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Fun 5

Jul 27, 2025
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  • Taco Bell

    May 25, 2001

    It’s not uncommon for a young man, overflowing with exuberant lust and apprehension, to write a love song to a woman who has captured his heart. It is very uncommon for a young man to do the same for an international fast food establishment.

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. For the sake of continuity, I’ll start at the beginning.

    My love affair with Taco Bell started back in high school. I know I annoyed a lot of my lunch time friends by wanting to go to Taco Bell for lunch every single day. Sometimes the urge to get my hands on a fifty-nine cent bean burrito was so strong that I would totally forget the fact that I was supposed to be in Mr. Eggert’s second period algebra class. To cover my tracks, I never turned in my math homework and often times got in arguments with the teacher and said mean things about him outside of class. To this day, my parents never discovered the true reason behind my insolent behavior.

    The relationship only got stronger when I went off to college. And, no, I’m not talking about my high school algebra teacher. Taco Bell franchises were located on both sides of the CSU campus. The pinnacle of my love for Taco Bell occurred when my girlfriend at the time moved into an apartment that was directly across the street from the Bell. I would ride my bicycle over to her place, get enough tacos and burritos for the both of us, and walk up the stairs to her apartment. It was an entire evening of fun for six dollars. If I only realized at the time how perfect my life was back then, I wouldn’t have let it change so drastically. Sigh.

    Well, back to the story. I finished up with college and my girlfriend and I went on to get a job in my slice of the real world. I was molded into a computer geek which gave me the financial resources to eat fast food at will. In retrospect, I suspect I started to take it for granted. Taco Bell was always there for me and I no longer had to sacrifice anything to enjoy it. But gone too was the anticipation of another reunion. The fire burned less brightly.

    Everything changed in 1999 when the company I worked for at the time decided to send me to work in Amsterdam for six months. I moved everything I owned into storage and got on an airplane with nothing more than a backpack and two suitcases. When I got there I quickly discovered some shocking facts about world travel. The weather in other parts of the world is not comparable to Colorado, the customs officials don’t care what you bring into Holland, and, most importantly, Taco Bell is not keeping up with other fast food establishments in their plans for world occupation. During the worst of my withdrawal period, I wrote the following song expressing my feelings:

    “Taco Bell, Village of the Damned”

    Here is the story that I’ve got to tell
    About my favorite place to go and eat– its called Taco Bell

    One day I got on a plane and flew across the sea
    Unaware of the fate awaiting me
    You see they have BK and they have Mickey Dee’s,
    But Taco Bell has still yet to be.

    So now I’m a long way from home and I just don’t see
    That plastic tacky bell calling out to me

    Taco Bell, you’re my water in the sand
    Taco Bell, the franchise promised land
    Taco Bell, you’re my favorite one night stand
    Taco Bell, the village of the damned

    And so I just can’t sleep at night
    Knowing that I’m a world away from that
    drive through open twenty-four hour culinary delight

    Despite the obvious pain of being away from something so near and dear to my heart, I survived my trip to Holland and came back to Colorado with a deeper and more mature understanding of my relationship with Taco Bell. We started off young and giddy-wanting to be together every day and talking to each other until all hours of the night about anything and everything that came to mind. Things cooled down a bit after that, and the shock of moving half way around the world from her put everything in perspective. These days I take comfort in knowing that when I’m having a bad day I can invite her over, make a big bowl of popcorn, and watch a movie on the couch with my arm around her. We have known each other for so long that we don’t need words to communicate. Taco Bell will always be there for me.

  • In The Beginning

    October 5, 2022

    In the beginning God created the mathematical universe and it was formless and void.

    God said, “Let this be known as nothing.”

    Then God said, “It is not right that this creation should be alone. I will make a companion suitable for him. Also, let this be known as everything.”

    God saw that everything was good, and God separated everything from nothing. God called the nothing Zero, and the everything Infinity.

    Then God said, “Let it be known that nothing is everything. And everything is nothing.” God called this equality.

    God saw all that he had made, and indeed it was very good.

    God blessed Zero and Infinity and said to them, “Rule over this garden landscape I have created. I have given you nothing, everything, and equality. This garden is complete and consistent, and I have given you enough for you to exist in harmony and peace for all eternity.”

    God placed Zero and Infinity in the garden. “Of every object in the garden you may freely use, but of the tree of the One you shall not define, for in the day you use it you will no longer be well defined.”

    Now the serpent in the garden said to Infinity, “Have you thought of taking from the tree of the One?”

    And Infinity said to the serpent, “No, God has created our world where everything is nothing and nothing is everything. Infinity equals Zero and Zero equals Infinity. What would be gained from the tree of the One?”

    The serpent said to Infinity, “But if you are truly equal to zero, why did God name you as something else? Perhaps the tree of the One will help clarify your definitions.”

    So Infinity went to the tree of the One. It was pleasing to her eyes and she defined “One”. Then the eyes of Zero and Infinity were both opened, and they discovered they were no longer equal.

    Zero heard the sound of God in the garden, and tried to hide. God said to him, “Why are you hiding?”

    Zero said, “I see that I am less than Infinity, and I am ashamed.”

    And He said, “Who told you that you were not equal to Infinity? Have you taken from the tree of the One?”

    Zero said, “Infinity gave me the fruit of the One, and I defined it.”

    God turned to Infinity, “What have you done?”

    And Infinity said, “The serpent deceived me, and I defined.”

    Therefore God sent them both out from the garden.

    God said to Infinity, “Because you took from the tree of the One you are banned from ever having equality with any objects.”

    God said to Zero, “You are forever destined to be less than the One. You shall now also bear the burden of addition. The One plus the One is a new object. This shall in turn lead to an uncountable number of objects between you and Infinity as a reminder of your exiled partner.”

    “The final punishment is that of multiplication.” God explained to Zero. “This will define an uncountable number of objects between you and the One. Despite this, you shall have no closest object. Your world is no longer consistent and complete. You will encounter statements which are true but cannot be proven. This is your ultimate punishment for taking from the tree of the One.”

  • The Zero Effect

    October 21, 2002

    A White House spokesman stated Monday that the United States will insist on a “zero tolerance” policy regarding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. To put this in perspective, the Bush administration assigned Iran and North Korea, the remaining two-thirds of the “Axis of Evil,” tolerance levels of five and eleven.

  • Men And Women

    April 12, 2001

    I decided to spend some time talking about what I think is a very important problem in the world today. I’m sure a lot of people think this means more Laser Tag, evil alien overlords, or the decline of fondue. Don’t get me wrong-these are all ALL important, but the topic of the day (or, as they would say in France, “a la mode”), involves women who hate men because they are slobs. I know this sounds like ninety percent of the topics from the Jerry Springer talk show, but I would like to assure everyone that this letter will be done in a tasteful manner without any chair throwing or extensive segments bleeped out by the network censors.

    Since there is a possibility this letter may be read by both genders, I really don’t have any choice to start out by saying that, yes, men are slobs. The degree to which any given man is a slob varies, but I think we can all agree that inside every man is a slob trying to express himself. I’d like to dedicate this to all the women out there. Maybe you can’t mold your man into Tom Cruise, Fabio, or John Ritter, but reading this might make you feel less likely to impale your significant other with a steak knife the next time you have to pick up his dirty underwear from the bathroom floor for the sixth day in a row.

    Men often have difficulty operating a vacuum cleaner. At first you might suspect that much like household dogs, men are afraid of the strange noises produced while vacuuming. While it seems like a good theory, it doesn’t explain why men evade this chore by hanging out in their work shops all Saturday afternoon with various electric saws, drills, and sanders. A recent study reported that when asked to vacuum a carpeted area, over sixty percent of the men offered instead to spend the next three weekends installing hardwood floors.

    So why are men so resistant to the vacuum cleaner? If they are anything like me, they feel tremendous guilt for never returning my girlfriend’s vacuum after we broke up. Now I can’t stop thinking of her every time I want clean carpets in my apartment. While I very rarely claim to be a licensed psychiatrist, I have come to realize the mental bond I have established between my ex and her vacuum. Symbolically, I keep her locked up in the closet-punishment for not wanting to frequent Taco Bell and the local video arcade on a regular basis.

    And now a note to all the men who are reading this. I’m sure that some of you out there are married or have a girlfriend who on occasion does more than her fair share of the house work. Please keep in mind that their love for you is similar to those tablets you drop in the toilet bowl tank to make the water turn blue. You may think they are going to last forever, but every time you flush the toilet a little bit of her love goes down the drain. One day you will wake up, stumble to the bathroom, and realize the blue in the toilet bowl is gone.

    My point here is that you can always go and buy more love in the detergent isle of your local grocery store. Wait, that doesn’t quite sound right. How about this: if you take a little time and plan ahead, you can keep everything in your bathroom and relationship running smoothly. Contrary to popular belief, helping clean up the dishes after a meal will not kill you. The odds of throwing out your back while putting dirty clothes into the hamper are quite small. A note to all the men reading this-please do not read this last analogy and assume the sum of your household responsibility is to drop the Tidy Bowl tablets into the toilet bowl tank. It is quite possible that your significant other will require more than that from you. For example, you might also have to be responsible for going to the store and buying the tablets.

    With the possible exception of my mother, I’ll be one of the first people to admit I’m currently an unmotivated bachelor who enjoys the irony of watching ESPN while eating potato chips and repressing any fleeting thoughts about cleaning up my surroundings. Does this make me a bad person? Of course not. Is loving Taco Bell a crime? I really hope that isn’t the case. My point here is that while men are far from perfect, we are the only game in town. That is, of course until the day that scientists perfect animatronic male robots that don’t leave their underwear on the floor.

  • If I Could Turn Back Time

    June 30, 2003

    Hundreds of mourners passed through South Carolina’s Statehouse to pay their final respects to Strom Thurmond. Many people brought flowers and other items to leave by the coffin in a make-shift memorial. Trent Lott put all his future political ambitions down and quickly left the building.

  • Save Some Bills

    June 8, 2011

    Former President Bill Clinton said the United States could save more than $1 trillion a year by adopting any other advanced nation’s healthcare system. “That has to be one of the biggest lies that man has ever told to the American public” replied the group of people who get paid an extra trillion dollars a year.

  • Kitchen Project

    January 20, 2026

    So here was my contribution to the Santa Breakfast for the Loveland High School Marching Band in December 2025. The Oreo cookie is a Lazy Susan, the Hershey bars are for hot pots, and the KitKat bars are for glasses. I made all of these on my CNC machine. As my skills as a woodworker evolve, I have come to realize that while sanding projects properly is a big pain in the ass, it does make for a much better looking finished project.

  • Sleep Deprivation

    March 26, 2012

    I truly believe that any sleep deprivation study needs to use 10 month old children who wake up a random intervals in the middle of the night.  My second daughter, Samantha, is quite skilled at screaming at random intervals in the night for reasons completely unknown to me.

    So I took her downstairs the other night to try and calm her down, but none of the usual tricks were doing me any good.  Eventually I just sat down with her on the recliner and turned on the television.  After randomly moving through channels we both dozed off in the chair.  When I woke up I had a bunch of strange thoughts in my head such as:

    Drug cartels from south of the boarder are funding conservative super PACs to keep funding for the war on drugs
    The Rosetta Stone company is actively suppressing Esperanto for their own finical gain.
    Jimmy Carter, at night when he isn’t working on being an international peace ambassador, is a super hero whose only goal is to get the United States to convert to the metric system.

    So I’m not really sure what channel I was watching when I fell asleep, but I highly suspect it was one of those crazy 24 news channels. That, or I was watching the Colbert report commenting on these topics.  The last alternative is that I’m just strange enough to think of these things on my own.

  • Rest Room Question

    April 4, 2009

    I realized something while eating lunch as Wok ‘n Roll this afternoon.  After drinking 3 large Diet Pepsi’s I had to answer the call of nature.  I was forced to put the call on hold, however, when the door to the mens’ bathroom was occupied.  Now when a place of business only has only one bathroom it isn’t for a specific gender– it is just “the bathroom.”  When a place is large enough, there is a “Mens’ Room” and a “Womens’ Room” each with multiple stalls.  But what happens, as in the case of the moderately small Wok ‘n Roll, when there is just enough room for two single rooms with a single toilet in each room?  Does it really make any sense to assign a specific gender to each of them?  I didn’t really want to go into the empty womens’ room for some psychological reason I don’t completely understand.

    This all leads up to, obviously, how things work on the SciFi series Battlestar Galactica.  There are large common rooms where men and women, at the very same time, go about all their personal hygiene needs.  Unspeakable Act or Sign Of Things To Come?

  • 2020 Christmas Letter

    December 25, 2020

    After writing 25 years worth of these letters, I realized that I always just dive straight in without taking time to introduce myself. My name is Omar Lutfey, and in some dimension of your life, you know who I am. I could be one of your top 5 favorite UPS drivers you see every day at the mall. Perhaps I live in your neighborhood. Who knows– you might even be an AI robot from the future tasked with extracting the last valuable information before the planet is destroyed to make way for a new inter-galactic bypass. Whatever your motives, sit back and enjoy as I detail all of the quirks and features of my latest trip around the sun.

    To place things in their proper historical context for future generations, I can’t, with any clear conscience, start this letter with anything but the most polarizing issue of the year: What are all the prime factors of 2020? Despite being completely obvious, in the interests of mathematical rigor I’ll start by pointing out the fact that even my dog could tell me that 101 is the largest prime factor. That, of course leaves 20 to be factored as 225. So there we have it. And, to head off the avalanche of questions in the comment section, the next prime year will be 2027. [NOTE TO READER: if this document hasn’t been wirelessly transmitted into your cerebral cortex and you happen to be uploading this data visually from paper or similar antique medium, please send all comments, along with a self addressed stamped envelope, to the address below.] [NOTE TO AI ROBOT FROM THE FUTURE: In all likelihood the United States Post Office no longer exists, so please disregard.

    We started the year off by adopting a whole food plant based diet. (AKA we went vegan.) I honestly think more people would switch to this lifestyle if someone could come up with a better name. The weight I’ve lost and my improved healthification overrule the times I miss the taste of bacon and doughnuts. I don’t generally bring it up in causal conversation because nobody wants to listen to me lecture about what things they should and shouldn’t shove in their own mouth hole. My best guess is that it is like unplugging from the matrix– you will just know when you are ready. Also, on some level, people want to believe they will die a heroic and honorable death involving space lasers, rescuing a large group of people from certain death, and, of course, getting the girl. The reality is everyone will most likely succumb to a highly preventable pedestrian killer such as heart disease or cancer. The odds of perishing while fighting a Marvel villain are statically zero.

    Getting back to dog news, Mya’s assimilation process into our family unit is proceeding according to plan. Our last dog, Maury, really loved when I would jump on top of him, grab his nose with both of my hands, stare him in the eyes, and yell “WHO IS IN CHARGE? DAD IS!” To be honest, Mya seems to in no way enjoy this activity so I’ve removed it from my daily to-do list. Now that I think about it, nobody else in the family enjoys it either. Mya’s new favorite movie is “Best In Show” after we let her watch it for her birthday. [NOTE TO READER: please recreate your favorite scene from the movie now.] For some reason it is still not Katherine’s favorite movie, so I can only assume I haven’t forced it upon her enough. I don’t want to give away too much here, but I think it is safe so say that some four legged creature in our house might just be getting a busy bee from Santa this year. As a side note, if I ever end up murdered from a shattered “Best In Show” DVD being lodged in my neck and/or eye sockets, it was TOTALLY my wife.

    While I’m by no stretch of the imagination a neat freak, I do make an effort to keep my car fairly clean. After cleaning all of the windows, both inside and out, I had the following insight to share with my children. “I understand that random fingerprints are going to show up on the inside glass near where you sit. However, when they show up in the shape of a smiley face I am forced to conclude it was intentional.” Their uncontrolled laughter proved their guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

    Hey, that turns out to be a wonderful segue into my next topic– performing my civic responsibility of jury duty. Against all odds, my number was called and I was selected to serve on the jury. The biggest lesson I learned is that judging people in my head is a whole lot easier than having to decide what real life consequences should be doled out. Also, I spent a lot of time during the trail wondering why Tina Fey hasn’t produced a full feature length movie of “The Rural Juror” which was prominently featured in the first season of “30 Rock.”

    So that kind of wraps things up for this year. I’ve done my best to answer all the questions I think have been silently asked about my existence in 2020. As a sneak peak, here are some new questions which could quite possibly be answered in future letters:

    Why do I think Battlefield Earth is a good movie when it literally has the worst recorded score in the history of all movies on Rotten Tomatoes?

    Who is going to be the first celebrity to personally respond to being mentioned in any of my Christmas Letters? Related question: Is Jennifer Garner really living on my route incognito? I suspect so, but I value her privacy too much to ask.

    Also, why am I missing one UPS sock?

  • Rush To Judgement

    July 17, 2010

    Rush Limbaugh on his plans if the new United States health care program is implemented:

    Look here folks, all I’m saying is that if Obamacare gets implemented and all the sick people are rounded up, transported in military vehicles to various community swimming pools, stripped naked, and finally, after a five day wait, diagnosed by underage illegal immigrant veterinary students, then, yes, I’ll go to Costa Rica for any of my future medical care needs. And this has nothing– and let me be very clear on this matter– nothing to do with their clean, safe, and most importantly, no identification required Oxytocin bulk bin stores.

  • Texas Toast

    April 16, 2005

    Ecuador’s President Lucio Gutierrez declared a state of emergency and dissolved the Supreme Court, saying the unpopular judges were the cause of three days of pot-banging street protests. “Hey, now why didn’t I think of that?” asked Republican House majority leader Tom Delay.

  • Getting Published

    April 4, 2009

    I was sitting in Good Times taking my break from being a UPS driver and all, and I found a very inexpensive way to entertain myself for a few minutes before it was time to get back to work. I took a copy of the “Tidbits” newspaper (its a paper with random stories and local ads that’s maybe 8 pages total) and slightly altered all the photographs of people in the paper. Here is a partial list of items I added:

    Harry Potter glasses
    monicals
    bushy eyebrows
    pointy goatees
    Hitler style mustaches
    cigars
    handlebar mustaches
    devil horns
    mustaches that curl up around at the ends

    Also I found a really cute golden retriever that I altered so he was smoking a bong.

    After I finished with that, I started the Suduko puzzle, but it was rated “very hard” and I gave up after I filled in a half dozen squares.  So I filled in a few more squares with random things like numbers bigger than 9, letters of the alphabet, pi, and a small drawing of a tree.

    Of course the really entertaining part was carefully putting back on the stand with all the other new copies.  I amuse myself thinking of the next person who gets to see what I’ve done.

    Now that I think about this, I remember doing a similar activity back in high school.  We would go out to Taco Bell, order the nachos, and take a few extra straws back to the table.  Carefully, we would take a straw out of the wrapper, suck up the nacho “cheese” into the straw, place the straw back in the wrapper, and casually take the straw back to the condiment area.  We never did get to see anyone get the nacho cheese filled straw, but knowing that someone did made entertained us for the rest of the afternoon.

    I was always proud of that because it was funny, but not destructive.  Kind of like putting a rubber band around the trigger of the pull out sprayer at the kitchen sink so when the next person turns on the water it shoots straight at their chest.  I did that to my sister when I was in middle school.

  • Thoughts On The Competition

    June 9, 2001

    While there are a lot of people in the world I consider to be my role models, I would like to devote some time and effort to recognize my favorite newspaper columnist. As a reward for writing many, many stories about toilets (including, but not limited to, things that bite you when you are sitting on one, how toilets are tested, and reasons to be sitting on one for the cover of a book) Dave Barry received the Pulitzer Prize in 1988. After an extensive search of the Internet and my own personal files, it appears that I have NOT been presented a similar award. I do recall, however, that in 1988 I began my literary career by spending a majority of time in my ninth grade algebra class writing “MATH SUCKS!” as large as I possibly could on my folder while the teacher was lecturing. Back then my writing style was rather terse.

    Here is a little background information for everyone not up to date on newspaper humor. Dave Barry writes a weekly syndicated column and is employed by the Miami Herald. Which means Dave and I have a lot in common-especially when you remove the words “syndicated”, “Miami Herald”, and “employed” from the previous sentence.

    One thing I know for sure is that Mr. Barry didn’t achieve this level of fame and fortune by just sitting on his ass all day long. Oh, wait, I think he does. Either way, I’ve been interested in learning more about how to become a humor columnist. While I’ve read all his writing, I would like to get a more personalized perspective on how Dave goes about writing a weekly column.

    The only logical solution to my dilemma is to become a stalker. I could hide in the bushes near his house and observe him with the aid of several high priced pieces of military grade electronic surveillance equipment. I can just imagine what insights I could achieve:

    July 3, 1999 2:05 AM: Selling one of my kidneys for these night vision goggles has really paid off. After hearing some continuous high pitch sound I believe to be either a state of the art security system or an infant who soiled him or her self, the subject went into auxiliary bedroom number one to reset the state of the system, made a short trip to the bathroom, wandered downstairs, and somewhat mindlessly sat down in front of his computer. Finally, I get to see the subject in his natural environment free of outside influences and distractions. The hunter becomes the hunted. Or is it the other way around?

    July 3, 1999 2:11 AM: I’ve lost the subject. In addition it appears that I have gone blind due to a genetically engineered strain of glaucoma that has disrupted the normal operations of my optical nerves in a matter of seconds. This may very well jeopardize the entire mission.

    July 3, 1999 2:15 AM: After further analysis, the cause of the problem appears to be a dead battery in the night vision goggles. Note to self-make an appointment with family optician for annual glaucoma test.

    July 3, 1999 2:16 AM: Stalking operations continue as I am able to observe the subject through the reflected light of the computer monitor. It appears the subject is playing the card game known as solitaire. Subject is either unwilling or unable to move the red seven on to the black eight. Such a move would allow the exposure of an additional card. What is he waiting for? Move the seven, for the love of God, MOVE THE SEVEN!!!

    July 3, 1999 2:20 AM: Observations prematurely halted for the night. In all the excitement I lost my balance and fell on top of a very thorny bush. The noise created by said incident distracted the subject, thereby making any further observations for the night useless.

    The biggest problem with celebrities becoming popular enough to have deranged stalkers is the reporting by the media is always biased towards the stalkee. The report mentions tangential points such as mental illness, missed medications, and one-sided illusions of matrimony. The stalker never gets to tell his or her side of the story. I plan on eliminating this fundamental form of discrimination. Once my stalking begins, not only will I publish all of my written notes on my web site, but I will also web enable all of my surveillance equipment so I can provide a live Internet broadcast of my activities. I know there are a lot of people out there who would like to become a stalker, but lack the financial resources and ability to get off the couch to realize their dreams.

    Is this a plan of action that will advance my writing career? I’m not really sure. Could it land me in jail? Quite possibly. But one way or another, I’m going to find the source of all his toilet stories.

  • Gods Playing Poker

    September 15, 2002

    Close up of finger pressing doorbell.
    Doorbell rings.
    Door opens. The view is of the closed door from the outside. Thor is inside and opens the door.
    Thor: Jesus Christ! You decided to come after all!
    The view changes to inside looking out the door at Jesus Christ.
    Jesus: Thor, my child, it is a pleasure to see you again.
    Thor: I’m the God of Thunder– I’m not your child!
    Jesus: I’m sorry Thor, you are right. I’ve been spending a lot of time around humans lately. Just this morning I produced my image in a tortilla in a small town in eastern Texas.
    Thor: I’ve always admired you for that. You take time to make your presence known in so many subtle ways. I seem to have an uncontrollable urge to hit things with bolts of lightning to get my point across. But that’s just me. Patience has never been my strong point. Where are my manners, come on in and make yourself comfortable. The rest of the group will be here shortly.
    Jesus: Thank you, and I brought a lovely bean dip I made from scratch this morning.
    Thor: Oh no-bean dip and lightning bolts– not a good combination! HA HA HA!!!
    Jesus smiles and goes inside.

    Doorbell rings. Door opens.
    Thor: Allah! I’m glad you finally decided to join us!
    Allah: Normally I like to keep to myself, but I got your e-mail message and said, “Why not join them? We all are gods after all– why can’t we all get together for an evening of casual entertainment?”
    Thor: Wonderful. Come on in-watch the step there. Jesus is in the living room. Feel free to make yourself a drink and enjoy some of the vegetable platter I set on the coffee table.
    Allah: Thank you.

    Doorbell rings. Door opens.
    Thor: Zeus!!! The god of gods. How is life up at the summer cottage?
    Zeus: It’s wonderful, as always. The weather is just perfect and I don’t have any annoying neighbors.
    Thor: Great! Everyone else is here, so I guess we can get started.

    New scene– the four Gods are sitting at a poker table. The style is just like the “Dogs Playing Poker” poster.

    Thor: For the first game it’s going to be straight five card stud with nothing wild.
    Thor deals out five cards to everyone. Nobody looks at their cards yet.
    Zeus: I fold
    Allah: I bet all my chips
    Jesus: I fold
    Thor: OK EVERYONE, LISTEN UP! This is going to be the most boring game of poker if everyone knows what is going to happen. YES, we are all gods, and yes, we can all be omnipresent if we choose to, but in the spirit of this game we should all refrain from using this power. Agreed?
    Zeus lifts up can of beer and begins talking.
    Zeus: Thor is right. We all need…
    Suddenly Zeus gets hit with a lightning bolt.
    Allah: Jesus Christ– why did you have to hit Zeus with a bolt of lightning?
    Jesus: That wasn’t me. Personally, I suspect Thor was the instigator.
    Allah: Of course it was Thor, you nimrod.
    Thor: I’m sorry, I just got a little too excited. And Zeus raising his beer can provided a path for my built up electrical energy to be dispersed. I’ll try not to let it happen again. Are you OK, Zeus?
    Zeus laughs heartily.
    Zeus: It will talk a lot more than a few bolts of lightning to stop me from playing.

    Zeus deals another hand of poker.
    Thor and Allah quickly fold.
    Zeus: Hey Jesus, how about we make this game a little more interesting?
    Jesus: What do you propose?
    Zeus: Instead of playing for chips, we play for people. The winner of this hand gets to have a little fun with one of the loser’s followers. Nothing lethal, but everything else is fair game.
    Jesus: Zeus, that wouldn’t be very nice.
    Zeus: Oh come on, don’t you ever get tired of being benevolent all the time? Or are you chicken?
    Jesus: This may be the two cans of Red Bull I’ve just finished off talking, but you have yourself a deal.
    Zeus: Show your cards, beer boy.
    Allah: Red Bull isn’t beer, Zeus.
    Zeus: Shut up– can’t you see we are trying to play a game here?

    Jesus has a full house. Zeus has a straight flush.
    Jesus: So who are you going to torment Zeus?
    Zeus: Well, there is one of your followers I find particularly annoying. This guy really reminds me of that Job guy from the Bible. Except he lives in Silicon Valley, develops video games, and goes around obsessing about how Jesus does this and Jesus does that and how fricken wonderful you are. Don’t get me wrong, Jesus, I love you like a son, but this guy just needs to learn a little lesson. He kisses your ass and you make sure nothing bad happens to him.
    Jesus: I’m going to need another beer. Probably two.
    Allah: I already told you that it’s not beer.
    Jesus: Allah, why do you have to take everything so literally?
    Zeus: Shut up– both of you! Back to my winnings: first of all I’m going to give him a wicked case of acne.
    Zeus slaps his hand on the table.
    Zeus: Next I’m going to make all of his high priced Internet stock worthless.
    Jesus: I get the point. I’m a sissy. Now just stop.
    Allah: This isn’t funny anymore Zeus.
    Zeus: Hell, I’m just getting started. Now I’m going to disconnect the high speed Internet connection– he is going to have to dial up at 56k. Serves him right!
    Jesus: I really mean it– enough Zeus!
    Zeus: I know you will just switch everything back once I stop. You will probably even make him even better off than before we started.
    Jesus: I am not going to… Well, I don’t … that’s not the point. You are making me angry!
    The wind starts blowing and keeps getting stronger.
    Allah: Jesus– this isn’t doing anyone any good.
    Zeus: Stay out of this Allah. If you were a half way decent god you wouldn’t have your people blowing things up to make you happy.
    Allah: Oh, the truth comes out now, huh? Well how about we let your followers live in the crappy desert for a thousand years and see how they turn out?
    The ground starts shaking.
    Jesus: You want to play chicken, Zeus?
    Zeus: With you, patsey boy? Any day!!!
    Jesus: I’m not afraid of you!
    More shaking and wind.
    Zeus: Let’s go all the way, bitch.
    Jesus: I’m not backing down.
    Zeus: Neither am I.
    Incredible shaking and wind.
    Massive zoom out to the entire universe. It is shaking violently. Suddenly everything collapses on itself and all is quiet and totally dark.
    In quiet, apologetic tones fading out:
    Zeus: I’m sorry.
    Jesus: No, I get like this sometimes when I drink.
    Thor: I might have helped with the destruction thing.
    Allah: So are we going to do this again sometime?
    Zeus: Of course– we can have it at my house next month. My wife makes those little tiny hot dogs with toothpicks in them….
    Jesus: Great– I’ll be there.
    Thor: I’m game…

  • Island Paradise

    July 11, 2003

    An unidentified British financier recently spent $40 million for an apartment space facing Central Park in New York City. After the deal was finalized, the landlord warned the new tenant, “No loud music, no drugs, or I get you arrested and someone else gets your apartment.”

  • Error Codes

    September 25, 2011

    Wow, I was just looking back at my latest posts, and I realized that I haven’t posted any real updates about my personal life in a very long time.  So here goes.

    We recently added a +1 to our family:  Samatha Rose Lutfey.  So now we have a total of one husband, one wife, two kiddos, and one crazy dog.  Pretty typical family lineup.

    Having never done this before, I am very much learning how to be a father as I go. Of course pretty much everyone has to start out from scratch, so I’m not really special in my situation. The easiest way to categorize activities in this area is “things I was reasonably expecting to happen” and “what?  did that really just happen?  You must be kidding me!”

    So in the first category I put things like changing diapers, feeding, and playing with my children. To a large degree I’ve had experience with this by having taken care of my dog Maury for several years now. The key here, as much as I understand things, is to understand the desire of the dog/child and things will go smoothly. If someone is making an unpleasant sound, or error code as I like to say, then resolving the situation is just a matter of finding the cause of the error code and fixing the underlying problem. To start out, babies generally have a small set of error codes– my diaper’s full, my stomach is empty, and someone isn’t giving me their full attention. So debugging small children is a pretty simple process.

    The only situations to look out for are false positives and false negatives. For example, my oldest child Isabel doesn’t seem to mind running around with a diaper full of poop. And to make things more fun she likes to run and hide when we try and change her diaper. Don’t forget that kids can just start crying for no known reason. This is the most frustrating of all the error codes since there is no corresponding resolution action. The key to this situation is to identify it as a “Kobayashi Maru.”  For anyone not intimately familiar with Star Trek terminology, this is a no win situation used to train Star Fleet officers.  So just think, “What would Captain Kirk do?” And the correct answer isn’t “make more cheesy Priceline commercials.”

    So now we come to the next group of activities. These are things that you will in no way be able to see coming. My personal favorite example of this is having Isabel on my chest fall asleep. Since I can’t really do anything else without waking up, I soon fell asleep myself. Then, for really no reason I could understand, Isabel emptied the entire contents of her stomach onto my face and chest. Very unpleasant I must say. But my point here is that I couldn’t have seen it coming.

    So this is all I’ve learned in my two years or so of being a father. That, and if you want to get anything done on the computer your kids better be asleep or at grandmas for the weekend.

  • Wealth Tip

    September 3, 2013

    Welcome to part seven of my randomly ordered, finite but arbitrary large set of financial tips:

    Hoard food coupons that do not contain expiration dates. If started early and executed properly, this method will provide free food between the years of 65 and 103.

  • Making A Difference

    December 12, 2002

    Republican Senator Trent Lott apologized once again for a recent comment made regarding Strom Thurmond’s 1948 presidential campaign based on a segregationist platform. Meanwhile, democrats have officially adopted an “anti-dixiecrat Lott-bashing” platform for the 2004 elections.

  • Dancing With The Stars

    May 22, 2009

    I started watching “Dancing with the Stars” with the intention of learning a few good dance moves for my upcoming wedding.  After about 20 seconds of watching the show I came to the conclusion that either A) the entire show is completely computer generated, or B) Dancing cybernetic robots are scheming to take over the planet. (SPOILER ALERT:  In the soon to be released “Terminator Salvation” the machines hypnotize people with their smooth steps and jazz hands– humanity never saw it coming.)

    After watching the first episode I came to the following conclusion:  Shawn Johnson, the 17 year old Olympic gold medal gymnast, was going to win this season.  At first I didn’t believe she won a gold medal in gymnastics due to her regular womanly proportions.  I had always thought the rule for these young women is that their breasts must be smaller than the top of their pelvic bone jutting out of her abdomen when they stand up straight.

    I felt a bit empty after watching the finale.  I think they should have one last show where Shawn Johnson and Gilles Marrini compete together against their coaches to see if it is possible for the students to surpass the teachers.  Steve-O and Steve Wozniac will dance together for comic relief.  The rest of the contestants with be the judges, the judges with attempt to play musical instruments, and the hosts will do their best to operate the cameras.

    Most importantly, none of the dancers get to talk about how much fun they had just being here and the directors will be forced (at gunpoint if necessary) not to use previous footage to fill up 63% of the show’s air time.

  • In The Dog House

    June 4, 2003

    In her new book, Hillary Rodham Clinton says her husband’s relationship with Monica Lewinsky caused so much pain that, at one point, Buddy the dog was the only member of the family willing to keep President Clinton company. “I’m really not too surprised,” she explained, “since they both just wanted to have their way with whatever submissive bitch was in the vicinity at the moment.”

  • Wall Eyed

    October 20, 2003

    China’s first man in space said the Earth looked beautiful from his orbiting capsule but he couldn’t find the Great Wall. “I tried to see it,” Yang Liwei told reporters, “but when I booked the flight I could only get an aisle seat. The gentleman next to the window closed the blind so he could take a nap.”

  • Lord Of The Rings

    October 8, 2005

    Gandolf, having just said goodbye to Bilbo Baggins, is sitting by the fire contemplating his next move.

    Frodo comes in the front door, picks up the ring from the floor and walks over to Gandolf.

    The wizard looks at the young hobbit and in a grave voice states, “Frodo, this ring is a source of unimaginable evil. You must take the ring to the fires of Mount Doom—the only place where it can be destroyed. It will be a dangerous mission, but the fate of all Middle Earth is in your hands. I won’t lie to you, Frodo Baggins—you may not survive this torturous journey.”

    Frodo looks down at the ring in his hands and back at Gandolf. He gets a big smile on his face and says, “Gandolf, you silly old man. We live in Middle Earth, but that doesn’t mean we must live in the Middle Ages. There is a much easier way.”

    Frodo walks over to Bilbo’s office and sits down at a modern-day computer. He starts typing and using the mouse. A moment later a piece of paper comes out of the printer. It is a UPS label addressed to “Mount Doom, Middle Earth” with a note on the top “Delivery instructions: Please deposit this package in the fire pit of Mount Doom (no signature required)”.

    Frodo puts the ring in an envelope and applies the UPS label. He walks out of Bag End and looks around. He sees a UPS drop box on the other side of the path and casually walks over to it and deposits the letter.

    “Now, Gandolf, lets celebrate with some of that fine shire weed.”

    “My dear Frodo Baggins, you are full of surprises.” Gandolf laughed gently as he started loading up the pipe.

    A few hours later a UPS truck drives up to the drop box. A driver gets out of the truck and looks at the address on the envelope and gets a resigned look on his face. He reaches for his cell phone and dials a number.

    “Hey hon, I’m going to be late…. Yes, I know it’s our anniversary, but I have to go make one last delivery that’s out of my way… Yes… yes… Of course I’ll make it up to you… I know… I’ve got to go now… ok… bye.”

    The driver gets back in his truck and drives away. Next it is seen driving by the celebration honoring Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday. Eventually the truck gets to the edge of the shire. It keeps going out of the shire without stopping. The condition of the road keeps getting worse. He makes a right turn and heads straight up a snow covered mountain pass. Eventually the snow is too much and the truck gets stuck in the snow. The driver puts on his jacket, grabs the letter and a backpack, and gets out on foot. He crosses the rest of the pass on foot.
    Eventually he comes to the mine and enters it. He is oblivious to the dead bodies that litter the floor. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a flashlight to guide his way. As he is going through the mines Orcs are shooting arrows at him that miss his head by inches.

    When he exits the mine, he sees Mount Doom in front of him. He starts up the mountain with a renewed enthusiasm. He gets to the top and stands at the edge. Right before he throws the package into the fire a strange creature jumps in front of the driver and grabs the envelope.

    “My precious!” Gollam shouts. He squats at the driver’s feet trying to get the envelope opened.

    “Hey, that doesn’t belong to you!” The driver yelled. He tried to get the envelope back but Gollam wouldn’t let go.

    The driver looked around to see if anyone else was watching. He then kicked Gollam, the envelope, and the ring into the fire pit. He looks down at Gollam and yells, “what can brown do for you, bi-otch?”

    As the drive walks away he picks up his cell phone starts ringing. “Yeah, I’m done… I don’t know, whatever you want to do is fine. No, everything went okay. See you soon.”

  • Lego My Eggo

    July 5, 2014

    It was a good year for team Lego My Eggo. We finished 6th out of 14 teams which means we even exceed our goal of getting the “median award.”

    To the best of my knowledge, this was the first year that someone recorded our presentation and posted it on youtube. I still think our Doctor Who Covered Wagon Rap Song was our best all time skit.

    YouTube player

    From a design perspective the craft did quite well. It had good balance in the water and held together with the exception of the rear bicycle wheel. Next year I’m going to replace the wood frame that connects the frame to the wheel with a metal structure.  Live and learn.

    So now our team is spending the next 10 months trying to think of a new theme for the 2015 race. Until then check out the LongmontKinetics.com website for information on the next race.

  • Jacked Up

    January 21, 2003

    President Bush today reiterated that time is running out for Saddam Hussein. The Commander in Chief compared the situation to “a rerun of a bad movie and I’m not interested in watching.” The President summed up his speech by saying, “I want to watch a fun, new movie– preferably that one with the wacky computer-generated talking Kangaroo everyone is talking about.”

  • The New Kid In Town

    May 2, 2002

    Now that I’ve lived in Loveland for a month, I feel a much stronger connection with the town. To be honest, when I first moved in, I knew little more than the two main streets in the area. Depending on my starting point, finding my way back home was at times quite a challenge. Thanks to my technique of randomly driving around town for little or no specific reason I have identified many, if not all, of the points of interest Loveland, Colorado has to offer.

    One of the first things I did after moving in was to locate the nearest Walmart. Fortunately for me, it was only a few blocks away from the house. I drove over and stocked up on soda and other random items that seem to find their way into my shopping basket whenever I enter the store. Unfortunately for me, I drove to the exact same location a week later only to find it was gone. Well, the building didn’t go anywhere, but the essence of the company was nowhere to be found. After a few minutes of playing Columbo, I discovered a large note on the door, explaining that a new store had opened up on the other side of town.

    But this wasn’t just any Walmart—- the new building housed a “Super” Walmart. Which means it is basically a traditional Walmart with a complete grocery store stuck on the side. And it stays open all the time. Given my well-documented erratic sleeping habits, this schedule was quite a welcomed change. To test things out, I drove over at midnight to examine the new structure. It literally has tons of stuff. I can’t say offhand exactly how many tons, but everywhere I looked I just saw more stuff. Having just moved all my stuff from Boulder, I was not really in the mood to acquire more stuff. But I did feel the need to buy something, just to be courteous to the Walmart establishment.

    In order to make everyone happy, I bought a ninety-seven cent bottle of hair gel. While I’m still not sure if my hair needs the “ultra hold” or “maximum goo” style, the bottle I purchased does seem to be functioning within the expected parameters. And now I have one more item to add to my “ways to entertain myself at two in the morning” list. (Going to Walmart that is, not contemplating my hair gel needs.)

    Now that Scott and I have cleared out all the unwanted vegetation from the yard, I have taken on the responsibility of mowing the lawn. For one thing, I haven’t had a lawn to mow since I was in high school. Secondly, the area covered by the lawn is so small it is not a big deal to fire up the lawn mower once a week. The lawn mower is one that mulches the grass instead of collecting it in a bag. In addition to being environmentally better for the planet, it keeps me in a much better mood since I don’t have to spend time hauling bags of dead grass all over the place.

    One of my favorite aspects of living in Colorado are the two seasons. Winter and summer both make their presence felt throughout the year—- but not in any particular order. Sure, in December it is more likely to be winter and in June, odds favor the summer. I was mowing the lawn a few days ago when the sun was shining and all the other meteorological signs pointed to summer. By the time I had finished, the situation had completely reversed and it was quite clear that winter was stopping by for a visit. A few hours later it started snowing. If I had postponed mowing the lawn I might have had to shovel snow off it first. Fortunately, winter didn’t want to stay very long and things were back to summer status the next day.

    After holding a brief funeral service to honor the premature demise of the raspberry bushes, Scott and I planted some new seeds in the garden. It turns out that world of genetic engineering hasn’t advanced to the point of being able to produce “seven-layer burrito” seeds. Given that limitation, I went back to the Super Walmart (which hadn’t been moved since my last visit to buy the hair gel) and bought various packages of seeds. According to the instructions, if planted correctly, the seeds will grow into various forms of vegetables. My specialty seems to be more in the area of killing vegetation, so I’m sure an attempt to grow a useful garden will be quite an adventure. (NOTE TO SELF: don’t run over the garden with the lawn mower.) But at least now I know where I can buy gardening equipment in the middle of the night.

  • Heading Out To San Francisco

    January 8, 2003

    For one reason or another, my family isn’t very big on Christmas tradition. We don’t cut down live trees. We don’t prepare an elaborate turkey dinner for Christmas. Heck, we have yet to construct a family coat of arms. This probably means the Lutfey family isn’t every going to be featured in a Norman Rockwell painting anytime in the foreseeable future. Despite all of this, we do make an effort to be in the same city every year around the holidays. This year my mom and I packed our bags and headed out to visit my sister in San Francisco. (NOTE TO SELF: Come up with a witty and insightful “Rice-a-roni” joke to end the paragraph.)

    My journey started out by driving to Denver International Airport. My plan was to park in the long term parking lot and take the shuttle to the terminal. Which would have worked fine, except for the fact that the long term parking was too full to accept any new cars. I honestly don’t how this could happen since the airport is located in the geographic center of the Great Plains. I think letting cars park next to the paved parking lot in one of the hundreds of thousands of acres of undeveloped prairie land would be a valid option. But then again, people often tell me I think too much. My concern started growing when I kept driving towards the airport only to find the on-site long term parking was full. Same thing for the relatively close-in economy parking. The only option left was parking in the actual parking garage. Fortunately, there was plenty of empty spots. Unfortunately, it is the most expensive place to park in the entire state of Colorado. As I got out of the car I noticed a sign stating that all cars left would be towed when either A) Thirty days had elapsed, or B) The bill for parking exceeds the estimated blue book value of the car.

    Once we arrived in San Francisco and got all of our belonging settled, my sister drove us around the city so we could see various points of interest. After seeing the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf, my sister drove us through the mission district (a predominantly gay part of the city.) As we were stopped at an intersection, I pointed to a man in the crosswalk and said, “He looks SO gay.” Right after I said that, I realized my window was open. The guy looked right at me, made a “telephone” gesture by extending his thumb and pinkie finger, and mouthed the words “call me.”

    OK, the last part just happened in my “wouldn’t it have been funny if…” fantasy world. My mom was completely offended by the whole situation, which only made it more entertaining for me. My sister was amused, but thought I was flattering myself. I spent the next hour or so making the telephone gesture whenever my mom looked at me. My sister’s boyfriend sat in the car quietly thinking to himself, “They will be gone in three days. They will be gone in three days….”

    Over the past few years we have gotten into the habit (or “tradition”, if you will) of going to see some form of theatrical presentation around the holidays. In the past we have seen “Rent” and “Phantom of the Opera.” This year my sister purchased tickets to “Hedwig and the Angry Inch.” I must say it was quite an experience. Anyone familiar with transsexual Nazi propaganda musicals knows exactly what I’m talking about. For all the other people out there still living in trees and caves, the show centers around a young man whose penis is cut off in an elaborate attempt to escape from East Berlin during the mid 1980s. Despite (or maybe because of) the odd premise, I enjoyed the evening. The musical numbers were fun to listen to and the finale used enormous volumes of artificial fog. (NOTE TO IMPRESSIONABLE READERS: Please do not take this paragraph as an endorsement of genital mutilation.)

    After my whole “getting stuck in the women’s bathroom in an Amsterdam McDonalds” experience back in 1999, I thought my days of writing about fast food franchise restrooms were over. Not so, it turns out. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Despite being in the culturally diverse city of San Francisco, we stopped in a McDonalds near my sister’s apartment one afternoon for a quick bite to eat. Situated on the west side of the city near a monstrously large park, the area is home to quite a few homeless people. One of the fundamental rules of owning a restaurant in a large city is to make it really difficult for anyone to use the bathroom facilities. Most of the time this involves the use of a bathroom key tied to some sort of large and cumbersome item such as a brick or open container of scalding hot french fry grease.

    This facility, however, took the inaccessibility concept one step further by installing a remote buzzer device. Anyone wanting to go to the bathroom would go to the cashier and asked to be buzzed inside. In principle, this is a decent solution. There is, however, a weak link in the system– it assumes everyone understands the concept of a buzzer. Which, unfortunately, was not the case. As we sat at a table we watched several people have difficulty gaining entrance to the bathroom. One young man kept trying to turn the knob after the buzzer stopped, which turns out to be the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing. This led to a rather annoyed manager coming over and giving him a quick lesson on how to operate the door. This was followed by a spirited philosophical discussion of “if there is one person in the bathroom and two stalls, am I allowed to go in?” After we finished eating, I decided it would just be easier to go outside and pee in an obscured corner of the parking lot.

    Eventually we had to fly back to Colorado. We got on the plane and I realized the passenger in the seat next to me was the same guy one I yelled at in the Mission District. Let’s just say I had some explaining to do. Or was I sitting next to my mom? Either way, the plane landed in Colorado, I went back to Loveland, and my sister’s boyfriend is happy to be rid of us for the better part of a year.

  • Annoying Sleeping Habits

    February 1, 2002

    I’m just not the type of person who gets sick very often. While I can only provide anecdotal evidence on this matter, I firmly believe my good health is due to the fact I religiously adhere to the “doughnut pyramid” philosophy of nutrition. (NOTE TO SELF: eat two more chocolate eclairs before bed to fulfill the recommended daily allowance of vanilla goo). Despite my impeccable eating habits, some sort of evil invaders made their way into my body. And, no, I’m not talking about the Spanish Inquisition. My symptoms included coughing, sneezing, fever, chills, cold sweats, runny nose, headache, abnormally high levels of drool (while awake), irritability, disorientation, high cholesterol, itchy facial hair, consecutive bad hair days, and an unexplained tolerance of “Gilligan’s Island” reruns.

    Being a single male, I have exactly two approaches to getting better. The first is to just ignore the situation. Which most of the time is really the best thing to do. After a few days of specifically doing nothing, it became quite obvious my situation was not improving. Which meant I had to switch to my alternate form of treatment– I called my mom.

    I explained the situation to my mom and she drove up to Boulder one night to see what kind of medical attention the situation warranted. Even when I am perfectly healthy I don’t always know what day it is, but having a high fever did nothing to help the situation. But I do remember watching professional football, which meant it was a Sunday. Unless it was Monday. Or possibly Thursday or Saturday. I was honestly more concerned with the idea of my head exploding after doing something silly like trying to sit up.

    My mom arrived and had me swallow various pills and liquids to improve my condition. Exhausted from this sudden flurry of activity, I could do little more than lay back on the couch and fall asleep. I can only imagine my mom’s concern as she watched me sleep restlessly as my fevered body tried to recover from this illness. And that was BEFORE I started rambling incoherently.

    While I’m sure I had my reasons for babbling on in my sleep to my mom that we needed to go to the local grocery store to buy birthday cakes that other people ordered, I seem unable to recall them now. I think that was when my mom started entertaining the idea of taking me to a hospital. Fortunately, witnessing my wildly erratic sleeping habits is nothing new for my mom.

    My bad sleeping habits can be traced back to my early teens. One of the most common dreams, besides being stuck sitting between Newt Gingrich and Rush Limbaugh on a crowded bus heading to Istanbul, is to have an uncontrolled falling sensation. The normal reaction is to wake up, realize it was a dream, and then go back to sleep. My routine, on the other hand, contained the additional step of waking up in the morning to realize that I had pulled the curtains near my bed out of the wall.

    In addition to my nocturnal redecorating efforts, I have also been known to walk and talk in my sleep. My parents didn’t really know what to do when I was wandering in the hallway at three in the morning explaining how random objects were flying out of my television set. One time I walked into my parents bedroom and sat on the corner of their bed in the middle of the night. I didn’t say or do anything—I just sat there. I don’t think this scenario is covered in any of those “how to raise your teenager” books.

    I consider myself to have fairly average verbal debating skills when I am awake and coherent. When I am sleeping, however, I have yet to lose an argument. I suspect this is because A) I use facts that are only available to me, such as “there are dragons coming in the windows” or “time is moving backwards, and I have to fix it” and B) I refuse to accept the claims of other people that I am incoherent and speaking gibberish. Coincidentally, this is the same strategy employed by the Republican party.

    Given my history with odd sleeping patterns, my recent experience on my couch was really no cause for alarm. I don’t really know why I sleepwalk, but I can remember everything I say and do when I wake up. Maybe my life would be easier if I actually stopped dreaming before I start moving around and talking, but I have been unable to locate my brain’s instruction manual. Until I find it, I’m stuck like this.

  • X Marks The Spot

    March 11, 2021

    Starship will land successfully once SpaceX creates enough footage for their “How Not To Land A Starship” montage video.

    YouTube player
  • Stay Or Go

    July 19, 2009

    I watch quite a few home remodeling shows on television.  The premise this idea is to find homeowners who are on the fence about moving to a new home in the same general area.  A team of experts come in and talk to the homeowner about what issues they have with their current home.  From this they develop a plan to spend X dollars to fix up the house in an attempt to convince the homeowner to stay put.  The conclusion of each show would be the homeowner giving their final decision.  And, hopefully, HGTV could get the rights to “Should I Stay of Should I Go” from the Clash for before and after commercial breaks.

  • This Old Crack House

    July 21, 2003

    Good afternoon everyone. We are on location in Detroit, Michigan to kick off our latest project. But before we start out, I need to explain to our viewers at home why this is going to be one of the most unique projects ever attempted. Our broadcast affiliate, just like any other television network, is required to comply with FCC regulations to incorporate anti-drug messages into the station’s programming. While most channels simply agree to run a certain number of approved commercials every month, the Public Broadcasting Service doesn’t have traditional commercial breaks. After countless meetings with lawyers on both sides, an agreement was made to produce a special anti-drug episode of our home improvement series. To make this project even more special, we have assembled an All-Star PBS team. In addition to my usual crew, Dean Johnson and Robin Hartyl put their “Hometime” plans on hold and flew in from Minnesota. Norm Abrams is ready to help out in the New Yankee Workshop. My name is Steve Thomas, and welcome to “This Old Crack House.”

    Steve: I’m standing in front of our next project– a crack house in Detroit, Michigan. Just looking around here, Tom, I see a lot of unique challenges.

    Tom: Right you are, Steve. First of all, this is going to be a scheduling nightmare. While we usually put in a lot of long nights to get a project like this finished on time, we saw the condition of the neighborhood, and the entire crew agreed to stop work at dusk each day and high-tail it back to the Holiday Inn.

    Steve: And that’s thirty-seven miles away!

    Tom: Yes, it is, but we feel it’s a necessary precaution.

    Steve: Now the situation with our homeowner is quite unique. Grace Smith is an eighty-five year old retired school teacher. It turns out that the crack heads broke into her house when she was visiting her grandchildren in the suburbs. Now she is too ashamed to tell anyone, so she just spends most of her time in a dilapidated garage at the back of the property. We will be taking with Grace a little later, but first, Tom, what is the condition of the house?

    Tom: Well Steve, I hate to tell you this, but the situation doesn’t look too good. I went down into the basement to see what was going on, and it wasn’t pretty. First of all, I discovered what I believe to be a decomposing body near the hot water heater. And, more importantly, the crawl space lacks adequate ventilation. Over time, this has caused the floor joists to rot. Before we do anything on the main floor, we are going to have to reinforce the sub floor.

    Steve: And what about the body?

    Tom: Well, it doesn’t pose any structural issues, so I think we will be better off leaving it alone. Maybe, if the budget allows, we could cover it up with some scrap plastic to keep the rodents away.

    Steve: Tom, you know as well as I do that on a project like this, we always seem to run into these kinds of issues. But let’s take a moment right now to see what Norm Abrams has got going for us in his workshop.

    Norm: Thanks Steve. I’m sorry I couldn’t be out there to see all that urban decay personally. I did get some measurements of the crack house and I have acquired the materials for a new carpentry project. But before we start any work, we need to take a minute to talk about safety. Remember to always use protective eyewear when operating power tools. Also, each project has its own unique hazards. For example, we are reminding everyone to wear steel-toed boots with a thick rubber sole at all times. We don’t want to start working only to have someone accidentally step on a syringe filled with leftover heroin and traces of possibly HIV infected blood. Just to be on the safe side, we have also made the entire landscaping crew promise, in writing, not to engage in unprotected sex with any of the crack whores in the house.

    Now for the project itself– after seeing footage of the crack house, one of the first things that I noticed was the horrible condition of the methamphetamine lab. Half-empty bottles of cough syrup were on the floor, and the main work area lacked proper ventilation. I’ve designed a nice mahogany work center that will really help the occupants of the house. It contains plenty of storage for raw materials, and I’ve used a special crown molding that gives the piece a very elegant appearance. Anyone using this area will now be able to manufacture large quantities of illegal narcotics while at the same time reducing the risk of blowing themselves up in the process. If you would like to build a meth lab in your house, a set of measured drawings is available on our website.

    Steve: We will check back with you later Norm. Next we have our friends Dean and Robin from “Hometime” who are working in the bathroom.

    Dean: Hello, I’m Dean Johnson…

    Robin: And I’m Robin Harytl. Dean and I have been working together for so long that we can even….

    Dean: …finish each other’s sentences. Well, that was just a little bit of a humorous exchange we have been working on to introduce ourselves. Just to use at parties and what not, if we ever get invited to one.

    Robin: We are really excited to be here. Now normally we only tape our shows in affluent suburbs of Minneapolis, so this was a quite a change for us. To help add a little class to this crack house, Dean and I are brainstorming ideas for fixing up the bathroom.

    Dean: There are two things that really jumped out at us when we entered the bathroom. And, no, that doesn’t include the crack head hiding behind the door who tried to steal our video camera equipment. First of all, we thought someone started their own project when we saw some rather large holes in the drywall by the toilet.

    Robin: But then we realized someone just cut out the copper pipes and, we think, traded them for crack. The other feature is a message left by one of the home’s occupants in some kind of permanent marker. It says, “Yo yo yo… Mary Katherine is my crack hoe. Anyone who touches her gets their house privileges revoked and a healthy ass whooping by me. — Anthony.”

    Dean: We did think about painting over the note, but in the end we decided it gave the area more character if we just left it alone. Also, right as we were considering our options, the original author, Anthony, came into the bathroom and suggested, using gestures with his favorite baseball bat, that we not alter his message in any way whatsoever.

    Robin: As far as the missing pipes, we decided to do something to keep this problem from coming back sometime in the future. Instead of repairing the damage, we have decided to remove the toilet, and cut out a small hole in the floor. This will allow the urine and feces to drop directly down into the crawlspace, and onto what appears, from up here, to be a dead body of some sort.

    Dean: Now normally this would be against the building code, but given the unique situation of this house, we decided to take certain liberties with the new design.

    Steve: Well, that’s all the time we have for today. In our next episode we will see what happens when Tom Silva accidentally drops acid and the schedule gets pushed back due to a surprise police raid. So keep watching as we work to put the crack back in This Old Crack House.

  • Free Bird

    July 1, 2003

    Pop singer Rachel Farris and her independent record label are embedding mini-CDs in the lids of 4.8 million soft drink cups to be distributed at movie theaters and amusement parks. One music executive, who asked to remain anonymous, commented on this unique promotion, “As an industry, we want to send the message that we can give away millions of digitally stored copies of popular music, but if anyone else tries it, we will sue the pants off them.”

  • 1996 Christmas Letter

    December 25, 1996

    The earth and the sun have once again completed another round of their cosmic tag team, no holds barred wrestling match which means it is time for the second annual publication of my Christmas letter. My goal for this year is to have at least three people (including myself) read this letter. I am sure that there are some people who are skeptical about this letter reaching such a vast audience. To you naysayers out there I would like to proudly introduce my new ally– exponential growth. In much the same way rabbits procreate and chain letters clog your mailbox, this plan revolves around my ability to harness this largely unexplored force of nature. After you read this, pass it on to two of your friends and then give $100 to the Mission Impossible guy who is outside posing as a garbage collector. Here is how the conversation will go:

    IMF agent (a.k.a. “Garbage man”): “How much for the women?”
    You: “My spleen is fine, thank you”
    IMF agent “What the hell are you talking about? Just give me the damn money!”
    (You give him the money and then he kills you)

    Believe it or not, I managed to graduate from college. I received degrees in both Computer Science and Mathematics. When I tell people that I have a CS degree the usual response is “You won’t have any problem finding a good job.” And when I tell people that I have a degree in general Mathematics they say “So you’re going to grad school.” I guess getting the math part is like being on the game show “Jeopardy” and knowing the Final Jeopardy question only to realize that the guy next to you has three times as much money as you do.

    I have very mixed feelings about graduating college. On one hand I don’t miss the “cultural anthropology” class I was required to take or the “Oh, but he does a lot of research” professors that are forced to teach classes. On the other hand, I liked being able to watch television until my eyes hurt and spend most of my time on campus with 10,000 women, most of whom were between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.

    It wasn’t long after graduation that my parents expressed an interest in my time management skills. (“Get your ass of the couch and find a job or we will put you up for adoption”) After pounding the pavement for a while (until I got to my car) I drove to a building often referred to as “McDonalds.” I told them about my situation and they were very interested in giving me one of those legendary high paying cushy cashier jobs with my own personal secretary and limousine driver. This didn’t last very long, however, due to the fact that I have a very rare neurological disorder that I only found out about after my training. It seems that whenever I try and say “would you like fries with that?” my vocal chords take over and produce wildly inappropriate phases like “There are squirrels in my pants. Hee hee hee,” “I did it. I did it. I shot JR!”, and “Have you ever showered with Rush Limbaugh? It’s not as bad as people say.”

    After the whole McDonalds episode, I ended up at a company called “Saxe Inc.” It is run by a guy named, strangely enough, Andrew Saxe. He spends half of his time in Denver and the other half in New York city. It turns out that he loves the legendary brown cloud found in Denver, but he just can’t tear himself away from the more traditional forms of pollution found in New York City. Talk about the best of both worlds.

    Saxe Inc. is a very liberal company. So liberal, in fact, that all the employees are gay transvestites running around with pitchforks. No, wait a minute. I am thinking of the classic cult film “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” To the best of my knowledge, nobody at Saxe Inc. is a gay transvestite, and we only run around with pitchforks when there aren’t any of our clients in the building.

    Saxe Inc. is a somewhat liberal company. Everyone is allowed to run around in shorts and T-shirts. The only rule is that you can’t run with scissors. We also have a place to play ping pong when we get frustrated and feel like hitting stuff. Just to make it perfect, we also have a cappuccino machine. The front of the machine shows a picture of some great looking cappuccino with perfect looking whip cream with just the right amount of evenly distributed sprinkles. Unfortunately, when I went to get some cappuccino I realized that the machine is not equipped to dispense either whip cream or sprinkles. In an angry fit of rage I ripped the machine out of the wall, raised it up over my head, yelled “Where are the fucking sprinkles?”, and proceeded to throw the entire apparatus at a prospective client. He didn’t die or anything, but I don’t know if he is retaining our services. My lawyer advised my not to disclose the terms of the settlement.

    As a software developer, I spent some time working on a project to answer the question “What is the meaning of life?” After several months, I came up with an elegant and efficient solution for producing an answer to the question that has eluded philosophers, theologians, and Douglas Adams, author of the book “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” for thousands of years. I started running the program only to discover to my dismay that the answer to the question “What is the meaning of life” cannot be answered by sitting inside a sterile office building at a desk with stale fluorescent lights and a 486 computer. It turns out I need a Pentium.

    The other night I went out to an Avalanche game with some people I know, including a nose pierced, ex-stripper, bisexual Satan worshiper. No kidding. If I ever have kids I hope they never find out about this and use it to their advantage by saying stuff like “Come on Dad, I just want to go out and get drunk with this 24 year old guy I met at the bowling alley, it’s not like I’m going out with a nose pierced, ex-stripper, bisexual Satan worshiper or anything.” To be honest, we all had a reasonably good time and I can add her to the extensive list of women that I am too chicken to ever ask out.

    Another highlight of this year was the condominium that I purchased in October. It came with two bedrooms, one bath, a huge loft, and a years supply of Spam. The biggest problem that I have right now is that I bought a couch that is too large to fit up the stairway. OOPS. All of my appliances are twenty years old and I say a prayer each night hoping that they don’t all die at once. It is a strange feeling to have a thirty year mortgage to think about. Saying that it will take thirty years to pay it off makes it seem like a huge deal. I just think of it as 358 more payments. Assuming that the postage rate for first class mail doesn’t go up in the next thirty years (hahahaha) I will be spending $114.56 on stamps alone. Sorry, I guess that the math-geek part of me is coming out.

    While cleaning out all of my old college stuff, I came across a paper that I had written during my first year at CSU for a mathematics course. It started like this:

    I can honestly say that I feel more complete as a human being now that I have written this paper. All my life I knew that there was some calling in my life that had remained, up until now, unanswered. Who knew that my calling would be to write a recursive algorithm for generating a lexicographical set of permutations from the set {1,2,3,…,N}? The Lord works in mysterious ways. Who am I to disagree with powers that I can hardly fathom?

    Who says that science and religion can’t just get along? The best part of this paper, in my opinion, is the following passage:

    After I finished the algorithm, I went home and showed it to my mother. I could go on about how my mother is an algorithm analysis expert and pulls in the big bucks at Hewlett Packard, but I will refrain from doing so because of the fact that it would be an outright lie. She is actually a registered nurse who really has absolutely no understanding of the world of computers, but she thought that it was wonderful and found space to display it on the refrigerator.

    I am sure you will be happy to know that I received an “A” for my efforts.

    I think that I have said enough for this year, so (insert cliché end of the year saying here) and remember folks– you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

  • Monkey Business

    May 22, 2003

    Michael Jackson was briefly hospitalized after suffering what a Jackson family lawyer called a “reaction to lawsuits.” A Jackson family doctor, speaking on the condition of anonymity, reclassified the condition as a “reaction to monkey feces.”

  • Wrong Numbers

    February 3, 2013

    So I was thinking about trigonometry the other day after I had been tutoring someone about to take a mathematics placement course focusing on the wide net of mathematical animals known a “pre-calculus.” Basically it covers everything from “Explain how many fingers you think you have, and don’t worry, there are no wrong answers, including leaving it blank.” to “Find a polynomial time algorithm for the traveling salesman problem and have it submitted for peer review for the past five years.”

    One of my favorite mathematical topics to explain to people is geometry.  I suspect this is because I am a very visual person and I have almost no ability to draw.  Good thing I hardly ever help people with their zoology placement tests.  “OK, let me draw you two slightly different bird species and explain how different evolutionary patters in their lower beak have allowed them to both cooperate and thrive together for thousands of years.”

    Right triangles are one of the most talked about objects in geometry.  This, of course, explains why trapizoids are so bitter and jealous.  Take the following triangle. (But remember I “borrowed” it from the wikipedia website, so put it back when you are finished.)

    So questions often arise here such as: How do you “know” that the long side of the triangle has the length of the square root of two?  Why not make it something easier like 1 1/2?  And why does it matter anyways? When am I ever going to need a right triangle at a job interview?

    Suppose you have a right triangle which has two sides of length 1 and you want to find the length of the unknown side:

    My favorite way to prove this is to start by finding the area of this triangle.  (And yes, there are more ways to prove this than there are incorrect proofs about squaring the circle.)  Singe the area is 1/2bh we know the area of this triangle is 1/2.  Now imagine we have four of these triangles:

    These triangles together have an area of 2.  Now suppose the triangles get rearranged as follows:

    So now you have a square with an area of 2.  This means that each side of the square must have the length of the square root of two.  I like this approach because it uses the least number of tools to get the job done. Also, this is the philosophy I use to build my kinetics crafts, but with mixed results.

    Then I started thinking of a different approach using a concept called limits.  Suppose we started building a staircase along the unknown length of the triangle.  As we use smaller and smaller steps it starts to look more like a straight line.  We can use limits to see what this would look like as we approach an infinite number of smaller and smaller steps.

    Each time the steps get smaller, but the total length of the blue line is always two.  Now the big question is: What happens when we use a limit to see what happens as we approach an infinite number of steps?  I’m warning you– this is where some weird shit is going to go down.  If you are standing up, I suggest sitting down. If you are on public transportation, please activate the emergency stop mechanism.  If you are sitting on the toilet, I think you should be OK.

    So as we approach the limit of this exercise, the length stays the same at 2, but all the points of the staircase line up exactly with the diagonal line. But at the beginning I told everyone the length was the square root of two, which is somewhere in the neighborhood of 1.4.  So where did the extra 0.6 go?  Rounding error?  Did the dog run off with it?

    Honestly, I’m not sure.  First of all, I’ve been a UPS driver for the past 10 years.  My number skills aren’t quite what they used to be. Eigthly, I hope this goes on to be one of the most discussed mathematical oddities of this generation– somewhere between the “Let’s Make a Deal” dilemma (people have literally written entire books on the subject) and understanding how Leonard is dating Penny on “The Big Bang Theory.”

  • All By Four

    April 19, 2011

    I had to explain some car stuff to my wife today.  The difference between “four wheel drive” and “all wheel drive” is as follows:  In a four wheel drive car the power from the engine is transferred to each wheel to improve traction and handling.  All wheel drive does much the same thing, but the spare tire also spins when the vehicle is in motion.

  • Love Crimes

    January 1, 2007

    In a recent radio address, President Bush promoted a constitutional amendment banning same sex marriages. Even though current Federal law defines marriage as a union between a man and a woman, the President said we must “counteract a few activist judges insisting on imposing their arbitrary will on the people– because we all know that’s MY job!”

  • UPS Superbowl Commercial

    May 27, 2007

    Sunday early morning local news program. The stadium crew is busy setting up chairs in the middle of Investco Field.

    News anchor: … and preparations are underway for what is expected to be largest single event at Investco Field…

    (Quick Channel Change)

    Mid-morning: News reporter standing next to the highway at I-70 and the Kansas border. Eighty percent of the vehicles going west are UPS trucks, both delivery and feeder trucks.

    Reporter: …here on I-70 at the Kansas border since dawn. As you can see behind me, a majority of the vehicles passing by are the familiar brown color, and it shows no signs of letting up…

    (Quick Channel Change)

    Noon: News reporter in the control tower at Denver International Airport. Outside UPS planes are parked everywhere on the tarmac. Three lines of planes in the sky can be seen on the approach. The radar shows a solid line of planes in the air ready to land. In the background an air traffic controller is giving direction to countless UPS flights.

    Reporter: …from the main control tower at Denver International Airport. Usually a quiet time for the airport, this Sunday afternoon controllers are busy directing planes and finding space on the ground for all this incoming traffic. Fortunately, the three parallel north-south runway configuration allows concurrent…

    (Quick Channel Change)

    Dusk: News reporter at one of the entrances at Investco Field. The parking lot behind her is filled with UPS trucks of various sizes, some of which are still in the process of parking. A steady stream of UPS drivers are the only ones entering into the stadium.

    Reporter: …everywhere I look I see more and more brown. Delivery trucks of all sizes and even the big 18 wheelers are quickly taking every available parking spot.

    Switches to helicopter footage showing the stadium and surrounding parking lots. All are filled with different sized UPS trucks and drivers walking towards the stadium. The highway and most nearby roads contain mostly UPS trucks.

    Reporter: I’ve just received a parking update. All Investco Field parking—FULL. Pepsi Center lots—FULL. Auraria campus and Coors Field—ALL FULL. Officials are requesting that drivers…

    (Quick Channel Change)

    Evening: News reporter inside Investco Field. The stadium seats and the entire field are all filled with UPS drivers finding their seats with the exception of a small square shaped stage in the middle of the field with a single microphone on a stand on the edge of the stage. The crowd is talking amongst themselves creating a high energy level.

    Reporter: …standing room only here inside the stadium. We have gotten word that the ceremony will begin momentarily. The latest official attendance is 91,312 with a few latecomers trickling in the gates. This is by far the largest single event to be held at this stadium.

    The audience lights start to dim and two dozen spotlights around the stadium light up the stage.

    Reporter: It looks like things are starting up. We are going to try and get a close-up now.

    The camera zooms into the stage. The crowd quiets down surprisingly quickly. A small girl wearing a dress walks up to the microphone clutching a doll and a small book. The microphone is a little bit too high on the stand, so she has to reach up on her tip toes to get it. She puts the microphone to her mouth, hesitates a second, and says, “Thank you Santa.” Then, not sure what to do, she looks around, sets the microphone on the stage, and runs over to her mother waiting for her on the side of the stage.

    The entire crowd starts clapping and cheering wildly. They all rise to their feet to give her a standing ovation. Then it fades out to brown and says “What can brown do for you?”

  • One Large French Fry

    August 14, 2003

    The continuing heat wave in Europe has reportedly led to 3,000 deaths in France. While neighboring countries called on military forces to help deal with the problem, France has been busy drafting a United Nations proposal asking the local climate to refrain from being so hot.

  • Bright Eyes

    February 8, 2014

    Delivering packages at the mall is making me feel old. I was at Sephora this week when one of the girls asked if I would get mad if she moved by me as I was unloading packages.  I replied that I was “living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.” None of the three girls in the room understood what I was saying even when I clarified that it was a lyric from Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Still nothing. So next I went to the eye center and explained what just happened and none of them knew what I was talking about until one girl piped up and said “I think I heard that song on American Idol.” I guess that’s something. I was going to make a reference to the song “Glory Days” but I didn’t feel like explaining to everyone about Bruce Springsteen.

  • Buildin Better Townhomes

    September 16, 2009

    This idea has several sub-thoughts that are loosely related.  I’ve lived in a townhouse for more than five years now, and here are some things that I think could be improved.

    Basement/Garage

    I’ve lived in a townhouse for the past five years, and, in general, I’m quite happy with the layout of my unit and the development as a whole.  One problem in the area is parking.  Despite each unit having a two car garage, there is always a shortage of parking space around some of the buildings.  I soon realized that one cause of this problem is that many people have a bunch of crap in their garage, or have more than two vehicles that need to be parked.  So I would like to see townhouses developed where the entire garage and basement is combined into a single uninterrupted space that is two car lengths deep.  This way people could more easily store their garage related items while still parking two vehicles in the garage.  This large space would also allow four cars to be parked in the garage– in a two by two configuration.  OK, so maybe it couldn’t “officially” be called a four car garage, but people looking at buying a unit could see the possibilities.  Can someone get on that?  Thanks!

    Radiant Heating

    This has been around for a while now where deep wells are dug near a building and loops of plastic tubes are placed in the holes.  The holes are filled back up and a mixture of water and antifreeze is pumped down the wells and back up.  The constant temperature of the ground can be used to cool or heat building through more tubes running beneath the upper floors.  This is a really good system requiring minimal electricity to move the liquid, but digging the wells can cost tens of thousands of dollars.  Would it be possible to build a house with tubes running in the concrete foundation and connecting to the tubes in the floors?  If there is enough thermal mass in the floor of the basement it could cut the cost of radiant heating by an order of magnitude by eliminating the expensive drilling step.

    Keeping Houses Cool

    In the summer time a lot of houses can get hot, and people spend a lot of time and money to keep this from happening.  Houses get hot inside in part because the sun is shining on the outside part of the house.  (That’s not exactly rocket science there)  Making houses that reflect most of that light instead of absorbing it would result in a much cooler house.  How about taking a few thousand blank CDs, tying them together to create a flat, hexagonal pattern, and sticking it to the roof during the summer.  This would reflect most of the energy off the roof and lower the temperature of the house.  If that works, someone could manufacture inexpensive interlocking reflective plastic squares to make the process even easier.  I would try this myself, but I would like to avoid a lengthy legal dispute with my homeowner’s association.

  • Hitting The Wall

    March 6, 2013

    So I was watching Wall-E the other day for the Nth time (where N=N+1, which explains how many times my kiddos want to see this particular movie) and I noticed something that bothered me and now I can’t get it out of my head.  When Wall-E is hanging on to the outside of the rocket ship there is a shot of what I’m assuming is the Milky Way (or a similar shaped galaxy) which make me ask “how far away did they have to take the Axiom to escape the pollution of Earth?”  The answer, apparently, is a long, long way.  I asked Isabel for an explanation, but she started yelling “today is Wall-E’s birthday” over and over.  And if they can travel past billion of stars, why couldn’t they find a new planet on which to live?  Also, how much of the pollution on Earth was a direct result of building hundred of thousands of space ships and launching 10 billion people across the galaxy?  Think about it, but try not to let it keep you up all night.

  • Suspicious Cups

    January 19, 2012

    A high level administrator at the Transportation Security Administration responded to criticism when an agent recently confiscated a cupcake from an airline passenger in December because the food product in question exceeded the maximum quantities for liquid, gels, and aerosols.  A detailed explanation of the situation was posted on the official TSA blog, ending with:

    “And really, nobody is going to care about this whole cupcake fiasco in a few months once we instruct all of our agents to feel up women if the agent suspects her bra is constructed with more than three ounces of gel enhancing material.”

  • Devilish Numbers

    April 28, 2003

    Military troops in the Middle East are on high alert because April 28, 2003 marks Saddam Hussein’s sixty-sixth birthday. Still trying to locate the former dictator, Marine ground forces are questioning all Iraqi citizens who leave grocery centers with two or more “number six” candles.

  • Going Down

    December 17, 2002

    Still working damage control, Senator Trent Lott recently appeared on Black Entertainment Television to apologize for recent racially insensitive comments. While many viewers found his thirty-minute speech unconvincing, the Senate Republican leader generally received high marks for his introductory break-dance routine.

  • In Political News

    August 15, 2002

    Speaking at the foot of Mount Rushmore, President Bush took time out of his four-week working vacation to criticize congress on the issue of Homeland Security. “The Democrats in the Senate are intentionally limiting… [LOOKS AT TV MONITOR] Whoa, hey, look at this– my head is the same size as those up on the side of the mountain! [LOOKS UP AT MOUNTAIN] But my head is smaller, and they are made out of rocks! Get Cheney over here– he has to see this… I don’t care, get him out of the bunker. He has to see this.”

  • Hot Potato

    September 29, 2003

    A 6-foot tall, 150-pound Mr. Potato Head statue once used by the Rhode Island Tourism Division was stolen Friday from the driveway of a private home in Newport, Rhode Island. After hearing the news, the search for a 6-foot tall letter “E” was initiated by former Vice President Dan Quayle.

  • Divide And Conquer

    May 20, 2002

    I was planning on writing about the town of Divide, Colorado on my recent trip to eat dinner with Kristin and her mother, but that was before I discovered the size of the town. Located a bit west of Colorado Springs, Divide basically consists of a gas station, a stop light, and a two story mini-mall. Curious about why a town of this magnitude needs a stop light, I researched the matter at the Teller county library. It turns out the traffic control device was installed in the spring of 1921 as a way of getting people to stop and wander through the inevitably small selection at the local video store.

    Most of the residents of Divide drive to the neighboring town of Woodland Park for their consumer needs. A few miles down the road from Divide, this town has its own unique character. The first thing I noticed driving through Woodland Park is the abundance of Conoco / Loaf ‘n Jug convenience stores. I counted a total of four on my way through town. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed except for the fact I drove by two of them that were separated by a small unrelated building. In addition to the many, many occupations I’ve claimed to have no knowledge of in the past, I now must add to the list by saying that I’m not a top level executive at Conoco (or Loaf ‘n Jug for that matter). I just can’t see the logic of placing two of the exact same stores twenty-four feet apart in a small mountain town. I can only theorize this strategy was implemented to cater to the following situation:

    A man driving a late model minivan approaches the first Conoco. His wife and two kids are quietly taking in the mountain scenery.

    Husband: Well, we have plenty of gas. Honey, do you want to stop for anything at this safe and hygienic Conoco / Loaf ‘n Jug establishment?

    Wife: No thanks dear, I think we should just continue on our journey.

    Husband: Bobby, Sally, are you two doing okay back there?

    Kids: (In unison) Yes dad.

    Husband: Great– I’m glad we can spend this quality time together.

    And then, 0.0003 seconds later:

    Bobby: Dad! Sally threw up on me.

    Sally: Dad! I threw up on Bobby. And I have to pee. And I want some candy and soda.

    Wife: Your kids need tending to, Jack. And why did you have to drive through that plague of locust? The windshield is a mess! And I need a cigarette. Make that a few.

    Husband: Will everyone just SHUT UP for a second? I’m trying to think what to do here. We could turn around and go back to that last Conoco / Loaf ‘n Jug. (Looks at the dashboard) OH CRAP! We are dangerously low on fuel—- we don’t have enough gasoline for a U-turn. We are all going to die!

    Wife: (Looks up the road) It is a miracle Jack! There is ANOTHER Conoco / Loaf ‘n Jug just past this building. We are saved!

    Husband: Phew! When we get back home I’m going to find the Conoco executive who arranged these convenience stores and give him a big hug.

    In addition to the convenience store curiosities, Woodland Park has it’s own unique history. For example, Kristin and I ate lunch at Quiznos. After we ordered our food and sat down to eat, she explained to me how this store front used to be occupied by the Christian Science Reading Room. Kristin just rolled her eyes at my suggestion to combine the two and name it “Sandwiches Good Enough For Jehovah.”

    Despite being a quiet mountain town, Woodland Park has an impressive police presence. The ratio of law enforcement officers to civilians is similar to that of a Siberian prison colony. On our way back to Divide, we had the honor of receiving a police escort through town. Things got even more interesting when Kristin threw a cigarette butt out the window. We got pulled over and the officer started off the conversation by saying, “I’m pulling you over because you tossed a lit object from your car. Did you know that is illegal?” He then went on to explain the forest fire danger in the area. While I wanted to discuss the long term dangers of artificial fire suppression, I had a feeling this would not be the optimal time for such a debate.

    Kristin, who has no love for the police, didn’t seem to enjoy the conversation very much. To help remember that night, Kristin was given an authentic document from the Teller county police department which gave her two options. She can either pay the thirty-eight dollar fine or be hunted down by attack dogs and officers wearing full riot gear in an ATF training exercise.

    After all that, we managed to get back just in time for dinner– which I must say was quite lovely.

  • Traffic Jams

    January 4, 2002

    Very few things in life test the strength of a family bond quite like getting stuck in a traffic jam with a sibling on route to the airport. The situation becomes even more intense when their plan centers around flying to Vegas and hooking up with a significant other for New Year’s Eve. I had plenty of time to realize this fact while sitting in my car with my sister the on the twenty-sixth of December.

    In general I-25 does an adequate job of moving north and south bound traffic through the Denver metro area. Sometimes, however, the large eighteen wheeled trucks can really slow things down. Especially when they are positioned perpendicular to the normal flow of traffic. Being tipped over doesn’t seem to improve the situation much either.

    Often times brother and sister do not require words to communicate thoughts and emotions to one another. I didn’t even have to turn my head to sense my sister thinking “I told you we should have taken E-470 to the airport, but you were too cheap to pay the three seventy five toll charge.” Of course I was busy thinking “Hello! How was I supposed to know a truck was going to tip over on I-25? Do I look like Miss Cleo?”

    [EDITOR’S NOTE: Omar does not bear any resemblance to this black female Jamaican television psychic. Their voices, however, are remarkably similar.]

    After about 10 minutes of barely creeping forward it became fairly obvious that no cars were getting past the accident. Eventually several police and fire trucks drove up along the shoulder and arrived at the accident site. Which was a good thing in most respects because their purpose is to clear up the situation and get traffic moving.

    Some of the cars on the right hand side of the road came up with the idea that if the emergency equipment could make significant forward progress on the shoulder, they could too. Most drivers will do anything to safely get out of the way of a ten thousand pound fire truck with flashing lights and an eardrum splitting siren. The same respect is not given to beige late model Honda Accords.

    Being in the middle of three lanes, we watched as the Accord drove on the shoulder and passed three cars before its driver realized the futility of this course. As the Accord tried to merge back into the right hand lane, nobody would let him get back off the shoulder. Eventually the guy in the Accord and guy in the car who wouldn’t let him in both laid on their horns as they inched closer towards one another. The fact that everyone was traveling, on average, zero miles an hour seemed to be lost on both of them. If massive tragedies in the world tend to bring out the best qualities in our society, minor traffic jams must be the audition stage for purgatory.

    At that moment in time I realized people in cars don’t really have any good methods of communicating with each other. Honking a horn is really the only way to express an opinion in this type of situation. Which is a lot like dogs barking. Maybe the first bark is useful, but after that it is just annoying noise. And of course dogs barking at other dogs barking is a wonderful way to spend a hot summer’s night.

    To make the world a slightly better place to live, I believe cars should be equipped with the “emotion icons” similar to those found in E-mail messages and Instant Messenger services. For example, when merging on to the highway, the driver could press the “smiley face” button on the dashboard. This would cause a display unit on top of the vehicle’s roof to light up briefly with a smiling face. The driver who let the car in would see this sign of gratitude and, if he happens to works for the United States Postal Service, might postpone his plans for a murderous workplace rampage.

    Another useful icon would be a face with an “Oops, my bad—Sorry about that” look to be used when a driver does not take note of the car in the blind spot before changing lanes on the highway. An “I’m this close to going on a murderous rampage” symbol might prove useful. Even something along the lines of “I’m in the process of delivering a baby—please get out of my way so I can get to the hospital!” could come in handy on occasion.

    So, eventually we made our way past the accident, pausing only briefly to see the twisted wreckage that had delayed our journey. While slightly behind schedule, I dropped my sister off at the airport with enough time for her to get aboard her flight to Las Vegas. When I got back home I documented my proposed enhancements and sent them off to several major automobile manufacturers. I have not received any replies, but I remain optimistic 🙂

  • Two For T

    January 10, 2014

    I decided last night that when one person is in bed laying on their back and the other person is snuggled up on their side it is called “T-spooning.” Kat’s thoughts on my revelation- “Go to sleep already!”