Volkswagon and Wutang Clan Team Up Against Bigotry After Weekend Violence In Charlottesville

New York - In a bold demonstration of solidarity, the German automaker Volkswagon announced Tuesday that it has teamed up with the Wutang Clan to denounce racial violence after the tragedy last weekend in Charlottesville, North Carolina. Marilee Kimball, the company's Senior Vice-President of Marketing, said in a prepared statement:

"We, at Volkswagon, are excited to partner with Wutang Clan as we roll out the 2018 Volkswagon Routang Van."

Kimball acknowledged that the Volkswagon Routan's sales have been slumping ever since they started teasing everyone with the concept of a new Microbus five years ago.

"This is essentially the same as it was in 2017 but, we added the letter g to the end of the name."  Kimball added, "the 'g' is for gangster!" and gave an excited thumbs-up gesture.

Sources have said that Ghostface Killah and Method Man have both been seen leaving clubs in the New York area and climbing into waiting Volkswagon minivans.  There have even been unconfirmed rumors that Ol' Dirty Bastard may be exhumed and reburied inside a 1992 Volkswagon Rabbit.

It remains to be seen what the level of collaboration between Volkswagon and the Wu Tang Clan will be in the future but, for now, it truly can be said, “Routang Van ain't nothing to [explitive] with!”

That Large Stowing Capacity is dope!

Popular Names

Here are some names that are becoming popular in 2016. Rooter for boys and Ruder for girls. Oddly, the name Router is catching on like flap jacks for both boys and girls north of the 49^th parallel. I like the name Zephyr for the child of a celebrity couple in the coming months. I'm looking at you Kanye...

On an unrelated note, my Mom used to tell me that I was cruising for a bruising when I was a kid. She loved the phrase because it conveyed the following messages: “You're pissing me off right now.” “This is not a joke.” “You better wipe that smirk off of your face.” and “I am about two seconds away from losing my shit and I will not be held responsible for whatever happens after that.” It conveyed all of those things and was benign enough for her to say, even in church.

I recently pulled the phrase out and dusted it off myself. I have tried on several occasions to use it with my own children or in the workplace, but with little success. I just can't tell someone that they are cruising for a bruising and muster real anger. The obvious question to ask is, whether the phrase alone is so ridiculous as to be nonsensical or if I associate it with my childhood and now feel nostalgic toward certain laws of motion and physical abuse.

I can't decide, but my ten year old better check himself before he wrecks himself with his room...

Water Damage

My wife and I have an ongoing debate about our cabinets. You see, as a lefty, I am supposed to be more creative and artistic because of my dominant right brain hemisphere. It may be why I am writing about this right now, I'm not a doctor. Anyway, I also break things and occasionally forget that things are on thereby flooding rooms in our home. My dear long-suffering wife recently pointed out that we are getting some water damage in an area that I frequently flood.

But, am I causing damage? Aren't cabinets made of wood and doesn't wood come from trees and don't trees LIKE water? I think our cabinets are growing and, with a little patience, we might have even bigger nicer cabinets this coming fall!    

Notes On Fatherhod

• Last week, as I was getting ready to head out of the door for work, my daughter June pooped her pants. She is two and deep in the throngs of potty training. She is aware enough to get angry that there is poop on her; she just has not fully committed to “the potty” as the place she wants to go for her defecatory needs... Anyway, I was rushing around looking for wipes and I seriously considered using a Swiffer Sweeper wet pad. I wondered if it would be more irritating to her skin than the Armor All wipe I was already holding...

• I found a sippy cup under the car seat and brought it inside to put into the dishwasher. It had once contained milk but the substance inside the cup had broken down and separated into water on top and some sort of unholy facsimile of cottage cheese underneath. I made a disgusted face which included, but was not limited to, wrinkling my nose. This caused my lips to part ever so slightly. I add this detail only because the cast off from the cup's contents ricocheted off the sink and landed just inside my bottom lip; sliding gently down until it gradually settled at the place where my lip connects to my chin and gums. At least, that is where it hurt the most when I tore my lip off of my face.

• I am turning 40 this year and I still try to put my head through the arm hole sometimes. This is not necessarily a dad thing, but I would be surprised if there wasn't some correlation.

Racism, Sexism, and Comfort

The other night I was lying there waiting to fall asleep when I had this thought about the Klan: I could never be a member of the KKK because I would never be able to keep from spilling food on my white robe. I don't secretly want to join the Klan but, here's the thing; whenever the Klan is portrayed on TV or in the movies, the rank and file racists are all in the white canvas robes. The leaders; however, are always wearing much snazzier robes that are red and gold and silky. They look like big Kimonos. When I see them I think, those despicable characters sure look comfortable in their silky Grand Wizard robes... It's a shame that I can't wear such a light breezy garment without people thinking that I'm a racist. Isn't that reverse racism?

I spoke with Steph about this and she pointed out that I might just want to wear a moo-moo. Of course she's right. I can't wear a moo-moo though because they are only for Golden Girls and morbidly obese men. So, I fall prey to another cruel stereo-type. That's sexist AND whatever it is we are calling it when people discriminate against the obese... Why can't moderately over-weight men (men like me that stand a good chance of being assigned a “health coach” by our employers) be allowed to wear moo-moos? Steph says Samoan men can wear whatever they want and they look very comfortable. I think that there is more to the Samoan look than a desire for comfort.

When will it become socially acceptable for me to wear a long loose fitting silky outer garment day after day, all summer long? Not. Soon. Enough.

The Game

Here is an idea for a game.  We should play some sort of photographic scavenger hunt.  I got the idea today when I saw this really hard core looking gangster running to catch a bus while carrying a stuffed animal, (a polar bear holding a heart).  I thought, “dag, I wish I had a photo of that guy.”  I thought, there should be a value for providing unstaged spontaneous evidence of a gangster with a stuffed animal.  There should be a bonus for getting a photo of one running for a city bus.  So, here we go.

• A gangster with a stuffed animal    10 points

• Shoes hanging from a power line    2 points

• A homeless person with a pet   5 points

• A cop eating a corndog   5 points

• A monkey wearing clothes   10 points

• A Spanish Speaking cover band of “The Smiths” 15 points

• A woman with an eye patch    10 points

• A glove for a person with missing fingers 10 points

• A horse wearing sunglasses  10 points

• Santa riding a bike 15 points

• A drunk person dressed as a superhero  10 points

• A piñata of any American President   15 points

• A swimming pool filled with dirt    10 points
• A child wearing a cape    5 points
• An Asian person dressed as a cowboy or Indian  10 points
• An above ground pool with 5 or more people in it  10 points
• Dirty landmarks  2 Points
• Grown man in a Boy Scout uniform  5 Points
• An Ojo de Dios made of yarn  5 Points

Any game player can suggest items and point values for the list, which should remain fluid and changeable.  Remember, the photos cannot be staged and you cannot include items that you personally own.  This is an honor system based game and there is no reward for winning. Upload your photos to the JDBOC Facebook page.

Thanks,

JDBOC

 

 

 

2013 New Year's Resolutions

1. I will impregnate a Giant Panda with the seed of a Tiny Panda and create a hybrid Regular Panda.

2. I will reintroduce the shout, “Mad Flavor!” as a sort of encouragement at ceremonies, recitals, etc.
3. I will stop spending so much time trying to destroy the horcrux I found. (If only I had a basilisk's tooth...)
4. I will develop a television show for Comedy Central starring Michael Ian Black walking up to people on the street and saying “that's what she said” but only at times when one is really trying to convey the message as stated by “she.” He could also say “takes one to know one” but only if he is referring to Free Masonry. The show would be called Appropriate Sarcasms With Michael Ian Black and it will air for ten episodes before being canceled!

2. I will finish developing my soft drink, “Panini” it's like drinking a Panini from a can!
3. Eat right, exercise, spend more time with my family and stuff.

The End of the Mayan Calendar

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to clarify a misconception that seems to have taken hold about the end of our calendar piece “The Mayan Circle.” People believe the end of the calendar portends the end of the world. I am happy to say that this is not the case. The end of the calendar actually signifies the end of a long and ancient mystery, whose answer has finally been revealed. The question has always been, “In the game called 'The Floor is Made of Lava', is the rug a raft?” The answer is, “It depends how many people are playing, three or more, yes, it's a raft but, if there are only two of you, you better get up on that coffee table because your raft is on fire!” So, anyway, sorry about the confusion. I hope the rule clarification is as helpful to you as it has been to us.

Sincerely,

The Mayans

(If anyone can think of a funny picture to go with this, it would make it a lot better, I think. Just let me know.)

Two Things

If I get reincarnated, I hope I come back as a 1980's rapper. My name would be Sultry D (pronounced “Soul Treaty”). I would incorporate roller skates and it would be fantastic. I would be on Friday Night Videos yo! Check me out! I would skate around and incorporate little ramps and quarter pipes into my videos so I could do tricks while I rap. People would yell, “Sooooouuul Treeeaty, you're the cat's pajamas!”


Another thing that I've been thinking about is how mad the guy that made two horse sleds was, when “Jingle Bells” came out. I bet he was like “One horse open sleigh?! That's bullshit! You want a two horse sled... It's a better sled!!!” Or the guy that was a major sled roof distributor for the whole northeast, I bet he was pissed when that song took hold. 

Upon Learning that my Dog's Identity had been Stolen Or Steve's Tale: An American Dog's Road to Redemption

Today I was watching 2News while laying in bed with the Junie. Ron and Mary cut away to Casey over at the Greekfest, or some other time filling community interest story. It was some business or school that nobody cares about except the people that are related to the family/kids on TV. We all acknowledge that these news segments must exist because that is when we break away from the TV and go to shave or get dressed or whatever. Anywho, I had switched Stephanie out so she could shower and I could entertain the baby.

The camera panned down from Casey to an English Bulldog at his feet and everyone in the studio cooed and hooted accordingly "Steve! Hey Steve! How you doin?" etc. I couldn't believe it! He named his dog Steve! And now he's putting his imitation Steve on TV to try and publicize him in order to undermine the true and living Steve. It was outrageous!

Let me flashback... The year is 2008. In an act of irrational self-affirmation I bought a dog. I've already explained why I named him Steve. (Reference my previous post: My Dog Steve 8/1/2011) 

The first time I took Steve jogging I decided to try him off of the leash once we got away from the houses. I unhooked the leash from his collar and smiled benevolently at Steve as he gave me an astonished over-the-shoulder look and booked it toward a catcher's mitt of roadkill that I had not noticed. "Steeeeve, no!" I yelled as I ran after him. "This is how my dog becomes rabid and I just barely got him," I thought, as I lost ground on Steve. He scooped the roadkill into his mouth and tried to swallow it whole, gagging himself as he swallowed and swallowed this hairy matted disgusting thing. I arrived just in time to grab a paw (it was a rabbit) and tried to pull it back out of Steve's gullet. I wretched and pulled and Steve did the same but I won the tug-of-war and pulled the entire maggot infested dead rabbit back out of his mouth. Bare hands. No gloves.

So, while I appreciate that Casey too, shares a name common among dogs, he cannot copy my idea. I have earned Steve through horrors that cannot be unseen by mortal man.

I offer this alternative dog name to Casey to show that I mean no disrespect to him personally or to his idiotic meaningless profession. If I were to name another dog, I would name him Travon Martin. That way I could always say, "This is my dawg Travon Martin." And give the guy or lady that I am introducing Tray to (I would call him Tray) a real intense meaningful look so that he or she would know that I believe strongly in divisive social issues.

I hold these truths to be self evident.

JDBOC

The new face of Identity Theft.

Summer Activities

As summer vacation quickly approaches I prepared a list of fun summer time activities.

• Go to a skating rink and ask to rent a wheelchair instead of skates because you are on vacation.
• If you take three friends with you to Paymon's Mediterranean Cafe on Maryland Parkway in Las Vegas and all four of you bring in river rafting tubes, they will give you a free Mai Tai. You can either bring the tubes to the table with you or check them with the hostess at the door.

• Walk past a karate dojo, poke your head in the door and yell “FINISH HIM!”

• Add Jello to the squeegee buckets at your local gas station.
• Create your own petroglyphs around your neighborhood then claim reverse discrimination when the cops come.

• Create your own mock crime scenes by drawing body outlines on the road then placing police tape around them.

• A weekly yoga class is nice.

I saw a Subway commercial this morning where they showed various people eating hamburgers and having buttons pop off of their shirts and their chairs collapse to illustrate how heavy or fattening hamburgers are when compared to Subway's food. One of the examples was of a man eating a hamburger in an above ground pool and the pool wall bursting, dumping all of the water and the man, still holding his hamburger, out onto the lawn. I do not recommend eating hamburgers in an above ground pool. That just seems unsanitary.

Likeability

Mitt Romney has a problem with likeability. He has all but locked up the Republican nomination to run against President Obama and yet, it still seems like he can't get any respect, not even from the staunchest Republican supporters. He has been getting endorsements from popular Republicans but, it seems to me that they are only endorsing him as a matter of procedure. It reminds me of when Bob Dole ran against Clinton in 1996. It seems like the Republicans are just sort of going through the motions.

Personally speaking, it doesn't matter to me whether Mitt Romney is a likeable guy or not. He definitely has a Thurston Howell the Third air about him. I am sure that, when they are alone, he refers to his wife as “Lovie” and wears yacht wear around the house. On an unrelated note, if Thurston Howell the Third was really so wealthy, why was he taking a three hour tour on the S.S. Minnow anyway? You would think that a couple of their socio-economic status would not need to share the boat with a professor, a movie star and a farm girl. But, I digress.

So, Mitt Romney has a likeability issue. I think I can help him with that. What he needs to do is associate himself with someone that people like. The very first thing I would do if I were him is start using my full name Kermitt Romney. I wouldn't stop there though, I would draw as many comparisons as I could between myself and Kermit the Frog. In the interests of democracy, I have drawn up a list of the more obvious points of comparison.

• They are both named Kermit although Romney spells it wrong.
• They both play the banjo.
• They are both members of the top 1% according to Forbes.
• They LOVE rainbows!
• They both have thin spindly legs that don't look capable of supporting their body weight.
• They both have sideways pupils.
• They are both Mormon.
• My Mom is a big fan of both of them.
• They love The Red Hot Chili Peppers.
• Their voices sound the same on the phone.
• And finally, they are both creations of Jim Henson and his master puppeteers.

Reena McNee's Fabulous Offer

The other day I was screwing boards into the fence again, when I got a call from Reena McNee from my bank. Fortunately, I wasn't exactly in the zone yet on this board screwing project so I decided to chat old Reena up a bit. She was not the friendly type of telemarketer. She was the nasally 'keep to the script' kind. She wanted to let me know that everything was okay with my accounts. I told her that I appreciated the heads up. I do have the Wells Fargo app on my phone so I didn't exactly need the extra reassurance but, it's nice to know that she, and others like her, are watching over my $240.00 with such vigilance. Then, Reena told me that, beyond wanting to let me know everything was fine with my account, she also sells accidental death and dismemberment insurance to people like me. Personally, I think it's pretty lame that my bank is also in the insurance business. It also bugs that they are calling my cell phone, but I didn't tell Reena that part. The point is, I got to hear Reena's fabulous offer and now I am going to share it with both of you.

Reena told me that as a valued bank customer I was eligible to buy accidental death and dismemberment insurance. I told her that I was interested, but I didn't think I was going to die by accident. This took a couple of minutes to sink in with Reena. I had to stop her and say again, “Reena, I don't think I am going to die by accident so I'm not sure this insurance is a good deal. What if the death just looks like an accident, will it still pay out then?” Now, Reena was off script and getting uncomfortable. She told me that the policy was only good if I died by accident. I asked her how good the bank's investigators were. What percentage of these deaths do they actually figure out are not accidental? Reena didn't know but she thought the investigators were very good. I asked her how well she knows the investigators and if she hangs out with them on break. She doesn't hang out with them.

I asked Reena about the dismemberment insurance. How many parts would I have to have cut off in order to get the money? Reena didn't know. I assume that the bank monitors Reena's calls for quality assurance or she would've surely lost her temper by then. I told her that I had a friend who lost three fingers in a car accident and I wanted to do something nice for him. Could I buy him the policy for Christmas and have him cash it out right away? Reena said that he would have to lose more fingers in order to be eligible. I didn't think he could spare any more fingers so we ruled out that option.

I still had some things that I wanted to hash out with Reena about the accidental death option but I could tell that she wanted to go. I asked her, if I was murdered but was not the intended target of the murderer, in other words, if I was murdered by accident, would the policy still pay out? She offered to let me speak with customer service but I didn't want to. She said she didn't know if the policy would pay out then. I told her about how I was worried that I would make friends with someone that has a big chimpanzee living in their house and how eventually the monkey could go bananas and tear my face or hands off. I asked her if the policy would pay out if the monkey intentionally or accidentally tore my face off. I told her that, in either circumstance, I would definitely want the money. She didn't know if the policy would pay off then but she thought it would.

In the end, I told Reena that I would have to think about it and asked for her telephone number. She gave me the 1-800- Wells Fargo number. I told her that I only wanted to deal with her on this issue and asked how I could reach her directly. I guess the phone cut out at that point because that was the last I heard of Reena McNee.

A Colossal Oversight

I realized that I have not been using the word colossal enough. I apologize for this oversight. Thanksgiving is going to be colossal this year.

The Time I Met The Karate Kid

A while back, Steph and I went to Long Beach for a weekend. You might remember me from last month's story about Long Beach. That was a clear Troy McClure reference for all my fellow nerds. Anyway, while we were there I met Jaden Smith; The Karate Kid 2000! I know some of you fact checkers are shaking your heads and saying “that movie came out in 2009” or whenever, but can't we all agree that there was 80's karate kid (Danny LaRusso) and there is now karate kid (Will Smith's kid.) I met the Will Smith's Kid version across the street from the Ross in Long Beach during the Latin Street Festival.

Stephanie loves Ross. A truer statement would be that Stephanie loves a deal. So, when she saw this huge Ross she was pretty excited. I was too because there was a big crazy street festival going on and I wanted to sit and read and watch all of the people and stuff. So, she went off and I found a place to sit and we were both content.

After a minute, I was approached by a group of four or five teen-age boys. They weren't the menacing kind of teen-agers, they were the snickering goofball kind. Interesting side note: My spellcheck thinks that I have misspelled teen-agers. It has offered me the alternatives “teen-pagers, teen-wagers and teen-ravagers.” I guess, if I had to choose from the three, I would say these kids were teen-wagers.

So, I recognized Jaden Smith right away but I didn't want to spook him off by asking for an autograph or anything too soon. He said that he and his friends were raising money to buy football equipment for his school and if I would give him $25 he would use it to get a football jersey. My concerns were two-fold; first, the only paperwork he had was an old beat down piece of paper with no school letterhead or anything, that looked like it had been written by a group of snickering goofball teen-wagers on a computer at home. Second, that Jaden Smith was spreading himself too thin if he is also playing football along with his karate studies. Also, I had secretly hoped that he would give me his sales pitch in a rap with no swearing just like his old man would've...

I offered the karate kid a counter proposal. I said, “Hey, did you know that you look like the karate kid?” Jaden's friends thought that was pretty funny and immediately took up my opinion and started teasing Jaden. I said to him, “if they're laughing you don't need them cause they're not good friends.” Anyway, I told him I wasn't interested in giving him $25 but thanks for offering me the chance. Then, I told him that I was a tourist down in Long Beach for the weekend visiting from Utah. I pronounced Utah like “eeuutahhh” for some reason when I told him that. I said that all of my friends were going to be really disappointed if I didn't get photos with any celebrities. I told Jaden that I would give him five bucks if he would let me take a photo with him and tell all of my friends back home that I had met the karate kid. He discussed it with his cohorts and then said he would do it.

The tricky part was trusting the teen-pagers to not run off with my cell phone when I gave it to one of them to take the picture. I picked the one that looked the slowest and had him take the photo.

A Note On Gender Equality

I think there would be way more heroic acts committed by females if this didn't always happen:

Person One: That was heroic.

Person Two: Yep, she's a heroine.

Person One: She's on heroin?

Person Two: She is? That explains it.

Person Three walks up: Wow, that was really heroic.

Persons One and Two: Well, you know she was totally on heroin when she did that...

And that's how gossip starts.

Project Falcon: A Letter From My Handler

Dear JDBOC,

I am writing to clarify and document our agency's position regarding your “project.” As I said to you yesterday before you “went undercover,” this is not a sanctioned activity. Although, we cannot legally stop you from your endeavor, we must advise you that any injuries you suffer or damage that you cause the school, or the area surrounding the school will not be covered by our insurance.

This puts me in a difficult position. I would make you come back to work but we all kind of love the peace and quiet around here. Plus, I feel partly to blame for sending in those transcripts for you. Sorry, about the name thing, we thought that you wanted your first name to be Falcon and then, you know how it goes, ya' gotta run with a good idea.

In summary, stay and work on your project as long as you want. Please, do not involve us in any way. We're not even sure what you're hoping to accomplish besides being a 37-year-old man posing as a 13-year-old.  You are not covered by our insurance. Also, please stop calling me your handler. I am a Corporal and your supervisor but, nothing more. While we're on the topic, my name is Corporal Timrell, not carpal tunnel. Don't call me that. Also, we don't have a precinct, you don't even know what a precinct is. I have asked you about this before and you clearly have no idea what it is!

You have too much time on your hands.

Corporal Matt Timrell

P.S. STATREP is not a real word.

Project Falcon

STATREP: Day One

As those of you with security clearances of mandarin or higher already know, Project Falcon has begun. In this operation, I have gone undercover 21 Jump Street style to infiltrate the intermediate school where my son is a student. I am posing as an awkward 7^th Grade boy from Canada. So far, everything is going as planned. I brought my real mom out of retirement to check me into school and my handler back at the precinct prepared the appropriate documents.

I have to confess that a mix up in the paperwork almost ruined the whole operation before if could even get started. I had asked, and reminded, my handler to use the name Hans Geiger II as a tribute to my hero and the inventor of the Geiger Counter. I use my Geiger Counter everyday to tell which co-workers are radioactive and which ones are not. Mostly, they are not, however, you can never be too safe. Anyway, I had a whole cover about being one of the famous “German Canadians” of Quebec. They are called the Quebecois. My mom even pulled out some phoney German accent that she has been using all of my life to complete the ruse. That is commitment to the operation, right there.

So, my mom and I were standing there in the office when the lady opened up my file and read my name. She said, “Hello, Falco Geiger Counter 2.0.” I didn't know what she was talking about and just looked at her blankly. Fortunately for me, this only served to convince her that I was in fact a seventh grader. She started speaking more slowly to me and said warily, “Isn't your name Falco Geiger Counter 2.0? It says right here that is your name...” and she showed me the file. It did say the less desirable but still obviously Germanadian name across the the top of the file, alongside the name was a hand-written annotation that said “Student becomes uncontrollable when not addressed by full and complete name.” I had some quick thinking to do but I covered well and completed the registration process. I begin my first full day of classes tomorrow as Falco Geiger Counter 2.0. I don't know how often I will be able to issue reports from here on, but I will do so when I can.

Over and Out,

JDBOC

Columbus Day

Friends,

Tomorrow is Columbus Day! Please join the celebration... Tomorrow, October 10^th, 2011, any time you hear someone use the phrase, “the situation” in any context, you must butt in and say emphatically, “You want to know the situation? Here's the situation!!!” As you say this you must pull up your shirt and expose your bare stomach. This is mandatory. I cannot over-emphasize the importance of exposing your belly. If you love America then do what that guy from Jersey Shore would do. Seriously, it's Columbus Day. What else were you going to do tomorrow? Nothing, right? Try this for just this one Columbus Day, then let me know what you think... I bet you'll want to do it every year.

You're welcome.

JDBOC

PS. Mad Props to my Uruguayan Homeboys!  "Quieren saber la situacion? Aqui esta la situacion!"

Another Travel Tip

Airports stress me out. Every time I have to go through security, I feel like I am taking a basic intelligence test. This test has only one question; “Are you a doofus?” As often as not, the answer is yes, I am a doof. One time, this other cop and I both had to fly somewhere for some training. Before I left my house, I went through all my stuff using my mental anti-moron checklist: Did I pack this? Did I forget to pack that? No guns, no knives, no fingernail clippers, no big shampoo bottles... I was clean. On a last minute impulse, I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door.

As we went through security I thought I was going to pass the test. I really wanted to anyway, because I didn't want my buddy to find out about the whole doofus thing. I learned later that he had found it out already a long time before... Anyway, I was almost through the line when they halted everything and singled me out, called me out, to be more accurate. I had a bullet in the pocket of my jacket. Let me stress how unbelievably moronic this makes me.  A .45 caliber big stupid shiny bullet.  Right in the pocket of my jacket. I had worn the same jacket to the range the day before and I must've just missed it. The worse part was that my buddy and co-worker saw the whole thing.  (Although, I have never seen it on a cop show, I can't believe that I am the only person to which, this sort of thing happens.)

So, here is the travel tip. Don't worry about taking anything with you. All you need is a sheet of paper with everything you will need at your destination listed right on it. You just write it all down: tube of toothpaste, shaving cream, whatever... Then, right at the top of the paper write in big letters: “SCAVENGER HUNT.” People will give you anything if they think you are on a scavenger hunt.

A Travel Tip

Thanks to hands free cell phones, when you see a guy in a park talking to himself now, you have about a fifty percent chance that he is a raving lunatic and a fifty percent chance that he is a dot com millionaire.  Either way, give him a wide berth.  He is in the middle of something big...

The LBC

My wife and I just had a weekend getaway to Long Beach, California and it was awesome!  We had a wonderful time and I would recommend it to all of you. 

The only bad part was flying into and out of Long Beach International Airport...

If the driver's license division operated an airport, it would be just like the Long Beach Airport.  It's never a good sign when you have to deplane down the stairs onto the tarmac and then get herded along by guys with wand-looking flashlights. 

We took a taxi to our hotel, which was amazing.  It was called the Dolly Varden and was built in the 1920's and only has like 35 rooms.

Here I am, posing just up from the hotel...

We had a lot of fun and really enjoyed ouselves.  But, before we could relax we had to pick up some hairspray and cough drops from the Walgreen's.

"RiiiiCooooolaaaaahhh!!!"

Our first day there, we visited downtown Long Beach.

We saw the Long Beach Convention Center.

And we almost got a photo of me landing a double back hand-spring but the camera took the photo a second too late...

Belarus gives the American a 9.5 for his floor routine. "He did the whole thing with a book in his hand" said the Belarusian judge.

Long Beach has a vibrant pedestrian-friendly downtown shopping district.  Here I am, about to be sorely disappointed by the results of the 'trust fall' I was about to perform!

As it started to get dark, we started thinking about finding a place for dinner, but we were way down by the marina.

We decided to take the train downtown and find a hip place in L.A. for dinner.  We rode the metro into town.

We were like locals on the subway...

Downtown we went to a cool bodega.  Things got a little blurry after that.

But we had an uneventful ride back to Long Beach.  On a serious note, it was good to ride public transit to a popular restaraunt in Los Angeles on the September 11th weekend and just not worry about it.  You lose terrorists!

The next day we rented bikes.

We rode all over town and it was great.  We even rode out to see the Queen Mary, which is a very famous ship.

I even bought a new shirt at Ross.

So, yeah.  It was a pretty good vacation.  A wise man once said, "With so much drama in the LBC it's kind of hard being Snoop D-O-Double G."  But it wasn't hard for Steph and I.  We had a great time.

So, there's that.

The Good Aloha

Dear Hawaii,

I always look forward to being in the audience when someone from your fine state addresses the crowd. I have even said to the people sitting next to me, “I hope that guy is from Hawaii. I feel a monster 'aloha' in me that needs to come out!” I am not sure if you are aware of this but the same scenario plays out at every one of these events. Here is a transcript:

Speaker:   Now, where I come from we always start off with a big 'alooooo-haa!' and I am going to need all of you to say aloha back, okay? Alooooooo-haaaa!

Crowd:   Alooooooo-haaa!

Speaker:   Hmm... Now, I know you can do better than that. I want to hear a really big aloha out of each and every one of you... Alooooooo-haaa!

Crowd:   ALOOOOOOOO-HAAAA!!!

Speaker:   Now that was a good aloha.

After the greeting has been deemed satisfactory, the speech or pep rally or whatever it is, goes on as usual. I think that you should consider occasionally accepting the first aloha. Let me explain; If the crowd knows that their first aloha is going to be disqualified immediately, they are not going to try as hard. They are going to save their good aloha for the second try. I think you could inadvertently, be setting yourself up for some lame first alohas.

Just sayin'

Jake

The Morning Zoo

Have you noticed that the news has stopped being news in the morning? Now it is five minutes of 'headlines' and the rest is gibberish and traffic updates. So, let me propose a list of stories that I do not want to see and a list of stories I would like to see more about in order to help news producers fill up their half hour.

Here are some stories that I am not interested in: 

• Anything to do with Kim Kardashian's wedding.
• Any segment where the anchor comes out from behind the desk to look at delicious food and tell you that it is the equivalent of eating fifty eggs, which nobody can do, but at least Cool Hand Luke tried... One time they showed a delicious burger and explained that it was like eating some outrageous amount of Oreo's like an entire sleeve or something and I asked Steph to go back and see where they sold the burger because I thought it was worth a try.
• Anything to do with Oscar fashions.
• Anything else on Hurricane Irene. Let it go, Eastern Seaboard, let it go... P.S. I hope it is called the Eastern Seaboard and not something else like the "Eastern Sibourd." The thing is, I don't think seaboard is any more of a word than sibourd. I couldn't use it in a sentence without attaching eastern to the front at any rate.
• Anything to do with recipes that the reporters brought from home. See Debi Worthen's Pot Stickers.
• Any time the morning news brings on a band unless the band just knocked over a pharmacy or something.
• Flight delays in Europe.
• Anything that involves the reporters sitting on tall chairs and drinking wine. Are you on break or something?
• When the "pick city" for weather is Honolulu. That is just rude to the rest of us.
• Casey Anthony does not deserve anymore attention.
• Any segment that is a highlight reel of the zany antics that the morning crew got up to over the last week.

Here are some stories I would like to see more about:

• Y2K
• Karate fights.
• How to win at the slots.
• Bicycle wrecks if there is video and nobody dies.
• Manatee stories but not sad ones about how they get hit by motorboats, happy ones about how they save that rich guy that owns Virgin Records' mom from a fire in the Bahamas.
• Any time robbers get beat up by convenience store clerks.
• Any time a reporter gets hit by a football that they weren't expecting.

The Spaghetti Bowl

As an adult, I think back on my childhood in weird ways. When I remember things, it isn't usually a sequential movie of what happened, my memories jump around and focus on the parts that were the most important to me. I also tend to remember things surrounding mental landmarks of my childhood, like what happened at this school, or memories from the beach, or things like that. I think that is how most people's memories work. Unless the person has a photographic memory or something, but that sort of thing is a lot less common than people want to believe. I always seem to hear about this guy or that guy having a photographic memory, but I don't buy it. If that guy can remember everything, then why did he forget to shower this morning?

One place that was a landmark of my childhood was The Spaghetti Bowl. There was a big deep storm drain that ran through our neighborhood and every time they put a road across it they would pour these huge cement slabs running down the three sides of the “bowl” between the road level and the big culvert pipes that ran underneath it at the base of the creek or bayou about 1000 feet below, as I recall. The Spaghetti Bowl was one of these bowls that sided up to a road that was never completed so it was pretty much deserted by adults. It was also the unofficial meeting place of every kid I knew.

Whenever two kids were going to fight, they didn't meet at the flag pole or on the playground, they met at The Spaghetti Bowl. When I was in the 7^th grade, I saw two girls fight at The Spaghetti Bowl and they each tore open the other one's shirt. The fight ended when the meaner of the two, pulled the other girl's earrings straight down through her lobes. You can see why it would be a landmark just by that one event, right?

My friends and I used to ride our bikes over to The Spaghetti Bowl and try to jump them by racing diagonally down and back up in a big “U” that spanned all three sides. I also smoked a cigar out there one time, and was eaten alive by ants as a result.

When I was 14 we moved from Houston, Texas to Salt Lake City, Utah but my parents gave me permission to go back down to Houston over Christmas break and stay with my best friend Jason and his family. I rode a Greyhound bus all the way there and it was terrible. Sorry Greyhound, I just can't give you my seal of approval. On the bright side, you meet the most interesting people ever on the Greyhound bus.

I got to Texas prepared for balmy southern warmth but it was freezing. The very first night I was there, Houston received the rarest of gifts, a snow storm. When it snows in Houston pretty much everything shuts down. They close banks and schools city wide and urge people to stay indoors and update their wills. But for kids it is like a solar eclipse; something amazing. This snow was really cold and wet and mixed with a thick fog that was almost drizzle.

I thought that since I had spent the last six months in Utah and had seen snow a few times, I was the expert on it. Jason, his older brother Tony and I, all hopped on bikes and rode over to The Spaghetti Bowl. Tony had a ten speed and totally left us behind but it was fine. Jason and I were riding our bikes up onto people's lawns where the snow was thickest and trying to skid out, we weren't in any hurry.

When we got to The Spaghetti Bowl it was completely coated in ice and snow on all three sides. In the ditch at the bottom was the ever present bog of mud and water, but it was iced over too. Tony was already on the far side of The Spaghetti Bowl. He hollered across to us that he had already ridden it and it was super fun and fast and he had jumped higher than he had ever been able to before because ice and snow make for perfect bike jumping conditions. All of this sounded scientifically sound to me so I took my turn. Plus, I didn't want to admit that I had never ridden my bike in the snow before.

I placed my bike at an angle diagonal to the grade as usual and pushed off. My bike immediately slid out from under me and I slammed hard onto my side and started sliding down toward the water below, bike and all. Luckily, I was far enough up so that when I reached the bottom I slid into the culvert pipe inches away from the frozen mud bog. Did I mention that this was at like 7:00 AM? And that it was freezing cold and sort of raining? I could here Jason and Tony laughing, but you have to understand that this is like the salt of the earth, nicest family ever, and they have these huge loud laughs that are completely without guile. I was pretty embarrassed still and so I said that I had hurt my leg. It did sort of hurt but I was more just generally miserable.

Jason dropped his bike and started down the side toward me but slipped at once and landed on his back. He looked exactly like Yertle the Turtle as he was falling off of his, once great, turtle stack. Anyway, Jason was on his back and sort of flailing and clawing at the ground while he slid slowly down the side and out across the iced over bog until he was right about in the middle. Then, the ice cracked and down went Jason, up to his neck in the funk. I should point out that Jason was wearing every item of clothing he owned to keep warm.

Jason was up on his feet right away but couldn't get out because he was surrounded in ice. Now, Tony and I were the ones laughing. He saw that we were not going to be of any use to him and started stomping and thrashing through the ice like a T-Rex. His arms were curled in close because he was cold and he was really stomping... I know my memory isn't 100% right after all of these years, but that is how I remember it going and it was the funniest thing I have ever seen.

Tony came hopping down from a position directly above the culverts so if he slipped he wouldn't go into the water. We eventually pulled Jason and me and my bike up to the top after much slipping and complaining. Tony told us afterward that he rode around the outside of The Spaghetti Bowl to the opposite side and just wanted to see if we would be dumb enough to ride across it. We were, or at least, I was.

That was how I remember that happening. I bet Tony or Jason would have a whole different recollection. Jason would remember that his pants froze from all of the water and mud that he caked into them. They could stand up by themselves by the time we got home. Tony would remember something else completely. I think that's why eye witness accounts can vary so much.

And that's the story of The Spaghetti Bowl.

Submission to the Vent 4

I looked forward to the county fair this year because I had finally arranged to box with a kangaroo at the Friday Night Fights. I couldn't believe it, but when the fight began most of the crowd was cheering for the kangaroo! Whose side are they on, the humans or the animals? I also thought it was unfair that the kangaroo was allowed to use its hind legs, which is technically kicking and not punching at all. He should have been disqualified.

I don't Usually Litter but...

Here's the thing about officer discretion. Officer discretion is what they call the choice that a police officer has to make when faced with a violation. Officers cannot stop every car on the road for every law violation that happens. It would ruin traffic flow and everything. They have to use sound discretion.

One thing that you will almost certainly get pulled over and cited for is littering. People hate litterbugs and most cops were raised as humans from the time they were young so, those feelings run deep. Anyway, I pull people over for littering when I see it. The worst kind of litterbug is the lit cigarette litterbug. That guy will usually end up with the dreaded Lecture and Citation. (The Lecture and Citation is a police tactic reserved for only the most serious offenses. 95% of the time, a cop will either give you a lecture or a citation but not both. The other 5% involve either jerk cops or jerk drivers or both.)

People usually have a pretty good excuse when they get pulled over for littering. I would love to hear someone say, “I just hate the planet.” but I never have... Anyway, the excuses always start off with, “I don't usually litter but...” from there it gets good. I've seen grown men and women chuck their children right under the litterbus. I love it when the kids say, “Dad, you told me to throw it out.”

As of last Saturday I have my own litter story. Here it goes:

We were hip deep in Saturday morning chores with the kids and it was my eight-year-old daughter's turn to pick up the dog poop in the backyard. Kids think that when they have to do chores they end up doing the work instead of the parents. Untrue. It is a test of wills that lasts for like 90 minutes while we stay on top of four kids trying to wriggle out of four different jobs. Anyway, I was brushing my teeth when my daughter knocked on the door and said she was finished with the dog poop job. I knew that this was the beginning of a negotiation process where I counter her statement with a review of the yard and point out all of the poop she missed. I decided to continue brushing my teeth while making a quick circuit of the backyard.

I reached the backyard and button-hooked left to an area that the dogs call, “the stomping ground.” Always plenty of poop there... I started pointing stuff out and continued brushing. My daughter came over with the pooper-scooper and grocery bag and started fumbling around. After a few minutes, I said “Here, let me give you a hand.” I grabbed the handle of the pooper-scooper and, in so doing, brushed the bristles of my toothbrush against the handle of the pooper-scooper. I recoiled in revulsion and disgust and chucked my toothbrush right over the back fence into the vacant lot beside my house.

So, I don't usually litter but...

Stephanie re: Stevie last night after I went to bed. August 28th, 2011

“He said, 'I'm just going to tear this place down from the ground up. I'm gonna tear it down!' He said that, I could see it in his eyes and he went crazy!”

The Autopsy of a Bumper Sticker

I have conflicted feelings about bumper stickers. I am against them on principle because I don't like to be visually force fed someone's political or religious beliefs while I am driving to work. I also think that funny bumper stickers aren't really that funny and, even if they are, do you really want the same joke broadcast to everyone on the road with you? The worst bumper stickers are the ones with small writing, where you have to get pretty close to the car if you want to read what it says. Those are just plain dangerous...

Having said all that, sometimes, I love a bumper sticker. For example, I love to find a car with a bumper sticker or license plate holder that says something like “Daddy's little princess” and has a dude driving it. I also think that there is nothing classier than silhouettes of two naked chicks where one is a devil and the other is an angel. They make a poignant statement about the duality of the human state, you know, how you can only experience joy after sorrow and you can only reach for the divine after foregoing baseness. I'm sure that was what the trucker was trying to convey when he bought those mud flaps...

It's been some time ago but, I bought a bumper sticker once as a gift for a friend of mine. I had to go up to Salt Lake for an autopsy. When you work where I do, going to an autopsy makes for a long night. You have to leave at about 3:00 AM in order to be at the medical examiner's office by 8:00 AM. If you

aren't there on time, you risk having the doctors start on someone else before your case. Each autopsy takes several hours so, if you have to wait then you are just stuck for hours. Anyway, I had been up all night after working on the case locally, then following the body up north. By the time the autopsy was over and all the evidence was collected and packaged for transport back home, it was early afternoon.

I drove about 100 miles from Salt Lake before stopping at a truck stop to stretch out and get gas. Coming out of the restrooms, I saw a rack of bumper stickers including one that said, “I go from zero to horny in 3.2 beers.” On impulse, I bought the sticker and hatched a scheme.

I have a friend who is an attorney here locally. He is a pretty straight laced guy and pillar of the community. He goes to church on Sundays and only rarely swears out loud. I decided that this bumper sticker would go perfectly on the bumper of his car, hopefully somewhere that he wouldn't notice it for quite a while. I spent the remaining 200 miles of my drive home tired but happy at the idea of this poor guy driving his modest sedan back and forth to work and home and church and little league all the while, proclaiming that he drinks beer and becomes amorous as a result. When you're tired like that, these sorts of things just seem funny.

I gave up on my idea as soon as I got home and slept for a while. I did give him the bumper sticker and told him about my plan, which, for the record, he opposed. I told him he could have the sticker and put it on someone else's car, if he wanted. He didn't. That was the one time that I succumbed to the influence of the Big Bumper Sticker lobby. We should close the tax loopholes for those fat cats!

Just so my friend knew that I still liked him, even though he shot me down on the bumper sticker idea, I waited until he and his family were out of town on vacation and then put a “Ron Paul for President” sign in his front yard.

 

The Cemetery Bus Stop

I like to drive by the bus stop at the cemetery when I'm in town. I bet that it is a nice stop because there are plenty of trees to wait under and there is a lot of room for people to spread out and wait, before everyone has to pile onto the bus. I do have a few questions though...

Is it embarrassing if you make it to the funeral but miss the graveside service because the bus had to stop at Albertson's and the library before it dropped you off at the cemetery? Maybe you thought that everyone at the funeral would be taking the bus to the cemetery. The bus must hold like fifty people after all... Does it weird out the other passengers on the bus if fifty people all dressed in church clothes load onto the bus and ride it to the cemetery? Do you ever get mistaken for a flash mob? That's what I would think was happening if I were the bus driver.

I think that it would be hard to load a casket onto the bus regardless of how close it dropped you off to the actual graveside. Trying to get the casket around that first corner at the top of the stairs must be a nightmare; especially if someone is sitting in that front seat. How do you ever make that turn with all of the pall bearers? You're probably better off strapping the casket to the front of the bus but then, where are people supposed to put their bikes? I'm sure the casket hogs the whole front rack...

What about grave robbers? Is the bus driver trained to recognize when people are legally hauling bodies out of the cemetery onto the bus and when people are stealing the bodies? I think the best indicator that someone is loading a stolen body onto the bus is the hump-back. If a guy with a hump-back gets onto the bus at the cemetery stop with a big burlap sack and sits all the way at the back, I would call my manager.

Some Basic Household Tips

I don't usually watch Saturday morning handyman shows like “This Old House” because they assume a baseline of comprehension and ability on the part of the home owner, that many of us do not have. So, I created a list of handy household tips for the truly unhandy man.

• Your front yard is like the haircut for your house. It doesn't matter if your house is nice or not, you can still make the most out of it by taking care of the yard. Your backyard is more like a pair of cargo shorts. It is less important for it to look nice because it is more useful than beautiful.

• When you refill your hummingbird feeder, make sure you check it for bees before you bring it inside. A hummingbird feeder can hide about twelve bees inside of it. They won't come out until you try to run the feeder under the kitchen sink.

• Shooting a lock, or shooting a deadbolt, does not guarantee that you will be able to open the door.

• You can kill a spider with aerosol hairspray and a lighter, but it is harder than you'd think.

• You should not try to kill a spider in the cabinet under the  kitchen sink by using the above mentioned home-made flame thrower because you may create a very startling “back draft” effect.  Not the awesome Kurt Russell style back draft but the scary burn-your-eyebrows-off kind.

• Spiders can jump really far.

• If someone lends you a casserole dish, write your name on it in Sharpie before you give it back to help them remember their good deed.

• There is always a little more toothpaste in the toothpaste tube. ~Bill Bryson

• If the TV gets messed up, do not, under any circumstances, unplug everything back there and try to “start from scratch.”

• Do not agree that a piano, any piano, would look nice upstairs.

• When you put together a basketball hoop, the base should extend out on the opposite side from the basketball rim. If you don't set it up this way, you will trip over the base every time you try to get a rebound. Also, your hoop will fall over the first time it gets really windy.

• 

Words and Phrases I would Like All of Us to Start Using (Again.)

Rigamaroar: The noise that a rigamaroll makes.

Slobberchops: A really messy eater. I didn't make this word up. I read in a book one time that it was a word, once popular, that just fell out of usage over time. I think we should bring it back.

Doy: DOY!!! I have been a long time proponent of Doy. It left us too soon and never reached the true zenith of its potential. Doy is like the Pluto of exclamations. It just chills out there and then gets vilified and dismissed for no good reason. (Also includes variations: Adoy, No doy, duh, d'oh, etc.)

Abadibad: When you lose something and then find it in a really obvious place. “I couldn't find my keys for 10 minutes and then, Abadibad! They were right on the counter!”

Ball-headed: A person with a tiny shaved head. Many police officers are ball-headed.

Coolio: It's handled and we don't have to discuss it anymore. “Don't forget Kory has a soccer game at eleven on Saturday.” “Coolio.”

Go downtown to hire a clown: When you pay a hobo to conduct man-on-the-street interviews with strangers while using a corndog for a pretend microphone. (Very popular in Japan.)