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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.”
Annoying Kristin

June 5, 2002

Since Kristin and I have been dating for a few months now, I figure it’s only fair to feature her in the “How I Annoy People” section of my web site. In all honesty I don’t remember any significant “moments” that defined our relationship. There was that one time I stood in the driveway holding up a stereo playing romantic Peter Gabriel music in the middle of the night. Had I actually been at the correct address at the time I think Kristin would have been impressed with the gesture. And I’m not just saying that– it’s part of the official police report. I guess things got serious somewhere in between meeting Kristin and her friend for a movie and getting put on the “A list” for her recent moving party.

One of the constant sources of conflict in our relationship revolves around the television series, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” To say Kristin is obsessed with this show would be quite an understatement. She likes Buffy in much the same way I enjoy, say, breathing.

I wasn’t at all surprised when I realized Kristin created a “Sim” on her computer that revolved around some of the main Buffy characters. For anyone not familiar with the computer game “The Sims,” it allows the user to create character simulations who interact with each other based on various user input. The entire experience is quite similar to playing God, but with a convenient graphical interface.

In addition to Buffy, Kristin created characters for two male vampires named Spike and Angel. While Kristin was otherwise occupied, I decided to see what would happen when Spike and Angel met face to face. I expected some surreal bloody vampire battle, but it turned out the software did not understand the television-based nature of the simulation. Spike and Angel just stood around talking to each other. To make things more interesting, I had Spike flirt with and tickle Angel. Next I had Angel return the favor. Both characters seemed to enjoy the experience. When Kristin came back into the room I saved the game and closed the program on her computer.

Thanks to my intervention, Spike and Angel became, well, quite close. Kristin was very upset when her plans to build a relationship between Buffy and Spike were thwarted by my meddling. Spike and Angel spend the weekends antiquing while Buffy sits at home wondering why (quite literally) all the men in her world are gay. Even though I think of Kristin as a tolerant and understanding individual, it turns out she categorically draws the line at computer-generated vampire homo-eroticism.

In addition to Buffy, I firmly believe that as long as Kristin and I are both alive (and possibly longer) we are never going to agree on the topic of Rush Limbaugh. Now don’t get me wrong here– I quite admire the accomplishments of this man. Kristin, for some reason, sees him as a future political leader, where I think of Rush as a heavier-set republican version of Dennis Miller.

So while I would like to see Rush Limbaugh use his abilities to provide commentary for high-profile sporting events, Kristin is waiting for the day when she can vote him into political office. Kristin firmly believes we would all be better off if this man was running the country. These “spirited conversations” we have usually end up with Kristin giving me a cold stare when I concede the point that Rush has been married more than enough times to understand the Republican Party’s family values stance.

Kristin’s anal-retentive nature is always a source of entertainment for me. The easiest way I’ve found to annoy Kristin is to take one of her CDs and rotate it in the jewel case so the disc isn’t aligned correctly. I have determined that a clockwise rotation of eighty-seven degrees provides the maximum effectiveness to drive Kristin crazy. Of course after I rotate the disc, I hold it up to make sure Kristin can see what I’ve done. This is followed by about twenty seconds of Kristin pretending not to care. Finally she lunges for the CD and will not rest until the situation is resolved.

While I try to be considerate of Kristin’s needs, I find it almost impossible to resist sneaking into her kitchen and shuffling the packets of Kool-Aid. I started this little hobby after watching Kristin alphabetize them while unpacking the groceries. I’m not sure what difference it makes to have the Lemonade packet sitting in front of the Black Cherry packet, but Kristin doesn’t want to take the chance on the matter. I have no doubt in my mind that this severely annoys Kristin and I suspect it explains her fantasies involving the eight foot tall pitcher-shaped Kool-Aid man breaking through her kitchen wall and beating the crap out of me.

Despite all my deficiencies, Kristin still seems to enjoy my company. Even though I tend to annoy Kristin on a surprisingly regular basis, she still wants to spend time with me. All of this leads up to the $64,000 question: Who repairs all the structural damage when the Kool-Aid man comes over for a visit?
CNC Band Projects

September 2, 2024

Another work in progress here. I managed to corral most of the pictures of CNC projects I’ve completed over the years into one place.
Road Rage

November 1, 2003

A car in Southhaven, Mississippi, ran a police checkpoint outside the arena where President Bush was speaking Saturday and rammed the building. “Despite the fact he was inside the structure at the time of the incident,” one republican at the scene pointed out, “the police force and secret service kept the President as secure as a Halliburton reconstruction contract.”
Get Ducked

January 15, 2012

An older man is sitting in an over-sized chair. “My name is Steve, and I am the product manager here at the Select Comfort’s Sleep Number bed product line. While our product line has been an amazing success over the years, we are always looking for new ways to improve our customer’s sleep experience. I recently received a letter in the mail that pointed out a way in which we can improve our award-winning beds.”

My husband and I both love our sleep number bed. I keep my side at 25 and he sets his side at 85. We both sleep well all the time. The only problem is that sometimes at night we like to play some “adult” games, and having both sides set to the same number for a short time would really help. Can you help us out here?

“I understand your problem. Suppose you are playing a game of ‘duck, duck, goose.’”

Switches to a shot of a man and a woman on their bed in their pajamas. The husband is sitting in the middle of the bed and the wife is behind him touching him on the head saying “duck” each time. Suddenly she yells “goose” and starts running in a small circle on the bed. The husband gets up to chase her, but once he steps on the soft side of the bed he losses his balance and flies off the bed at a 45 degree angle.

“Now who wants that to happen to them when they are getting goosed?” The man in the chair asked.

“To solve this problem we have added additional buttons to the sleep number controllers which we have called the ‘duck’ buttons. Once configured, the ‘duck on’ button will bring both sides of the bed to the same preset pressure.”

The woman and man are in bed. The man is asleep. The woman reaches over and touches him gently on the shoulder. He wakes up and looks at her. She smiles and ever so slightly raises her eyebrow. He smiles back at her. She reaches for something under the covers and pulls out a game of Jenga. They both jump out from under the covers and start setting up the game in the middle of the bed. They are about to start playing, and then she remembers to hit the ‘duck on’ button.

A different woman is sleeping in her bed. A man comes into the room. He is unshaven, has a significant pot belly, and has just finished a can of beer. The throws the empty can in the corner of the room and gets into bed. He looks over at his wife and grabs his controller to hit the ‘duck on’ button. The wife wakes up and realizes what is going on in the bed. She reaches over to her controller and hits the ‘duck off’ button. The bed returns to the original settings.

“Hitting the ‘duck off’ button can be used to express an unwillingness to play games in bed, in addition to resetting the bed at the end of the game.” the man in the chair explained. “So from everyone here at Sleep Number, have a good night sleep after you get ducked.”
Annoying Janet

February 8, 2002

This week Brian’s girlfriend Janet got added to the “People I Annoy” list. Having known each other for a couple of years now, Janet and I get along reasonably well. She has yet to invite me over to a slumber party where everyone stays up all night to eat microwave popcorn, drink diet Pepsi, and watch Brad Pitt movies, but we are also not to the stage where I would find it necessary to hold her hostage in my garage in a convoluted scheme to help Brian discover his long lost true love like in the movie “Saving Silverman.” Mostly because that would make me the character who realizes he is gay and goes on to marry his ex-con militaristic homosexual football coach on stage at a Neil Diamond concert. Like I need to go through that again.

The whole situation started at the train station in France named “Paris Nord”. No, it’s not a typo, it’s French. Translated into English it means “the last stop before Eurodisney.” OK, maybe my French skills aren’t as finely honed as, say, anyone in Europe who hasn’t lost their tongue, but I’m not making up the Eurodisney part. I planned to “rendezvous” (once again, that’s French) with Brian and Janet at the station after their plane landed in Paris earlier that day. As much as they love French train stations, Brian’s parents trusted our navigational skills enough to remain back at the hotel.

By the time I got into town and settled into my hotel room, it was really too late to go out and do anything. I sat down on the bed and did little more than contemplate paying 400 units of the local currency for an 8 ounce water bottle from the “courtesy” bar. (Another French term meaning “we know you are too lazy, scared, or stupid to walk to the store.”)

The next day we toured the city and learned quite a bit about the history of Paris. In the morning we saw the factory where they make French people snooty. Later on in the afternoon we saw the building where all the tacky models of the Eiffel Tower are put together. This assembly process takes place in the very same factory that manufactured the metal beams for the original tower. That was until the 1980’s when the plant ran out of space and had to be relocated in the nice pristine rolling hills of Southern Asia. We finished off the day with a classy dinner. By then it was about nine o’clock at night. Everyone in our “entourage” except Brian and I decided to call it a night. We left the hotel after casually telling Janet “We’re going to hang out for a while.”

Before I go any further with the story, I should point out that Brian and I had not seen each other for the better part of five months. We talked on the phone and exchanged emails, but that doesn’t compare to hanging out in person. Up to that point in our friendship I don’t think we had ever been apart for longer than two or three weeks at a time. We had quite a bit of catching up to do. And to be honest, I really like to gossip about everything– as evidenced by the fact I spent large quantities of time writing about every minute aspect of my life, posting it on the Internet, and then begging the world to read it all.

After leaving the hotel we aimlessly walked around the city. We eventually found our way to the “Louvre” (yet another French word—this means “huge art museum with strange pyramid in the courtyard.) We sat down and talked about random aspects of our lives for “a while.” (I know that’s not French. The quotes are employed as a foreshadowing device. When I tell the story in person I make the “finger quotation mark” gesture.) Eventually the conversation started to focus around our observation that it was no longer dark. This quickly led to a “have we really been out here for seven and a half hours?” discussion.

Anyone who eats a traditional French dinner and then sits outside all night will eventually feel the need to evacuate his or her bladder. Now I’m not saying we peed “on” one of the most famous museums in the world, but I’m not going to say we didn’t pee “in the general vicinity” of said structure. After our immediate biological needs were addressed we headed back to the hotel. I commented to Brian that he wouldn’t even have to wake up Janet in the middle of the night when he got back.

This was completely true, but made largely irrelevant by the fact Janet fell asleep when we left and woke up a few hours (less than, say, seven and a half) later to notice a lack of her significant other in the room. Deciding that we had been out longer than “a while” she became very concerned about our well being. She called Brian’s parent’s hotel room. Brian’s mom was not at all concerned with our being out all night in a foreign country with no explanation of our agenda. She did what she could to put Janet at ease by explaining this is completely consistent with our past behavior.

Despite these reassurances, Janet stayed up the rest of the night envisioning our lifeless corpses floating down the river in the heart of Paris possibly to be violated in some unnatural way by a medieval sewer dwelling monster. In reality I was busy explaining to Brian all the things I saw in Amsterdam floating around in the canal water. And to this day, I can’t quite put into words exactly how that smells.

I don’t know exactly what happened when Brian got back to his room. I, on the other hand, went back to my hotel room occupied only by the bottle of outrageously expensive water I was flirting with the night before. The next morning (45 minutes later) we all met for breakfast. Janet made a point of saying she wasn’t mad at us. While I’m admittedly not an expert on this matter, I’m pretty sure that when a woman specifically says she isn’t mad that implies on some level she isn’t exactly happy either.

After all was said and done, I’m not sure Brian and I really did anything wrong. But we both feel bad Janet stayed up all night worrying about our welfare. Fortunately it didn’t ruin the whole trip. I think I did a decent job of patching things up with her a few days later when I assisted Janet in the fine art of getting drunk on plum wine at a Japanese restaurant in Amsterdam. But that’s another story.
Television Playlists

August 1, 2009

I wrote a ranting lunatic type letter to Dish Network the other day just to make myself feel better. Basically I want to be able to make playlists of DVR television shows for my future children to watch based on their age. Then I want everyone to be able to share their playlists with the world through the Internet. Anyone, even Oprah, could make suggestions about programming to watch based on date of birth. From this I can see which shows are popular with parents whose children are the same age. Oh yeah, and when my kid turns on the TV, they have to enter their own password so they can only watch shows on their own playlist. I’ll switch over to which ever company can effectively set this up. So Dish, Echostar, Cable guys, and Tivo– get working on this ASAP– my first girl is due in December!
Xmas Party Story

January 15, 2001

If you happen to be familiar with my annual Christmas letter you may be scratching your head thinking, “But Omar, it’s not anywhere near the end of the year– how can you already be posting your Christmas letter?” I decided that publishing my Christmas letter only once a year is not consistent with my idiom of working on “Internet Time.” I’m not exactly sure how to define “Internet Time,” but for the purposes of this letter it is me being up at 3 in the morning in my boxers and a T-shirt surfing the web because I got tired of watching infomercials on the television.

What do women want? This question has plagued mankind since God kicked us out of the Garden of Eden (which I believed contained no menstrual cycles, beauty magazine quizzes, or clothes that made Eve look fat). When contemplating what women want, I prefer to approach the problem from a different perspective. It is possible to list all the things that men could possibly do, take out the things that woman don’t want, and what is left, by the process of deduction, is what women want. While creating a list of all possible actions mankind can take is well beyond my attention span, I am willing to add a few items to the “don’t do” list.

First of all, women like compliments. There are, however, some important issues to consider when telling a woman “I love you.” Fellow men out there, I cannot stress this enough: only say this to a wife or established girlfriend. In general, a woman you have met for lunch once or twice and exchanged a few E-mail messages with does not meet these criterion. If you are invited to a party, it is generally considered bad taste to repeatedly yell out to the woman hosting the party “Angie, I love you. I know you don’t love me back, but that’s OK.” For whatever reason you may think it’s a good idea at the time (i.e. EXCESSIVE ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION), it will ultimately do more damage than good.

Secondly, trying to hit on women after excessive alcohol consumption is generally not a good idea. For example, you may think that going around at a party after downing a few drinks telling women you have never met they have a nice tail and a blouse full of goodies is an example of your witty banter, but in reality they usually just smile politely, leave the room for some reason or another, and strangely enough you never see them again.

And last of all, it is a good idea to stay after the party has died down and help clean up the mess. It is a bad idea to stay after the party has died down and repeatedly throw up in the sink before you pass out on the couch until the next afternoon. No further explanation is needed for this point.

I really can’t continue until I confess something here. I didn’t just use my overactive imagination to create three random activities women don’t like. I attended Angie’s Christmas party, got drunk, professed my unrequited love to her, told several other women they had nice tails and blouses full of goodies, threw up several times (for history’s sake, I remember it being once in the sink, and three times in the toilet), and passed out on their couch. Around eleven in the morning, on what I think was my last trip to bow down to the porcelain God, I looked down at my boxer shorts and bare legs and commented to Angie, “I’m not wearing any pants” in a somewhat matter-of-fact tone of voice. It was well past noon when I finally thought I could make it home without blowing chunks in my car.

I can’t say that I’m really proud of what I did, but I have to admit that it’s pretty amusing despite the fact that I am the ass in the story. In general I like to write stories where other people look stupid– it makes me feel better about my shortcomings in life. While I could have altered the facts of the story to make me look better, I don’t think it would have made for a funny story. Since I put (slightly) more importance on being funny than being truthful, I recorded the events as accurately as my impaired brain recalled them.

For reasons that I greatly appreciate yet do not totally comprehend, Angie doesn’t seem to hate me. I suspect it is analogous to the episode of “Cops” where the guy in the beat up old pickup truck gets caught with the prostitute only to realize SHE was really a HE while handcuffed in the back seat of the patrol car. Sure, you can send him down to the station to be booked, but in all reality everything that happened before the police and television crew arrived will torture his soul a lot longer than any consequences of legal proceedings. As far as Angie goes, I think it is safe to assume that her name will not come up in future letters any time soon. If I manage to get invited to next year’s party, I think I’ll be the designated driver.

And, just in case you are wondering, I took that line from the movie “Hot Shots.” The actual quote is “Not playing to win is like sleeping with your sister. Sure she’s a great piece of tail with a blouse full of goodies, but it’s just illegal.”
Nights At The Round Table

October 30, 2003

North Korea has agreed, in principle, to six-way talks addressing Pyongyang’s controversial nuclear program. The complex agreement will bring North Korea, South Korea, China, Japan, Russia, and the United States together in an attempt to resolve the situation. While the details of the negotiations have not been finalized, it is widely believed the meeting will culminate in a no-holds-barred, winner-takes-all game of Chinese checkers.

Action Figure!

April 21, 2025

Everyone and their dog is making themselves into action figures on the Internet this week, so I thought I would give it a go! Full disclosure– I used ChatGPT and this isn’t even my dog!

Here is the starting photograph of me and said dog on Halloween:

And the prompt I used for ChatGPT was:

Use this image to create a picture of a action figure toy  in a blister package from head to toe with accessories which include a two gallon red and white round water cooler with a white handle, a container of sunscreen, and a pair of sunglasses.  The package should read "UPS Driver" and below that "summer edition" The background should be three shades of brown in an abstract swirling pattern.

You Know You Are An Insomniac If

October 30, 2001

After witnessing the popularity of recent book titles such as “You Might Be a Redneck If…”, “You Might Be Rush Limbaugh If…” and “You Are Most Likely Stuck In Someone Else’s Trunk If…” I decided the time has come to write my own words of wisdom about some of my quirky personality traits. My first thought was to write about being a computer geek. While I saw a lot of potential in this aspect of my life, the real inspiration came to me at 5:30 in the morning when I was watching “Invisible Mom 2.”

Now I don’t want to go ruining the surprise for those readers out there who have “Invisible Mom, the prequel to Invisible Mom 2” on video tape and plan to watch it later on in the week. The basic plot is that the mother in the family can for some reason turn completely invisible. The only way the other characters know she is around is through seeing the movement of otherwise inanimate objects, hearing her voice, and looking at any recently consumed food in her digestive tract. And sometimes she became visible at just the wrong moment for reasons I don’t understand. I fully expect that aspect of the movie to be completely explained in the next film in the series which is tentatively being called “Invisible Step Mom.”

So what is so important about this movie? In all honesty, the movie itself is only half of the equation. This movie, and countless others come on in what I refer to as the “golden hours” of the night. It’s too early for HBO to start showing their children’s programming, but it’s too late to spool up another soft porn movie. This seems to be the time when I get the most productive work done. And please keep in mind that the phrase “most productive” is relative to the rest of my day. Sometimes just doing less damage to the world in general can be productive.

If you are anything like me, you wisely spent this “golden hour” wondering why telephones and calculators have their numbers in a different order. I’m not a brain surgeon, but I suspect these types of random thoughts running about freely in my head while I’m sleeping may contribute to my somewhat abnormal sleeping habits. Well, maybe not having a steady job for the past year might be a contributing factor.

Just to set the record straight, calculators have the 1,2,3 row on the bottom row while telephones put it on the top row. I’m not really upset about this arrangement, but the fact that it took me 27 years to figure it out bothered me. The 4,5,6 row always seems to be middle and zero is always at the bottom. Why couldn’t everyone agree on a common format?

After quickly dismissing the idea of getting “everyone” to agree on this, I started thinking which system is better. If you start typing numbers in a word processing document from lowest to highest, the lower numbers would appear to be higher on the screen. However, if you gathered up a bunch of people at a party and arranged them by height you would have the shorter people closer to the ground and the taller ones closer to the ceiling. While it proves a point, this does not make for a very amusing social get together. You know you are at a bad party if someone does this and it becomes a highlight of the evening.

Of course I haven’t even gotten into zero yet. No matter what, zero appears at the bottom in a row without any other numbers. That doesn’t seem to be very fair to the other numbers who are forced to share. It seems that since zero and one are neighbors on the number line that they should be close together everywhere else. Now every where I go I look to see which order numbers appear. Calculators and full sized computer keyboards put the lower numbers at the bottom. Telephones and remote controls all seem to put the low numbers on tops. Automated Teller Machines go both ways. But I digress. From what, I’m not sure.

While I couldn’t possibly write down every single thought that I’ve had tonight, here are a few of the other questions that I have been pondering. How much do my lava lamps add to the electricity bill? Should I go out and say hi the person delivering my newspaper? What is Kathleen going to dress up as for Halloween? How long until the mustard in my refrigerator goes bad? Why is the ceiling in my apartment more bumpy than the walls? If you are asking these questions as you stay awake all night, you just might be an insomniac.
Burning Issues

October 4, 2002

Betty Bullock started smoking when she was seventeen and was diagnosed with lung cancer that has since spread to her liver. This week a jury awarded her $28 billion in damages after she sued Philip Morris for fraud and negligence. As a result of this court action, millions of people across the country are reconsidering the economic impact of quitting smoking.
Barrel Of Monkeys

February 27, 2008

A report in the December 2007 issue of Animal Behavior claims male monkeys pay for sex with grooming services. After a twenty month observation of the monkeys, one researcher concluded, “Despite the rather conclusive evidence that monkeys pay for these services, we still advise the general public to avoid monkeys who try to pay for sex with a personal check.”
Why I Want My Own Route

July 23, 2009

Here are the exact directions (meaning I’m not making any of this up) to 4580 County Road 68, Wellington, Colorado:

Go north on I-25 and get off at the Wellington exit. Head north on the east side frontage road until you see a sign for CR68. There is only one house on the road and it is in no way labeled. Don’t worry– that isn’t the house you are looking for, but it does happen to belong to the guy’s brother. He will vaguely point you towards three dirt roads in various states of disrepair. Keep driving until you see another man driving around a front end loader for no particular reason. He will explain how to get to the small workshop and instruct you to leave the package in the old refrigerator in the back– either compartment is fine.
We’ve Got Ears Say Cheers

May 19, 2013

Just a quick post for some predictions on where things are headed with this whole “technology” thing.

We are going to see some new applications with noise canceling technology. Most commonly used in headphones to quiet unwanted sounds such as annoying coworkers, jet engines, and your daughter’s pet gerbil that sits in his cage as he chews up an entire empty paper towel roll one square millimeter at a time with his black beady eyes staring at me thinking “one day I’ll get out of here and the tables will be turned. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but somewhere down the road I’ll escape from this metal cage and all bets are off.” But I digress.

So now car companies are getting on the action by using noise canceling technology to create cars that are quieter inside by blocking out engine noise. When I get a free day to myself (projected date: 9/21/2019), I’m going to install a noise canceling device in my forced air heating and cooling system. I don’t think I need to hear the big fan in the basement from every possible location inside my home.

The military could use this technology to help airplanes avoid radar. Currently they spend all kinds of money on planes that have unusual angular designs and special coatings to absorb radar waves. All they need to do is have a computer that listens for radar waves and then send back a wave that is exactly inverse to what the airplane is reflecting back to the radar station. Granted that these waves are moving at pretty much the speed of light, but with some clever computer programming it just might work. And it could save the Department of Defense a few dollars here and there.

New topic– cell phone technology. While everyone and their dog knows that computer processors are getting faster all the time (roughly doubling in speed every 18 months) a somewhat less exciting benefit is that processors are using less energy per operation. While cell phones are being developed that let people talk on the phone, watch Youtube videos, and create highly accurate models of nuclear reactions all at the same time, cell phone companies could find a new market niche for phones that use so little energy to run that the device could be powered by the movement of your body in the form of a Star Trek communicator (or maybe a wrist watch for the nerd impaired). Warning: this device should not be used for anyone who is extremely lethargic.

So that wraps things up around here. Check back in a few years to see if any of these predictions came true.
Ode To Mr. Squishy Ball

July 5, 2001

Being a comedy writer is not always easy. Being a comedy writer that nobody has ever heard of doesn’t make the situation any better. Or at least I suspect this is the case. I’m sure all writers have to deal with mental blocks that keep the words from being transferred from the brain to the keyboard from time to time. Sometimes it becomes necessary to “fall back” on countless readers who willingly send in funny local newspaper stories involving strange occurrences involving toilets, animals, and possibly explosions put together in some rather humorous combination. This method, however, can only be used if you are an established comedy writer with an internationally syndicated newspaper column where countless readers are aware of the fact that you write comedy for a living.

One of the most common approaches to humor is to make fun of a physical condition of a complete stranger. Try using the phrase “severe rectal itch” without it being funny. Not counting the last sentence. A typical example goes something like this: “My wife thought she had a SEVERE RECTAL ITCH, but it turns out she just wants to have kids.” This type of comedy is, in my humble opinion, not particularly suited to my style of writing. First of all, I don’t have a wife. And if I did, with my luck I would be the one with severe rectal itch. Readers would be scratching their heads wondering if our kids would have the ailment, and how that is supposed to be funny.

I think this style is better suited to standup comedians. While the aforementioned phrase used in the printed word does maintain some of its intended qualities, the heart of the joke lays in the physical interpretation of the medical condition. Just imagine a young man in a dark comedy club running around on stage pretending to be his pregnant wife who happens to be suffering from severe rectal itch. Now there is a five minute comedy routine that anyone would enjoy. Well, maybe not his wife.

So where does a guy like me turn to when the proverbial comedy well runs dry? Generally speaking, I go and play with my toys. On either side of my computer I have a lava lamp. When the words aren’t coming out, I’ll turn them on and start reminiscing about the 1970s. Of course I was no older than 5 years old during that decade, so I can’t say I understood too many of the political and sociological changes that shook our nation. Elvis died before I had a chance to sing “Heartbreak Hotel” in the shower. Saturday Night Live was making fun of Jimmy Carter’s career as a nuclear scientist before I was allowed to stay up that late. But I digress.

Lava lamps do their share to provide me with visual stimulation, but it’s kind of a one way process. Sure, they can be turned on and off. Although they get hot, it is also possible to shake them up to see what happens. But when all is said and done, the lava lamps are just made to be watched.

Interactivity is the key for a toy to hold my interest. That is why I love my squishy ball so. It fits wonderfully in the palm of my hand. Inside the green stretchy rubber exterior is some type of fluid with hundreds of little tiny purple and blue beads that float about at will. I sit on my couch and play with it when I need inspiration. I squish one side of the ball and lots of the beads go squirting off to the other side. One of my favorite things to do is to squish the ball in half and try and get all the beads on one side, and all the fluid on the other. It’s quite a difficult task. And the worst part is that the fluid inside is somewhat opaque, so I can never be one hundred percent sure I have achieved my goal. But that is totally beside the point. I can’t explain how, but it inspires me to write.

Many of my friends who have seen my squishy ball notice it has a definite resemblance to a breast implant. That is why I now keep it carefully hidden from casual observers in the back of my desk drawer. While I’m not opposed to breast implants in extreme cases such as mastectomies and severe rectal itch, I don’t want my squishy ball being surgically placed in the chest of a woman. Even if the recipient host were to somehow agree to quietly sit in my apartment and let me play with it whenever I wanted, I’m sure with my luck the “women-ness” would rub off on the squishy ball. It would only be a matter of time before the squishy ball would say to me, “Let’s just be friends, OK?”

A lot of people wonder how much of what I write is the truth. I include myself in this group. I’m not saying I always tell the truth, but I would never lie about my toys. That is why I felt it necessary to dedicate this story to severe rect… I mean Mr. Squishy Ball.
Ultrasound 2

March 20, 2010

OK, so I’m not exactly posting all this stuff in chronological order. In fact, as I write this, Isabel is celebrating her 30th birthday and I’m a crazy old man in a retirement home yelling at my cats and repeatedly showing the staff members the litter box. But I digress.

So here is Isabel’s second ultrasound taken in August 2009. We decided against the three dimensional ultrasound. Apparently the procedure uses high energy nutrino beams which scientists believe led to the creation of Magnito, high fructose corn syrup, and Sarah Palin. Maybe not, but in the end we decided that we would be able to wait for the three dimensional version that was planning on squirming out in a few months. This high tech image of Katherine’s insides confirmed what we suspected all along: her belly is getting bigger.

One thing that has been surprising is my wife’s mood. It really hasn’t changed at all– she is as happy as a clam. I don’t know why we think clams are all that happy to begin with, but, hey, that’s the expression. Too late to change it now.

So stay tuned for more retroactive baby updates aged in a bath of sarcasm, powdered with a touch of nostalgia, and dressed up in a cute onesie of experience.
Time On My Hands

March 30, 2001

People covet that which is new and shiny. This universal truth has been demonstrated once again in the south suburbs of Denver, Colorado on Tuesday when hundreds of people waited for hours in the freezing early morning fog as the first Krispy Kreme store opened. I find this entertaining not because people camped out the night before the grand opening or that the wait to buy doughnuts was still an hour-and-a-half at eight o’clock in the evening. The really amusing part of this story was traffic was so heavy around the doughnut shop that it clogged up the highways in the area the entire day.

A lot of people tell me that I have too much time on my hands. While I don’t disagree with that statement, I feel it is my duty to point out that I was not one of the thousands of people who stopped at Krispy Kreme on Tuesday. I would also like to point out there are many, many bakeries in the Denver area that bake doughnuts every day that can be visited without cashing in a sick day.

The story got me thinking about what kind of things I do to waste time. A lot of people seem to think that running the newfunny.com web site is clear proof that I have too much time on my hands. While I can’t totally disagree with that statement, I’m not the kind of guy who wastes time with a single activity. No– I like to think I am very diversified in this part of my life. To prove my point (and waste a little time in the process), I thought I would talk about one of my more memorable recent time killers.

Before I go into the details here, I would like to emphasize the point that not everyone who uses a vacuum to clean their patio has a mental illness. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. First of all, my patio is on the first floor and has a four foot high concrete barrier in lieu of a decorative railing. The concrete compliments the thorny bushes that block out 95 percent of the sunlight that attempts to get through. These architectural cues were borrowed from the beach front structures the Germans used to defend their positions in Normandy.

In addition to being a strategic location to mount heavy artillery, my porch is also a great place for dust and leaves to collect. If left unattended for a few years, the area would completely fill up with dirt and develop it’s own thriving ecosystem. While I’m generally all for allowing man and nature to peacefully coexist, I also would like to get back my damage deposit when I move out of my apartment. So every now and then I go out and clean up the area.

The leaves and random pieces of trash that visit my porch don’t really put up much of a fight when clean up time approaches. The real problem is the fine dirt– it doesn’t really sweep up very well since the area is not very large. The fact that the floor of the porch sits several feet below the ground means there isn’t anywhere to sweep the dirt. That was when I decided to bring out the vacuum cleaner.

Anyone who has known me for any length of time probably wouldn’t describe me as a “clean freak”. The whole point of vacuuming my patio was to get it clean with the least amount of effort. In all honesty, I didn’t think that using a vacuum cleaner was going to work very well. In fact it turned out to be a lot less effort than the half-assed approach I was initially going to use. Getting the porch cleaner than initially planned was just an added bonus to the entire situation.

I would like to encourage everyone who reads this to make sure to spend some time each day doing something that isn’t productive. You don’t have to look far to find such activities. Play a few games of “Minesweeper” on your computer. Think about what the sequel to “The Matrix” is going to be like. Sit around and imagine what Al Gore is doing today instead of running the country. And, if you are one of the many, many people who are wasting time waiting in line at Krispy Kreme, pick me up a half-dozen glazed doughnuts and a pint of milk.
There Should Have Been Only One

November 24, 2015

Executives at Hulu are being investigated for “review inflation” after an investigative journalist recently uncovered a “3 out of 5” star rating for Highlander 2. Scientific investigation on this subject have concluded this movie is as close to “absolute zero stars” as is humanly possible.
Brown Collar Song

April 5, 2009

When I was just a young boy
I didn’t know what to do
Bouncing through jobs
Drifting without a clue

Then one day my purpose became clear
I felt a few inches taller
The very first time
I wore the brown collar

So now I go door to door
Just a spreading my word
My presence is known
When I’m not seen or heard

Brown shoes brown socks
Brown shorts brown shirt
You can’t help but to stand up and holler
When you see that man in the brown collar

Some days my body gets sore
I’m only human after all
Some times that old truck breaks down
And I give a higher power a call

Some days the sky opens up
And the cold and darkness come
Quitting is not an option
My work is never done

Brown shoes brown socks
Brown shorts brown shirt
You can’t help but to stand up and holler
When you see that man in the brown collar
Breaking The Law

May 15, 2003

Officials in China are responding to the SARS epidemic by threatening possible execution for individuals who do not comply with quarantines and other travel restrictions. One high-ranking Texan Republican commented, “Boy, I wish we could do something like that to the Democrats right about now.”
Living It Up

November 22, 2002

A recent study found more pedestrians died on California streets than any other state in the nation. Last year, 731 pedestrians were killed in the Golden State. North Dakota came in dead last with three pedestrian fatalities. The study noted, however, that the rankings were reversed for the number of people who died of boredom.
The Joy Of Shingles

May 29, 2012

I now have the honor of being part of an elite group of Americans who have come down with the shingles. [LOOKS OVER AT THE INTERNET] Oh, wait, apparently one in three people get it sometime in their lifetime. If you are thinking quietly to yourself, “hey, isn’t that the band who sang that catchy song in the movie The Garden State?” you are probably getting the band The Shins. I’m not sure if anyone in the Shins have ever had the shingles, but the odds are there.

If you are thinking it has something to do with having experienced the chicken pox as a child, you are on the right track. Apparently the virus that causes the chicken pox hangs around inside your body just waiting to cause problems at some random point in the future.

So about a week ago I started getting daily headaches and my neck and right shoulder started to feel sore. Being a UPS employee for almost a decade now, none of these symptoms seemed particularly alarming. A few days later I got a rash on my neck and right ear. Just looking at it in no way relates to the pain I was feeling. Laying my head down on my pillow caused tremendous pain. I eventually started plans to build a bacta water tank that helped heal Luke Skywalker from a severe wampa attack at the beginning of The Empire Strikes Back. Katherine was not receptive to this idea.

The pain in my ear can be described exactly as the scene in Star Trek when a younger, more fit, and, well, I suppose less passed away Ricardo Montelbon places mind-controlling bugs in crew members of the Enterprise.

So, in conclusion, the shingles really suck. Really. And I know that I’m the type who, on occasion, may tend to exaggerate my pain situation to gain sympathy. And the fact that they just randomly pop up for no real reason makes it that much better. So if you know of anyone who get the shingles, the best thing to do is to sneak up behind them and inject them with large dose of horse tranquiler. Just let them sleep the whole experience away. Do not, and I don’t think I can stress this enough, sneak up behind them and give them an Indian burn on the effected area. This will most likely cause them to die. Literally.
Getting Dumped

April 25, 2002

After moving all my belongings to Loveland, I started the whole process of getting settled into my new surroundings. It was at this point in time I really became jealous of Scott’s dog. When Henry moves somewhere his entire settling process consists of figuring out where to go to relieve himself, sniffing everything in the area two or three times, and then falling asleep in the middle of the floor for the rest of the day. Henry doesn’t worry about hooking up stereo speakers or rifling through boxes trying to find a clean pair of underwear.

Over the years Scott has put a fair amount of effort into landscaping around the house. While it is not quite ready to be featured in “Better Homes and Gardens,” the yard is completely free of unmarked sinkholes and nonfunctioning automobiles. The one area I thought needed the most work was the garden on the side of the house. The area has been overtaken by trash, weeds, and, on occasion, a small band of street hardened juvenile delinquents. One night I told Scott I was going to attack the garden and clean it up a bit.

Before I go any further here, I have to ask the rhetorical question “How was I supposed to know the difference between weeds and a series of dormant but healthy raspberry bushes?” Needless to say, Scott overestimated my abilities to identify “good” versus “bad” plant life and we are not going to have any fresh raspberry pie in August. But on a positive note, the efforts produced a large pile of dead plants that had to be thrown away and we now had a good reason to go visit the city dump. We attached the wooden side rails on Scott’s pickup truck and started piling trash in the bed.

The next piece of vegetation that got loaded into the truck was a sickly looking tree that was living in the back yard. I’m not really sure what Scott did to it, because the tree looked quite healthy and vibrant propped up in the living room when I stopped by for his Christmas party. I honestly suspect Scott didn’t talk to the tree enough. In an attempt to revive the tree, I dug a small hole in the back yard and stood the tree up. My theory was the tree stump would sense the connection with Mother Earth and grow a complete new set of roots in a few days. Everything was going fine until these small gusts of wind kept tipping the tree over. Of course by then the self esteem of the tree was too depleted and we were forced to give up and throw it in the back of the truck.

The next item on the list was an old beat up desk that Scott’s previous roommate conveniently left in the room that was going to become my office. At first glance it appeared to be a simple wooden desk that could be easily carried down the stairs and given to Goodwill. Upon closer inspection, however, the desk was a monster. The entire structure was built from solid inch thick particle board and held together with generous quantities of screws, wood glue, and some sort of futuristic “Star Trek” force field. After a solid hour of attacking the beast, we carried its dismembered corpse outside and prepared it for final burial.

Once all the trash was loaded up, we tied a tarp over everything as best we could and headed out to the dump. While everything seemed to be securely tied down before we left, I suspect the air flow dynamics of traveling fifty miles an hour altered the stress forces in the back of the truck. About half way through our journey, the wooden side railings decided to spontaneously shatter into several pieces. The down side to this event was that half the junk we were hauling flew out on the road. The up side was… well, I don’t think there really was one.

The really funny thing (and by “funny” I really mean “pain in the ass”) was that with the side rails broken there was no way we could fit everything back into the truck. After some deliberation, we left some of the junk on the side of the road and took what we could to the dump. Once the first trip was completed, we went back and got the rest of the stuff off the side of the road. It really helped prolong the “going to the dump” experience into an entire afternoon ordeal.

Despite the setback, our goal was eventually achieved. We made it home in one piece and without any of the garbage we left with. Just to make us feel a little bit better about the whole situation, we checked the mail when we got back and found a coupon that would have saved us the twenty dollar fee at the dump.

And, of course, the dog was still sleeping on the floor when we got home.
Corporate Farmville

September 11, 2010

Welcome to the latest Facebook application! For the 25,000,000 fans of the original Farmville, we now introduce the next generation: Corporate Farmville! While planting and tending to small plots of land has its own unique charm, Corporate Farmville takes the entire process to the next level. Start the game by incorporating your business in a state with no substantial farming but extremely lax corporate liability laws (yes, we are looking at you Delaware!). Once your paper work is approved, use money from your quasi-ethical IPO to purchase locally owned farms. Maximize your profits through a variety of processes: gratuitous lawsuits, misused government subsidies, and blatantly illegal partnerships. Start out as a simple corporate henchman and become master of all agriculture by perfecting a machine that spits out fast food quality hamburger meat 24/7!
My First AI Xmas Letter

April 22, 2025

I fed my entire website into Google Gemini 2.5 and asked it to write a new Christmas Letter. Here is what it produced!

The Lutfey Letter – 2026 Edition: Is This Thing Still On?

Greetings Earthlings, Fellow Humans, and Potential Future Pen Pals!

Another year has zipped by faster than a UPS truck trying to make express delivery cutoffs before a three-day weekend. It’s time once again for the annual Lutfey family chronicle, painstakingly curated for your amusement and/or bewilderment. If you’re reading this, congratulations! You’ve survived another orbit around the sun, or you’ve successfully guessed the password to the archives. Either way, pull up a chair, grab a beverage (preferably not one that will stain the upholstery when you inevitably spit-take), and let’s dive in.

First, a programming note: After extensive internal debate (mostly involving me trying to convince Buddy the Bagel hound about the merits of third-person narration), we’ve decided against writing this year’s letter entirely from his perspective. While his insights into optimal napping locations and the philosophical implications of unattended food scraps are profound, his grasp of grammar remains… developing. So, you’re stuck with me again.

The Lutfey household continues its slow, inexorable march towards… well, something. Katherine remains the bedrock of sanity, somehow managing work, life, and the rest of us without (visibly) resorting to questionable coping mechanisms. Isabel is now navigating the treacherous waters of late high school – a confusing blend of demanding independence while simultaneously needing someone to locate her keys/phone/left shoe approximately every fifteen minutes. College applications loom, bringing with them the existential dread of essay prompts and the logistical nightmare of campus tours where every guide sounds suspiciously like a game show host. Samantha, deep in the throes of mid-teendom, communicates primarily through eye-rolls, cryptic slang I need an urban dictionary to decipher, and the occasional grunt that might mean “hello” or possibly “the dog just ate my homework.” Speaking of the dog, Buddy continues his quest for unsupervised counter-surfing glory and has taken up interpretive dance as a means of requesting walks.

My tenure as a UPS driver continues, providing daily doses of exercise, existential contemplation at traffic lights, and interactions with the fascinating tapestry of humanity (and their dogs, some of whom have very specific delivery protocols). My route remains a source of endless anthropological study. Discovered this year: the sheer volume of inflatable lawn decorations one neighborhood can sustain defies both logic and HOA regulations. Also, the mystery of the disappearing garden gnomes on Elm Street took a dark turn involving a squirrel, a misunderstanding over acorns, and witness protection. Don’t ask.

On the project front, the basement workshop continues to occasionally produce items slightly less dangerous than originally conceived. The CNC machine was recently employed to carve highly intricate patterns into… toast. Don’t judge; breakfast has never been more aesthetically pleasing, or generated more crumbs. My quest to learn Dungeons and Dragons hit a snag when my one-eyed cleric accidentally polymorphed the party’s barbarian into a throw pillow during a critical negotiation with a goblin king. Apparently, “persuasion” and “pillow-morph” sound similar when shouted during combat. Who knew? My patent for the energy-saving remote control holder hasn’t resulted in untold riches yet, but I did get a very nice rejection letter from a major electronics company on what appeared to be recycled papyrus. Progress!

We didn’t manage any intercontinental travel this year, unless you count Isabel’s virtual reality tour of the Martian colonies for a school project, which mostly involved her complaining about the questionable Wi-Fi signal near Olympus Mons. We did, however, brave the crowds for the annual Kinetics race, entering this year as “The Existential Squirrels.” Our craft, a marvel of engineering involving repurposed lawn furniture and an alarming number of zip ties, performed flawlessly right up until the moment it encountered water, at which point it achieved buoyancy levels previously only seen in anvils. We may not have won, but our dramatic sinking garnered sympathetic applause and possibly a tetanus shot for the pilot (me).

As I gaze out the window at the suspiciously quiet suburban landscape (are the squirrels plotting again?), I find myself pondering the big questions. Like, why do they call it rush hour when nothing moves? And will humanity ever perfect the art of the silent snack bag opening for movie theaters? The world needs these answers, and possibly more space cowboys.

That seems to be the Lutfey experience, circa 2026. May your holidays be filled with joy, your Wi-Fi be strong, and your pets refrain from eating inedible objects. Until next year, remember the wise words often attributed (probably incorrectly) to various historical figures, but which I’m claiming for myself right now:

“Life is weird. Embrace the weird. And maybe hide the good snacks.”

Warmly (or possibly just suffering from poor thermostat regulation),

Omar Lutfey
Gory Details

November 18, 2009

ABC is working to quiet rumors of a major retooling of their science fiction drama ‘V’. One anonymous source reported, “yes, we are making one small change to the script after having consulted with Nobel Prize winner and former Vice President of the United States Al Gore. Now, instead of the visitors coming to take our water, as in the original, they plan on stealing all of our carbon offset tax credits.”
Hair Daze

August 25, 2002

The other day I woke up, looked at myself in the mirror, and said to myself, “Is this going to be yet another bad hair day?” On a more typical day I would have simply gotten my hair wet and wrestled it into something resembling a hair style. I’m not sure why, [EDITOR’S NOTE: Maybe because your girlfriend– who would have done everything in her power to stop you– was out of town at the time.], but I decided on the slightly different approach of completely shaving my head.

Before I go on, I need to explain the nature of my hair. For reasons I don’t completely understand, my hair doesn’t succumb to the traditional forces of gravity. If I don’t get my hair cut once a month it gradually transforms into a big, fluffy, brown afro. While this style looks good on some people, I also have to deal with my genetic disposition for a receding hair line and male pattern baldness. So while things could be a lot worse, I just have to accept the fact that, just like Richard Simmons, the world is not going to love me for my hair.

While my mother has above average eyesight, she has recurring visions of me with wonderful curly hair. One explanation involves her confusing me with some famous “nice hair” actor such as Hugh Grant or Fabio. The only other reasonable cause for this behavior involves my mom receiving information from a parallel universe– exactly like ours, but with extensive advancements in the area of hair genetics. When I visit her, she always says I should “grow out my curls.” This usually leads to me bringing out my senior picture as a visual aid for my rebuttal. In addition to the obligatory suit and tie, the image shows me with fairly long frizzy hair– not a curl in sight. When presented with this evidence, my mom politely looks away and goes back to her fantasy world.

Once I made the decision to shave my head, I gathered together all the tools needed to complete the procedure. Much like a skilled surgeon, I didn’t want to have to drive to the grocery store in the middle of the operation. I placed everything I needed on the bathroom counter: a pair of office scissors, hair clippers, shaving cream, and a new razor. To provide motivation, I taped images of Telly Savalas and Charlie Brown to the mirror.

I picked up the scissors and started cutting large clumps of hair from my head. I watched as they fell into the wastebasket I placed in the sink. Things were going well until I started looking in the mirror to decide where to cut next. That was when the concept of “mirror image” started to sink in. I would move the scissors in exactly the opposite direction since left and right are switched around. Soon questions started to pop into my head along the lines of, “Why is left and right switched, but not up and down?”, “Are mirrors like this in the southern hemisphere?”, and “Should I rent ‘The Dirty Dozen’ after I’m done shaving?” I considered sitting down at my laptop, pointing my web camera at my head, and looking at the image on the screen to improve my aim with the scissors. In the end I decided A) I didn’t want hair getting stuck in my keyboard, and B) I don’t have a web camera.

When most of my hair was gone, I put the scissors down and picked up the hair clippers. In the past I had only used them to trim my beard. I wasn’t sure if they would be powerful enough to shave my head, but I was already well past the point of no return. In retrospect, this was the easiest step in the whole shaving process. Being careful not to shave off my eyebrows, I quickly finished phase two.

The last step was for me to get in the shower and get a nice close shave. I don’t know the “best” way to shave, but I prefer the shower to standing in front of the bathroom mirror. In the twelve or so years I’ve been shaving, I’ve never been able to develop the technique I see on razor commercials where the model takes a single swipe from his ear to his chin in exactly 0.3 seconds– revealing perfectly smooth skin. If I shaved anything like that I would puncture my skin and expose a large portion of my jaw bone. Since this was the first time shaving my head, I stuck with short and deliberate strokes of the razor. This ensured that my scalp remained on my head and not on the floor of the shower.

After I finished in the shower I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror and thought to myself “Wow– I can’t see anything with all this condensation on the mirror.” So I went into my bedroom and looked at a mirror that wasn’t all fogged over. Despite a bit of razor burn, I was pretty happy with the outcome. I spent a lot of time thinking about it and asking everyone’s opinion. In the end I realized its just hair, and I’m pretty sure its going to grow back.

Being bald isn’t really as different as having hair. This is mostly due to the fact that I never really spent much time thinking about the stuff on top of my head. The biggest difference is that everything seems a lot cooler. [NOTE TO SELF: Solution to global warming?] I also save a total of thirty seconds each day since I don’t have to shampoo or comb my hair. Of course I lose about ten minutes each time I shave my head, so I guess I’m not really saving any time.

What does Kristin think of me now? When I would talk about shaving my head, she would always have five or six reasons why I shouldn’t do it. She even suggested I buy this “Cosmo” CD-ROM that would let me see what I would look like with different hair styles. Needless to say, that idea never got off the drawing board. She was in Florida when I did the deed, and not too happy when I told her over the phone. Despite all her protests, concerns, and delaying tactics, she likes it. A lot. [EDITOR’S NOTE: Grrrr!]

I still haven’t decided if I’m going to keep my head shaved or let it grow back. Once the weather cools down I might feel the need for more hair. But at the moment it’s still quite warm and I live in a house without air conditioning. But until then, think of me as a modern day Cujo. Or maybe I’m thinking of Kojack. Whichever one has less hair.
Lisa Loeb

April 4, 2009

There aren’t too many famous people I would want to meet in person, but I thought I would keep track of who I would like to meet for lunch.

Lisa Loeb: OK, she is rather pleasing to the eye (or at least both of mine), but what really won me over was her short lived TV show “Dweezil & Lisa”. I would call it a cooking show, but I don’t think many other people would be quite so generous. One episode revolved around them hosting a pancake party. While at a cooking store Dweezil wanted to buy an $80 batter dispenser. Lisa said it was too expensive and not worth the money. Now here is a woman who I’m guessing is pretty well off financially realizing that she doesn’t need another kitchen gadget. Also, she didn’t insist on having her name be first in the show’s title.

So, Lisa, if you are still reading this, and plan on being in northern Colorado in the future, give me a call and we can go out to Chipotle for some chips and burritos.
Eight: Moderately Annoying Sins

January 10, 2002

I sat down on my couch the other day wanting to avoid reality for an hour or two and escape all the senseless, random violence in the world. When I turned on my television set the movie “Seven” was just starting. Well, at least the film features senseless highly focused violence. Kevin Spacey plays John Doe: an adorable, bald, deranged religious zealot who kills people that exhibit one of the seven deadly sins (envy, rage, greed, apathy, misdirection, and poor math skills). Given the financial success of this movie, I suspect a sequel is in the works.

It’s too bad Brad Pitt’s character shoots and kills John Doe at the end of the movie. Oops– anyone planning to see this movie for the first time might want to ignore that last sentence. While bringing Kevin Spacey back might involve some crafty script work (one possible write up: John Doe receives a sharp blow to the head and develops a bad case of amnesia. He completely forgets how the original movie ends), the real challenge is to come up with more sins.

Here is a rough outline for “Eight: Moderately Annoying Sins”:

Division: John Doe gets hired on as the produce manager at a local grocery store. Keeping a close eye on the banana display, John springs into action when customers tear off one banana from the bunch and put the lone piece of fruit back on the display. Grabbing the stray banana, John sneaks up behind the customer, presses the end of the fruit into their back, and calmly states, “Yes, this is a banana, but I’m not happy to see you.” John then takes the customer back to their apartment, ties them to the couch, and forces the offender to watch a continuos loop of Sally Strothers commercials until they go crazy and gouge their own eyes out.

Waste: People who ask for hot sauce at Taco Bell knowing full well they will not use it and just throw the packets away when the meal is finished are the next target of John Doe. The punishment is to go back and eat the discarded packets of sauce. More often than not, this causes massive digestive tract irregularities.

Hype: John Doe travels around to area malls and kills people who put up Christmas decorations before Labor Day. Anyone who starts up before Halloween receives a sternly worded letter in the mail.

Sponsorship: After watching a certain Dr. Pepper commercial, John Doe steals a beverage delivery vehicle and runs over Garth Brooks when he is crossing the street. A note found at the scene of the crime explained that “If God wanted Garth Brooks to wear lame ass clothes while singing a soda jingle with a forced smile He wouldn’t have created Britney Spears.” While investigating the crime scene, Morgan Freeman’s character comments “I have to agree with our John Doe on this one.”

Promotion: Web site developers who put endless pop up advertisements on the Internet become the target of John’s rage. Fearful of their lives, this practice is completely abandoned. As a result, traffic on pornography web sites sky rockets.

Gadgetry: People who leave their cell phones on at the movie are John’s next target. Offenders suddenly find a quiet bald man sitting behind them quietly throwing milk duds at the back of their head at random intervals for the duration of the movie.

First Date Lies: John joins the dating circuit in search of a meaningful relationship. The women who promise to call him back but never do are kidnapped and forced to spend a day in the same room with the Taco Bell sinners.

Sequels: The movie ends when John Doe leads the detectives into a supposedly empty missile silo. John Doe approaches with a small remote control device. With a slight smile on his face, John states “Just like in the original film, I know you will enjoy the irony the ending. God wants me to show the world how poorly thought out movie sequels are destroying His planet.” John presses a button on the remote which triggers a massive nuclear explosion. Roll credits.

The dramatic ending raises the question “Did the detectives, realizing the trap John Doe had set, send their robot duplicates instead of going in on their own?” Stay tuned for “Nine: John’s Minor Pet Peeves.”
2022 Christmas Letter

December 25, 2022
Brown collar worker Omar Lutfey here with yet another end of the year summary of the wildly important and utterly trivial events of my life. I leave it up to you, the reader, to determine which is which.

In January it was decided that the kids were old enough and Grandma was young enough to hang out with each other for a week while Katherine and I took our first vacation with just the two of us since before our children existed. We jumped on an airplane that took us to Quito, Ecuador in an adventure I’m calling “South of the Equator Shenanigans.”

Naturally this type of trip involved an above average number of activities which would be thought of as “heavy breathing.” Walking around, for example, seemed to require twice as much air as in Loveland, Colorado. It turns out the elevation of Quito is almost double that of our home town. We rode a gondola up to triple our usual height above sea level where keeping our heads upright became a surprisingly strenuous activity. Even then we weren’t at the very top– we wisely declined to hike to the summit at 15,696 feet. Numerous people over the years have reached the end of the trail only to have all of the atoms of their body spontaneously disperse into the upper stratosphere.

Oxygen levels aside, life in Quito is quite different than what I’ve grown to expect. Posted hours for when restaurants are going to be open are more of a suggestion than a strict guideline. Think of it more as “if we are going to be open at all, it will be quite likely between these hours.” We saw the place right next to our hotel open once during the week despite walking by a dozen times during the week when they “should” have been open according to their sign.

Negotiating with cab drivers was another new skill we acquired in Ecuador. Interviewing someone who wants to drive you somewhere is an essential activity. Here are just a few of the questions we often asked.
- “How much to drive us to our hotel?”
- “Will that vehicle actually get us to our destination?”
- “Are you really a cab driver?”
Due to the extreme elevation range and close proximity to the equator, the area can easily grow literally every type of plant that currently exists on Earth. The Supermaxi sold 14 different types of potatoes and I suspect we could have found twice as many at the local food market. While at the local grocery store I saw several types of fruits and vegetables that up until that point I thought were works of fiction including Audrey II from “The Little Shop of Horrors.”

Are there any down sides to Quito? Sure. Cram 2 million people into a few square miles and the result is going to be a dirty noisy affair. While I personally felt safe walking around during the day, the building code requires all structures to be protected by at least three of the following security measures: A six foot tall concrete wall (shards of broken glass at the top is optional), metal fences with pointy tops, electric wires, and barbed wire. I suspect attempts at incorporating any of these into our current home would meet significant opposition from our homeowners association.

In game night news, we continued a longstanding tradition of altering board game rules for our own amusement. Some of the more common unwritten rules of Monopoly include putting fees paid into the center for the next player who lands on free parking, players collecting $400 for landing exactly on “Go”, and dad frequently “forgetting” to collect rent from mom. On game night we created a new Monopoly house rule where in order to collect rent for the first time you have to provide a detailed description of the properties amenities.

Mediterranean Avenue: Due to the fact that rent is only $2 a night we are unable to provide clean sheets for each guest. In fact there is no bed, but rather you can sleep in the broken lazy boy in the lobby. If said chair is occupied guests may choose to sleep in front of the establishment under the tattered awning. Children twelve and under are welcome to countless hours of fun with our complimentary “Bag Of Rats.”

Chez Chaz: Formerly known as Saint Charles Place, Chez Chaz offers the best fusion of French-Irish culture since Christopher Lambert played an immortal Irish alien in the 1986 box office blockbuster “Highlander.” Just try finding two other words that end in Z and don’t rhyme. Our free breakfast bar consists solely of our patented “pieces of yogurt” which, in all honesty, is most likely a major health code violation.

Illinois Ave: We offer our guests a state of the art breakfast bar claw game. Test your hand/eye coordination as you maneuver frozen waffles, greasy bacon, and steaming hot bowls of oatmeal with the mechanical claw. The first round is of course complementary, and any additional attempts are quite reasonably priced at $1 each. Good luck!

It turns out the title “2022 Christmas Letter” doesn’t really catch the glowing-eye orbs of the Internet search engine attention-bots. I firmly believe “YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHICH MEMBER OF MY FAMILY WAS PLACED IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE!” along with a thumbnail image of me slapping my cheeks “Home Alone” style next to a pixelated light brown blob will exponentially increase my “influencer” status. [Spoiler alert– it was our dog Mya]

Alert readers of my past letters will be thinking, “I thought you only had one dog. Who did Mya marry?” [Spoiler alert– it was our new dog Buddy.] OK, so this doesn’t degrade into a running-backwards-in-time situation comedy episode I’ll start at the beginning of the story. Back in the spring one of my inlaw’s neighbors was working on “getting her affairs in order” by writing a will. As a friendly gesture we agreed to take Buddy. A few weeks later she passed away and we were the new owners of a Basset Hound Beagle mix. Since then we have defined him to be a completely new breed of dog called a Bagel. After a few days the kids decided to marry the dogs in a simple yet dignified ceremony. We all sleep better knowing these two are no longer living in sin. Conversely, we all sleep worse because Buddy likes to bark at four in the morning for reasons that still remain a mystery to all of us.

After unlocking “Riding My Age In Miles On A Bike” last year I started looking for a slightly more ambitious exercise goal. Traveling 1000 miles on my bicycle seemed reasonable. I did the maths and I only needed to ride 2.7 miles each day. On a weekly basis this works out to less than two hours a week. I devised a simple plan I like to call “do two hours less of stupid things each week and get on a bike instead.” For example, when I started streaming movies such as “Highlander 2”, “Battlefield Earth”, and “Shakes The Clown” I would turn off the television and go for a ride. While it sounds complex and difficult to implement, by the end of the year I added a fourth digit to my odometer. When the dust settled I rode 1253 miles.

While I was getting dressed this weekend I came to the realization that everything I put on was purchased by my wife from Costco. For a brief moment I thought I was really, really uncool. Then I realized Katherine is awesome and Costco sells very, very comfortable clothes. Why did it take half my life to appreciate the benefits of pants with elasticated waistbands?

To wrap things up I’ve included a few completely out of context electronic messages I composed over the past 12 months:
- I don’t know how you’ve gotten this far in life without a monocle.
- When all is said and done I can’t stay mad at someone who dressed up as me for Halloween.
- It was one of those times I wished I was twenty years younger but somehow not twenty years stupider.
2022 Goals: The Streets Or Capitol Hill

February 23, 2011

After giving it a bit of thought, I’ve decided on some possible goals for the next 10 years. At the moment I’ve got two somewhat different directions:
Create a trumpet, baritone, and tuba playing and singing street performance troupe. I used to play the baritone in high school marching band, so I just need a trumpet and tuba player. Also, I don’t know anything about how to arrange or write music, so at least one of the team members will need experience in this area. (and FYI for anyone interested– I don’t know many keys, if I see too many sharp signs I get dizzy.)

I plan on starting the routine with a new take on “dueling banjos” and move on through various popular music references. One example would be to play “Cecilia” and then have a more accurate version revealing she was actually a call girl for Art Garfunkel. Okay, so what rhymes with “prostitute”?

The second plan is to run for the House of Representative’s Fourth District in Colorado. I think I would do quite well as a UPS driver who delivers packages over a large area in the district. I mean, really, who doesn’t have a good opinion of their local UPS driver? I plan on running a grass roots campaign that will include appearing in part one of an unknown number of Stephen Colbert’s new segment, “Better Know a Long Shot Challenger for Congress”. The highlight of the segment will be me riding my kinetics craft up and down the street in a dignified manner.

I haven’t completely defined my policy goals, but some of the ideas that have come to mind include standardizing tupperware lids, a la carte cable and satellite options, and switching to daylight savings time all year round. That last one is something that most people don’t care about with the exception of UPS drivers and golf course owners.

So stay tuned. I’m open to suggestions in both areas, and I have a lot of time to plan this out. I don’t want to rush things.
Tesla News

September 16, 2017

When asked how he balances work and family life, SpaceX founder Elon Musk explained how he makes an effort to find common ground. “For example, I spent the last forth of July with my children and we all put our heads together and came up with a system for reusable fireworks.”
The Dukes Of Hazzard

August 15, 2009

Boss Hogg, after having finished an absurdly large lunch in the back room of the Boar’s Nest, looks out the window at Bo and Luke Duke in the General Lee doing doughnuts in the parking lot before driving away. “Those Duke boys have been a thorn in my side all day long!”

Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane walks over to the table of dirty dishes an tenatively replies, “Well, Boss, I did see you drop a deep fried chicken wing bewteen your ample stomach and the chair during breakfast. Maybe that’s what is causing your discomfort.” Rosco tenatively reaches in to extract the piece of food, but before he can get close enough Boss Hogg slaps Rosco’s hand with a large butter knife.

“Get away from me you idiot!” Boss Hogg yells as he starts to twist and squirm in his chair. After a few absurdly strained attempts Boss Hogg finally grasps the wing and immediately starts devouring it.

“Well, that did help a little bit,” Boss Hogg admitted, “but I still want to get rid of those Duke boys once and for all. We need a plan, Rosco.”

Rosco thought for a minute and then replied, “What if we planted something on the Duke’s farm to make it look like they were producing illegal drugs?”

Boss Hogg thought about it for a moment. “I like your thinking Rosco, but there is no way we could convince the honorable Judge Buford Potts the Dukes are dealing drugs. Buford Potts and Jessie Duke have been fishing buddies since they were both little kids.”

“Dang it!” Rosco yelled. He looked over at his assistant reading some type of legal book. “Enos! Stop reading that comic book and help us take down the Duke family!”

Enos looked up and said, “Well, golly, Rosco, I was just reading about new legal developments in Civil Asset Forfieture. We don’t need any proof to take all their stuff, we just need a suspicion that they are doing something bad, like growing Mara-wa-hanna on their farm. We could even ask for Federal assistance.”

Boss Hogg smiles and yells excitedly, “This will get those Dukes out of Hazzard county!” as small pieces of chewed up chicken wing land on Rosco’s clothes.

The next day a squad car and Boss Hogg’s white Cadillac drive up to the Duke’s house. Rosco, Enos, Boss Hog, and a Federal agent step out of the vehicles. The entire Duke family storms out of the house. Uncle Jessie yells, “What is the meaning of this? We haven’t done anything wrong and you know it.”

Boss Hogg prods Rosco, who pulls a paper out of his pocket and starts reading, “Jessie Duke, you and your family have been accused of growing, transporting, and selling maraijuana. All of your assets and personal belongings are now legal property of the Hazzard County Sheriff’s Department.”

Uncle Jessie is infuriated. “Just wait until Judge Potts hears about this. This little plan is going to backfire on you Boss Hogg.”

Rosco turns to the Federal agent. “You see here, Mister, uhhh….”

“Smith,” the agent replied.

“Mr. Smith,” Rosco continued, “here is what happened. My assistant Enos was performing surveillance on this farm a few nights ago when he observed a large number of marijuana plants growing behind the chicken coop.”

Daisy piped up, “You mean when Enos was snooping around trying to watch me take a shower with his night vision goggles?”

Everyone looked at Enos as he looked down awkwardly at the ground making small circles in the dirt with his right foot.

Boss Hogg broke the silence by explaining, “during the observation, Enos was detected by Miss Duke. She obviously applied her womanly abilities on him in order to obtain details of the upcoming raid.”

With an odd blank look on his face Enos stared off to the distance and said, to nobody in particular, “I want to see Daisy’s womanly abilities….”

Rosco interrupted Enos, “which is how they managed to remove all the evidence before the raid!”

Everyone started arguing at once. After a minute, Agent Smith spoke up, “I’ve heard enough!” He reached for his two-way radio and gave an order. A minute later several unmarked black Suburbans drive up and helicopters land behind the barn. Heavily armed agents dressed head to toe in black clothing start swarming the area.

Two agents tip over the chicken coop. A few run into the house and come out wearing pairs of Daisy’s cut off jeans. A team of agents run towards the General Lee with welding equipment. Sparks start flying and the agents are giving each other high fives when they get the doors to open and close correctly. The crew from MTV’s “Pimp My Ride” go after Uncle Jessie’s old pickup. They paint it, add 10 television sets, and drive it away.

Rosco hooks up the General Lee to the back of Boss Hogg’s Cadillac. The Duke family is standing in front of the house not knowing what to do. Boss Hogg gets behind the wheel as Rosco and Agent Smith get in the back seat. As Boss Hogg pulls away with the General Lee, Agent Smith starts playing a guitar and sings:

Framed the old Duke Boys
For growing pot by the barn
The best Hazzard ever saw
They evaded the law since the day they was born

Daisy’s got some nice curves
Bo and Luke look good too
That should help when they are broke
On the streets begging for food

Boss Hogg wanted them out
But he didn’t know how
That is until the feds gave the
Fourth Amendment a bow

So no more good Duke Boys
No more General Lee
Crushed by abuse in a system
They couldn’t even see
Supporting Children

December 4, 2002

President Bush signed into law legislation to create a new kids-safe domain on the internet. The “.kids.us” domain will contain content acceptable for children under the age of 13. When the president signed the bill, he went on record saying, “I support this child net safety law– especially after I saw that musical fella dangling his kid off a balcony in Berlin. A safety net could have really helped that poor child.”
Election Coverage

September 18, 2002

After a close election in the Democratic nomination for governor of Florida, former Clinton administration attorney general Janet Reno conceded defeat to Tampa lawyer and first-time candidate Bill McBride. While generally cordial, she ended her concession speech by saying, “Sure, Mr. McBride seems like a nice enough guy, but when push comes to shove does he have the nerve to send fully armed SWAT teams to extract little five-year-old boys from their bed in the middle of the night? I highly doubt it.”
More Kinetics

May 13, 2002

Despite my recent move to Loveland, Colorado, last weekend I drove down to Boulder for my favorite annual event in town. And, no, I am not talking about the release of new slanderous allegations revolving around the JonBenet Ramsey murder investigation. It would not be May in Boulder, Colorado without thousands of people converging on the reservoir for the yearly rite of passage known as Kinetics.

For those not familiar with the event, it involves me spending several hours in the sun looking at women prancing around in skimpy bikinis. Oh yeah, and there is also some sort of race.

While I try not to sound like a broken record, I have to readdress a serious concern about the Kinetics race. For the second year in a row I saw not a single article of women’s clothing constructed from fruit. Despite my detailed explanation of how to construct a watermelon bra on my web site last year, no one seems to have taken on the challenge of reviving this noble tradition. While I do not claim to be an expert in this matter, this could be taken as a sign that the end of the world is near.

Despite the watermelon bra drought, there was a flurry of activity the whole day which kept my eyes stimulated. Usually I get nervous when men I don’t know approach me wearing nothing but shiny boots, a blonde wig, and a tight gold thong which leaves very little to the imagination. (When it is someone I know I get down right uncomfortable.) At the Kinetics race, however, it just means that he is part of the “Rocky Horror Picture Show” craft. Or at least I hope that is the case.

After checking out the rest of the Kinetic vehicles, Kristin and I sat down on the beach to watch the rest of the day’s entertainment as they walked around, applied suntan lotion to each other, and whipped their hair around in slow motion. Adding to the excitement of the event were several oversized beach balls that were constantly bouncing around in the more densely populated areas of the beach. The center of each inflatable sphere contained a small computer processor which coordinated data from real time global positioning satellites and miniature self-contained digital cameras. This information was processed in real time to develop trajectories that maximized smacking inattentive beer drinking people in the back of the head while they were starting the process of digesting their cool, tasty beverage.

I’ve never really thought of myself as a pillar of society, but as we were enjoying the afternoon, some of the people around us asked if we could watch their stuff for a while. Not that I’m against it, but the whole concept of asking someone you don’t know to guard belongings seems kind of odd. It bothers me for several reasons. First of all there is the possibility the person you ask is really some freaky kleptomaniac who has been mentally drooling over the half empty bottle of sun block and cut-off jeans—just waiting for the right moment to club you over the head before he steals your possessions. (I suppose the upside in this situation is that you are less likely to get clubbed in the head.)

The other problem is that you are announcing to the entire area that you are going to be away from your belongings for a fair amount of time with only a total stranger keeping an eye on the situation. Anyone can just walk up and take stuff under the pretense of, “Oh, they asked me to come get their stuff.” And unless the dealings with the original stranger involved a hologram of authenticity of some sort, you have no way of knowing who is telling the truth and who has a sick fetish for other people’s cut-off jeans.

Given that most people at the Kinetics race didn’t come to the event with the intention of theft, neither of these situations arose. However, a half an hour after we agreed to watch over our neighbors’ belongings, we wanted to leave. While I didn’t want any specific harm to come to the belongings, I had to accept the possibility they would never be coming back. Perhaps they walked over to the beer tent and became yet another victim of the “inflatable beach ball of death” on their way back. In the end we did decide to take off and leave their stuff unattended, but as we were leaving I made an announcement to the general area. “We are leaving now, so feel free to pillage and plunder these here belongings!”
For Our Next Project

July 26, 2002

Researchers at Carnegie Mellon University built a machine designed to demonstrate basic social skills. The robot, named Grace, is a 6-foot-tall drum shaped device which communicates through a digitally animated woman’s face. While the robot’s social abilities are minimal at best, the researcher’s modest goal is to have Grace appear at least as human as Martha Stewart.
And One Pill Makes You Small

October 28, 2003

A report commissioned by the governor of Illinois found that the if the state purchased prescription drugs from Canada, the average retiree could save more than $1000 a year without compromising the safety or quality of their medications. When asked to respond to these findings, a spokesperson for an undisclosed drug company replied, “Sure, this might save seniors in Illinois a few bucks here and there, but who is going to watch out for the multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical companies? Oh, wait– that’s why we pay off high-level government officials. Sucks to be you, old sick people.”
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.”
Wood Masters

April 13, 2013

Tiger Wood’s girlfriend Lindsey Vonn plans to accompany the number one ranked golfer at the year’s Masters tournament. When asked about Wood’s past relationships, she commented, “Does anyone know exactly what happened? As far as I can tell it was just a case of he said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said/she said.”
Quirky 2

January 26, 2014

So I was playing around on my computer last night and I submitted another idea I’ve been kicking around in my head for the past few months. I don’t have anywhere near the time and effort into this idea as my remote control stuff, but I still think it has a lot of potential. Feel free to vote on it on their website if you like the idea:

http://www.quirky.com/invent/897238/

Football Camera

A camera in both pointy ends of a football lets everyone see the game from a new perspective.

The Problem

Nobody can see the game from the football’s point of view.

The Solution

Two small cameras are a placed at both ends of a football. These cameras broadcast over wi-fi to nearby computers, authorized cell phones, and even directly to the internet without getting in the way of the game. Software would automatically “un-spin” the view when the ball is thrown for a smooth bird’s eye view from both ends of the ball.
Good Oil Boys

April 11, 2003

The Army Corps of Engineers today released details regarding a controversial plan to rebuild Iraq’s oilfields once the military campaign has ended. While some members of Congress are questioning the ethics of awarding a seven billion dollar contract without competitive bidding to a company once run by Vice President Dick Chaney, the Bush administration replied, “What, did you just meet us?”
Kinetics: In The Beginning

January 29, 2006

My neighbors waved pleasantly at me as they drove past my garage today. I expected a few odd looks considering the fact that I spent the better part of the afternoon physically assaulting an old thrift store bicycle with a hacksaw, power drill, and various other hand-held tools. Also worth noting: nobody bothered to stop and ask me what I was doing. Maybe they didn’t see the mass of tools, partially dismantled bicycle components, and various building supplies that has engulfed more than half my garage. Or they really had to pee and didn’t have time to inquire about my situation. Perhaps they are robots. I may never know the truth. But I do know this—my name is Omar and I’m building a craft for this year’s Kinetics Race.

If you have gotten this far and are asking, “What is a Kinetics Race?” you are not alone. Despite the enormous popularity of the event in the Boulder, Colorado area, the contest is not widely understood on a national level as it has yet to be broadcast, to the best of my knowledge, on any of the 17 current ESPN channels. If you have gotten this far and are asking, “What kind of robots are your neighbors? Are they like Commander Data from Star Trek, or cute but kind of creepy like the robot girl in the 80’s situation comedy Small Wonder?” Well, I hate to disappoint, but the rest of this story is not about my robot neighbors. Maybe later in the year I’ll address that issue in more detail.

So where was I? Oh, yeah, the Kinetics Race—what exactly is it, anyways? In its simplest form, its most convenient definition, the race requires teams to build a human powered vehicle than can traverse a course of land, water, and mud in the immediate vicinity of the Boulder Reservoir. Staying on top of the water—that a good start. Not getting bogged down in the mud—even better. Finishing the course as fast as possible—well, that’s half the race. Completing the race dressed up as, say, a medieval wizard riding on a purple, fire breathing dragon, now that’s doing it in STYLE.

So what’s the best way of acquiring a Kinetics vehicle? Walmart doesn’t have any in stock, and you can’t purchase a used one on EBay. The best approach is to actually go to the race as a spectator and see what everyone else is racing. The vehicles can be a small single person craft or a massive eight person monstrosity. Some start with a bicycle and make it buoyant. Others are boats modified to go over the land. And every year the Army reserve comes by with 8 soldiers and a raft—when they get to the land they each grab a handle and run with it. Not very elegant from a design standpoint, but it seems to impress the female natives.

After several years of being a spectator for the great race, I’ve finally decided to take the plunge (hopefully not literally) and move into the ranks of the competitors. I decided I was going to start with a bicycle frame and make it float. I looked around at several thrift stores for used bicycles. While I found several that were in fair shape for around $30, I decided to splurge and buy a new mountain bike at Walmart for $54. After realizing I was going to need a extra chain and a few gears, I bought another bike in far-from-new condition at the local thrift store for $16. So the running total for parts is $70, and I have the land and mud section completely resolved.

Now I just have to make the bike float. That, and actually move across the water. This shouldn’t be too difficult considering I have a limited supply of and the fact that my last nautical experience involved getting my sailing merit badge at Boy Scout camp when I was fourteen. But hey, a lot of people have done it in the past, so I believe it to be within the realm of possibility. Sure, a lot of people have gone into outer space, but that is something totally different.

To keep from getting overwhelmed on this project, I’ve split it up into three sub-projects. The first part, which should be the easiest, involves keeping the front end from sinking and also provides steering in the water. The second part involves keeping the back end from sinking and also provides propulsion. The last part is coming up with a good theme, which I’m putting on the back burner until I’ve finished the first two parts. I really believe I’m off to a good start. So until next time– when the topic will be, as you have probably guessed by now, “Tape and Other Adhesives: How They Can Be Used in Kinetics.”
Tick Tick Tick Tick

January 6, 2013

Photograph sharing website Instagram created an uproar after announcing sweeping changes to their terms of service. The wave of negative publicity has forced the company to change their plans, with one high ranking company official stating off the record that “this ranks up there with one of the most blatant abuses of technology since CBS started broadcasting ’60 Minutes’ in high definition.”
Let’s Have This Baby

April 3, 2010

After the first trip to the hospital that turned out to be a false alarm, we came back a week later determined to have a baby. It must have been very comfortable inside Katherine because Isabel was determined not to leave the womb. After several more hours of trying to induce labor, the doctors decided to perform a C-section. I did what I could to be useful by doing thing like rubbing Katherine’s back, eating the complementary food in the kitchen area, and almost passing out on top of the anesthesiologist when he was performing the epidural. Apparently I’m a bit more squeamish than I thought.

So, a long story short– the C-section went fine, and Isabel had to make a few adjustments like breathing air, receiving nutrition through her mouth, and not being allowed to lounge around all day in that warm soft jacuzzi of a uterus.
Grounds Of Discontent

October 7, 2012

I’m pretty sure that I’m not giving away any sensitive UPS intelligence when I say that my employer saves money by purchasing the cheapest coffee that doesn’t violate any Federal laws. So the other day I took a small sample of coffee to a lab for analysis. It turns out that each packet of coffee contains 53% fine sawdust, 40% recycled toner cartridge ink, and three coffee beans. I’m not sure I even want to know what is in the powdered creamer.
Iron Chef Amsterdam

April 20, 2011

Announcer: Welcome to the premiere of Traveling Iron Chef. While Chiarman Kaga Takeshi’s “Kitchen Stadium” vision remains a fixture of Japanese culture, he recently gave a direct order to his younger brother, Lou. Instead of bumming around Kaga’s apartment watching television all day, Lou has been instructed to travel to the ends of the earth in an effort to discover more Iron Chefs. Moving through the countryside with an army of helpers and a scaled down “moderately equipped kitchen tent,” Lou searches for an answer to the eternal question, “Whose cuisine will reign supreme?”

Lou: We have traveled many moons from our homeland, and today we are broadcasting from the European country of Holland. Two local culinary artists will go in, but only one will come out with the title, “Iron Chef Amsterdam!” And now, the moment you have all been waiting for… today’s secret ingredient is… MARIJUANA!

Announcer: The marijuana plant, also known as hemp, cannabis, pot, grass, or weed, is one of the most rugged forms of flora known to mankind. Able to grow in almost any climate, marijuana has become a plant of choice for “amateur horticulturists” around the world. The non-flowering section can be used to produce cloth that is both durable and environmentally friendly. While using the bud of the plant as a cooking ingredient is not commonplace, a movement that can almost be described at underground has evolved to help promote marijuana consumption. Despite all this, the plant in question remains illegal in many parts of the world—due in large part to intensive tobacco company lobbying efforts.

Lou: To help judge the creations of our two Iron Chef candidates, we have three well-known members of Japanese society: Sumi, a young female actress from a popular soap opera, Typo, a fifty-five year old journalist, and Shooki, a new age psychic. They will be evaluating two highly respected Dutch chefs, Willhelm and Hansel. Chefs– you have one hour, starting now!

Sumi: I am very excited to be here. Hee hee hee.

Announcer: It appears that Chef Willhelm is preparing thinly-sliced duck breast for his first entrée.

Typo: I am an old, old man. And I am very good at complaining about things. This is why I am on the show so often.

Announcer: Well, this is quite amazing! Chef Willhelm is lighting a large pile of the marijuana on fire in order to SMOKE the duck breast. He is instructing one of the assistants to keep the smoke going at a constant rate. Chef Hansel is preparing chocolate and sugar. I think he is going to make some sort of a dessert.

Sumi: The tent is filling up with smoke. I kind of like it… I feel all tickly. Hee hee hee.

Shooki: Yes, I feel as though the spirits of 1000 dead relatives are inside my body dancing around and having a party.

Announcer: I’m not sure what the chefs are doing, but they are being very deliberate about their actions now. Perhaps they are contemplating their next dish. Someone had better tell them they only have one hour to complete the competition!

Typo: I find this smoke to be highly irregular. The secret ingredient should be in our tummies, and not in our lungs– very unusual. Am I talking too much? I feel as though the words are coming out of my mouth with much less effort than usual.

Shooki: I never found old, whiney Japanese men attractive until just now. Typo, can I touch your hand for a moment?

Typo: I am flattered, Shooki, but I must inform you that I called the front desk and had some hookers come up to my hotel room to pleasure me before the show. Did you know they can just add it to your room service bill? Are these thoughts in my head, or are they escaping out of my mouth?

Announcer: After spending the past five minutes staring at the top of the tent and smiling, chef Willhelm has sprung into action. He is getting something out of his pocket. It appears to be a cellular phone. Who could he be calling?

Shooki: I believe he is trying to get in touch with one of his deceased parents.

Typo: You are being foolish, Shooki. You can’t call dead people on a telephone. Where would the phone company send the bill?

Announcer: We have gotten more details from the cooking area. It appears Willhelm has called for pizza to be delivered to the tent. Extra pepperoni and bread sticks are the order. But will it get here fast enough? In the mean time, Hansel has finished baking brownies, and, if I’m not mistaken, just broke open a box of Hagelslag, or literally “chocolate hail.” This Dutch delicacy is generally used as a bread topping instead of cheese or jam.

Sumi: Chocolate hail? Is the tent going to hold up okay? Hee hee hee… snort! Snort! SNORT!

Announcer: Chef Hansel has just filled his mouth with Hagelslag. Now he is laughing uncontrollably and it appears the tiny pieces of chocolate are coming out his nose.

Lou: Competitors, your time is up!

Announcer: It has been quite an unsual hour. Chef Willhelm, please explain your dishes.

Chef Willhelm: I was planning on making a smoked duck dish, but my assistant got too high from the marijuana smoke and fell asleep under the table. So, as a backup plan, I had pizza delivered. Unless the delivery guy screwed up, it should be pepperoni. Unfortunately, I ate the bread sticks during the commercial.

Typo: I like the taste of the pizza, but if I am not mistaken, there is no direct connection with the special ingredient. Also, it feels as though the food getting larger in my mouth the more I chew it. Is that happening to anyone else?

Shooki: I see dead people! Get it? I’m being funny. It’s from that movie a few years ago– the one with the little kid.

Announcer: And now, Chef Hansel, tell us what you have done here.

Chef Hansel: Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but I got really stoned when what’s-his-name lit that big pile of pot on fire. But I’m used to it, so I made my favorite pot brownies. Oh yeah, and I’m sorry about the Hagelslag coming out my nose… it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

Typo: I think this dish truly enhances the flavor of the marijuana. Please do not be insulted that I didn’t try any of it– I’m saving it for the hookers in my hotel room.

Shooki: Can I go with you? I’ve never seen hookers before. How much do they cost?

Typo: It depends on what you want. You can ask them when we get back to the hotel.

Sumi: You are cute, so I’m going to give you a lot of points. Hee hee hee.

Announcer: The competition is complete. Who is going to be Iron Chef Amsterdam?

Lou: Sumi awarded Chef Hansel twenty points. Typo and Shooki seemed to have left without turning in their scorecards. So I guess the winner is… Iron Chef Hansel. Yeah, yeah, yeah, now hand me one of those brownies. And does anyone here have any Pink Floyd? I could really go for some Dark Side of the Moon right about now…
Fries With That?

December 16, 2002

Investors are not expecting good news when McDonald’s Corp. updates its earnings outlook on Tuesday. In an effort to increase profits, the world’s largest fast food establishment has announced plans to cut several high-profile employees and increase the number of items on the $1 value meal. Can anyone say “McGrimmace Burgers?”
Latest Addition

July 25, 2009

I put off talking about this topic because there seemed to be so much wedding stuff to blog about, but here is the official news: Katherine is pregnant and due to deliver in mid December. Here is our first ultrasound, taken May 6, 2009. I was going to scan this into my computer, but it was already quite blurry so I just used my cell phone camera.

I have no idea what is in the picture, but Katherine explained to me that the big dark blob is her womanly parts, the small gray blob inside that is the baby, and the pink object on the right is my thumb. At the time the ultrasound was taken it was roughly the size of a gummy bear, which is what led us to the nickname “Walter.”

No word yet on the gender. Everyone seems to have an opinion this topic, but I’ll just be happy if it comes out one or the other and not both. We should have more information on the boy/girl issue after our August appointment. We may even get a three dimensional ultrasound even though it is more expensive than the regular two dimensional version. Most of the extra cost involves hiring an artist to be present in the exam room during the procedure to create a clay model based on a compilation of various two dimensional views. Once the model is air dried it gets fired in a kiln after which time we can apply color glazes as we see fit. It will look great on the mantle above the fireplace.

So until next time– happy gestating Katherine!

Author: olutfey