagin is expected to appear and endorse rebuilding even in the area that sinks deepest. He will, however, limit his endorsement to the construction of a seaquarium.

New Dracula Musical To Close, Except On Nights With Full Moon

2010-08-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

Lestat, the new musical about vampires, if the mind can conceive of such an existent, having been sucked dry at the box office, is performing the most welcome service it has since its debut. It’s closing.

The notice did provide, however, for the show to remain open on nights that feature a full moon.

Marking the debut of Warner Brothers in the theater venue, where it had hoped to further lower unrealistic hopes for intellectual excellence on the boards, while making as much moola as Disney, the fiasco came back to haunt the company as a $12-million guzzle of red ink.

With music and lyrics by the long-time-no-inspiration duo of Elton John and Bernie Taupin, who somehow could bring themselves to attempt yet one more musicalization of the haunts of those absurd creatures, we can now consider the show almost dead.

By the way, it’s when observing the persistent life of such absurdities that we remind ourselves only creatures with an evolutionary basis and an elaborate biological support system do in fact exist and that, consequently, all the monsters who haunted us in our childhood were actually no more than phantasms of the some Hollywood creep's imagination, devised especially to haunt us out of the price of admission.

New Cause of High Blood Pressure Revealed; Expecting Logical Behavior

2010-08-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

A new study in The New England Journal Of Medicine reveals that one of the principal causes of high-blood pressure in the contemporary world is logical thinking.

A researcher commented on the surprise finding, saying, “Look it’s basically an illogical world out there. So the more you try to deal with it logically, the more upset you’re bound to become – and up shoots your blood pressure. We found that, when we convince patients to give up interfacing with the world with the expectations that logical thinking sets up, they immediately become far more relaxed and, as a result, their blood pressure drops, often returning to normal levels.”

When asked if there might be other undiscovered factors that contribute to high blood pressure, he said, “Oh, absolutely. For instance, we’ve got a study in the works right now on that insidious culprit, sensitivity.”

“Sensitivity?” we asked.

“Yes,” he went on, “You see the modern world, especially as we interface with it through the mass media and frequently in corporate life, appears wildly insensitive to our individual wishes, so the more sensitive you are, the more likely it is to upset you. So we’re looking into how we can condition people to feel less, at least, when dealing with larger entities.”

“What about sensitivity in our personal lives? Is that still OK?”

“Well, I’d like to think so. But, since many domestic spats lead to higher blood pressure, we’re also considering a study to determine the benefits of reducing sensitivity in personal life.”

“But what good is it,” we inquired, “to have normal blood pressure if you’re determined to be illogical and insensitive?”

“Well, that’s part of the problem. In some ways, the cure may be worse than the disease. Of course, the ultimate way to lower your blood pressure is to die, but we don’t see that as a viable area for a long-term study.”

Mr. Handyman

2010-08-05T09:00:00.000-07:00

First thing Saturday morning I decided to fix the washing machine. This decision had not been reached lightly. The cold water pressure was weak so I had checked with two experts at work (i.e., they had both owned washing machines at one time or another) and determined that it was a sticky solenoid. I grabbed my toolbox and told my wife what I was planning.

“It’ll be fixed in ten minutes,” I explain as I head down to the basement. Meanwhile, she is looking up the number of a ‘24 hour emergency plumbing service’ and entering it into the speed-dialing function of the telephone.

“Shouldn’t I call the plumber?” she asks, making it obvious that she doesn’t understand men. Of course, she has her reasons - I’ve had some bad experiences. In fact, I’ve yet to tackle a home improvement project that has actually improved the home.

But today I was feeling confident. I carefully removed every screw from the back of the washing machine only to discover that it still wouldn’t come off. So, using the largest screwdriver I could find as leverage, I applied gentle pressure until suddenly there was a god-awful screech followed by two loud snaps and the back of the washing machine flies off like a cork out of a champagne bottle and smashes against the concrete wall with a thud that shakes the house.

I hear the basement door open above me. “Should I call the plumber?”

“We don’t need a plumber, everything is going according to plan,” I assure her.

Of course, I’m not exactly sure what the plan is. The back of the washing machine is filled with enough wires and hoses to launch the space shuttle and I have absolutely no idea where to begin. So I slowly begin removing parts, looking for anything which might remotely resemble a solenoid, which is a cylindrical object which can be magnetized (I looked it up in the dictionary).

Every hour or so the basement door opens. “Should I call the plumber?”

Finally, with head held low, I humbly tell her, “It’s time to call a plumber.”

Personally, I believe I was on the verge of figuring the whole thing out, but I could tell that she was starting to get nervous. A short time later Mr. Smarty-pants Plumber arrives and views the carnage.

“What the hell happened here?” he asks in disbelief.

I tell him the only thing that pops into my head. “Vandals. We’ve been having some problems in the neighborhood.”

“Must have been a whole gang of them to have caused this much damage,” he suggests and I can only nod my head in agreement.

He continues to review the scene of destruction, occasionally muttering “Hmmm” under his breath. Somehow, I intuitively know that every “hmmm” is costing me an additional fifty dollars.

Finally, Mr. Overpriced Plumber starts putting everything back together again until, like magic, the washing machine is back in one piece and pushed against the wall.

“Exactly what were you trying to do?” Mr. Couldn’t-make-it-as-an-electrician asks as he’s calculating a bill larger than a small country’s gross national product.

I seize the opportunity to show him he’s not dealing with just any goober who walked in off the street. “The cold water pressure was weak,” I explain. “Sticky solenoid.”

“Uh huh,” he responds and reaches behind the machine and twists off a hose. He taps the nozzle against the palm of his hand until a black, gooey glob of sludge oozes out. Then, with a final twist, he reattaches the hose.

“Your filter was clogged.”

Movie Stars As Sources Of Wisdom

2010-08-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Why do many people look to movie stars for answers to some of life's most challenging questions?

While we have great respect for the art of acting, as explicated from Stanislavsky to Strasberg, the latter of whom we knew well and were fond of, we have never understood how the usual snippets who decide to become actors ascend in the minds of the public from being initially generally regarded as likely ne’er-do-wells to being considered the most readily available font of insightful advice on just about every topic that troubles the frontal lobe of contemporary humanity.

Are we so doubtful of our own confidence to make up our minds that the resplendent light in which a current movie star is illuminated by his own publicity agents blinds us to the very probable vapidity of his or her own mind? After all, there is a certain disjunction between what movie stars do to win our attentions and what we expect of them once they succeed.

They bring themselves to our attention by committing to memory, or by reading off one kind of prompter or another, words devised by others. We won’t go so far as to say they achieve renown by presenting the thoughts of others, since realistic drama, in most of its contemporary manifestations, is apparently unable to present characters who might actually have an occasional considerable thought.

But, once they ascend to the starry vault that hovers over us, do we expect of them anything consonant with the ability to recite the usual inanities? No, suddenly we want these storied performers to transform themselves into the wise harbingers of original insight and exemplary advice. We even search the most mundane aspects of their personal lives for a hint or two as to how we might enhance the happiness of our own comparatively desultory lives. Or, just as often, we suppose, in the hope of finding that, despite their great reservoir of astonishing expertise, their own lives are inexplicably entangled in antics so confoundedly absurd that their shortcomings make us feel far superior in the relatively rickety guidance of our own lives.

Since we can only be sure that the lights of stage and screen will continue to be presented to us with all the wiles that can be managed through the deft employment of colorful media, as the engaging exemplars of how we should only hope to live, it appears that the only way to alter the mutual mockery is to become more realistic about what we really ought to expect from our dazzling stars-brights.

Mother's Day Card Observation

2010-08-03T15:00:00.000-07:00

This Mother's Day season opened my eyes to something I never really paid attention to before. It had nothing to do with crowded restaurants, picked over pastries at the grocery store, or the piles of advertisments claiming to be the perfect Mother's day gift. This really had nothing to do with the day to speak of. I noticed something interesting about myself.

I suck at personalizing greeting cards.

For whatever reason, I have always thought it necessary to add my own little message at the bottom of a card. Not because I don't think the good people at American Greetings do an adequate job capturing the moment on embossed cardboard, but because I want to make the card, you know, even more special.

So, armed with a pen and a fairly strong grasp of the english language, I prepared to add special messages for my mother and my wifes cards. Time passed, first just a few minutes, then hours. I just couldn't think of anything to say that the card didn't already cover. Everyone knows that if you plagerize a saying from the same card you are giving, you are in a whole new category of unorginal. For fear of being unoriginal, I kept at it.

More time passed. To make things worse, I was trying to fill out this card while Rhonda (my wife) was still in the house. So, when I heard her coming by, I would quickly hide the card. Two times I snuck into the bathroom, locked the door, and pretended to do my business. (Note: Nothing adds fuel to the fire of incompetency than pretending to take a dump while trying to write something sincere in a card.) After two go arounds with this, I realized that sitting on the toilet and using the sink as my desk was not the environment for crafting a beautiful message to the mother of my children.

I finally put pen to paper. After hours of struggling with writer's block and easing my wife's mind (who thought I had diarrhea), I hammered out this personalized message in her Mother's Day card.

"Have a great day!"

Swish!

Morning Radio

2010-08-03T13:00:00.000-07:00

Local Favorites

I can probably speak for many when I say the Preston and Steve radio show is a local favorite. But, I would contend that they are probably one of the best morning shows in the country. How many radio shows do you know that have their own brand of ice cream, not many, if any. That's right, Preston and Steve have an incredibly delicious ice cream flavor dubbed "Gadzooks", check it out.

Not only is Preston Elliot and Steve Morrisson running a great radio show, they have the uncanny ability to take a simple phrase like "monkey pick a$$" (spoken with an English accent), and make it wildly funny to hear and acceptable to repeat.

The Preston and Steve show is aired locally on 93.3 WMMR, and can be hear around the world by steaming audio via http://www.wmmr.com/, and Podcast. So if you are up to hear something funny on the radio, and are tired of Howard Stern claiming he invented everything, give the Preston and Steve show a shot. From "monkey pick a$$" to "Gadzooks" you wont be disappointed, and if you are lucky may hear some old street fighter sound clips.

Hope you enjoy their show.

More things I have learned

2010-08-03T11:00:00.000-07:00

Growing old does have one benefit ... experience. So, I am continuing here to share my vast pool of knowledge. Of course my girlfriend can't resist telling me I need to clean the pool, but heres the list anyway.

1. If you do anything that gets your hands wet, soapy or dirty, your nose WILL itch.

2. When you give your email out anywhere on the internet, you will soon learn all you never wanted to know about body part enhancements.

3. A cat does not love you. It simply allows you to live with it IF you pet, feed and clean it's litter box on a regular basis. Otherwise, you're history.

4. Your Co-Workers, on the other hand, DO love you ... at least as long as you continue to give them good stuff to talk about when you aren't around.

5. You are NOT the master of your fate. Your mother is. And when you get married, your wife is.

6. Life is beautiful .. Life sucks ... life is beautiful ... life sucks. Repeat as necessary.

7. There is a chip in all cars that keeps them from starting unless you stroke the dashboard correctly and sincerely mean it when you say "Come on baby .. you can do it".

8. Computers will only work correctly when you DON'T need them to.

9. A kiss is just a kiss, and a smile is just a smile, but a baby is forever.

10. There is no such thing as a ghost that can haunt you ... except in your own mind.

11. Nothing is carved in stone ... other than what will happen if you forget your other half's birthday or anniversary.

12. No matter how hard you try, you will NEVER be able to fold laundry according to your spouse's instructions.

13. Anything you think will happen, won't... and anything you think won't happen, will.

14. Love is a two way street .. unless you are on the freeway and then there may be lots of exits before you get somewhere.

Montana People: Weird In Their Own Special Way

2010-08-03T09:00:00.000-07:00

We have all heard tales of strange people living in Montana; the Unabomber, the freedom militias, the poor sods stuck in the Federal Witness Protection Program.

I assure you the majority of people living in Montana are friendly, polite, are reasonably sane, and will go out of their way to lend a hand to strangers.

Now, I am a cynical Californian transplanted in Montana. I cannot help but feel suspicious of helpful strangers.

Oh, the clerk wants to volunteer the use of his truck to haul a new desk to my home, does he? Back off! I know how to use this pepper spray!

This actually happened, sans threats and pepper spray.

I bought a desk at the local Staples, and then realized I had no way to get it to my apartment. The clerk offered to haul it to my place, free of charge and after work hours.

No, he was not hitting on me! The guy was at least sixty years old. He volunteered because I needed help. His no-strings-attached offer blew me away.

Desperate, I agreed. He delivered the desk as promised, said, “Glad I could help”, and left.

“Weird,” I breathed. “What is wrong with these people?”

The clerk’s admirable attitude is commonly found throughout Montana. Even the children are reasonably polite and helpful.

After three years of living here, though, I remain wary. You can take the girl out of California, but you cannot take the pepper spray out of the girl.

The communities in this state are heavily family-oriented. Community barbecues are held in a park near my home during the summer. Fourth of July picnics, duck races (don’t ask), actual church socials—if the event is wholesome family fun it happens here.

I do not attend these functions.

I have more born-again Christian relatives in this state than should be legally allowed. A relative is usually connected to whatever community event is being held.

If I attend a single one of these events, I will be expected to attend every single event following. If I fail to do so, all of my relatives will knock on my door at the same time to find out why.

The above is an example of how closely knit the communities are. Most people here are hardworking, conservative, bible-thumpers. The main topics of conversation are: huntin’ and fishin’, church, children, family in general, and ranching.

For those of us more liberal minded, not married, without children, not ranchers, and disapprove of huntin’ and fishin’ any chance at conversation is limited.

Nice people, but a trifle dull.

The crazies Montana is famous for, though, do exist.

A large muscular man lumbered into the local humane society while I was recently there. Dried mud caked his boots. Black hair draped his shoulders. He wore a leather and wool coat over his flannel shirt and jeans. The coat smelled as if he just peeled it off the back of a buffalo.

He asked for his dog in a growling voice, a scary gleam in his eyes. His hunting dog was brought in from the back cages.

The woman behind the desk told the man he needed to buy a license for his dog. He asked why. Every dog needed to be licensed. It is the law.

The man burst into a passionate speech about how licensing dogs was another trick by the evil government to squash our freedom. He mentioned something about mind-control. His muscles seemed to grow along with the scary light in his eyes.

I edged away from the man while I filled out a form for a new license for my dog. Each woman behind the desk kept a polite smile fixed on her face. The older woman kept her hand on the phone.

The man finally grabbed a license form and stalked out of the office, poor victimized devil, and took his stench with him.

What can you say after an exit like that? I hope the big guy is happy pawing the ground with his fellow buffalo men.

Montana’s weirdoes come in all shapes, sizes, smells, and personalities, but then people do all over the world.

God bless the weirdoes for making life colorful.

Money-Saving Tricks for Creating Halloween Treats

2010-08-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Whether you plan to take the kids trick-or-treating or have a large-scale party, there are many creative ways to make this Halloween unforgettable.

Creating your own Halloween essentials is a great way to have a unique celebration while saving money. Perfect Glue, a great resource for family-friendly Halloween projects, offers these simple money- and time-saving tips for a frighteningly fun night.

* Host a pre-Halloween party. Gather with friends and family to create Halloween decorations. The quality time spent together is priceless and creates cherished memories.

* Add flair to costumes. Make your own costumes or costume accessories for you and your family. A pumpkin goodie bag, for example, is a fun item that trick-or-treaters will proudly carry.

To make a pumpkin goodie bag, you'll need orange, black, yellow and white felt, ribbon, scissors, a white pencil and Perfect Glue 1. Begin by tracing a pumpkin onto orange felt and cutting out two layers. Apply the Perfect Glue around the edges and glue the layers together, leaving the top open. Cut pumpkin face features out of the black, white and yellow felt. Glue the pieces onto the front. Finally, cut two long ribbons for the handles and glue to the inside of the bag. Let the bag dry for at least one hour before allowing the treats to flow inside.

* Design ghoulishly delightful home decor. Create an outstanding tablescape using eye-catching candy holders and terror-ific trees with branches filled with spiders and skulls. Make ornaments out of felt in the shape of traditional Halloween symbols - pumpkins, black cats and ghosts, for instance. As an added touch, stuff each ornament with candy or other fun keepsakes.

Misspelled Scriptures

2010-08-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

One way to confirm that cyberspace is the great equalizer is to observe the quality of editing that exists ...

I am truly amazed at the mangling endured by the English language on a significant number of sites. It's fair to assume that this malady has its roots in short attention spans during the school years. As a result, accuracy is often the first victim of poor spelling and grammar.

Still, if we're going to cite examples of this averral, let's do it with a touch of humor. Here are some responses by younger students from a secular school when asked to expound on various teachings of the Bible. Their words are unedited:

"In the first book of the Bible, Guinessis, God got tired of creating the world, so he took the Sabbath off."

"Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree."

"Noah's wife was called Joan of Ark."

"Noah built an ark, which the animals come on to in pears."

"Lot's wife was a pillar of salt by day, but a ball of fire by night."

"The Jews were a proud people and throughout history they had trouble with the unwympathetic Genitals."

"Samson was a strongman who let himself be led astray by a Jezebel like Delilah."

"Samson slayed the Philistines with the axe of the Apostles."

"Moses led the Hebrews to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread which is bread without any ingredients."

"The Egyptians were all drowned in the dessert. Afterwards, Moses went up on Mount Cyanide to get the ten ammendments."

"The first commandment was when Eve told Adam to eat the apple."

"The seventh commandment is thou shalt not admit adultery."

"Moses died before he ever reached Canada."

"Then Joshua led the Hebrews in the battle of Geritol."

"The greatest miracle in the Bible is when Joshua told his son to stand still and he obeyed him."

"David was a Hebrew king skilled at playing the liar. He fought with the Finklesteins, a race of people who lived in Bibical times."

"Solomon, one of David's sons, had 300 wives and 700 porcupines. When Mary heard that she was the mother of Jesus, she sang the Magna Carta."

"When the three wise guys from the east side arrived, they found Jesus in the manager. Jesus was born because Mary had an immaculate contraption."

"St. John, the blacksmith, dumped water on his head."

"Jesus enunciated the Golden Rule, which says to do one to others before they do one to you."

"He also explained, 'a man doth not live by sweat alone.'"

"It was a miracle when Jesus rose from the dead and managed to get the tombstone off the entrance."

"The people who followed the Lord were called the 12 decibels."

"The epistles were the wives of the apostles."

"One of the opossums was St. Matthew who was also a taximan."

"St. Paul cavorted to Christianity. He preached holy acrimony, which is another name for marriage."

Now, while we pause for a moment to wonder which of these authors will be filling our prescriptions and writing our wills when they reach adulthood, let's also consider that some of them could have a great future in punditry. Here's a likely candidate:

"A Christian should have only one spouse. This is called monotony."

Ba-da-boom ... or however a rimshot is spelled.

Milk Goats - Know Thy Enemy

2010-08-02T13:00:00.000-07:00

Patience may be a virtue, but laughter is the only way to survive goat milking. You can strive for the perfect fencing. You must aim for good nutrition. But, don’t kid yourself. When it comes to milking, you do not get the last word.

When I decided to add milk goats to my backyard farm I envisioned pitchers of milk cooling in the fridge while cheddar rounds age in my cellar. Spirit, my first nanny, had other ideas. There is an old saying I just made up: “Don’t expect instant gratification from your very first dairy goat lactation.” Like dating, expecting nothing is the first step toward not being let down. Perseverance is the next step toward surviving goats with your sanity moderately intact.

Spirit proved mutinous in milking. Even with twins at her side, she had ample milk to share. Generosity was simply not her forte. However, like falling off a bike or getting thrown from your horse, when you find a goat leg lodged in your right ear, you must climb right back on.

To help other potential farmers deal with inevitable frustration, I have provided the following journal. It documents my first full month of milking Spirit. From this draw hope. There is light at the end of the nipple.

Day 1: Leashed goat runs around tie post kicking and bucking. Never got near the teat.

Day 2: Build "EZ One Hour Goat Milking Stand" from online instructions. Define five hours in hell.

Day 3: Adjust Goat Milking Stand so goat’s big fat head will fit through the stocks into the feed box.

Day 4: Adjust Goat Milking Stand so goat’s skinny little head will not retreat from feed box out through the stocks.

Day 5: Collect 3.5 tsp. milk from flailing goat on milking stand.

Day 6: Dido.

Day 7: Tether goat’s leg. Goat kicks loose in .3 seconds.

Day 8: Tether goat’s leg better. Goat kicks loose dumping over 3.5 tsp. of milk.

Day 9: Try new tethering technique. Collect entire ounce of milk. Goat’s effort to kick loose succeeds only after she sheds 3.5 tsp. of hair into the shot glass of milk.

Day 10: Go to store. Buy milk.

Day 11 – 14: Discouraged. Just squirt some milk straight onto the milking stand so that the apparently dwindling right teat stays active.

Day 15: Goat now standing still while I collect three ounces of milk. Then the cantankerous witch sticks her foot in it.

Day 16 – 18: Dido, dido and dido.

Day 19: Right teat has all but vanished.

Day 20: Right teat empty.

Day 21: Spirit’s legal team serves me with papers declaring her functional left teat off limits and for her babies only.

Day 22 – 23: Practice milking technique while coaxing droplets from withered right teat.

Day 24: Have mastered milking with right hand while my left hand holds the receptacle up, dodging the maniacal wenches attempts put her foot in the milk. Net bounty from flat tit approx 1.4 oz. Note: Goat still shedding.

Day 25-26: Milk rations slightly increasing. Goat and cottonwood trees now both shedding into the milk receptacle.

Day 27: Babies distract me by biting my shirt while I am milking. Spirit’s foot returns to the milk receptacle.

Day 28: Babies adamant about eating my clothes while I milk. I steal milk from their precious left teat.

Day 29: Babies try to distract me by eating my hair. I try to ignore them. Goat flinches. My foot avoider reflex overcompensates, hurling the milk directly inside my protective LASIK goggles. Startled by my French, both babies run off in opposite directions with my hair still in their mouths.

Day 30: And the beat goes on.

Day 31: Average daily yield now totals around 10 oz. Source: two milkings per day from 1.2 tits.

Remember, when the day comes, and it will, where you just walk up to your nanny and quickly squirt a little milk straight into your morning coffee then wander off sobbing, bear in mind with a little patience, all this can be yours.

Microsoft Postpones Plan To Introduce At Least One Original Idea

2010-08-02T11:00:00.000-07:00

Imagine the complexities, not to mention the complexes, attendant to being the world’s largest software manufacturer when your principal original idea so far has been a cheaper price than Apple?

Microsoft may well qualify as the American company to achieve the most success without introducing to the needy world at least one original idea, unless, of course, a low-down price can be construed as such a welcome contribution.

Let’s look at the spotty history of, not innovation, but imitation.

Remember when the Mac had point and click, drop-down menus, and the capacity to keep more than one program open at a time but eddying Microsoft didn’t?

Yet, ever resourceful but never innovative, Microsoft managed to imitate the features in ways that kept Gates and company in front of bars and, voila!, the world had Windows and then Office.

And what about search? Google virtually invented it. Yahoo got into the game by acquiring Overture. Finally, we have Microsoft trundling in with vows to chase Google and Yahoo in the lucrative venue.

As if that recent news weren’t embarrassing enough, now Microsoft has announced it’s about to chase down the iPod with its own Billy-come-lately hand-held music and video player.

And tune into the amazing innovation it brings to the fingertips. Microsoft's player will have at least one feature the iPod doesn’t: wireless Internet capability. So those who express a preference for the device at the cash register will be able to download music without being connected to a PC.

Tres strange, is it not, that Microsoft longed so for any advantage it would present us with a feature that encourages users away from the PC, which is, thanks to various fortuitous stumblings and cheapenings, its home turf.

But let’s not be unfairly critical and admit that the wondrous innovation will also feature a more advanced video screen.

In fact, let’s be proactively fair, as we always strive to be, and mention that Apple is not above imitation, either. For instance, after years of counterproductive soul searching, Jobs and crew finally figured out they could sell a lot more computers if theirs were compatible with the software that controls 90% of the world’s desktops. So in went Intel.

The only outfit that seems bent on sending the creative flame burning across the page in an uncompromising way is Goggle. But let’s not let its inventive duo of founders wiggle off the hook without a bit of a dunk in the wide waters of imitation. As we’ve all learned, one of Google The Great’s lastest forefronts is offering programs via the Internet that manage the same tasks the software does that Microsoft sells on a disk. How stunning is that innovation?

But taking Apple, Google, and Yahoo to task amounts to relative quibbles.

The seemingly hopeless wait is for the advent of at least one revelatory idea from Microsoft. Considering the host of accomplished techies they have in their employ, the most extraordinary astonishment is that we’re still experiencing only flagging anticipation.

Mexico Solves Immigration Problem; Becomes Part Of China

2010-08-02T09:00:00.000-07:00

In a startling announcement, President Vicente Fox of Mexico revealed that his nation has solved its immigration problem with the U. S. by requesting annexation as a province of China. As a result of its new status, a plentitude of domestic jobs will be available.

He made the surprise announcement, not during his recent visit to America, but immediately upon returning to Mexico.

Mexicans by the millions cheered the decision, throwing fiestas nationwide, with shouts of “Viva Mexico!” “Viva China!” And the air rang out with the triumphant neologism, “MexiChina, Ole!”

In his address to the Mexican nation, President Fox stated, " Today, I announce that our nation has become a proud province of China. As a result, we will have more than enough jobs to keep our hard-working people employed at home – and in much better jobs than they find as migrant workers in the U. S.”

He went on to explain, “Now, it is time for American companies to invest in Mexico to the same extent that they invest in the rest of China. Finally, it is time for them to take advantage of all the cheap labor right next door. Finally, it is time for Mexico to have countless new factories and, in time, as big a trade imbalance with America as the rest of China. Finally, the label “Made in Mexico” will come to stand for everything from knives and forks to Nikes.”

The Chinese were delighted by the Mexican offer, noting, “Acquiring Mexico as a province is even better than conquering Taiwan. There’s more cheap labor there, and since it’s right in America’s backyard, we’ll be able to save on shipping charges. So we’ll be able to manufacture and deliver goods even more cost effectively than we’ve been able to with our own cheap labor.”

As expected, U. S. companies immediately reacted to the possibility of outsourcing production to Mexico. As the CEO of an American company that was an early entrant into China stated, “It’s absolutely wonderful to know there’s so much cheap labor so close to home. I never realized it until Mexico became part of China. You can be sure production orders from us will soon be heading down Mexico way!”

President Fox, when pressed by a reporter about how he thinks Mexican workers can compare with Chinese workers in terms of their willingness to work long hours for low pay, he replied, “What do you think the entire immigration problem proves? We’ve got millions of workers who are so dedicated they risk their lives to earn a relative pittance north of the border.”

The response from Washington was clearly negative. President Bush stated, “Mexico is in this hemisphere and has no business being part of China. In addition, we were well along the way to solving the border problem with fences and the National Guard.”

A reporter questioned if the fence and the presence of the National Guard might have helped push Mexico toward China.

“Of course, not,” Mr. Bush contended. “We all know the fence is not an impediment to Mexican-American relations. It would only keep out the people who aren’t fast climbers, and that’s just a small minority.” Then, quoting poetry, as he often does, he continued, “And, just like Robert Frost said, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’”

Democrats were quick to castigate the President and Republicans everywhere.

Senator Edward Kennedy exclaimed, “I can’t tell you how upset I am about this. If we had had wiser guidance from the White House, we would have thought to advise our corporations a long time ago that they didn’t have to export jobs clear to China, when they could find inexpensive labor right across the border in Mexico.”

Senator Charles Schumer, always prescient, noted, “I knew that fence would not be good for Mexican-American relations. As I said during the Senatorial debates on immigration, the fence is really just like the pistol permit laws. Criminals don’t line up for them. They just go get a gun. And Mexicans intent on becoming illegal immigrants will find a way to scamper over the wall and slip past the Guard.”

Republican John McCain, straight from his clamorous reception at New York’s New School, said, “I think the fact that Mexico has become a province of China is probably not a good thing for the long term and I’m not sure it’s even good in the short-term. Of course, we wouldn’t want Mexico to become part of America, either, which, given the level of illegal immigration we have, is actually kind of what is happening.”

Dick Cheney was solidly against the annexation, stating, “This change in nationhood is unacceptable. And, once something like this gets going, there’s no telling where it will stop. Next thing you know Venezuela, Peru, and Cuba will be flying the Chinese flag. We must prevail upon the Mexican government to recant. If the President asks, I’ll fly down there and tell President Fox these things myself.”

President Bush did not immediately comment on the Cheney offer, perhaps recalling the diplomatic disturbance the feisty Vice President created during his trip through Eastern European nations, when he overtly castigated Russian President Vladimir Putin for backsliding on democracy.

Meanwhile, illegal immigrants in the United States began to stream back to Mexico, so they could be among the first to line up for the many new factory jobs that will soon be available. In a last-ditch effort to mollify the Mexican government, President Bush seemed to indicate that he might cancel construction of America’s walled answer to the immigration problem. Since the wall is no longer necessary, there was some chance that the modification would meet with Senate approval.

An American who was opposed to immigration cheered the change. “The Mexicans are leaving town as soon as they can get their things together. What do I care if Mexico had to become part of China to get them back into their own country?”

Another American, however, had a different take. “I think it’s a shame we didn’t think of exporting jobs to Mexico while it was still the land of tacos and enchiladas, not egg rolls, too.”

Mexican Immigrants Flock To National Guard; Hope To Patrol Border

2010-08-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Mexican immigrants, upon hearing of President Bush’s intention to send the National Guard to patrol our borders with Mexico, flocked to Guard headquarters across the nation to sign up for duty.

While waiting in line, an applicant, Carlos Amigos, exclaimed, “The President has given us a truly wonderful opportunity to help our families and friends in Mexico. Now we have a much better chance of helping them get to America.”

The Guard, stretched thin by deployment in Iraq and its need to be at the ready to assist in case of a national emergency, was quick to accept the swarm of new recruits.

The head of the National Guard, fresh from testimony on Capital Hill, where he insisted that the Guard is not overextended, voiced reserve. “Just because we accept these eager beavers doesn’t mean we intend to deploy them along the Mexican border. We’ll make that determination on a case by case basis.”

Undaunted, another Mexican in line to sign up told us, “I know it’s not certain that I will get border duty, but even a small chance is better than none, amigo, because my family can’t afford to buy anymore forged papers.”

Met Meets Greece's Request; Returns Ancient Toilet Seats

2010-07-30T15:00:00.000-07:00

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, having recently agreed to return one of the finest vases in its collection from the Classical Age of Ancient Greece, has also consented to return the collected toilet seats from the ancient Cretan port city of Ephesus.

The decision has come as a welcome relief to the Greek tourist board, whose embarrassed guides annually answer the same question that tourists ask approximately a thousand times a day. The innocent travelers behold the long cement benches with curious holes that grace an area of their walking tour.

Philippe de Montebello, Director of the Metropolitan Museum, stated, “I felt returning the priceless vase was the correct step for us to take. It was a pirated item, and I dress far too nattily to be imagined with a piratical patch over one eye. As far as the return of the toilet seats is concerned, we had kept them in storage, because space at the Met is limited, particularly in regard to items I personally prefer not to put on display. So, hearing about the plight of the tour guides, I decided that shipping these less-than-priceless thrones back to Greece is the thoughtful thing to do.”

Tour guides cheered the decision. It remains to be determined if the Greek government will consent to put one on display at Ephesus or will, as the Met did, insist on keeping them private.

Man Loses Memory; Shows Up At Emergency Room

2010-07-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

A frantic businessman rushed into the emergency room, threw his attaché case on the reception desk, and exclaimed, “Nurse, I need help!”

The noise woke her up, and she said, “What?”

“This is an emergency!” he said.

“You’ll have to take your place in line,” she informed him.

“What line?” he replied, looking around. “The place is empty.”

“Oh,” she admitted, and held out her hand. “Can I have your insurance card?”

“Sure,” he said, “what’s that?”

“Proof that you have health insurance.”

“Oh, proof,” he said.

Just then a door flew open and a man was wheeled across the room on a table, accompanied by a doctor with a notepad.

“Relax,” the doctor told him. “It’s only a heart attack.”

“But I need help, now, or I could die,” the man informed him.

“Don’t be silly,” the doctor replied. “I already gave you aspirin. That increases survival rate by an average of 33.3%. Now, I have to ask you some questions. Up to four blood vessels in your heart may need replacement.”

“So?”

“Your insurance only covers two. I need your permission to do the others.”

“OK, OK!” the man consented.

“Good,” the doctor acknowledged. “Now, would you like anesthesia?”

“Of course,” the patient said.

“Excellent,” the surgeon went on. “Your policy is vague on that. Now, when I’m done with the bypass, would you like me to sew you back up?”

“What!?” the patient needed to know.

“Your insurance only covers the incision,” the doctor informed him.

At that point, the patient was wheeled off through the other door.

The businessman turned his attention back to the night nurse. “Nurse! I can't wait all day. I have appointments to keep!”

“Maybe you should come back later,” she let him know.

“I would, if I could,” he told her. “But that's my problem. I can't remember what my appointments are.”

“Why not?”

“It’s terrible, just terrible,” he nearly cried. “I lost my memory!”

“Oh,” she noted, and handed him a form on a clipboard. “First, you have to fill this out.”

He looked it over, and said, “I’m in deep trouble.”

“Is there a problem?” the nurse asked.

“You want to know things like my name, my address, and my phone number! How can I tell you stuff like that when I lost my memory?”

“I'm sorry, sir. Everyone has to fill one of these out. If you can't do it yourself, you'll have to have a family member or friend do it for you.”

“But, nurse,” he explained, “if I could remember who my family and friends are, I'd still have my memory.”

“I'm sorry,” she insisted, “rules are rules.”

Just then a cute young wife hurried in, pulling her husband along. He seemed to be in pain and held a small paper bag.

“Excuse me,” she told the businessman, and addressed the nurse. “This is an emergency!”

“Oh,” the nurse said.

“We have to see a doctor right away,” the man added through his apparent agony.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the nurse responded.

“I don't have a minute!” the man replied.

“We have to see a doctor now!” the wife told her.

“Everybody does,” the businessman observed, obviously getting into the swing of things. Then, as if to himself, he lamented, “Oh, I used to have such a great memory! I mean, I could never recite The Iliad or anything like that. But, as least, I could remember my name and address!”

“You don't understand, nurse,” the wife pressed on. “There's not a second to spare!”

“What's seems to be the problem?” the nurse asked.

“We had an argument,” the man sighed, and nearly fainted.

“I love him,” the wife said. “You have to believe I love him. And I'm sorry. But–“

“– What?” asked the nurse.

The man pointed to the bag, and said, “She cut off my navel.”

“Your navel?” the nurse inquired, and turned to the wife. “Why that part?”

"She said, 'I wish you were never born,'" the husband told her. “Then she whacked it off.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry,” his wife said, consoling him with a pat or two.

“I need somebody to sew it back on before it's too late,” the man said.

The nurse gave his wife a clipboard with a form on it. “Fill out this paper and have a seat.”

“We don't have time for that!” she screeched.

“My navel is dying, dying with every passing moment!” the man wailed.

“And how would you like to be married to a man without a navel?” the wife begged to know.

“A doctor will be with you shortly,” the nurse replied.

“Come on, darling. I'll fill it out,” the wife said, leading her husband by his free hand.

They took a seat, and, dutiful wife that she was, she began to fill in the information.

The businessman observed them with an increasingly crazed expression, and told himself, “I've got to remember something, anything, even if it’s just something general. Plato said something. I know he did. Ah, that’s it! 'You become what you do.' Hey, maybe I'm a classical scholar. No, no – I have too many appointments for that. Maybe I'm a philosophy major who went into business. Oh, I don’t know, I just don’t know!” he admitted, and turned to the nurse. “I have to see a doctor, now!”

“Is your form filled out?”

“Here,” he said, and handed it to her.

“It's blank,” she informed him.

“That's the point!” he shouted. “It's blank, I'm blank! Get it! I lost my memory.”

“Don't you have a wallet?”

“Why?”

“You must have some I. D. in it,” she explained.

“Hey, why didn't I think of that?” he said, and took out his wallet.

At that moment, an intern who seemed not to have anything to do for a split second, entered the waiting area. “Who's next?” he dared to ask the nurse.

The businessman held up his wallet and was about to speak, when the wife rushed up with her pained husband in tow, hand with clipboard extended.

“We are! We are, doctor!” she claimed.

“She cut off my navel,” the man told the doctor, in an effort to claim precedence.

“Your navel?” the doctor asked, and said, “That's really serious.” Then he turned to the nurse, “But who's next?”

The nurse pointed to the businessman. “But he hasn’t filled out his form yet.”

“That's all right,” the doctor said, and turned to him. “You can finish it while we're talking.”

Feeling a pang of fellow feeling, the businessman replied, “No, no, doctor – I can wait. I only lost my memory. On the other hand, he–“

“– lost my navel,” the husband interrupted.

“All right,” the doctor conceded, turning to the husband and wife. “Come with me.”

“Oh, thank you!” the wife told the businessman.

“Now, tell me,” the doctor asked the husband, as the couple followed him, “how did you lose your navel?”

“She cut it off,” the husband groaned.

“Family spat?” the doctor queried.

“You could say that,” the man answered.

“I said I'm sorry, didn't I?” the wife retold him.

When they had disappeared behind the swinging door, the businessman began to fill out his form, referring to the cards he felt fortunate to find in his wallet. “Name, address,” he mumbled to himself. “It must be me because it’s my wallet. But what about my appointments? And my wife's name, if I have a wife? I can't go home without knowing that!”

As he toiled, another intern entered.

“Next,” the nurse said, pointing at the businessman.

“Oh, thank you,” he told her.

“What seems to be the problem?” the intern asked.

“I lost my memory.”

“Sorry about that,” the intern said. “How did it happen – a traumatic emotional event, a knock in the head, something you ate?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the businessman said, taking his PDA out of his attaché case. “You see, I keep everything in my electronic organizer. At first, it was a convenience. Then, over time, I became dependent on it. My own memory withered from disuse. Finally, I couldn't remember anything without it. Nothing. Zip. Then today, it happened.”

“What?” the doctor asked.

“The worst possible thing. The battery died.”

“Oh, my,” the doctor admitted. “That’s serious. I better take notes.”

He removed a PDA from his pocket and motioned for the businessman to follow him.

As they walked toward the swinging door, he asked, “Now, tell me, when did you first notice the problem?”

Malice In “I Wonder Who I Am” Land

2010-07-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

For many years I maintained confidence in my personal identity. I knew exactly who I was and was quite comfortable in my skin. Although, I must confess my skin used to fit me better than it does these days.

Recently several things happened to shake this confidence in my person. I don’t know about anyone else, but I take pride in my personal mettle.

About two months ago my credit card company informed me somebody hacked into their records and stole my identity, along with approximately one million other customers. They went on to assure me that my account would be safe.

It wasn’t my money I was worried about at the time but my identity. How can anybody steal someone else’s identity?

More important than that, why would anybody want to steal somebody else’s identity? Especially somebody like me.

In thinking about this I wondered, how much can I charge someone for borrowing my identity? I might have a cottage industry here in the making. Or, perhaps it’s just cottage cheese.

I could understand if I were a good looking, rich tycoon with more dollars than sense. I’ve been looking for money all my life and have been unsuccessful. I am so poor some church mice have loaned me a dollar or two over the years. And if I ever see those mice again I aim to repay those loans.

The way I feel about it is if anyone can get money out of my account, good luck to them, because I can never get money out of my account when I need it. In fact, I have a good mind to find these identity thieves and ask how they’re getting money out of my account.

I’d pay good money to find the secret to that puzzle.

The ATM at my bank stands for Automatic Thief Machine. It holds me up from getting to my next appointment with cash and never returns my card.

A second incident furthered my identity malaise. A few days ago, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly were in a little bit of a tight spot. Actually, it was I in the tight spot, which is nothing new for me.

I can’t remember the events leading up to the spot I found myself but my wife looked at me, placed both hands on her hips and declaimed, “Who do you think you are?”

At the time, I did not know quite how to answer that philosophical inquiry. I mean, she has known me for over 35 years ,and for her not to know who I am at this point is just a little bit puzzling to me.

At the time, I must confess, I was a little confused about who she thought she was. Being the gentleman I am, I kept my befuddlement to myself.

My selfhood perplexity deepened. One day this week, I was going about minding my own business n which is a full-time job with part-time pay and no benefits n when I bumped into an old friend. After we exchanged a few pleasantries, he looked at me and said, “Is there anything wrong? You don’t look yourself today.”

Now, the question plaguing my mind was simply, if I don’t look like me, who in the world do I look like?

I simply smiled and mumbled something to the effect that recently somebody had stolen my identity. Frankly, I was surprised someone noticed it.

In thinking about this, I wondered when someone’s identity is lost where does it go? Is there a lost and found department somewhere for lost identities?

Then an awful thought tugged at my mind. What if someone lost their identity, went to the lost and found department and, by mistake, picked up someone else’s lost identity?

How do I know it hasn’t happened to me? What proof do I have that I am who I say I am?

The evidence before me is quite overwhelming. A major corporation in the United States has informed me that someone has stolen my identity; my wife asked me who do I think I am; and a friend I’ve known for years tells me I don’t look like myself.

Talk about having your reality check bounce.

I must confess to times when my mind does wander a trifle. But I refuse to accept the judgment that I am absent-minded. I grant you my mind, on the odd occasion, does take a little break every now and then, but it is never absent.

This recent identity crisis caused me to do a little evaluating about my personhood. Who am I really? I jotted down a few notes: son, brother, uncle, husband, father and grandfather.

Although I’m not old enough to be a grandfather, I do accept the privileges of this position. After all, I’m living with a grandmother, so it is easier just to go along with the program, if you know what I mean.

Then a marvelous thought poked its way into my mind. How it got in with all the clutter is beyond me.

The thought was simply this; I am also a son of God. This is based upon a wonderful verse of scripture. “But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.” (John 1:12 KJV.)

I’m unsure about many things, but one thing I am confident in is my relationship to God.

Living Humour: Squeezing the Juice from Life

2010-07-30T09:00:00.000-07:00

Rammy JohnsonFacts, oddities, incidental details: these are only some of the few things I examine in the following twenty features I have come up with concerning life and all its intricacies. Some will make you laugh, others will make you scratch your chin, but whatever your behaviour, each and every one of these twenty or so queries.

1) How come when you close a glue cap the glue sticks but this same paste does not stick to the sides of the glue tube?

2 ) Academic research has detailed reports stating that from a group of four men or women one will most certainly have a mental ailment of some kind or the other. Think about this calculation: if you have three normal friends, then you, unfortunately are the fourth one out. In other words, the fourth person with a mental illness is none other than you.

3) Why do we press down hard on the remote control even though we know that the batteries are weak.

4) Supposedly the man from the jungle lives in the jungle, yes? Then, how and where did his beard disappear to?

5) Switched those bulbs that are enclosed in tight plastic shutters? Have you noticed that whenever you go to do that there are always dead bugs inside? How did they manage to get there?

6) Still use plastic bags instead of the more nature-friendly paper ones? Ok. Then, pray tell, why can't I ever manage to open one on my 1st attempt?

7) Why, pray tell, do doctors just about to inject a prisoner with a lethal injection check that the needle is sterilized?

8) Have you noticed that if your bank account gets overdrawn, your bank will add an extra charge? Why do they do that? Should you maybe inform them that the reason your checkings account is overdrawn is because you don't have money?

9) Why don't we ever hear jokes about father-in-laws?

10) If people run into a sign near a park bench saying that the paint is wet, every one will touch it to check. If this is so, why don't these same folk verify the star count of around four billion stars so stated according to various scientists?

11) How many times will be keep coming back and opening the door to the fridge when we are hungry? Do we really think that food will appear there miraculously?

12) Notice how bullets bounce off superman's chests, but the moment the villain throws the empty revolver, this same invincible superman ducks. Shouldn't the revolver bounce off his chest too?

13) I'm sure you've heard of the evolutionary claim that mankind has evolved from monkeys. Before I am to believe this, I want to know that if this is so why are monkeys still roaming earth?

14) Why is it that when we try to catch something that is falling off a table, our hand knocks down something else?

15) Heard of the Jap airplane pilots who towards the end of the Second World War crashed their planes into American naval ships? Why did these guys even think of wearing a helmet?

16) Why do people move a vacuum cleaner over a small piece of thread again and again. Why do we pick it up, examine it and then place it back down and move the vacuum cleaner over it to give it a second chance?

17) A visit to one of the many soap shops that have sprung up all over and you'll find that soaps come in all kinds of colours. But then, why does the bubbles always turn out white?

18) Is it winter or summer wherever you are right now? Have you noticed that if it is summer we try and make the house as cold as it would be during winter, and if it is winter, we try and make the house as hot as it would during summer?

19) Is there any day when mattresses are not on sale?

20) Isn't it silly that when if wandering through one of the large shopping malls someone doesn't pay attention and the cart they are pushing smacks into your toes, and then they say sorry, all we can think of saying is that no harm was done while your toe is aching.

Note:
Uncanny facts and features are not novel. The fact that we humans have strange habits is not new too. But, I have pointed out some of the few irregularities that we live with. This article is for entertainment purposes alone and doesn't try and offend or create new realities. So, take it in the appropriate manner too.

Katana master

2010-07-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

This story took place in feudal Japan in the 18th century. An ordinary servant put a noble guest into a rage. The offended said the host should teach his servant a good lesson, which back then certainly meant death for the servant. The host had no right to disobey this tradition.
The man found his dutiful servant and uttered, "I'm sorry, but I must fulfill the wish of our guest and punish you. I have no choice. All I can bitterly advise you to do is to take a sword and fight me - you might kill me during the joust and then throw yourself on mercy of the man you offended."
"Is it not useless for me to draw a sword?", the servant replied with astonishment. "You are a first-rate katana master and a fencing teacher, and my peasant hands have never held a sword before. How could I possibly win?"
The fencing teacher in his turn had been waiting long for a fight with someone past praying for, someone caught in a hopeless situation, but hadn't had a chance so far. He said to his servant, "Take my katana and try your fate. Let's see what happens - the Fortune might be on your side."
When the master and the servant faced each other with their swords drawn, the master noticed that his position is much worse and decided he should change it. He made one step back, then a couple steps more, and soon found himself with his back against the wall. The master had to take the final decision as there was no more room left for backing up. It was no fun any more, no more thoughts of experimenting. Cornered, the master was not able to change for a more advantageous position, and with a loud cry he delivered a stroke slaying the unfortunate servant.
The master would tell his disciples after that , "That was an incredible battle! The servant was about to defeat his master, his attack was almost impossible to repel. So, even an old servant can become a strong rival in this kind of situation, let alone a skillful fencer.

The great warrior and commander Uesugi Kenshin (1530-1578 ) said, "A warrior has success in his head, armor on his chest, and his fate is in heaven. Go to fight with confidence and you'll come back without a single wound. Rush into the battle ready to die. Should you leave home, remember that you shall never see it again, only then shall you come back. If you dream for a moment of returning home, it will most likely never happen. Life brings about constant changes, but samurai doesn't think that way as his fate is predestined".

Just Say No To Sex. Dr. Coburn Shows You How

2010-07-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

(Extended spoof, presented In 10 installments of 4 pages each. This is the third installment; previous ones are available on this site and presented below each new installment at NewsLaugh, in case you miss one or more.)

He closed it, thought for a moment, and recomposed himself. Then he walked to the bookshelf, took down another copy of his work, autographed it, and headed for the den with it.

“All signed up?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Dan replied. “She took care of everything. Even gave me a copy of your book.”

“Good,” he said. “But I have a special inspiration for you.” He held out the copy of the book he had signed. “An autographed copy.”

“Gee, thanks, Doctor Coburn,” Dan said, and took it. He read the inscription aloud. "’To Dan Fox: I know you can do it, kid. Abstinently yours, Dr. Coburn.’ “Wow, dynamite!” Dan exclaimed. “I really appreciate this.”

“My pleasure,” Doctor Coburn told him. “In the beginning, you and I will work one on one. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. Sounds great.” “Good. Then, as you make progress, Melanie can lend a hand.”

“But, Daddy!” she objected.

“Please, dear. You’re my most accomplished pupil and, due to the volume of students I expect, I need an assistant. Are you OK with that?”

“I suppose,” she conceded.

“Good.” He turned his attention back to Dan. “Now, let's get started.”

“I’m ready,” his new student said.

“Can I leave now?” Melanie asked.

“Of course, dear. Dan and I need to spend a lot of time together.”

“Have fun,” she told the star athlete, and then she walked out with a bit more swagger in her hips than she usually allowed herself.

Dr. Coburn turned to Dan. “During the first week, you’ll require almost total immersion.”

“Let’s go for it.”

He looked sternly at Dan. “Don't mind if I get ‘sexplicit,’ do you?”

“I guess you have to,” his willing acolyte replied.

“That’s exactly right. If we don't take the bull by the balls, we can’t hope to wrestle it to the ground. Have a seat.”

He indicated the couch and Dan plopped down.

“First things first. You must understand the transcendent importance of the lifestyle adjustment you’re about to commit to. Question: why must you learn how to say no to sex? Think before you answer.”

“Well, sir – “ Dan pondered with indecision.

“– I'll tell you why. Because, my son, you carry within your loins the potential destruction of the human race."

“I do?”

“Of course. Therein lie the sperm that can continue to overpopulate the world and the compulsions that could lead you to become infected with the AIDS virus or another STD. Get my meaning?”

“Yes, sir. But can I say something?”

“Go right ahead.”

“I practice safe sex.”

“My boy, you can practice all you want. But you'll never perfect it. There is no such thing as safe sex. It is, in fact, an outright contradiction in terms.”

“I mean, I use condoms,” Dan told him.

“Not safe by any stretch of the imagination! The only safe thing to do is, as the saying goes, to keep your pecker in your pants. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. But can I say something else?”

“What?” Doctor Coburn asked.

“I don't call it names like that.”

“What don’t you call names like what?”

"My pecker. I guess I just have too much respect for it.”

“Oh. Well, then, what do you call it?”

“My love maker,” Dan confided.

“Really? Where did you learn to call it that?”

“Well, I thought about it for a long time and what I use it for. The name came to me and just stuck.”

“I see. Well, it’s irrelevant. Call it whatever you want to. Just remember: the goal is to keep it in your pants. OK?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Excellent. Now, let's move on. When I say the word ‘sex,’ tell me what you think of.”

“You really want to know?” Dan asked.

“Of course.”

“I think of women.”

“Ah, ha! And there we have it. The very root of the problem – and the fundamental association we must redefine.”

“What am I supposed to think of?”

“I'll demonstrate.” He walked to the door and called, “Melanie, can you come in here for a moment?”

He headed back to Dan. “I think you’ll find this demonstration helpful.”

Melanie poked her head in, a bit uneasily. “What is it, Daddy?”

“I want to demonstrate something for Mr. Fox. When I say the word ‘sex,’ what do you think of?”

“Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

"Very good. And if that fails to take your mind completely off the usual meaning of the word, what do you think of as a reinforcement?”

“Texaco.”

“Excellent, Mel.” He turned to Dan. “See how the method works? Soon, you'll think like that, too.”

“I can't wait.” He looked at her. “How do you do it, Melanie?”

“Daddy will explain.”

“Pure sound association,” he informed Dan, and went on with great fervor. “Once you’ve been properly trained, the word ‘sex’ will key off the word ‘Rex’ or the syllable ‘Tex.’”

“You mean, like ‘sex-Tex?’”

“Exactly! And that counter-association will, of course, immediately distract you from thinking about the word ‘sex.’ Notice also that there is no equally resonant association in the potentially disastrous conjunction of ‘sex-woman.’ Or, in Melanie's case, for the conjunction of ‘sex-man?’”

“’Sex-man?’" Dan queried, glancing at Melanie.

“Right,” Dr. Coburn assured him. And, since the sound association of ‘sex-Tex’ is much more resonant, she has virtually nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I see,” Dan said, catching on. “Sex-Rex, sex-Tex. Hey, it works for me.”

“Great, Dan.” Dr. Coburn turned to Melanie. “See how quickly he’s catching on?”

“Oh, he’s really brilliant,” she slightly scoffed.

“But, doctor, what happens if someone goes on and on, really trying to break down your resistance?” Dan wanted to know. “Do you just keep saying the same two things to yourself?”

“As long as your willpower remains unassailable. The moment you feel that your resistance may be weakening, you must turn to your tertiary line of defense.”

“What's that?”

"Mexico.”

“You mean, like ‘sex-Mex?’”

“Precisely. That is, in those very rare situations where you may require more than Tyrannosaurus Rex and Texaco. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, once you've got these interruptive associations working, you can resist nearly any activity that the word ‘sex’ keys off.”

“I can?”

“Yes. Permit me to explain why. It’s a matter of having the enemy outnumbered. Here’s this person, making every effort to seduce you, but what does she have to work with in this elemental area of sound disassociation? One word: sex. Meanwhile, what do you have to work with? Three words. You’ve got her outnumbered three to one. So how can she defeat you?”

“Say, that's good,” Dan admitted, and looked at Melanie out of the corner of his eye. “So let me get this straight. A girl says to me, ‘Let's have sex.’ And I think –“

“– Come on, come on, you can do it, kid!”

“Tyrannosaurus Rex!”

“Right! And then, if she persists?”

“I switch to ‘Texaco.’"

“Extraordinary. And then, should the occasion arise?”

“I pull out Mexico!”

“Come on! Come on!”

“There’s more?”

“You switch back and forth between the words, creating an impenetrable array of counter-associations, until finally the temptress abandons all hope.”

“Great! I've got it now! ‘Tyrannosaurus Rex! Texaco! Mexico! Tyrannosaurus Rex! Texaco! Mexico!’ And so forth."

“Perfect, Dan. You’ll have my course knocked in no time. Right, Mel?”

“I'm overwhelmed,” she said.

“So am I,” Dan admitted. “Gee, I never thought learning how to say no could be so easy.”

“Stick with me, son. We’ve only just begun your no-sex education.”

“Daddy, can I speak with you a minute?” Melanie asked.

“Of course, dear.”

“Privately.”

“Excuse me a moment, Dan.”

He followed Melanie out of the den, while Dan stretched out on the couch, beaming with a curiously triumphant smile.

“Daddy,” Melanie told her father, “he's not sincere at all.”

“What on earth do you mean, Mel?”

“I didn’t want to tell you this, but he's been chasing me all year.”

“He has?”

“Yes. I think it’s all about his ego. He wants to prove he can get me to have Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

“Really? Glad you told me, dear. Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Soon, he'll be a changed man, and he won’t care a hoot about seducing you. I promise.”

“If you say so,” Melanie said, with what perhaps might be described as marginal conviction.

“Leave it to me, dear. Soon, he’ll be about as interested in sex as a castrated lion.”

“Can I leave now? I have to continue with my own studies.”

“Run right along, dear.”

She headed up the stairs, and Dr. Coburn returned to his study.

“Anything wrong?” Dan asked.

“The craziest thing. She doesn't think you're sincere.”

“Really? What makes her think that?”

“She says you’ve been pursuing her?” Dr. Coburn dared to give voice to.

“Really? Where did she ever get an idea like that?”

“Then it’s not true?”

“No way. I’d never try to do anything with her. I have too much respect for her and for your method. That’s why I’m here.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman. Now, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. So let's keep going.”

“Go for it,” Dan encouraged him.

End Of Third Installment

Just Horsing Around

2010-07-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

1. What is the fear of horses called?
A. Hippophobia
B. Riddiophobia
C. Sadlophobia
D. Equiphobia

A. Hippophobia
TBD: Hey, you know we dosn't make this stuff up, right?!?

2. Which is NOT a form of horse racing?
A. Flat racing
B. Harness racing
C. Steeplechasing
D. Hop-scotching

D. Hop-scotching
TBD: Did you know that horse racing may well be the oldest sport? By the time humans began recording history it was already well established. Does that mean that book making may really be the oldest profession?

3. Which is NOT a breed of American saddle horse?
A. Tennessee Walker
B. Morgan
C. Quarter Horse
D. Kentucky Sprinter

D. Kentucky Sprinter
TBD: Although, it could be an unofficial breed!

4. The horse's single toe on each of its four feet is its most marked anatomical characteristic and makes it a perissodactyl or odd-toed ungulate. The horse shares this trait with which other animal?
A. Rhinoceros
B. Tapir
C. Elephant
D. Cow
E. A and B
F. C and D

E. A and B
TBD: Very curious, indeed.

5. Which is NOT one of the three classic American races that make up the Triple Crown?
A. The Bluegrass Stakes
B. The Belmont Stakes
C. The Preakness Stakes
D. The Kentucky Derby

A. The Bluegrass Stakes
TBD: Even though we live in Kentucky, we haven't attended the Kentucky Derby, but we have been to the Bluegrass Stakes (which is a precursor to the Derby) and won money!

6. How were horses introduced to the Americas?
A. They were brought by Spanish Conquistadors and explorers in the 16th century.
B. They crossed the land bridge with early man.
C. They were always there.
D. Leif Eriksson and his Viking crew brought them.

A. They were brought by Spanish Conquistadors and explorers in the 16th century.
TBD: Apparently a species of horse developed in America, but died out, possibly due to disease, so there was no native horse.

7. Is one of these NOT a breed of draft horse?
A. Belgian heavy draft horse
B. English shire
C. Clydesdale
D. Percheron
E. They are all draft horses!

E. They are all draft horses!
TBD: As primarily a visual connoisseur of horses, The QuizQueen is partial to the Clydesdale.

8. The Roman Emperor Caligula is famous for many things, but he was also a horse lover, so maybe he wasn't all bad. What did he once want to do for his favorite horse, Incitatus?
A. Name her his consort.
B. Name him his successor as emperor.
C. Appoint him consul of Rome.
D. None of the above, he actually ate roasted horse for dinner every night.

C. Appoint him consul of Rome.
TBD: As if we needed still further proof of what a very bizarre person he was.

9. The moons of Mars are named for the mythical horses that drew the chariot of Mars, the god of war. Can you name them?
A. There was only one horse, Pegasus.
B. Phobos and Deimos
C. Logos, Pathos, and Ethos
D. Alpha, Beta, Sigma, and Theta.

B. Phobos and Deimos
TBD: Hey, that was hard, but you had a shot if you knew either your astrology or your Greek mythology, right?

10. One of the most famous horses in television history is Mr. Ed. Which is NOT a true Mr. Ed fact?
A. His original name was Bamboo Harvester.
B. He lived to be 30 years old and died Feb. 28, 1979.
C. He was raised to be a parade and show horse.
D. He was Roy Roger's original sidekick, before Trigger.

D. He was Roy Roger's original sidekick, before Trigger.
TBD: He was however owned by the president of the California Palomino Society.

11. What was man's earliest relationship with horses?
A. Dinner: Man hunted the horse.
B. Dinner: The formerly carnivorous horse hunted man.
C. Transportation: Man used the horse for hauling and transporting himself and his goods.
D. Security: The early horse helped keep watch for danger.

A. Dinner: Man hunted the horse.
TBD: Although by the Bronze Age man was using the domesticated horse, in the earlier Stone Age the relationship was strictly food chain.

12. How many horses have been Triple Crown winners?
A. 11
B. 21
C. 31
D. 13

A. 11
TBD: They are Sir Barton, Gallant Fox, Omaha, War Admiral, Whirlaway, Count Fleet, Assault, Citation, Secretariat, Seattle Slew, and Affirmed. The last one was in 1978.

Jokes, The World's Best Medicine

2010-07-29T11:00:00.000-07:00

What were the last jokes that made you roll around on the floor because you were laughing so hard? Did it involve a doctor, a priest, and a lawyer? Was it on a TV show, or part of a stand-up comedy routine, or part of a recent lecture? In any event, do you remember how it made you feel?

More likely than not you can remember the last time, and if you took a minute you could probably tell me the jokes, and it probably made your day. It either gave you relief from the stress of taking your self or what you were doing so seriously, or it took your mind off of something that was causing you grief, or it just livened up an otherwise boring talk. Probably most importantly though, it allowed you to laugh which as we all know is "the world's best medicine."

But have you ever thought more about why this was so? Is there actually something about jokes and the resulting laughter that can change our health in a beneficial way? What is it about laughter that we love so much? Why are comedies so popular? Why is there such a thing as comic relief and why is it so effective--even in the most serious of plays or dramas? Well you shouldn't be surprised to find out that scientists have been studying it but you may be surprised to find out that there is actually something about laughter that affects us more profoundly than we think.

Basically there is good evidence now that laughter produced by jokes can change the chemical milieu that courses through our body on a second to second basis, and in profound degree. Laughter releases natural endorphins that act on the same receptors as morphine that produce the feelings of relaxation and heightened mood. Levels of Dopamine, serotonin, and Nor- epinephrine are altered as well that produce endogenous anti- depressant effect.

Researchers then wondered about what action in particular was producing these changes--was it smiling, or the physical changes that take place in rate of breathing, in blood pressure, increased heart rate, etc. What they found was (as usual) that it most likely was a combination of physical changes in the body that occur with laughter. Each one of these changes by it self produced small effects but together were synergistic in producing these stress relieving, and mood improving results. It was interesting to note that spontaneous laughter was better than self produced laughs but not by as large a difference than you might think. Also merely smiling produced significant changes in the blood chemistry. So basically tell someone jokes, smile more, and laugh even if you have to fake it--it does the body good!

Jimmy Hoffa Continues To Evade FBI

2010-07-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

As the FBI, operating on a tip from a prisoner who reported witnessing suspicious activity on the night of Jimmy Hoffa’s disappearance, continued to search for the former teamster leader, he was somehow still able to evade capture.

Although Mr. Hoffa disappeared over fifty years ago, no sign of him or his remains have been detected, despite numerous tips of either’s possible whereabouts.

Given the run-ins the teamster boss had with the FBI during the period when he was definitely alive, some observes say it is no wonder he refuses to be located.

This week, the cement floor of the oldest barn on the property where the teamster boss of yore may be hiding out was dug up and, while at a certain depth a color change was noted in the soil, there was, at the end of the dig, still no sign of Jimmy.

The small town near the farm where the search is ongoing has begun to deal with the excavation by treating it lightly. A local bakery has created a new hit, which it calls Jimmy Hoffa cupcakes. They consist of an earth-chocolate cupcake with a green hand reaching out of it and, according to the owners of the bakery, the new creation has become their hottest-selling item. Despite his obvious skill at evasion, Mr. Hoffa has not yet dared appear at the bakery to purchase one.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, despite the efforts of diggers with heavy equipment, forensic experts, and search dogs, there was, at week’s end, still no sign of Mr. Hoffa.

A forensic expert on the scene noted, "You'd think we'd find him. He was born in February of 1913, so by now he should have slowed down quite a lot." He added, "But, since he disappeared way back in 1975, you'd think the authorities would decide it's finally time to put the lid on the search.”

However, as you know, the FBI always gets its man – a policy that should serve as a warning to Osama Bin Laden and his associates of evil. They may have evaded capture till now, but, with the feds on their trail, they should know that no cave is too deep, no mountain too high.

The FBI never gives up, even after you’re out of circulation, one way or another.

JazzFest In New Orleans Kicks Off Without Jazz

2010-07-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

The Jazzfest in New Orleans, intended to revive the sodden spirits of the land of legendary jazz greats, went off, oddly enough, with comparatively little jazz. There was, in conspicuous unlikelihood, Bruce Springsteen, who did manage a soulful rendition of When the Saints Go Marching In. Also on hand was the legendary jazz performer Elvis Costello.

While all the misplaced rockers do come as a wakeup call to the people who expect the Jazzfest to feature jazz, the sad truth is that jazz hasn’t been the leading act in New Orleans, or anywhere else in the lower 48, since Bill Haley and the Comets strolled around Preservation Hall, thumping out Rock Around the Clock, ratcheting up that old backbeat rhythm in the first verifiable intrusion of rock and roll into the sensibilities of the former comparatively civilized ears of now extensively deaf humanity.

Of course, there were some performers with a tad of credibility toward the appellation of jazz artist, such as verifiable regulars Dr. John and Allan Toussaint.

It’s time deal with the indisputable encumbrance that we’re living in an age when the big music stars are not, despite their passing pretensions, exponents of the jazz mode, except perhaps in the persona of the skillful New Yorker trumpeter, Wynton Marsalis. The giants of jazz, from raspy voiced trumpeter Louis Armstrong to smoothly elegant pianist Bill Evans, have long been sleeping in the arms of time.

The truth of music in New Orleans has for many years been in the sound of music one hears when he or she strolls through the fabled French Quarter. They have been, not the lilting lines of jazz, but the raucous thumps of rock.

Since popular music is unlikely to return to those golden days of yore, it seems that the least irritating way to return consonance to the Jazzfest is simply to rename it the Musicfest.

Then, while our ears might be just as troubled, at least our minds could ease off the incongruity that persists in troubling them.

Italian Man Asks Wrong Question About Christ; Court Agrees To Hear Case

2010-07-28T15:00:00.000-07:00

As you know, an Italian gentleman has challenged the Catholic Church to prove that Christ existed, and, while the case was, somewhat expectedly, tossed out in an Italian court, the plaintiff, undaunted, found a court in Strasbourg that has agreed to hear it. It remains to be revealed who the Catholic Church will designate to defend its historical foundation.

Should we flinch from such a touchy subject and leave you to your own puzzlements? No, dear reader, rest assured that we will never abandon you out of fear to follow whatever the ever-surprising pageant of daily events may present to our fretted brow but smiling aspect. After all, how much more refreshingly salutary it is to realize we can share even the most subtle adumbrations that flit through our evanescent moments of self-awareness.

So what is, in our opinion, the correct question?

We prefer to ask whether belief in Christ, as the Son of God or in any relevant modification, helps people live better lives and deal with the trembling uncertainties that the enormous question mark in the sky about the why and wither of everything, including our mortal selves, still provokes in many a frail human being?

Or is belief in Christ’s divinity more in use to devise liabilities against the natural potential for joy that life seems to be gifted with, while it provides less unshakable hope than one might wish for assured eternal bliss?

What, pray tell, is the answer? Since the two can hardly be hefted into a balance scale, the decision is, agreeably enough, what you, as the decisive individual you undoubtedly are, have determined is your own estimable belief.

Dare we proceed to the evidence for or against what is known as the historical Jesus? What else, ideational companion, would you expect?

First, as you know, the Romans kept engagingly careful histories and prudent civic accounts. Yet there is little mention in the remnants of the Roman record of an existent called Jesus Christ, except one brief notation in a civic record, another in a Jewish history, or a line in a few letters. Some demanding historians, in their histrionics, suppose that, had Jesus performed the wonders He is reported to have accomplished, His existence would have enlarged into an invitingly more elaborate documentation.

Consequentially considered Christian evidence begins with the man who has come to be known as Saint Paul. While he was, unfortunately, too young to have known Jesus in person, it seems he met with the extant personages Peter, James, and John.

We must also come head to headline with the historically disquieting fact that the four Gospels were penned to paper at a later date than we might, in our ideal hopes, prefer: sometime between A. D. 60 and A. D. 120. The Book of Mark, considered the earliest of the four gospels, made its initial appearance about the year 150 AD. While the historic document may well have recorded an oral history or earlier written versions of the story of Jesus, obviously by the time it was penned the scribe never actually broke bread with the central inspiration of his Gospel.

We have not, of course, invented any of the foregoing evidences. We have merely recorded, as accurately as we can in a brief space, what seems to have been passed down over the centuries.

Now, we pass from our wandering deliberations to our initial point.

In the very soul of our hopes and uncertainties, most of us are not excessively concerned about what is historically invariable. We more likely ask what in this wide and chancy world is more helpful, or useful, to us and our fellow uncertain human beings. While it may not be the most piercingly trenchant question, it is certainly the kindest and therefore, in many ways, the most invitingly wise.

By the way, soul of light and wonder, there is also another wrong question we should deliberate with before we conclude. The questioning gentleman from Italy also proclaims that he is an atheist, and we grant him his predilection.

But, one of the surprisingly incisive items the overly commended philosopher William James managed to utter, in his hopefulThe Will To Believe, is that we require just as much information not to believe as it takes to believe.

Once again we must reach for the same handy harp and arpeggiate as follows:

The right question, or so it seems us, is not whether God exists, but whether we can define God in a way we can, with scientific respect, consider valid?

We can only share with you the invitingly unassuming definition that works for us and that, astonishingly, seems unassailably cogent.

And here it is.

Since we, being as logically exacting as we should, cannot dare infer with philosophical propriety that the universe has a “cause,” without the adherents of Davy Hume rushing to inform us that what we, as frequently but not ever fallible humans, perceive as cause and effect may, in fact, be more exactly explicated as usual but not unexceptionable sequence.

So all we can credibly say is that all we behold must have a source – an original or, if you will, an ultimate source – and that we, as placidly accommodated inhabitants of finitude, are willing to consider that source God.

As you might guess, whether or not such a carefully considered God partakes in our everyday lives or has decided we’ve been equipped well enough to manage things on our own – if we would only use the mental and spiritual resources we’ve been given – is, yet again, another question, undoubtedly to be ciphered, yet again, primarily by our own dispositions.

So, interestingly enough, after our exceedingly perspicacious amble through the honed brambles of theological speculation, we arrive, to some extent, where our sometime intellectual companion, ancient Aristotle, left us, that is, with the concept of God as the “First Mover” or “Unmoved Mover.” While his description is obviously a bit more assumptive than ours, it’s reassuringly close enough to make us smile at the inadvertent paternity of his wisdom.

So, lest we trouble you too long in your inquisitive surf of the worldwide Web, we will conclude as follows:

While the daring Italian plaintiff gears up to challenge the divinity of Christ in a Strasbourg court, and the spokespeople of the Catholic Church present their most revered proofs, while the media kern the boiling pot as intemperately as they can, the entire host will all be overwrought about what is, at least to us, really neither the most practical nor spiritually consequential question.

We realize we haven’t been especially humorous in this article, but, if you think about the high subject, such an achievement would have actually been inappropriate.

We also cannot but realize you may be thinking, OK, smarty pants, so what do you think about matters infinite?

Would we ever deny you the inviting knowledge? Never, me bonny lads and lasses!

So here it is. We have a faith not shaken by such perturbations on the largely unmapped sea of certitude, because we have a comforting faith in life – faith that it is, after all, a logical evanescence and therefore an overall benevolence. As part of our faith in it, we believe that, if we take good are of it, we will not only have a much higher likelihood of realizing its resplendent possibilities, but also of helping save it from our own depredations, and, in accordance with our assumpiton of its supreme logic, that whatever made it will, if it takes good care of anyone, take good care of us, who, after all, live in the service of life, accepted as considerately free and capable of exultation. We call this moderate infinite extension of our enlightened commitment faith through life.

Our only remaining hope is that we’ve been able to deconstruct the theological tempest that likely lies ahead into a venue you may observe as, in its inevitable confrontations and triangulations, your informed and wisely unruffled self.

It Was Lights Out At The Old Ballgame

2010-07-28T13:00:00.000-07:00

Someone yelling, “Let’s play ball,” officially announces spring. Springtime and baseball seem to go together, as if God created springtime just for the national pastime.

Something about that first baseball game seems to shake away all the gloomy aspects of the past winter. As soon as Old Man Winter strikes out for the last time, good old springtime steps up to the plate and a new game is afoot.

Of course, baseball is for the young. One downside of growing older is the fact that you grow out of certain things. For example, as you grow older you grow out of wearing short pants.

You can tell an old man is trying to act young when he puts away long pants and dons short pants. Somebody needs to tell these men that knobby knees are not in fashion this year and the less seen the better, I assure you.

As you grow older, you also grow out of a lot of free time. There is nothing like trying to make a living to put a crimp in your lifestyle. Once a man puts on his hat, grabs a lunchbox and walks out the door, he is in for a lifetime of work. Free time as he once knew it now has a price tag.

One final thought about growing older — as you grow older you also grow out of extra cash jingling in your pocket. No matter how much a person makes, there seems to be more outgo than income in the average home today.

I remember getting a raise once and when the first paycheck came, my take-home was less than before the raise. My raise put me in a higher tax bracket and hence a lower income each payday.

Only one thing I know that can put a temporary pause in all this nonsense — simply an afternoon at the ballpark. Nothing like a good old ballgame to take away all the anxiety of trying to make a living. When I was younger, I was out in the field, playing ball. But I have outgrown that part of my life and find myself sitting in the stands, cheering on my favorite team.

One of the benefits of becoming a grandfather is attending your grandchildren’s ballgames. Now that my knees creak and my pitching elbow don’t work like it used to, I’m way out of shape to play even one inning of a ballgame. Baseball demands younger knees and elbows that are more pliable. Fortunately for grandfathers, God has bestowed upon them grandchildren who play baseball.

Several weeks ago, it was my privilege to watch my granddaughter play her first softball game. With a good hot cup of coffee and a seat where I could survey the whole process, I settled down to watch a relaxed softball game.

Then, the game took on a new status. My granddaughter came up to bat and I was on the edge of my seat. At that point, the whole game changed for me. Sitting next to me, a man began yelling at the pitcher. “Go ahead, pitcher,” he screamed, “burn one across the plate, the batter’s a bum, she can’t hit nothing.”

I had been away so long from a good ballgame I completely forgot about this element of the game. I demurely turned to the gentleman next to me and opined, “You shouldn’t yell at the kiddies that way. They’re just having fun.”

Without even looking at me, he shot, “Mind your own business, Buster.”

I’m not easily roused, but this man, what should I say, irritated me. Yes, that’s the word, “irritated.”

Then, still not looking at me, he snipped, “The pitcher’s my daughter.”

With all the dignity I could muster under the circumstances I retorted with, “But the batter is my granddaughter. And granddaughters out- rank daughters every time.”

I noticed the information stunned him a little. Old Bubba was trying to process this and I could see he was having a little bit of trouble. I didn’t mind because for a moment he couldn’t think of anything to say, which is good no matter which side you’re cheering for.

At this point, the situation turned ugly. And when I say ugly, I mean Mrs. Bubba inserted herself into the tête-à-tête. Let me say, I was not afraid of good old Bubba; it was Mrs. Bubba who put the fear of God into me at the time.

This only illustrates the vast difference between men and women. Men can have a loud, obnoxious, chest puffing argument and then when it’s all over, go and buy each other a cup of coffee and slap each other on the back celebrating the winning team.

Women are not like that; at least Mrs. Bubba was not like that. As best I recollect the situation, Mrs. Bubba, who was sitting on the other side of Bubba, leaned forward and simply said, “Oh yeah?”

It was not what she said, or even how she said it that bothered me. The last thing I remember was her left hook interfacing with my left eye.

Driving home, I mused on what the Apostle Paul wrote. “I charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, and the elect angels, that thou observe these things without preferring one before another, doing nothing by partiality. Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of other men’s sins: keep thyself pure.” (1 Timothy 5:21-22 KJV.)

Sometimes, one strike and you’re out.

It Became An All-Night Serenade Crusade

2010-07-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

I’m at the age when sleep, especially during the night, is a very fragile commodity. The least little noise arouses my body to full consciousness. I say my body, because I’m not sure my brain is ever conscious. Too much evidence exists to make one believe there aren’t any conscious gray cells in my cranium. At least, that is the opinion of the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, which she has expressed on more than one occasion.

The confusing thing about all of this is I have no trouble falling asleep during the day. Just let me sit down with a book in hand, and in no time I am in the world of Slumber-ella. To make matters even worse, the world could explode around me and I would never hear it.

This brings me back to my nocturnal sleeping habits. Why I can sleep during the day no matter what noise is buzzing around me and why I cannot sleep at night when even the slightest noise arouses me is beyond my comprehension.

I’ve tried all the remedies and still find myself unable to get a good night’s sleep. I once tried a nice hot cup of cocoa right before going to sleep, but I ended up spilling it on myself just when I dozed, which had the effect of reawakening me and alarming my wife.

Someone suggested once I try some light reading in bed just before going to sleep. I’m not sure why I’ve never thought of this before, but much to my delight it has worked.

I can’t tell you how delighted I have been to overcome my sleeping problem. There is nothing better than waking up in the morning refreshed from proper sleep during the night.

Then, my nocturnal world came to a crashing, chirping halt.

Three weeks ago come next Thurs- day, an incident happened to reverse all of the progress I made to date. Just as I was putting my book away and snuggling under the covers for a good night’s rest, my wife bolted straight up in the bed and exclaimed, “What’s that noise?”

We listened intently and sure enough, there was a foreign noise in the night.

Whispering, for what reason I don’t know, my wife confided to me, “there is a cricket in our bedroom.” We both held our breath and listened.

Chirp … chirp … chirp.

”It sure sounds like a cricket to me,” I agreed.

Then she said those ominous words that began a nightmare of almost three weeks. “Find that cricket and get rid of it.”

I got up, as any dutiful husband would, and tried locating where the noise was coming from. After 15 minutes of diligent searching I came to the conclusion that there was no cricket in our bedroom and that the noise was coming from outside.

I carefully opened the window, so as to not disturb whatever was out there making that noise. Listening carefully it dawned on me that a new neighbor had moved in to our backyard, precisely the tree right outside our bedroom window.

Chirp … chirp … chirp. Our new neighbor turned out to be a tree frog.

I want it known right here and now that I have nothing against tree frogs. I love animals and critters of all kinds. And normally I’m a congenial, easy-to-get-along-with fellow. I harbor no animosity toward my fellow man, fellow frog, or any of God’s creatures.

I do have one exception to this rule. Every rule has its exception. What would a rule be if it didn’t?

The exception is the tree frog in the tree outside my bedroom window. I’ve tried reasoning with this creature, even issuing an ultimatum. But as to this date nothing has convinced this devilish creature to keep quiet during the night.

All night long — chirp … chirp … chirp.

I’m not sure exactly when it begins, this nocturnal serenade, but every morning at 6:11 he quits while it is still dark so I cannot locate him. I think this is a despicable trick.

For almost three weeks this nightly noise has gone continuously without a break.

Chirp … chirp … chirp.

Along about Wednesday night I was finally getting accustomed to this irritating chirp and was finally able to fall asleep. Then the despicable monster changed his tactics.

He chirp … chirp … chirped as usual and then paused. That silence was like a shotgun blast in the night and my eyes snapped open in full alert position. As suddenly as he stopped he began chirping again.

He chirped long enough to lull me into a false sense of security and just as I was about to doze off again the little rascal stopped in mid-chirp, causing me to come to full alertness again.

He now knows he has a captive audience for his chirp-chirp serenades and there is nothing I can do about it. Sleep, as I once knew it, has become but a fond memory.

As usual, I turned to the Bible for some consolation. By chance I stumbled onto Psalms 127:1-2 (KJV.)

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.”

Although many things can keep us awake, there is one sure way to a peaceful night’s sleep … resting in the Lord who promises to give “his beloved sleep.”

Is Your City Among the Nation's 'Funniest?'

2010-07-28T09:00:00.000-07:00

If, as the saying goes, laughter is the best medicine, then the United States is one healthy nation.

Research commissioned by Shoebox, Hallmark's irreverent greeting card line, set out to find the hotbeds of humor in America. The result: Americans coast-to-coast love a good laugh.

Since California is home to movie and television studios, it's got to be the funniest state in the Union. Right? Think again. Try Rhode Island. That's right: The littlest state also is the funniest.

The survey ranked America's sense of humor through a humor score, measuring responses in three categories: consumers' humor sources, such as television sitcoms, movies or comics; responses from individuals who consider themselves "funny"; and sales of Shoebox greeting cards in American communities.

Colder Climates, Hotter Humor?

Just what promotes jocularity among Rhode Islanders is unknown, but there are a lot of laughs packed in the Ocean State's 1,214 square miles based on all three dimensions of the survey. Massachusetts came in second, followed by Minnesota, Colorado, Wisconsin and Nebraska.

Illinois, the seventh most humorous state, earns extra smiles by placing four of its cities on the list of the top 20 most humorous cities (Peoria, Champaign, Rockford and Chicago).

The overall No. 1 most humorous place to live? Mankato, Minn., followed by Helena, Mont., at No. 2. Mankato ties with Lansing, Mich., to top the score's Shoebox card sales dimension, while Milwaukee does the most comedy TV- and movie-watching, and residents of Cheyenne and Scotts Bluff, Wyo., are most likely to consider themselves funny.

Laughing last on the Shoebox Humor Score: the warm weather states of Hawaii, Alabama and Arkansas. And as for California, it comes in at 44th in the nation.

Shoebox keeps watch on what makes America laugh so that it can be translated into cards that help people connect. New Shoebox cards are available in Hallmark Gold Crown stores nationwide and wherever Hallmark is sold.

Iraqi Insurgents In Secret Talks; Admit May Be Fighting Wrong Enemy

2010-07-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Iraqi insurgent groups, in secret talks with resourcefully pacifying President Jalal Talabani, admitted they may have been fighting the wrong enemy. Upon hearing the admission, President Talibani slapped his forehead so hard he fell over backwards and was unconscious for approximately three days.

Upon being resuscitated, he continued the talks. Apparently, the insurgents, most of whom are Sunni Muslims, have slowly begun to realize that American and coalition troops, who they have been making their best efforts to kill, may not be the real enemy. It seems they are also growing disenchanted with the practice of blowing up a dozen or so of their fellow countrymen every day.

While it is far too soon to expect them to realize that coalition troops are actually the helpful heroes who liberated their country from murderous despotism and will be delighted to depart their sandy realm as soon as they can get their act together and run their own country, the groups have indicated a marginal willingness to consider giving up their various armaments and roadside explosives.

Behind the change in their sentiment seems to be, not only their longtime-overdue displeasure with dismembering their own nation, but the realization that they are dangerously bordered by their traditional enemy, Iran, as they have been for quite a few thousand years, and that, because of the continuing discord, Iran has managed to increase its influence in the country, particularly among their uneasy Mosque fellows, the Shiite contingent of the legions of Mohammed. This perception is especially upsetting to the insurgents, because, as noted above, most of them are rival Sunni “Mosque-ovites.”

Their infuriatingly slow realization of the error of their ways is likely to elicit hardly more than ironic displeasure from the many families, coalition and Iraqi alike, who have lost loved ones during their misguided rampage.

But at least their willingness to talk and to consider mending their detonative ways is a glimmer of hope for the families whose sons and daughters are still in Iraq, attempting to do the right thing by the Iraqi people, Sunni and Shiite alike.

May the day soon come when enough of the knuckleheads realize the error of their war so we and the other nations that are in the hot sands we’ve gotten ourselves into can finally get our much underappreciated troops the heck out of there.

Iraq Opens Suicide Bomber Range; Calls It Twice-Blessed Paradise Express

2010-07-27T15:00:00.000-07:00

In an effort to reduce the loss of life and limb by suicide bombers, the Iraqi government has opened a suicide bomber range. The government's intention is to encourage all those who are determined to carry out such an explosive termination to execute the insane plan in a way that is being hailed as twice-blessed.

The government maintains that it will be blessed because, one, the bombers will be carrying out their hope of putting themselves on the expressway to the paradise of their dreams and, two, they will accomplish their mission without blasting off with anyone else.

As Iraqi Prime Minister Maliki stated, "We have established a way for the suicide bombers to achieve their highest goal in a far more considerate way; now, they can blow themselves up in sanctimonious privacy.”

A suicide bomber, who had arrived to take advantage of the new opportunity, said, “I think the government did a great thing. Just think! Now, I get to blow myself up, which I long to do so much I can't express the intensity of my need. But now, while the end will be the same for me, I won’t have to kill anybody else to get to paradise.”

The government also touted the range as an ideal opportunity for suicide bombers to execute their plans while they provided themselves with some insurance against the misfortune that, should they meet Allah and discover He actually disapproves of anyone blowing other human beings, they might escape the severe condemnation attendant to detonating others.

A suicide bomber commented, "I like that it comes with an insurance policy against any possible disapproval by Allah. If by some chance He disapproves of one human being blowing up himself and other human beings, at least, I'll only be punished for blowing up myself. It removes a lot of concerns."

Prime Minister al-Maliki went on to say, “In an effort to achieve reconciliation, we must stop the murder of Iraqi by Iraqi, as well as, come to think of it, the murder of anybody by an Iraqi, including the murder of coalition troops, who are here to help us make a smooth transition to a peaceful and prosperous nation, not to mention protecting me and the government from coming to a premature end due to the various activities of insurgents, including their suicide bombers.”

Another suicide bomber who decided to take advantage of the new opportunity said, “I think this approach is wonderful. I get to blow myself up, which I long to do so much, and I can go to paradise as soon as my timer reaches zero. At the same time I won’t inconvenience anyone else with my detonation. It really makes the most sense; the end will be the same for me, and, just think, I won’t have to kill anybody else to head for heavenly bliss.” He seemed about to say something else, but, unfortunately, his timer hit zero.

President Bush told reporters, “I think a private detonation range for suicide bombers is a real breakthrough in the peace process. I encourage all would-be bombers to take advantage of this considerate opportunity. In fact, I encourage every country that has experienced the tragedy inflicted by suicide bombers to immediately establish its own suicide bomber range.”

Donald Rumsfeld stated, “Oh, I consider the suicide bomber range a wonderful solution to one of the thorniest and intractable problems we face in Iraq. I have instructed General Casey to cooperate fully and, if necessary, to provide assistance in terms of dynamite and timers. I just hope the practice catches on enough to get the SB’s off the street. I can’t tell you how it upsets me to see people being blown up every day.”

While the bomber range is certainly a regrettable development in terms of the more promising sensibilities of civilization, it may at least be seen, in the dismal brutality of its context, as an intensely rational response to inexcusably irrational behavior.

Internet, Which Began As Tech Wizardry, Ends Up As Ad Wizardry

2010-07-27T13:00:00.000-07:00

The Internet, which began as the inspiration and implementation of technical wizards, has apparently ended up as the playground of advertising wizards. Witness the incessant publicity about such Internet prodigies as Google Adwords. And wherever can you click that an ad doesn’t flash at you, featuring one beast or another, from a barrel of monkeys to a cobra, or glitteraty type –- all in an energetic effort to call your attention to everything from low mortgage rates to cures for erectile dysfunction.

Our own unassuming site is hardly innocent of colorful calculations intended to cajole you into opening your wallet for one irresistible offer or another.

But then that’s the way it is with most things. The begin in brilliance and end up as a business, even when it comes to hocking the volumes that embody the greatest intellectual achievement of the human race.

The descent into pecuniary hustings grows out of the inevitable need for anybody who makes or just prints anything to tell us about it so we might consider purchasing it.

The practice goes back a long way. For instance, remember the village smithy? Even he thought to hang out a sign that said something like, “Horseshoes Made, Saddles Mended.”

The most we frazzled recipients of all the advertising hootenanny can do is hope for occasions when the attempt to extract our funds is done with taste and, when inspiration allows, imagination that invites us to attend.

Infant Author Accused Of Plaigarism; Copied Sounds In Nursery

2010-07-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

A newborn infant, who showed unusual promise in the hospital nursery in the modulation of her of coos and cries and was immediately swept from her mother’s arms to Harvard University, has now been disgraced as a mere plagiarist.

It seems that the infant, commissioned to write an original succession of coos and cries by a wily book packager, had listened, intentionally or not, to the coos and cries of her fellow newborns during her brief stay at the hospital.

Hapless child that she was, she could hardly do more than imitate their enchanting litany.

Now all has been uncovered and the infant is widely disgrace and currently inflicting unnecessary mortification on herself.

Along with the author’s disgrace with fortune and adult’s eyes, the once storied publishing company of Little Baby & Company, which optioned, not only one but two books of coos and cries from the infant, now has pabulum on its face.

To recuperate as much as possible from the catastrophic descent of its reputation, it has cancelled its contract with the babe, not only for a revised version of its present rendition of infant sounds, but for the second collection, for which, in its eagerness to make money even at the cost of its intellectual dignity, paid the newborn the sum of $700,000 for the expected twin bestsellers.

As usual, the rains of time will wash away the pabulum and the child, we hope, having one day realized the immensity of her transgression, will have the wisdom to attribute it to her preconscious state of relative unconsciousness and will go on to achieve whatever she may in the yet unknown possibilities of her post coos-and-cries intellectual development.

Independence Fever

2010-07-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

1. What event do Americans celebrate with a national holiday on July 4th?
A. George Washington’s birthday
B. King George III’s ascension to the throne of England
C. Formal adoption of the Declaration of Independence from England
D. Official signing of the Declaration of Independence

C. Formal adoption of the Declaration of Independence from England
TOPICS: The official signing actually took place over several days.

2. What country celebrates a national holiday in July in honor of an 1867 act that unified the nation?
A. United States
B. Canada
C. Russia
D. Korea

B. Canada
TOPICS: On July 1, 1867, the British North America Act unified Upper and Lower Canada, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia as the Dominion of Canada. The holiday was formerly known as Dominion Day but changed to Canada Day in 1982 when the Canadian Constitution was changed.

3. What country celebrates an independence day that originated 13 years and 10 days after America’s July 4th holiday?
A. Australia
B. Canada
C. England
D. France

D. France
TOPICS: Bastille Day is a national holiday in France celebrated on July 14th. It dates back to the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789.

4. Every revolution worth its salt has a flag for its supporters to display. What do you call a person with an expert knowledge of flags?
A. Vexillologist
B. Flagman
C. Flatulent
D. Flagellin

A. Vexillologist
TOPICS: It doesn’t make much sense until you think about revolutions. After all, vex means to agitate and you must admit a rebel flag will do that to the powers that be.

5. In 1581, the Dutch provinces within the Union of Utrecht declared their Independence from what nation?
A. Spain
B. Belgium
C. England
D. Germany

A. Spain
TOPICS: Political dissatisfaction combined with growing Protestant support caused the movement, although this battle for Independence lasted decades and was not won easily.

6. Bernardo O’Higgins was a famous revolutionary leader for what country?
A. Chile
B. Ireland
C. United States
D. None of the above, he was made up by The QuizQueen

A. Chile
TOPICS: He was a Chilean revolutionary leader and in fact declared Chile independent of Spain in 1818, although somewhat prematurely as the last Spanish forces were not expelled until 1826. He was named director general but his rule did not outlast the Spanish as he was ousted by popular opinion in 1823.

7. Between 1821 and 1829 the people of Greece battled for their independence from what empire?
A. Catholic
B. Roman
C. Russian
D. Ottoman

D. The Ottoman Empire
TOPICS: An uprising fifty years previous had failed, but during the intervening years the empire had weakened and the mood of the world had shifted to sympathize with rebels following the American and French revolutions.

8. What country celebrates its Independence Day on September 16 in honor of a martyred priest’s failed attempt to overthrow the government?
A. Ireland
B. Italy
C. Mexico
D. Spain

B. Mexico
TOPICS: Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla led a crusade to free Mexico from the oppressive Spanish colonial government in 1811. His memory was honored after Mexico attained independence in 1824.

9. How many colonies were there at the start of the American revolution?
A. 3
B. 13
C. 23
D. 33

B. 13
TOPICS: No Americans better have missed that question…

10. What country marks August 15, 1947 as its Independence Day?
A. Guatamala
B. Australia
C. Puerto Rico
D. India

D. India
TOPICS: That day marked the end of British rule in India.

11. January 1, 1912, marks what important event in Chinese history?
A. The end of imperial rule
B. Establishment of the Republic of China
C. Establishment of the People’s Republic of China
D. Establishment of the People’s Democracy of China

C. Establishment of the People’s Republic of China
TOPICS: The new Republic of China was inaugurated on that date (under a Republican form of government) although the end of imperial rule would be acceptable (even thought that ended by all effects some time in late 1911. The People’s Republic of China (under a Communist form of government) was not created until 1949.

12. The Russian Revolution of _____ resulted in the formation of the creation of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics?
A. 1895
B. 1905
C. 1917
D. 1927

C. 1917
TOPICS: There was a Russian Revolution of 1905 that did earn some concession from the Czar but did not end the rule of Czars. That event came about in 1917. If you think that is nit-picky just be glad I didn’t ask what month (as there were both February and October revolts in that year!).

In Response To Miniaturization, Human Hands Get Smaller

2010-07-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

Scientists report that human hands, which must currently struggle with ever smaller keypads and buttons on high-tech paraphernalia, have begun to grow smaller.

Unfortunately, the adaptation is not yet complete, and most human beings are still encumbered with normal-size hands. As a result, they must put up with a certain amount of infuriating digital clumsiness.

Ever attentive to how they might help improve the human body, plastic surgeons have begun to offer a variety of hand-reduction procedures, which range from the conservative approach of washing them in hot water and then desiccating them with hairdryers to the more radical procedure of hand-reduction surgery.

One eminent plastic surgeon noted, “Many people don’t realize the mental and physical toll it takes on a person with a normal-size hand to deal with a cell phone or other piece of high-tech equipment that looks as if it was designed for a midget. My guess is that the reduction in stress that these new procedures allow will also lead to greater longevity, due to an expected reduction in blood pressure and heart attacks.”

A delighted early adapter of hand-reduction surgery commented, “Wow, now my hands are so small I can whiz around the keypads on my stuff like an ant with ten legs. I’m looking forward to new gizmos that will be even smaller. I’m all ready for them.”

There have been some notable holdouts, where large hands are a real plus, particularly among jazz pianists and basketball players.

In Mogadishu, Coke Is Branded As The Infidel Thing

2010-07-26T15:00:00.000-07:00

Islamic militants who have taken over in Mogadishu and dropped the dark veil of medievalism over the minds of the citizenry have branded Coca-Cola as un-Islamic.

A hard-line sheik has declared that Westerners are enemies of Islam and their products should not be consumed.

The man has followers. One, who owns a tea shop, said, "Out of ignorance, I was selling and drinking Coca-Cola, but now I hate it so much.'

Pointing to various rules regarding beverages that grace the Koran, the militants point out that Mohammed states, "There is only one beverage, and it's name is water." They maintain that, In another place, the Prophet notes, "Things don't go better with Coke; it makes me burp." Finally, they say he reveals, "The infidels invented Coke, and true believers never imitate the infidels, except when I took ideas from Moses and Jesus, but remember: I always gave them credit, or at least as much as I could stand to give them."

As a result, the one factory that represents a drop of modernity in the impoverished burg is in danger of being shut entirely. Sales are down markedly, because many of the citizenry believe in the soft-drink wisdom of their leaders.

Doubt exists as to the genuineness among some of the citizens of the new abhorrence for the drink. A recent convert commented, "I think these backward thinkers are just the kind of people I want to follow. For me abstaining from Coke has nothing to do with the fact that they carry machine guns, and I don't own one."

There is also some forthright good news. A young man, age 31, is ignoring calls by religious leaders to stay away from it. "I love Coca-Cola," he said, "I drink it all the time. It's my favorite drink."

There was another bright spot in an otherwise dismal mindscape A consumer who considers it his favorite beverage said, "I don't have suspicions about it. I don't think hostility can work in business. Business must be free from political and religious affairs."

His level-headed comment reminds us somewhat of the sign that used to be painted on the side of the IBM building in New York City, which managed to combine the economic basis of society with the urgent need for humans to find peaceful ways to conduct themselves. It said "World peace through world trade." Nice idea. The more factories you build in another country, the less likely you are to bomb it. At least, one hopes.

I'll Get Up In Just A Minute

2010-07-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

Are you one of those people who wake up in the morning, fully refreshed and singing with happiness at the start of a bright new day?

Well, most of us aren't. And frankly, we'd rather those of you who are would knock off the racket. We're trying to get a little last minute sleep before staggering off to get our morning coffee.

Those final minutes in bed are golden.

You know the ones I mean, the last precious moments, still snug and warm under the covers, fully awake and knowing you have to get up. But not just yet. No, just a few minutes more.

This is why the snooze button is so popular on the alarm clock. People just do not want to get out of bed in the morning. Especially kids. Anyone who has tried to drag a 9 year old out of bed at 7:30 AM to prepare for an 8:30 AM school day knows exactly what I mean.

But even for adults, overcoming the morning inertia can be an exercise (and I use that word with its loosest possible meaning) of insidious procrastination.

Luckily for my family, we have an almost infallible system for overcoming this daily problem. We call our system "The Dogs."

The way this works is that Doug, our larger, main dog, will wake up promptly at 6:30, sit by my side of the bed and place his paw on my back. We call this, "Giving The Paw."

The process works something like this:

Doug:

Me: "Ok Doug, good boy."

Ten seconds go by.

Doug:

Me: "Ok, Doug. Ok."

Another ten seconds go by.

Doug: ...

Me: "Coming Doug, Coming."

Fifteen seconds.

Doug:

At this point there is an air of frantic insistence in Doug's pawing. The message is clear, either I get up to take him out or suffer the consequences.

Now, Doug is an 85 pound Labrador Retriever, and he is capable of producing some pretty hefty consequences.

Rather than face the prospect of scraping a 3 pound consequence off the living room carpet, I haul myself out of bed to take him out.

An astute reader may recall that I used the term "Dogs" to describe our automatic wake up system.

The astute reader may further assume that there is a second dog involved in this process in the unlikely event that Doug fails to produce the desired result.

The astute reader is quite correct. Zippy, our second dog, is nowhere near as subtle and restrained as Doug when it comes to announcing his morning needs.

While Doug may sit demurely by the side of the bed and indicate his desires with a considerate paw, Zippy will climb onto the bed, stick his wet nose in your face, ear or eye, whichever is most conveniently exposed, and sneeze.

This method has never failed to elicit the desired response. And has some obvious advantages over Doug's method, although for obvious reasons, I prefer Doug's system to Zippy's.

In either case, we are now up and ready to begin our day.

The following poem was written after commiserating with another family member who wanted to lie in bed for just a few more of those precious minutes this morning.

I'll Get Up In Just A Minute

Each morning when I slowly wake
I like to lie in bed,
Ignoring all the thoughts that skip
And clamor in my head.
The daily deeds that must be done,
The tasks which will not keep,
The many errands I must run
All drag me from my sleep.
I try to close my eyes once more,
And repossess my dreams,
But give up, rising to the chore
Of facing life's regimes.

Humorous Thought for the Day - How I Write Funny Lines on a Daily Basis

2010-07-26T11:00:00.000-07:00

Imagine a web site where you go on a daily basis to see a humorous thought for the day. Better yet, what if that site delivers the humorous thought for the day to your email?

And what if instead of providing stale, you've-heard-it-a-thousand-times-before humor, that site provided fresh, baked-daily humor created on-site in their in-store ovens?

Well ... that's the project I've taken on.

And it's turning out to be quite the challenge to keep up with baking all those daily loaves of laughs.

So how do you go about creating a thought for the day that's humorous without having to be a professional comic?

Here are some tips:

1. Think about the types of things in your everyday life that you find unusual, ridiculous, hard-to-understand, silly or embarrassing.

2. Come up with a way to express one of these things in a way that leads the mind in one direction. Then, suddenly shift direction with the final part. This is the setup/punchline structure of humor.

3. For a given idea, generate as many setup/punchline variations as you can. Keep pushing to generate them, even when you think you can't come up with any more. The ones you fight hard for are usually the funnier ones.

4. Try to make your humor express your final point in an indirect way. It's funnier to say someone could use "subsidies of something" than to say someone "someone doesn't have much something."

5. With each setup/punchline, play with the words to try to make your humor brief and to the point. Wordy "humor" generally is not as funny as brief humor.

6. Try to hide the final destination of your humorous setup/punchline until the very end. You want the punch of your humor to be showcased at the end, with nothing trailing it to drain the funny part away.

7. Practice on a regular basis. Keep what's funny and toss what's not funny. You'll have to use your best judgment here. This is easier to do if you set what you've written aside for a few days. Then, come back later and review it. Many of the lines that lack humor will stick out like a sore thumb.

Here's an example of how I created a funny line:

- The word "imagination" popped into my mind, and I thought about how insulting it is to be accused of having no imagination.

- I wondered what group could I insult without really offending anyone. Politicians are always a good target.

- I then tried to figure out how I could accuse politicians of having no imagination.

- For the setup I wanted to suggest that I was going to compliment politicians by saying they had a lot of imagination. So I thought, "With the amount of imagination politicians have ...."

- I tried to think of a way to indirectly say someone has no imagination. My approach was "... they should qualify for government subsidies."

- The result was:

With the amount of imagination
politicians have, they should
qualify for government subsidies.

If you don't find that line funny, that's OK. Your sense of humor may be different than mine. And that's fine. Humor is very subjective, and there is a wide variety in the things people find funny. Also, analyzing the creation of a joke step-by-step, like we did above, has a tendency to kill the humor as you go.

This is the process I'm using on a regular basis to create fresh humor for my thought for the day web site. It's not an easy task, but it's fun and satisfying when the funny pours out. And it's great to think that maybe I've added a little humor to the middle of someone's day, maybe just at the point where the person's daily stress was about to overwhelm them. That's why I call my humorous thought for the day Laugh Vitamin.

Humanist Terrorists Nabbed In Miami; Planned To Plant Explosive Books

2010-07-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

A group that calls itself humanist terrorists was apprehended by the FBI in a preemptive strike in Miami. The terrorist cell, which claims affiliation with the Middle Atlantic terror group all-Libraries, was infiltrated by an FBI operative.

The leader of the group confided to the informant that the members planned to plant explosive books in various locations throughout the United States, including the Sears Tower, a number of FBI buildings, and radical Muslim mosques.

The humanist terrorist group had been operating out of the basement of an as yet undisclosed free public library in Miami. The FBI found plentiful evidence of the group’s plans, including many intelligent books generally considered to be easily accessible and therefore highly dangerous.

At a news conference held to announce the arrests, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales stated, “Fortunately, the plot by this home-grown terrorist cell was disrupted in the planning stages. The group was still trying to get funding to acquire a sufficient number of books.”

In a deposition, a spokesman for the humanist terrorists confessed, “We were planning to spread enlightenment wherever we could, so we selected two of the most informative and readable philosophy books of recent times, both by the leading but now deceased humanist terrorist Bertrand Russell. First, we were going to stage an attack with his landmark The History of Western Philosophy, just to provide people with an overview of our radical ideology. Then we hoped to follow that up with a strike using The Selected Writings Of Bertrand Russell. Our goal was, I confess, to disrupt the new Dark Age that appears to be descending on a worldwide basis.”

The prosecuting attorney outlined the government’s case, saying, “The confession of this self-styled humanist terrorist clearly indicates there was a clear intention to disrupt the deadly ignorance that pervades much of today’s society. Obviously, the group poses a threat to the widespread determination of much of the world’s population to return to a time so wonderfully ill-informed that it can truly be described as The Dark Ages come back.”

The families of the terrorists were startled by the arrests and continued to maintain that the suspects are innocent.

As one mother said, “My son is not a terrorist. He’s a good boy who somehow came to believe in radical ideas like truth and wisdom. If he’s freed on bail, I promise to limit his reading time.”

How to drive traffic to your website using funny videos

2010-07-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

After a website is optimized for the search engines, some creative marketing can easily be done to help drive new traffic to your site. Many high traffic entertainment/humor websites use funny videos that are viewed for free by site visitors. In fact, many of these viral video clips that are sent around the world via e-mail originated from these websites.

The only down side to starting a funny videos site is the initial cost to build it, and ongoing update costs, coupled with the bandwidth these websites consume, which can cost between $100-$1000/month just for hosting on a dedicated server. This is because these funny videos websites have hundreds or even thousands of downloadable videos available, and every time one is viewed there is a sizable amount of bandwidth consumed.

So how do you take the idea from the funny videos platform and apply it to your own website? Webmasters can easily incorporate this creative marketing technique into their own eCommerce websites.

Think about it this way. Most eCommerce websites have one primary function: To sell a product. The key to success with an eCommerce website is to rank high in the search engines and be found by someone looking for a product. Often times when a customer visits an eCommerce site, he or she sees the same basic format. There is a nice looking home page with an overview of the company and product line, and some pictures of featured products. Then the customer can find links to other product pages as well, or do a search for a product by keyword.

But to get the customer to come back to your website and buy more products, there must be something that sets you apart from your competition. How can this be done? There are two effective methods to achieve this. In a nutshell, adding video media will bring a whole new dimension to your website to help drive new traffic and gain repeat visitors.

In the case of an entertainment website, the funny videos are the catalyst that drives the repeat traffic to the website. In the case of an eCommerce website, you can add videos to your pages that blend with the theme of a particular product.

For example, if you sell fishing gear, then you can add the funny video of the reporter in Mexico who was floating down the river, only to be repeatedly pummeled by hundreds of fish that were jumping at his spotlight into the boat. That should get a laugh from your customer, and give them something to feel good about while they are looking at your product inventory. It's kind of like a bakery. When you walk into a bakery, you are almost always enticed to buy something. It makes you feel good. Well on the internet, you unfortunately don't have the option of smelling what you see. But adding funny media can arouse other senses in a customer and make their shopping experience more enjoyable.

Another great way to help market your product is by creating 'how to' videos for your products. For example, if you sell products for sailboats, you can make a series of short 'knot-tying' videos, and feature a different type of video on each product page. This can be done easily with a digital camera that records video clips.

Here is how you can accomplish this:
1.First, set up an area where you camera is on a tripod or table.
2.Next, make sure you have a good backdrop for the video clips. You want to use an area that makes the action in the video stand out.
3.Then record the video. In the case of knot-tying, you can write a script before hand and narrate the video as you are tying each knot for the camera.
4.Then download your video clip to your computer. You can also modify the size of your video with any video editing shareware tool.
5.Simply upload the video clip to your website and link to it with a descriptive title. That is it.

One idea to make this effective is add one knot-tying clip to each product page. This will not only make the customer want to visit each page, but it keeps them interested in your website.

There is one more important point to consider. You must present the training clips so they are most effective. To do this, be sure and place them in a prominent area on each page so they can be seen. And add several lines of text under the video link with a description of the video and keywords that someone might find while searching. For example you can tag the video link with 'Instructional Video On How To Tie An Angler's Knot'.

Then lastly, you can create a separate webpage with a 'video directory' of all your videos. You want to also have search engine friendly keywords on this page as well. Then add a link to your directory page from your other pages, especially your index page.

These tips will help your website stand out from the competition. Simply by adding a few funny videos to your site, or some informative training videos that you can easily create from your home or office, you have added a creative marketing edge that goes beyond optimization.

How To Be A Modern-Day Fictional Heroine

2010-07-23T15:00:00.000-07:00

It used to be so easy. All you needed was a thick mane of tousled auburn locks, high cheekbones and a determined little chin; add an ounce of determination and an event from your past that haunts you still. Then, wham! You were the perfect fictional heroine.

But now it’s not so simple. With television shows like Grey’s Anatomy and Ally McBeal, books like Bridget Jones’s Diary and Good in Bed, and movies like Miss Congeniality and Legally Blonde, we’re getting all sorts of mixed messages over how the ideal woman is supposed to be. What’s a modern girl who wants to hold herself up to impossible standards to do?

Simple! Just follow these guidelines, and you’ll be as witty, complex and neurotic as the rest of them. In other words – you will be the perfect, modern-day fictional heroine.

Step 1 – Be Flawed

This step is super easy, because come on, we’re all already flawed anyway, right?
Right!

Except for one little catch. It is necessary to adopt the correct flaws, and these three are non-negotiable.

1.)You must be self-involved. This includes comparing your own petty personal problems to things like death, war, and injustice, and finding some sort of unique parallel no matter what the situation may be. It also includes having a constant inner dialogue with yourself where you point out these parallels with witty commentary. For example: “Even the news reminded me of him. Yesterday I saw this report that said routine circumcision in Africa could prevent 300,000 deaths in the next ten years. What a shocker! Chopping away at a guy’s penis could help eliminate pain, loss, and heart-ache. What will they think of next?”

2.)You must have issues with food. If you plan to be a television or movie heroine, this means that you cannot eat. Period. If you plan to be a book heroine, this means that you must eat all the time, except when you’re not eating, and then you should be thinking about eating. I strongly recommend the second option.

3.)You must become preoccupied with an unhealthy relationship. This includes but is not limited to, relationships with boyfriends, friends, mothers, fathers, roommates, and exes. Especially exes.(And make sure that your ex is dreamy, preferably with a new girlfriend who is in no way as good for him as you were.)

Step 2 – Practice Retail Therapy

Today’s modern day fictional heroine realizes one fundamental truth – that there is no problem too big or too small that cannot be remedied with shopping. Again, there is a catch; you need to be careful of what you go shopping for. Hard and fast rule – anything that’s practical or cheap is out. Other than that, I have provided you a list of approved shopping items, with the most highly recommended items on top, and continued in descending order:

•Designer shoes
•Designer beauty products
•Designer chocolate
•Designer purses
•Designer lingerie
•Anything else designer
•Clothes (This is listed as the very last option because although clothes shopping can be a lot of fun, if you happen to have gone up a size, the blow to your ego will be so enormous that it will negate the therapeutic aspect of said retail therapy.)

Step 3 – Have a purpose, deeply question it, then either accept it or abandon it to find a new purpose.

Rather than go into unnecessary detail, I have created a handy-dandy chart. Just pick an option from each column and you’ll be good to go.

Column A

1.You’re a (lawyer, publisher, or banker) and you love the power and money.
2.You’re a (doctor, policewoman, or writer) and you love changing lives.
3.You’re a stay-at-home mom and you love your family.
4.You’re all of the above, and you’ve never been so fulfilled!
Column B
1.It’s all getting to be too much and nobody understands you.
2.None of it means anything anymore and nobody understands you.
3.You wish you could have some time for yourself, and why doesn’t anyone understand you?
4.Is this really what you set out to do? You did major in art history after all.

Column C

1. After meeting the right guy, you decide to chuck it all and live overseas.
2. After falling back in love with the guy you’ve been with for years, you decide to start your own home-based greeting card company.
3. After realizing that the nerdy guy is actually the one for you, you return to your career with a new sense of purpose.
4. Who needs health insurance anyway? You decide to take some time off just to focus on you.

Conclusion:

So you see; it’s really not that hard for truth to imitate fiction. Gone are the days of walking moors, wearing corsets, and dying of consumption. Nowadays all you need is a little attitude thrown in with a barely noticeable social complex. So get your credit cards ready, preheat the oven for those brownies, and start living your life as if everyone can (and wants to) hear what you have to say. A new age has arrived!

How NOT to handle bad breath

2010-07-23T13:00:00.000-07:00

We've all been there. You round the corner to your cubical ready to start the day's work when you are suddenly accosted by the familiar stench of a co-worker's bad breath.

"Here we go again...", you think. "Another 'H'-filled tirade that won't ever permeate my ears because I'm too busy trying to keep it from permeating my nose."

"So anywahhhhy," continues your co-worker, "Hhhhank Hhhhenshhhhaaw from Hhhhuman Reshhhhourcess told me ouhhhhhr 401k plahhhhn is an outstahhhhnding invehhhhhstment optiohhhhhn..."

Somehow, we'd like to think that our forced smile and wilting eyelashes might tell the offending party that there's something less than stellar about the way they are coming across. Unfortunately, that's simply wishful thinking. The problem is that no one knows they have a problem. We seem to be immune to our own stench, and unlike Willy Nelson's muse, it's never on our minds.

So how do you tell someone that their breathe is causing you to have a problem differentiating their head from their derriere? Sure, if it's someone you know and are comfortable with, you can try honesty. Still, even honesty has it's own set of problems. Do you play it off like it's a one-time occurrence you just noticed and hope that mentioning it takes care of the situation for good? Do you sit them down and have a serious discussion which could ultimately embarrass them or make you look like the bad person? How will they react to either scenario? You'd want to be told if you had bad breath, wouldn't you? Would you feel comfortable being told by this person that you have bad breath? Do you really know them well enough to be discussing this situation with them?

These are all important questions whose answers will vary with each unique situation. Still, there are some things you can avoid saying that are universal across all situations. I have taken the liberty of listing a few of them below. Remember, honesty is the best policy, but brutal honesty is often unnecessary.

# 1 Gee, is that your breath or did I blow my nose right after wiping my ass?

# 2 And now here's me with the weather: Thanks, me! Well it looks like there's a stank front moving due east from wherever your mouth happens to be. We're looking at a 100% chance of Halitosis throughout the rest of your life. Sports is next followed by today’s lottery numbers. Stay Tuned!

# 3 I don't mean to be rude but your horrible breath is melting my face. To have to stand here and listen to you is agonizingly painful. Hey, you ever see that "Alien" movie where the alien is breathing in Sigourney Weaver's face and she just cringes because the thing is so scary and because it's saliva is an acid that can eat through metal? This is a lot like that because even though your saliva won't eat through metal, I'm fairly certain your mouth-stench will and that is scaring the crap outta me, my friend. Again, I don't mean to be rude...

So you see, dear reader, one must choose carefully when approaching a subject this sensitive. Perhaps honesty is not always the best policy. Better yet, why not just leave an anonymous note...and a breath mint.