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Play Time

August 27, 2010

I’m not sure exactly how I got into this, but tonight I started reading rumors and speculations on the PlayStation 4. Since the original PlayStation came on the scene back in 1994, Sony has consistently developed a new system every six years. This would put the PS4 on the market in 2012.

My take (based on my own imagination more than anything else) is that the PS4 will be released just in time for Sony to introduce the successor to the Blu-Ray movie format. It will be the exact same size as DVDs and Blu-Ray discs, and it will be called “This is literally the exact same disc we send to the movie theaters.” Their marketing department might come up with a different name, but the concept will be the same. In addition to the best possible sound and video resolution, the PS4 will allow, in real time, the characters in the movie to be controlled through various console control devices as a bonus feature for all the nerds out there who need to recreate the Sarlacc Pit sequence in “Return of the Jedi.” “No, I get to be be Princess Leia.” “But I’m tired of being Jabba the Hut all the time!” “You don’t have the body for that space-aged bikini, and we both know it.” “I hate you! MOM! MOM! This isn’t fair!”

But I digress– you heard it here first, for whatever that is worth.
2002 Christmas Letter

December 25, 2002

Welcome to yet another year end wrap-up of my life. I have been writing Christmas letters for so long now I have trouble remembering which one this is. Lets see– the earliest one was from 1995, and its 2002 now. Subtracting the two numbers gives seven– which is only one off from the correct value of eight. And that isn’t counting 1999 when I wrote two letters– which means this is the ninth letter in the series. What is significant about the number nine? First of all, its the number of fingers Kristin has (not counting, obviously, her missing finger.) And if that wasn’t enough, nine is also the number of people who are in the title sequence of “The Brady Bunch.” I’ve also discovered, thanks to my extensive travels in Europe, nine is a word often used in Germany. Since I’m not a professional linguist, I have no idea what it means.

One of the first things I did in 2002 was meet my girlfriend Kristin. Anyone who is familiar with the writing on my website and my below-average spelling abilities might think that Kristin and Kristen are the same person. Despite sharing eighty-six percent of the letters of their first name, these are two different people. Kristen was the original newfunny.com editor and a semi-fictional character in my novel “Internet Grandeur”. (Which, by the way, I’m still working on getting published.) Unfortunately, Kristen had too many time constraints between working full time at the library and going to school to correct the constant barrage of grammatical errors that kept accumulating in her E-mail account.

So this is where Kristin came into the picture. We started seeing each other in the middle of January. I’m not sure exactly when we started dating, and asking Kristin doesn’t shed any light on the issue. Personally, I would just like to consider the first time we met in person as the start of our relationship for future anniversary purposes. Kristin, on the other hand, has documented no less than five different levels of the relationship that need to be taken into consideration in establishing an anniversary date. There is the first time we met, the first formal date, the first time we agreed not to see other people, the first time we said “I love you” to each other, and a few other milestones that I can’t remember at the moment. Nailing down an anniversary date has been an exercise in futility. Since we have both agreed to disagree, I made an executive decision and placed our anniversary on the same day as the Superbowl. This way we can always celebrate it on the weekend, and the odds of me forgetting are slim to none. I briefly considered making it Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday, but that is always on Monday, and I didn’t want Kristin accusing me of playing the race card.

Semi-random thought: Since I’ve gotten in the habit of having Kristin proofread my writing most people don’t get to see the way my brain and fingers like to spell words. In my own defense I get most of the words right. My favorite spelling mistake was in an E-mail message to a friend of mine talking about how difficult it is for me to shave my face on a daily basis. I meant to ask if there was some kind of personal hygiene product designed to permanently remove facial hair for men. I wanted to say “beard Nair,” but I wrote “bread Nair.” I don’t think either product currently exists.

In February I went on a road trip with Kristin to the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, Utah. We decided to take the northern route through Wyoming. Now I truly understand why it is the least populated state in the country. This was the first time I had ever been to Salt Lake City, and the only thing I can say is [NOTE TO READER: insert your favorite Morman joke here.] No matter where we were in Utah, we couldn’t escape the Olympic hype. Olympic pins sat prominently on the counter of gas stations, highway signs pointed the way to Olympic venues, and twelve-story high images of figure skaters clung to the sides of various twelve-story buildings. I spent most of the long journey home going on about curling being an Olympic sport. Kristin enjoyed my rambling thoughts so much she only tried to throw herself out of the moving car once or twice.

After staying put for a few years, I decided I was tired living in Boulder, Colorado. Sure, it has its share of liberal wackos, but in the end I decided to move in with a friend of mine in Loveland, Colorado. Moving was a lot more work than, say, staying put, but now that I am all settled in I really enjoy the area. Traffic really isn’t an issue in Loveland, so I always enjoy listening to the Denver radio stations during rush hour to find out how bad the situation is fifty miles south of me. The biggest problem I have with the town involves a lack of a book superstore such as Borders or Barnes and Noble. Oh yeah, and someone stole one of our recycling bins a few months ago, but it turned up a few days later. Other than that, things are going pretty well.

This year I altered my shopping habits when I got a membership to Sam’s Club. Well, OK, I didn’t actually buy it– my mom got herself a membership and added my name to the account. Anyone who is familiar with these types of large-volume discount retailers knows they are the perfect place to pick up life’s necessitates such as a ten pound container of salted cashews and a battery-powered atomic clock. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what I came home with after my first visit. While I can’t recall anything particularly fun or exciting about the cashews, the atomic clock is quite a piece of work.

I need to start out by saying that, to the best of my knowledge (and despite the name), this device does not contain any significant levels of radioactive material. I’m not sure exactly how it works on the inside, but I suspect the heart of the device utilizes a government operated cesium powered chronometer, encoded radio signals, and a genetically designed race of miniature gnome slaves. What I do know is you enter your time zone and whether or not your township or local municipality follows daylight savings time and suddenly POW! Radioactive gnomes fly out of the clock in an effort to enter your ear canal and take control of your higher brain functions. STRIKE THAT– WE ARE NOT CONTROLLING YOUR THOUGHTS OMAR. STRIKE THAT– GNOMES DO NOT EXIST, YOU, I MEAN I, JUST MADE THAT PART UP.

Next to my move to Loveland, the biggest change in my life this year was moving back to the ranks of the employed. In September I started working part-time for UPS. I get up way too early in the morning, load boxes into delivery trucks, and clock out with plenty of time to stop by Burger King before they stop serving breakfast. When I first started working, I quickly realized that this type of work is more physically demanding than, say, surfing the Internet all day. It took me a while to acclimate to this change, but I am in much better shape now and have even managed to lose a few pounds. I like to think of the whole situation as going to the gym five days a week. The most significant difference is that at this gym you get in trouble if you don’t show up every day.

I think that about wraps things up for this Christmas letter. Since I never really know how to end these letters, I’ll just stick with my traditional mechanism of quoting whatever movie comes to mind. So until next year, just remember what Jack Nicholson said in As Good As It Gets– “Sell crazy someplace else– we’re all stocked up here.”
High Hopes

July 5, 2004

Three University of Cincinnati have spent the past two years designing and building a rocket that, with the help of NASA, will be launched over the Atlantic and is designed to reach and altitude of 30,000 feet. When asked about the amount of effort needed to complete the project, one of the students replied, “Sure, we put in some long nights, but it was an attainable goal– not like brain surgery.”
Come On Holmes

February 15, 2010

I watched “Holmes on Homes” on HGTV last night. Mike Holmes travels to people’s houses to repair shady contractor projects gone awry. Now he can finally quit his part time job working security detail for that Dexy’s Midnight Runners tribute band.
Inexpensive Solar Collector

September 17, 2009

I was reading an article in Popular Mechanics about solar energy when I came up with this idea. Solar panels are generally made out of relatively rare and expensive materials and have other drawbacks that, given our current technology, keep solar panels from being economically competitive with other methods of generating electricity such as coal and natural gas. While it is possible that improvements in solar panel technology may change this in the future, a more cost effective method of converting sunlight to electricity would reduce our toll on the environment. This is where solar collectors come into the equation. Is it possible to gather sunlight in such a way that could be used to generate electricity and be cheaper than current methods?

A company in New Mexico is working on reducing the cost of creating energy from sunlight. reflecting light onto a small area. The energy harnessed in turn powers a Stirling Engine which then creates electricity (pictured on the left). As I read the article I was impressed with this different approach to the problem. Honestly, I didn’t even know how a Stirling Engine worked. They could really be onto something here. The article mentioned the company has worked out all the technological issues, now they are focusing on reducing the cost of building these devices. The article noted that each of these dishes can power roughly 12 houses with electricity.

So I thought about it for a while, and I think there is a much less expensive way to achieve the same results. Here is how I would build a cheaper solar collector:

Step one: Acquire an OLD satellite dish. Not one of the 18 inch models that are currently in use. You need an old school dish that is several feet in diameter. Here is a good example:

Step Two: Acquire/buy several hundred blank CDs. Back in the day you could ask AOL for as many as you wanted, but I’m not sure that would fly today.

Step Three: Line the entire inside of the dish with CDs, with the exception of the very center, making sure the sure the most reflective side is facing up. This will allow for the sunlight to be concentrated at the focal point. Attach the CDs to the dish with bolts (in case they need to be replaced in the future), or Lee press on nails (if that’s all you have in your purse).

Step Four: Place a large sized convex mirror, maybe one from a truck side mirror, at the focal point of the dish. This is made easier by using the existing support structure of the dish. The purpose of the mirror is to focus the light back onto the exact center of the dish. (This will be where the engine is eventually placed). Finding a mirror with the correct curvature could take some work.

Step Five: Build a level circular base out of concrete. The diameter should be at least as large as the diameter of the top edge of the dish.

Step Six: Place the Sterling Engine in the center of the base.

Step Seven: Build a support structure for the dish. When finished, the base needs to be able to rotate freely in two dimensions in order to track the sun. It also must be able to accommodate the engine in the center of the dish that keeps the top of the engine at the center of the dish.

Step Eight: Build a mechanism for tracking the sun.

So how is this method better than what has already been built? The main improvement is moving the engine from the focal point of the dish to a stationary position underneath the dish. This reduces overall center of gravity and complexity since only the dish itself is moving. It also shades most of the engine, which relies on temperature differentials to produce energy. Also, the smaller scale would allow individual homeowners to build this device from a kit to provide some or all of their home’s energy needs.
2005 Christmas Letter

December 25, 2005

What can I say? I started writing a Christmas letter way back in 1996. So this is the 10th anniversary—if you add 10 to 1996 your get 2006. But wait– it’s only 2005 as I’m writing this, so I’ve lost a year somewhere. I don’t remember losing a year, so I must have been a) watching an incredibly long late night television infomercial b) abducted and possibly probed in unnatural ways by aliens or c) recovering from a vicious Wampa attack on the ice planet Hoth by floating in a large tube of water like Luke Skywalker in “Empire Strikes Back”. While I can only speculate about my alleged “lost year,” I can, with a varying degree of accuracy, explain the highlights of the past twelve months.

Since moving into my townhouse, I would often compare my living room to my appendix—both are rather useless appendages that I could easily live without. I didn’t have much furniture for the room, and most of the time I spent there involved walking through it to get to my front door. Even though all my attempts to have my living room serve a useful purpose like, say, digesting tree bark, were a complete failure, the situation changed when I invited my friend Scott over for the first time. After giving him the grand tour, he looked at the sparsely decorated area and told me, “Omar, this would be the perfect spot for a projection television!” Once he said that I realized the room’s destiny. We went out that night to investigate my projection television needs.

The first place we went was a ritzy high-end electronics store. They had a plush room dedicated to projection televisions. In the back of the room a shelf held three different projectors. The salesman would switch one on and describe the virtues of each device with comments such as, “This one, which by the way, costs $15,000, displays flesh tones more accurately than the others.” Of course they all looked exactly the same to me, and I felt like I was at the optometrist when he asks, “Which is better, A or B?”

So despite my initial enthusiasm for this project (and the fact that I didn’t have $15,000 lying around) I waited a few weeks and bought a more reasonably priced projector on the Internet. When I got home and found it on my doorstep I immediately went to work setting it up. Installing a traditional television set usually just involved plugging it in and hooking up a few wires. My plan, however, was a bit more complex. I had to cut several gaping holes through various walls and drill through the floor to get everything in exactly the right place. As I plunged the drywall knife into the wall for the first time I could sense my mom’s disapproval despite the fact that she lives an hour away—especially when I said to myself, “I think I want a hole over here somewhere.” My mother appreciates qualities like caution, planning, and careful measuring– none of which I was exhibiting in great quantities at the moment. But, really, what’s the point of buying a house if you can’t cut holes all over the place?

So, after a few months of on-and-off construction, I finished my own little home theater system. The projector is tucked away in a cubby hole near the ceiling and all the other electronic gear is neatly stacked below. So now, finally, after being on this planet for more than 31 years, I can sit in my own house and watch DVDs and play PS2 games on a screen that is 10 1/2 feet across.

I made a promise to myself never to wear a tuxedo after my disastrous prom experience my junior year of high school. That was back in 1991, and I kept that promise until 2005 when my last roommate Scott asked me if I would be in his wedding. So there I was, torn between breaking my promise to myself and being a jerk to my friend. After realizing that the problem with that evening was more with the weird girl I invited and not the clothes I wore, I quickly accepted the offer. I’m so glad I did because I had a really good time.

I found out that breaking my tuxedo promise the second time around was a lot easier. A few weeks later another friend of mine, Brian, was getting married and the invitation said it was to be a black tie wedding. I looked through my closet and pulled out the three ties I own. One was dark red, another blue with stripes, and the last was orange with irregular colored blobs, which, as I understand, is used to disguise embarrassing soup stains. No matter how hard I stared at them, none of them were black. So I drove over to the tuxedo store where I rented the last one and decided what to wear for this wedding. Since my dimensions hadn’t noticeably changed in the past three weeks, I didn’t have to go through the fitting process. One thing I’ve come to realize about getting fitted for a tuxedo is this: No matter how young, cute, and perky the girl helping you is at the fitting station, getting your inseam measured is always an awkward experience.

So, after acquiring a tuxedo for the weekend, we drove up to Aspen, Colorado to see Brian and Janet get married. First of all, I found out that Aspen is really, really far away from where I live compared to, say, the local Taco Bell. But, we arrived at the hotel without incident the night before the wedding. The wedding itself was amazing, and really beyond description– at least with my ability to describe things. I lack the wedding accessory vocabulary to do the night justice. But it was really about Brian and Janet, and to the best of my knowledge, they don’t write Christmas letters. And it isn’t because they are Jewish, but rather because Brian spends all his free time on an Internet dradle gambling site. “I can’t stop now Janet, I’ve just gotten three gimels in a row!”

Now that I have such a cool place to watch DVDs (Hey, did I mention I put rope lighting up behind the floor trim to give it that soft movie-theater-esque glow?), I thought I would take some time to recognize my personal choice award for funniest new movie of the year. This year’s award goes to (make dramatic drum roll noise with your hands now to increase the tension) “Garden State.” I like to think of it as “The Big Chill” for the 21st century. Both movies centers around a group of people brought together by an unexpected death. They soon realize how empty their lives have become and try to compensate with large doses of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. OK, so “Garden State” replaced Marvin Gaye with The Shins, added ecstasy use to the pot smoking, and substituted Nattily Portman character for an impotent Vietnam veteran (to whom Jeff Goldbloom lost the girl) as the love interest. The main story line is so bizarre it feels like it just has to be true. Zach Braff wrote, directed, and starred in this movie. I hope this will be the first of many movies he contributes to the world. And if he, through some improbable series of events, is killed in an extreme moto-cross accident, he can at least take comfort in the fact that he got to do a love scene with Natalie Portman (and not Jeff Goldbloom).

Not that there is much rhyme or reason to this, but here are a few things I think would make the world a better place. First off, I was driving home from work the other day when I came to the conclusion that Weird Al Yankovic needs to remake Rupert Holmes “Escape” (The Pina Colada Song) but have it be about meeting people online. It would go something like this “If you like Internet Dating/Meeting new people online/Here’s a list of some websites/And true love you will find.” So if you are reading this Al, get cracking!

I’ve been a big fan of the comedy improvisation show, “Whose Line is it Anyway?” for several years now. It started off as a British show, and soon afterwards an American version was created with roughly the same format (although they turned down some of the sexual innuendo). Now don’t get me wrong, I love Ryan Styles and Collin Mockery, but I think its time to have another version of the show. This time, however, the cast will be almost entirely women. Janeane Garafolo could host! So if you are reading this Janeane, get right on it. You can be funny again, it is OK!

Well, that about wraps things up for another year. So, I’ll end this year’s letter with one of the best lines from Garden State. “Oh… guys? Don’t stay in here all day. I had to take the batteries out of the carbon monoxide detector; it was beeping all night.”
Road Trip

September 6, 2001

August 24

For the last two full days of our vacation, we decided to take a road trip with Scott’s parents. The original plan was to drive Scott’s parent’s Volvo, but the word from the repair shop was a cracked cylinder head caused the explosion on the trip home from the airport. While I’m admittedly no automotive mechanic, I think fairly highly of Volvos made in 1988 that have been driven 176,000 miles. But all good things must come to an end, and this was no exception. After a brief discussion, we all agreed the only logical course of action was to break into the local mortuary, steal two cadavers, situate the bodies in the front seat of the Volvo, and roll the vehicle on to the autobahn during the middle of the night.

While Scott and I were taking in the sights in Berlin, his father was busy trading in the Volvo for something else. After a series of intense negotiations he exchanged the car for a very nice cup of coffee to enjoy while looking for a new vehicle. He eventually agreed to buy another slightly less broken Volvo. I assumed we were going to take the car on our weekend excursion, but in Germany it takes roughly two weeks to buy a used car. I’m not sure what is involved in the whole process, but it starts with multiple signatures, continues with an extensive paperwork trail, and somewhere along the line requires a complete DNA sequencing analysis from all parties involved in the transaction.

Fortunately, Scott’s father was able to secure a rental car for the weekend. Given the extensive presence of the German automobile industry around Stuttgart, I was expecting to spend the next two days driving around in a Mercedes or BMW. But since the reservation was placed less than the customary thirty weeks in advance, we ended up with an Imbizu. Yes, it’s the best four-door compact diesel that Spain has ever designed and manufactured. Ever.

August 25

As much as it pains me to do so, I must admit that the Imbizu is doing a pretty good job of getting us around. It doesn’t do much to make me feel cool, but it does manage to get us around the steep mountain roads. To the best of my knowledge none of the cylinder heads have cracked. That is, of course, if diesel engines have any.

That is enough about cars. After spending the past eight days with Scott, I can’t help but to notice that he likes to walk a noticeable distance in front of everyone. At first I thought it was just me walking too slow, but now that we are with Scott’s parents I’ve decided he walks faster than everyone in the group. I’ve mentioned it a few times, but he still does it. I don’t really mind except for the fact he is out of earshot, so it makes any kind of conversation rather impractical. I’ve been entertaining myself by calling him “Scout” and envisioning him getting snared in a trap involving a net concealed under a bunch of leaves and attached to a nearby tree. Perhaps I’ve watched a few too many episodes of “Xena Warrior Princess.”

We have spent the day visiting various castles and their surrounding towns in Germany and Austria. While castles come in many shapes and sizes, the one thing they all seem to have in common is that they are all built on ground that is a lot higher than the rest of the area. The only exception to this rule seems to be the “White Castle” hamburger franchise which generally settles in the crappy part of town all across the Midwestern United States.

While getting to these structures requires a moderate amount of uphill hiking, seeing them close up is worth the effort. In one village in Austria, we walked up to the ruins of a 12th century defensive outpost. Despite the fact that many of the upper levels had collapsed, you can still see the general design of the building. I kept thinking this is what my apartment is going to look like a few years down the road.

August 26

Today we drove through Liechtenstein. Proportionally, I’ve already spent too much time writing about it. I’m not sure how they managed it, but this country is a four mile wide sliver of land sandwiched between Austria and Switzerland. The most notable quality of this country I’ve discovered is they charge you to stamp your passport.

We rather briefly drove through Switzerland, but most of the time was spent driving on a road next to a large lake. While visually stimulating, I don’t really feel as though I got to experience the true Swiss culture. I didn’t even see a single person drinking hot chocolate. So even though I can add it to the list of countries I’ve been to, I think sometime in the future I’ll come back to get a better look around.

August 27

Well, that wraps things up for my trip to Germany and neighboring countries. After spending ten days here I’m definitely ready to be back in Colorado. The public transportation isn’t as good and we don’t have quaint little villas in Colorado, but at least we never had to worry about evil oppressive forces occupying parts of our state. Unless, of course you count Colorado Springs.
2011 Wrap Up

December 31, 2011

So, it is New Year’s Eve and the clock says 9 PM (mountain standard time, for those who need to know) and I’m sure that everyone expects me to be heading out the door with the wife, kids, and dog out to experience the legendary Loveland clubbing scene. But no, I’ve got other plans. For example, just to get the evening ball rolling, I have upgraded WordPress on my newfunny.com website from version 3.2 to version 3.3. Next on the agenda, view the annual stats WordPress was nice enough to send me.

So, according to WordPress, my website was viewed roughly 8,200 times in 2011. Now don’t get me started about how to measure how many people visit your website in a given time period. OK, you talked me into it– you see, I could log onto my goDaddy account and download every single http request and tell you that number is how many people looked at my site, but that would count a whole bunch of stuff (like automated processes that are looking to index information on my site) that has nothing do with actual people looking at my site. As far as I can tell, WordPress seems to give a more accurate gauge of actual people. And really, there are more methods of calculating web traffic than there are ways to deep fry a Snickers bar, so take anything anyone says about it with a grain of salt. And then, of course, then you can try sprinkling it on your deep fried Snickers bar, which I hear is surprisingly tasty.

“Omar, what are the top viewed posts on your website in 2011?” you were probably just thinking to yourself. Well, here is the top 5:

1 The Dukes of Hazzard  August 2009
2 Funny and Sexy– Is it possible?  August 2009
3 Come on Holmes  February 2010
4 Back to the Future, Part 4  October 2010
5 Thank you letters  January 2011

I’m pretty happy with these results, but I do want to give a shout out to a few of my long time favorites that don’t get as much traffic as I think they deserve.

Iron Chef Amsterdam
This Old Crack House
I Should Be an SNL Writer

That is the most interesting information from the WordPress report. A little known fact about the “Dukes of Hazzard” and “Iron Chef Amsterdam” is that I was approached by an editor of an out-of-state Marijuana magazine about republishing these stories due to their pro-pot themes. I gave them permission, but then they went out of business. As far as I know they weren’t ever published in any magazines, but since I wasn’t going to get any money for it either way I didn’t really look too hard.

That about wraps things up. One more thing now that I remember we are back to “standard time”: although I have decided that part of my 2024 Congressional campaign is going to include a push for moving to daylight savings time all year round. Mostly because I hate delivering packages at UPS in the dark in December when I see the sunrise an hour before I go to work. I think there is a better chance of getting Congress to change the system of time than to get UPS to change the times it flies all their planes around the country. Although now I think about it, maybe it seems like a 50/50 proposition. But in the end, the only people who benefit from the current system are peppy morning people, and nobody likes those types– especially when sunlight is in short supply. So full time daylight savings time it is!
iPhone Sex App

August 15, 2009

However, the application has led to many complaints from users saying the iPhone is either the wrong shape or that the docking port is way, way too small.
Fighting Terrorism

September 27, 2002

Citing security concerns, officials at Pittsburgh International Airport recently dedicated a replica of a Tyrannosaurus Rex by tearing the ribbon with their hands. In a totally unrelated story, FBI agents were called to the scene when passengers boarding a flight noticed a suspicious-looking individual attempting to fit a four-foot-long pair of novelty scissors in an overhead storage compartment.
2013 Christmas Letter

December 25, 2013

So I was driving down the street in my UPS truck one afternoon in November when a man in a large red truck flew by me, slammed on his brakes, and stopped his craft diagonally in the middle of the street. Before I even had time to stop my vehicle he jumped out into the roadway and started running towards me. He was surprisingly fast considering his hefty girth, red furry outfit, and rather excessive quantities of facial hair. Once he arrived at my passenger side door he looked at me with an odd sense of clarity and focus and yelled, “Omar– it is me, Santa Claus, and I need you to save Christmas!”

“What can I do to save Christmas?” I asked Mr. Kringle.

“This is a little bit embarrassing,” Santa explained, “but I was online the other night and apparently I downloaded a virus on my business computer. It scoured my files for personal information and found the title to my magic Christmas sleigh. I don’t understand all the details, but before I even knew what happened someone had dispatched a specially equipped tow truck to the North Pole to take possession of my most important piece of Christmas equipment. The driver sympathized with my situation but insisted there was nothing he could do since all the paperwork was all in order.”

“That’s not good.” I replied as I realized how stupid and obvious that sounded three seconds after the words left my mouth.

Santa looked at me like that was the most stupid and obvious statement that I could have possibly made at that point in time. Then he took a deep breath and explained how I can help him remedy the situation.

“I went to the North Pole legal department and they did a complete investigation. It turns out that my sled is being stored in a holding facility. If I can’t come up with the payment in the next thirty days the vehicle will be legally transferred to the Russian mob.

“But how can I help? I’m just a UPS driver.” I explained. “How much money do you need to get your sleigh back?”

“That’s the problem Omar. They don’t want money. The only way I can get it back is to give them THE GREATEST CHRISTMAS LETTER EVER WRITTEN! I looked online and I’m impressed with your archive of Christmas letters going all the way back to 1995. But you need to step up your game this year or the holidays will be ruined for the entire planet.

“I’ll get right on it.” I told Santa. “Just let me finish my deliveries, do all my pickups, drive the truck back to the center, unload my air and international packages, park my truck, turn in my paperwork, punch out, drive home, take a shower, eat dinner, play with my kids, and then I’ll get right on it.

While I was saying all of that, Santa had already walked most of the way back to his truck. He looked back at me as he climbed into the cab and yelled “I’m counting on you, Omar!”

Later that evening I sat down at my laptop ready to write the most important story ever with my usual writing aids that included a “party size” bag of Wavy Lays potato chips, a cold two liter bottle of Diet Pepsi, and three full boxes of Sweet Tarts. I fired up my “inspirational Pink Floyd” playlist and went to work. I wrote an amazing letter. It was concise yet detailed, funny yet touching, and inspirational yet not preachy. I was all ready to email it to Santa when a somewhat suspicious Russian mobster looked in my kitchen window. He picked up an unusual piece of electronic equipment. When he pressed a prominent red button on the top of the device all the electronic devices in my house stopped working. He chuckled softly, walked back to his unmarked van, and drove away. I was going to chase him, but I was busy injecting insulin into my body as this writing experience had apparently given me type one diabetes.

So this is not the greatest Christmas letter in the world– this is just a tribute.

In my world 2013 will be remembered most as “the year Omar got his own route at United Parcel Service.” I had spent the previous nine years as a swing driver doing other driver’s routes when they were on vacation or injured. While I enjoyed it for the most part, there are some definite benefits to having a set route. Here, in no particular order, are some of said benefits. Customers miss me when I’m on vacation. I can tape up photographs of my family on my visor. I don’t drive around looking for addresses. My truck is an automatic. So if you live or work in the area west of I-25, east of Timberline, south of Horsetooth, and north of Harmony in Fort Collins and you order a lot of shoes from the internet you should be expecting to see quite a bit of me in the future.

This year we decided to tackle remodeling our kitchen. We spent the previous weekend watching HGTV and Katherine and I both felt completely prepared for what lay ahead. After ripping out about half the old cabinetry we discovered that, wow, the makers of those television shows make things look way easier than they are in real life. We also discovered that the order of certain tasks can be very critical when installing a new kitchen. For example, putting in all the new cabinets before the counter tops arrive is generally a plus. Despite numerous setbacks of varying degrees of ickyness we now have a new kitchen which suits our needs much better than the last one. One more piece of advice for anyone considering this type of project– if you build a large island into your new kitchen it will, from the instant the counter tops are installed, act as a rare earth magnet for attracting random objects from the rest of the house. Either that or I’m getting up and moving everything on to the island in my sleep.

Finally, I thought I would end my letter with the most insightful comment from my Facebook page from the last year: The older you get, the harder it is to be a prime number.
Thoughts On Star Trek: Voyager

April 26, 2001

With the exception of Dick Clark helping America ring in each new year, all good things must come to an end. The “Star Trek: Voyager” series is no exception to this rule. You may love it, you may hate it, but either way, the last episode will air in a few weeks. Will the crew make it back to Earth? Here at newfunny.com we have a been blessed with a very interesting piece of “inside information”. Unfortunately, it has absolutely nothing to do with Star Trek, so I will have to save that for another story.

Before I go any further, I have to stop and make a special dedication. I like to think of my sister as one of the biggest fans of Star Trek fans in the entire charted galaxy. Wait a minute, I’m thinking of me. My sister hates the whole concept of Star Trek so much that she once spit in the face of Patrick Stewart when he was passing by in the airport terminal. OK, I just made that part up (he only looked quite a bit like the guy who plays Jean Luc Picard), but I can say without any doubt that she has her own “prime directive” to cause bodily harm to any one who thinks its cool to wear a Klingon forehead apparatus in public. So, Karen, if you are reading this, I hope you get a tingle in your spine similar to when Data first activated his emotion chip.

In all honesty, I have to admit to aggravating the situation with my sister by forcing Star Trek information upon her every chance I get. When we were younger, I would often times run around with a banana clip over my eyes pretending to be Geordi La Forge from the “Star Trek: The Next Generation” series. My most shining moment in this aspect of my life was calling up my sister at two in the morning to tell her I just got home from the opening night of the latest Star Trek feature film. I can only imagine the look on her face as I woke her up out of a good night sleep by screaming “STAR TREK– INSURRECTION!!!” into the phone receiver.

I would now like to spend some time hypothesizing about how the Voyager series is going to end. I can assure you that I have no advance knowledge of the actual ending for the series. The whole point of the newfunny stories isn’t to report “facts”, but rather to make the results of my overactive imagination appear to be true. Having said that, here are some official newfunny.com alternate endings for the series:

California Style Ending:

After miscalculating the amount of dilithium needed to get the ship back to the Alpha quadrant, the captain initiates rolling blackouts for the duration of the journey. The shortage of power creates a series of unique predicaments the crew must address. One episode will involve the more elderly crew members on several decks suffering from heat exhaustion after their air conditioners stop running in the middle of a hot summer afternoon. The finale will focus on a no-holds-barred banana cream pie fight between Captain Janeway and First officer Chakotay over who was supposed to fill up on dilithium crystals on their last away mission.

Monty Python Ending:

After some ingenious manipulation of the space/time continuum, the crew manages to get out of the Delta quadrant and back to their own section of the galaxy. Sprits are high as earth becomes visible on the long range sensors. After three days at maximum warp the crew reaches Earth and makes their final landing preparations. A massive celebration is planned at Star Fleet Headquarters for Voyager. Just before the ship sets down a large cartoon foot comes out of nowhere and crushes the ship into a twisted pulp. Roll credits.

Scooby Doo Ending:

B`Elanna Torres and Tom Paris look into the cause of energy surges that consistently disrupt the daily operation of the ship with creepy sounds and unexplained visual phenomena. The young pair eventually gets to the bottom of the case after a series of subtle clues, trap doors, and Scooby Snacks lead them to the culprit. The cause of the “ghosts”, if you will, turned out to be nothing more than a series of computer commands programmed in by the unscrupulous ship’s captain who planned on getting a good deal on a high mileage haunted galaxy class cruiser upon their triumphant return to Earth.
Business Birth

February 18, 2004

After examining all the choices in the area, I’ve decided to start a fitness club that caters exclusively to pregnant woman, and I’m going to name the center “The OB-GYM.”
Star Trek 11? I’ve Lost Count

May 11, 2009

I have to start out by mentioning that back in the day I used to just skip out of work so I could be one of the very first people to see the latest Star Trek movie on Friday afternoon. Being a UPS driver doesn’t make this very easy, and I didn’t really want to use one of my two option days I get each year. So Katherine and I went to the theater on Sunday afternoon to see what all the fuss is about.

My first impression of the movie was, “Wow– they must have saved a lot of money by using the set of ‘Ugly Betty’ as the bridge of the Enterprise.” Every time they turned a corner on the ship I was expecting to see Vanessa Williams bravely holding up some comically large space weapon with her assistant Marc cowering behind while making sarcastic comments about how the crew dressed such as, “if this is the best outfits the future can come up with, well just phaser me now.” I’m not quite sure where America Ferrera fits into this situation, but I’ll bet she would stick her nose in everyone’s business and find a quirky resolution to the problem.

Here is a run down of the some of the main characters:

James Kirk: fiesty kiddo who spends most of the movie dangling perilously on the edge of things.

Young Spock: realizing that the television show “Heroes” isn’t going to last forever, Zachary Quinto stepped out of the role of the evil Sylar and hopped on board as Spock. His biggest challenge for the role: shaving his facial hair between every take.

Old Spock: according to the movie, Leonard Nemoy was 147 years old when he got sent back in time. I swear he didn’t look a day over 90.

The Bad Guy: Had some strange tatoo on his face and went around destroying Federation planets. I’m not sure if these two facts are related. Too bad Ricardo Montelbon wasn’t around when they filmed this– now there was a guy you just couldn’t help but hate.

And the big surprise at the end: There wasn’t any! None of the main characters were killed because they all have to be kept alive so all the stuff that has already been made at least kind of makes sense. I guess that’s the problem with making a movie that is both a prequel and a sequel in the Star Trek Universe.

I suspect the next film will focus on how William Shatner became such a bad actor.
Making Boulder Safe

July 17, 2001

I’ve always had a healthy respect for Kathleen– the woman living in the apartment directly above me. In most respects she is an ideal neighbor. While we aren’t exactly the closest of friends, when we do run into each other we usually have a pleasant conversation about what is new and exciting in our lives. She even accepted my invitation to watch the game at my last Super Bowl party. Always concerned about making too much noise, she even asked me once if running her dishwasher after 10 PM was going to be too loud for me. Despite all this, I can’t seem to shake the notion that Kathleen spends her free time raising marsupials.

Even though my knowledge of biology is limited to reading National Geographic stories while sitting in the dentist’s office waiting room, I am almost positive that kangaroos are not indigenous to the state of Colorado. Sometimes after Kathleen leaves for work in the morning I hear the unmistakable sound of rhythmic thumping from her apartment that could only be produced by small mammals hopping around. At first I just chalked it up to my overactive imagination. All that changed a few weeks ago on a warm summer night when I was sitting out on my patio waiting for a friend to come over. Kathleen’s patio door must have been open because I couldn’t help but to hear what she was saying. In a playful baby voice she kept saying, “Who is my favorite kangaroo? You are-yes you are!” The last trace of doubt was removed when she replaced her old regular license plates on her car with a customized set with the letters “LVN ROOS”.

While I like to think of myself as a fairly liberal individual who doesn’t like to poke my nose into other people’s business, I just can’t sleep well at night knowing what is going on in Kathleen’s apartment. What could I do if the kangaroo in question gets bigger and crashes through the floor into my living room when I’m sitting on my couch? My apartment is messy enough as it is without the ceiling caving in and kangaroos hopping about wildly out of control. And that doesn’t even address the issue of my damage deposit.

Fortunately, the city of Boulder passed an ordinance to protect not only myself, but the countless other individuals in the area who live their lives in constant fear of exotic animal related mishaps. The Boulder City Council recently passed legislation that will help get all of the kangaroos out of the city once and for all. In addition to the aforementioned marsupials, the law also forbids individuals from owning bears, skunks, weasels, otters, badgers, venomous reptiles, raccoons, elephants, seals, sea lions, hyenas, anteaters, sloths, armadillos, mongooses, hippopotami, rhinoceri, giraffes, camels, zebras, monkeys, chimpanzees, alligators, and crocodiles.

It’s about time that the City Council members climbed down from their ivory tower and created legislation that helps out the regular Janes and Joes of the world. Just the other day I was watching some children playing on the large bronze animals in the center of the Pearl Street Mall when a hungry pack of hyenas came along and… well, lets just say it was not a pleasant situation. The owner of the hyenas didn’t realize the animals had chewed through the six foot high electrified barb wired fence until after the damage was done. And you really can’t fault the hyenas- their instincts tell them to gather in packs and chase down the slowest mammals in the immediate area. The parents of the mauled children and most of the witnesses came to the conclusion that despite the extensive effort made to contain these animals, the owner of the hyenas was largely to blame. Without any exotic pet ordinance to back them up, the police officer at the scene could only give the owner a fifty dollar fine for violating the city leash law.

Exotic animal maulings frequently go unreported in city of Boulder. Newspapers only have so much space to report the news each day. While the reports regarding the JonBenet Ramsey murder have slowed to a trickle, the reports detailing the mistakes made during the investigation keep flowing into the papers. And of course the public needs to know about the reports of people who are upset about people who criticized anything involving the investigation. Given the need for perpetual coverage of this still unresolved situation, the true cost of exotic animal ownership may never be known.
Drug War

February 21, 2005

Rush Limbaugh is expected to visit Afghanistan, officials said on Thursday. When asked about the nature of the visit, the conservative radio talk show host stated, “I’m excited to see the emergence of freedom in a country that for so many years has been ravished by war. That, and the vast expanse of heroin-producing poppy fields.”
Divide And Conquer

May 20, 2002

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kids: (In unison) Yes dad.

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

And then, 0.0003 seconds later:

Bobby: Dad! Sally threw up on me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 4, 2008

I’m switching Internet service providers because my wireless service didn’t work well in the wind. A cable modem should improve the overall performance, and, as a bonus, my pornography will stop showing up on my neighbor’s computer.
Weight Watchers

October 22, 2007

The International Bureau of Weights and Measures recently reported the 118-year-old cylinder that is the international prototype for the metric mass of a kilogram appears to have lost 50 micrograms. This confirms a theory that scientists have suspected for quite some time now– everyone is getting fatter.The International Bureau of Weights and Measures recently reported the 118-year-old cylinder that is the international prototype for the metric mass of a kilogram appears to have lost 50 micrograms. This confirms a theory that scientists have suspected for quite some time now– everyone is getting fatter.
UPS Superbowl Commercial

May 27, 2007

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

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

(Quick Channel Change)

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

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

(Quick Channel Change)

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

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

(Quick Channel Change)

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

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

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

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

(Quick Channel Change)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

2003 Christmas Letter

December 25, 2003
Imagine this: After a moderately busy day at work, I’m sitting in my La-Z-Boy making saltine and peanut butter sandwiches.

One side of my brain (I’m not sure which– possibly the inside) is busy mentally writing a letter to the cracker company. “Dear Zesta, I should start out by saying I quite enjoy eating your saltine crackers. I find them pleasing to my palette and very reasonably priced. However, as I was sitting in my La-Z-Boy eating saltine and peanut butter sandwiches I realized a potential quality control problem with your product. When I get to the bottom of a sleeve of crackers, occasionally there is one left over. Each peanut butter saltine sandwich I make uses exactly two saltines. I was wondering: is there supposed to be an odd or even number of crackers in each sleeve? Personally, I would prefer to have an even number. Which leads me to my question: what should I do with the last cracker? I tried using both one and three saltines with peanut butter, but found the results unsatisfactory. Any information you can provide me on this matter would be greatly appreciated.”

The rest of my brain was busy processing information from earlier in the afternoon– the shorter days, the first significant snowfall of the year, the icy roads I had to navigate all morning and, of course, the trailer park where I got a UPS truck stuck twenty miles away from the center. It all reminded me (with the exception of the trailer park bit—more on that later) that is was time to write my annual Christmas letter. I jumped up from the La-Z-Boy, looked down at the last couple of saltines, sat down again, finished the last of the crackers, got up again, let the dog outside, decided I, too, had to empty my bladder, grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, and then raced to my computer to start writing. Oh, yeah, and somewhere in there I had the oil in my car changed.

Speaking of automobiles, I just realized that I’ve been driving my Saturn almost as long as I’ve been writing Christmas letters. Based on my personal experience, 1996 was a good year to buy a Saturn. In the seven and a half years I’ve owned this vehicle, it has served me well. However, after consulting my ancient Chinese astrological charts I discovered that 2003 was destined to be “the year of the broken alternator.”

Here is what I learned from the situation:
1. When the battery light on the dashboard goes on, hoping it will just turn itself off in a few days may not always be the best solution.
2. Anyone familiar with northern Colorado will agree that being stranded alone in a non-functioning vehicle in the complete void of civilization between Loveland and Greeley is not the best way to start an evening.
3. When #1 and #2 are no longer just hypothetical situations, it is possible to take your girlfriend’s car to Wal-Mart, buy a new, fully charged battery, install it in the vehicle with the broken alternator, drive to a nearby mechanic for repair work, and finally return the slightly used battery the next day without the woman at the customer service desk realizing what happened. When she asked the reason for the return, I simply said I made a mistake and only needed a nine volt.
September 25, 2003 marked my one year anniversary working at UPS. I’m not sure why, but I expected the day to be kind of special. Nothing too fancy– maybe a nice bottle of wine or some flowers. You know, just a little something to make me feel like I’m important to UPS. But no, UPS just went on like it does every day, completely oblivious to my feelings.

Now that I completely understand / mentally repress everything that happens during the morning shift at UPS, I find my mind occasionally wanders while my body is busy running in and out of the delivery trucks. Just looking at a box moving down the belt can reveal a lot about its contents. Packages from a company such as L.L. Bean have a distinct look and feel that says, “Hello, I’ve got a sweater inside me.” Packages sent from less frequent shippers say things like, “This is a care package for my son who just started college.” Or, “I used to be a box of coco-puffs cereal.”

Sometimes during the spare seven nanoseconds between loading boxes I ask myself questions like, “Come on, now Omar, really, do you even know how long a nanosecond is?”, “Do you like movies about gladiators?”, and, of course, “Who comes up with these street names?” One part of town in Fort Collins is full of “Lord of the Rings” themed street names such as Shire, Hobbit, and Gilgalad. One morning when a coworker asked if a package for an address on Gilgalad Street should be loaded on one of my trucks, I replied with one of my favorite Hobbit songs, “Gilgalad was an Elven-king. Of him the harpers sadly sing…” I stopped only because someone threw a moderately heavy package at the back of my head, but that’s another story. (one I don’t remember, for some reason.)

I made my first official “career move” at UPS in September when I started working as a Saturday air driver. So now, in addition to my usual responsibilities of loading trucks Monday through Friday, I now spend Saturday mornings in a brown UPS truck. After I put on my cute little brown uniform, I deliver packages in the towns of Fort Collins, Laporte, and Belleview. For anyone not familiar with northern Colorado, Laporte is a small town up in the foothills where people go to get away from the hustle and bustle of Fort Collins. Belleview is nestled even further up in the mountains where people go to get away from the hustle and bustle of Laporte, usually with little more than a handful of cows and several high caliber firearms.

Driving UPS trucks has been a good learning experience for me. After one moderately sized Friday night snowstorm, I found out what a UPS truck can and can’t do. It can descend a moderately icy inclined entrance to a trailer park without much trouble. After I delivered the package, I discovered that getting back up and on to the main road was not a simple task. After several failed attempts, I looked around, found some trash to stick under the rear tires, and was soon on my way.

Well, that just about wraps things up for 2003. Will 2004 be the year I resolve the odd saltine cracker mystery? Will I keep working at UPS? Will my coworkers keep throwing packages at the back of my head? If you want to know the answer to these and many other totally unrelated questions, stay tuned for the 2004 edition. Until then, just remember my favorite line from the movie “Office Space.” Bob: Looks like you’ve been missing quite a bit of work lately. Peter Gibbons: Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve been MISSING it, Bob.
Montreal, Canada

June 6, 2026

I’ll just let the pictures do the heavy lifting on this post.
Thoughts On The Competition

June 9, 2001

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 1, 2001

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately documenting some of my strange activities and interests, so I thought I would change perspectives a little bit and shed light on odd habits of other people. And, no, this is not a story about my ex-girlfriend. Or my high school algebra teacher. While they are both unique in their own special ways, today I decided to focus on the entire town of Boulder. Ever since the situation comedy, “Mork and Mindy” became an international success, this city has developed a reputation as being a little less normal than all the neighboring cities. If you visit Boulder on the first Saturday in May you will see why.

No matter how you look at it, witnessing a group of people rowing across Boulder reservoir is just not normal. Especially when the craft is designed to look like an eight-foot tall jar of mayonnaise.

But really, what else would your craft look like when you are on team “Cinqo de Mayo”?

Welcome to the world of Kinetics. For the past twenty-one years, various teams have built human powered vehicles that can navigate over land and water to compete in the race. Being the first team to cross the finish line doesn’t guarantee an overall victory. In addition to completing the course as fast as possible, each team is judged on their theme. This requires a coordinated decoration of the craft and participants. The more entertaining the theme, the higher the overall score.

Just for the sake of comparison, building a craft and competing in the race requires roughly three to four orders of magnitudes more effort than, say, writing a song about Taco Bell.

When I see any of my neighbors leaving his or her apartment wearing little more than fishnet stockings and a football jersey I would usually be concerned. Even in the somewhat liberal town of Boulder, Colorado, this type of dress would be considered to be in bad taste. When it occurs on the day of the Kinetics race, however, the socially acceptable boundaries for behavior and appearance are suspended to accommodate the day’s activities.

Honestly, how else should one dress as part of the team “XXXFL”?

During the week my neighbor Kathleen is a quiet, predictable, twenty-nine year old woman who works a steady 8 to 5 job as a cubical drone. The kinetics race transformed her into something totally different. I’m not saying she grew an extra arm out of her stomach or was suddenly able to use her appendix to digest tree bark. The change was more emotional and psychological than physical. She became part of something bigger than her own accomplishments. Something that allows us to temporarily break the molds of acceptable behavior. Something that really isn’t very productive. And I have to respect that on many different levels.

So how did team XXXFL (motto: “WE will be back next year”) fare against Cinqo De Mayo (motto: “gone bad by lunch”)? I really have no idea. The entire judging process is complex and is largely built around bribing the judges. In a contest so strange, it is quite difficult to say who is the best.

I can’t write a story about Kinetics without a, “What is the world coming to?” tangent. The first time I attended Kinetics four years ago, I saw a large number of women who had constructed bathing suit tops out of small watermelons. The general idea is to find an appropriate sized piece of fruit (the produce manager at your local grocery store will be happy to help you measure the melons), cut it in half, scoop out the insides, and take some scrap cloth and make a bra out of it. This design is biodegradable, has considerable cooling properties (the water in the fruit removes excess body heat), and is generally quite pleasing to the eye.

So why am I complaining? From my causal observations, this tradition has been dying over the years. At this year’s race I didn’t see a single watermelon bra. The race officials have spent considerable time and effort protecting local wild life while doing absolutely nothing about the watermelon bra issue. I suggest that everyone write a strongly worded letter to your congressman (or woman) so we can make sure this piece of local tradition isn’t lost forever.

Maybe I’m an idealist, but I think everyone in the entire world should be at the Kinetics race. Entire cities don’t go crazy all that often, so it is best not to pass up a chance to see it with your own eyes. It’s funny how a couple of adolescent boys role playing fantasy games in their parent’s basement are considered nerds while thousands of people doing pretty much the same thing at the reservoir is the basis for the entire town to celebrate. But who ever said life is fair? While Kinetics is never going to become part of our President’s revised energy program, it’s a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. And of course don’t forget to bring your watermelon bra– especially if you are a woman.
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.”
Envigoral Infomercial

September 25, 2005

Woman: Look at yourself right now. Do you feel tired, depressed, and lethargic? Do you think you deserve more than life has given you? Do you find yourself susceptible to high pressure infomercials? If you answered “yes” or “no” to any of these questions, you need to learn more about Envigoral.

Man walks in: Most people haven’t heard of this new and exciting product due to some minor paperwork issues with the Food and Drug Administration. What we can tell you, however, is that Envigoral contains a unique mix of state-of-the-art drugs, exotic herbs, and various types of filler material.

Woman: When you take a daily supply of Envigoral, the medicine immediately goes to work inside your body.

Cut away to a cartoon outline of a human body. Two dozen blue E’s go into the mouth and move around inside the body.

Man: Once Envigoral is inside your body, it goes to work making every cell in your body just plain feel better! Who doesn’t want to feel better than they are right now? I know I like “better”.

Woman: You would be crazy not to like “better”!

Man continues: How does it work? We could explain it to you, but we are pretty sure you just wouldn’t understand. Just start taking it and you will feel so much better you won’t even care how it works.

Woman: Just swallow the recommended daily allowance of Envigoral each morning….

Camera pans down and shows a clear bowl full of blue refrigerator magnet letter Es.

Woman: It couldn’t be any easier. Your road to recovery starts today!

The woman picks up an E looks at it, then looks at the camera and makes a fake smile. She puts it in her mouth and a second later she starts gagging.

The scene quickly changes to show information on how to order.

Announcer (speaking quickly): Envigoral is not approved by the FDA. Don’t bother consulting your physician before taking Envigoral—its so new he probably hasn’t even heard of it yet. To work properly, Envigoral must be swallowed whole. Chewing this product can result in death. All sales are final. Not responsible for future fraudulent credit card charges. Why would you even think we would have anything to do with that? Geesh! Any questions or concerns should be send with a self addressed stamped envelope along with 30 dollars in cash to Envigoral Corporation, Nigeria, Africa. Don’t worry, it will get there. Order now, and, well, we will get our hands on your money that much faster.

Woman: So stop sitting on your couch wondering why life is passing you by. Lean over, pick up the phone, and dial our 1-900 number right away. Once you place your order, you will be on the road to recovery immediately after the 6-8 week shipping period has elapsed.

Man moves into the shot with a dozen lower case ‘e’ magnets of different colors all around his face, neck, and arms.

Man: If you order now, we will, for a limited time, include the topical cream at no extra charge. If you don’t we will come to your house and/or place of business and harass you in highly unethical ways. That’s the Envigoral guarantee!

========================================================
American Chopper Commercial

Two marketing guys are at one end of a long table discussing options for upcoming episodes. The first one says, “We could kill off Paul Sr this season.”

The other one replies, “You realize this is a reality show?”

They sit there awkwardly for a moment looking at each other. One is nervously tapping a pen on the end of the table. Slowly they both look over to the other end of the table out of the camera’s view.

A different camera shot shows Paul Jr and Mikey sitting at the table. Mikey says, “Lets do it!”

The American Chopper logo appears with the time and episode information….

Final shot– everyone is leaving the meeting when Paul Sr walks up the hallway saying, “sorry I’m late… did I miss anything?”

Paul Jr hesitates a second and innocently says, “no.”
Skyrocketing Ambitions

July 23, 2005

The House Friday overwhelmingly endorsed President Bush’s vision to send man back to the lunar surface as it passed a bill to set NASA policy for the next two years. Speaking anonymously, one Democratic congressman commented, “Maybe, just maybe, things will get better down here if we let the President focus on invading the moon.”
Stay Or Go

July 19, 2009

I watch quite a few home remodeling shows on television. The premise this idea is to find homeowners who are on the fence about moving to a new home in the same general area. A team of experts come in and talk to the homeowner about what issues they have with their current home. From this they develop a plan to spend X dollars to fix up the house in an attempt to convince the homeowner to stay put. The conclusion of each show would be the homeowner giving their final decision. And, hopefully, HGTV could get the rights to “Should I Stay of Should I Go” from the Clash for before and after commercial breaks.
25

November 6, 2002

The non-traditional action series “24” is back for another season on the Fox network. The first season documented a single twenty-four hour period of the main character’s life that included, among other things, foiling an assassination attempt on a presidential candidate. The first ten episodes of this season are focusing on Kiefer Sutherland enjoying a decent night’s sleep.
The Real World: The Next Generation

July 3, 2005

Commander Data and Captain Jean-Luc Picard are sitting in the Enterprise ready room.

Commander Data comments, “I find this mission to be highly illogical, Captain.”

Captain Picard replies, “Yes, I know, but we have no choice but to go through with the alliance.”

“But the Enterprise has fought off many worthy adversaries—why should we give up without even firing a single photon torpedo?”

“Listen Mr. Data, we survived numerous adventures over the years, but trust me, this time resistance IS futile. Let’s just get it over with and move on.”

Picard and Data walk out of the ready room on to the main bridge of the Enterprise. The room is empty except for two men poised with cameras. Picard walks over to a waiting camera man, briefly pauses, and starts reading from a script. “This is the true story of seven strangers, picked to live on a starship and have their lives holographically recorded, and find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting REAL. The Real World: The Next Generation!”

Picard gestures at the turbolift and continues, “And now let’s welcome the seven young strangers who will be running the Enterprise on her next mission.”

Four girls and three guys in their early twenties sheepishly walk out of the turbolift and on to the bridge. After brief introductions with Captain Picard and Commander Data, the Captain explains the mission. “With the assistance of Commander Data and myself, the seven of you will be in charge of…” The captain rolls his eyes and quietly sighs to himself. “…delivering a shipment of Ramulan ale to the resort planet Risa. While this may not be the most dangerous mission ever attempted, you will have to learn about ship navigation, interstellar communications, and of course… “

“Hey everyone, I just found a ****load of Ramulan ale in the cargo hold,” one of the seven strangers who apparently snuck off during the introductions yelled as he burst out of the turbo lift, “and someone loaded thrity-seven different erotic hot tub programs on to the holodeck’s computer! Let’s get it on!”

The seven strangers start celebrating and giving each other high fives as they head towards the holodeck—completely forgetting about the Captain and their new mission.

The next scene shows the seven strangers getting drunk in the hot tub. Picard and Data are sitting in the tub still in their complete uniforms looking awkward and uncomfortable.

“Dude, I am sooooo wasted on this Ramulan ale… what all is in it?” One of the seven asked.

Sandy and Jill started a conversation. “So if you could do anyone here, who would it be?”

“Honestly?” Jill asked.

Sandy replied, “Yeah.”

“It may just be that I’m really drunk right now,” Jill confessed, “But I think it would be that robot guy.”

Commander Data, hearing his name, cocked his head slightly and addressed the girl’s comment. “I am fully functional, programmed in multiple techniques.”

“Data!” Picard snapped, “We need to get things moving here. We must to get to Risa as fast as possible so we can move on to our next REAL mission—delivering badly needed medical supplies to Barrius 3.”

One of the other women in the hot tub piped up. “It may be because my grandfather did bad, bad things to me when I was young, but that bald English guy is looking pretty good to me right about now if I could just convince him to spank me for not cleaning up my room perfectly. Is that a bad thing?”

The Captain got shivers just thinking how many things were wrong with the entire situation. Picard yelled out, “Enough is enough. Computer—end holodeck program and seal off the cargo hold to everyone but myself and Commander Data. The rest of you will get into a regulation Star Fleet uniform and report the main bridge in ten minutes.”

Captain Picard starting walking briskly out of the holodeck. “Commander, you are with me.” He ordered. Data looked over at Jill, made a telephone gesture with his thumb and pinky and silently mouthed the words “fully functional” before following the Captain to the bridge.

Eventually, everyone finds their way into uniforms and to the main bridge. The Captain starts explaining how to operate various functions on the ship. “Everything can be accessed through voice commands to the computer.” The Captain explained. “For example: computer—plot a course to Risa.”

The computer responded, “Course laid out. At warp eight we will arrive at Risa in three hours.”

Steve, the one who first located the Ramulan ale, piped up, “Hey computer—you sound pretty hot. What do you look like in a bikini?”

The computer responded, “Please restate the command.”

Captain Picard smacked Steve on the top of his head. “This is not a game! Look, all you guys have to do is tell the computer to engage on the course to Risa and we will be on our way. Do you think we could get that done sometime today?”

Jill looked around and asked the Captain, “So which one of us gets to say ‘engage’?”

“What? It doesn’t matter. Someone says it and the ship starts moving.” The Captain explained.

“I think we need to have a ship-wide meeting to decide.” Steve said.

“I give up! Commander Data—you are in charge. If they can’t decide who gets to say ‘engage’ in the next ten minutes Data will say it. I’ll be in my quarters reading Great Expectations until we get to Risa.” The Captain ordered as he walked towards the turbolift.

Three hours later Picard and Data are waving goodbye to the seven Real World members on the planet of Risa displayed on the main screen on the bridge.

“Captain,” Data started, “I found this mission provided me with a unique insight into the human condition.”

“What are you talking about Data?” the Captain asked, “This was nothing more than seven spoiled kids allowed to run around the ship for the entertainment of the holoprojector audience. What is insightful about that?”

“After you retired to you quarters,” Data explained, “with the aid of my newly installed emotion chip, Jill demonstrated several ways to make me even more fully functional, if you know what I mean.”

Not sure how to respond to Data’s last comment, the captain replied, “Plot a course to Barrius 3, warp 9, Commander.”

“Course plotted,” Data replied. “Captain, can I ask you a question?”

“What is it Data?”

“Can I say ‘engage’ this time?” Data asked.

“Sure Data.” The Captain said, with a hint of resignation in his voice.

“Engage.”
How Computers Work Part 4

August 17, 2001

The year was 1946- the world was busy with its new, “Can’t we all just get along?” campaign, the United States military was busy building, among other things, the most technologically advanced computational devices the world had ever seen, and the weather seemed, in general, more pleasant than usual. The answer to the first questions is by in large, “No, we can’t all just get along.” The part about the weather turned out to be nothing more than a statistical anomaly. Which leaves the part about constructing computers unexplored. Put your thinking caps on as we prepare to examine this topic in an objective and historically accurate manner.

In order to make this machine sound more like a cute, furry animal and less like a cold blooded killing machine, the people who came up with the idea in the first place decided to call it “Eniac.” While this name sounds somewhat cute and furry, its meaning comes from an old Czechoslovakian phrase that roughly translates to “factory workers with steel shells who attempt to enslave humanity.” The United States built Eniac after identifying a need to calculate the trajectories for their long range thermonuclear weapons.

Once constructed, the military also discovered they could use Eniac to beat the Russians at their own game: tic-tac-toe. After months of tedious programming, the system consistently advised players to always go first and pick the center square. Future versions of Eniac were enhanced to play the game show variations of tic-tac-toe such as “Tic Tac Dough” and “Hollywood Squares.” Some of the general pointers for these games generated by Eniac included, “Caution: Wink Martindale is a robot” and, “Agreeing to appear on Hollywood Squares automatically makes you a loser.”

The heart of the Eniac consisted of thousands of small vacuum tubes that were used to store information while calculations were being performed. While bulky and unreliable compared to the technology available today, these vacuum tubes were a critical component for Eniac to function properly. When a vacuum tube malfunctioned, one of the operators had to locate and replace the tube with a fresh new one. This maintenance consumed quite a bit of the operators time and, by in large, kept them from their favorite activity involving day dreaming of a future where all enemies of the United States could be destroyed with a push of a button.

The process quickly became tiresome and the military eventually hired low paid foreigners to change out the malfunctioning tubes at night. In the meantime, the men and women who built Eniac could focus on the next objective of deciding on the color of the buttons that would be used to fire the missiles their computer was helping aim all around the world. In the end they chose red.

This system created somewhat of a security issue when the mathematicians and computational theorist came into work one day and noticed the 200 ton computer was missing. Naturally the cleaning staff was accused of walking off with the system after everyone else had gone home for the evening. These individuals continually proclaimed their innocence in their native language, which really didn’t do anything to help their cause. In fact, it made them look like raving lunatics-exactly the type of individuals who would steal a state of the art computer. Eventually they were cleared of any and all wrong doing after a complete audit of all the militaries computational devices located the lost piece of equipment. For reasons that have never been completely explained, Eniac was accidentally placed in a seldomly used supply closet.

One rather critical issue with the Eniac computer involved error handling. This system was constructed long before traditional computer screens with the ability to turn completely blue had been invented. To put this time frame into perspective, the top computer scientists of the day were just beginning to coin the phrase “an unknown error has occurred at location 57EE:009B.” Despite incredible advances in the field of computers, much of the behavior of the Eniac system is to this day not completely understood. For example, when an error occurred in a program, the system would calmly and confidently instruct the Navy to launch every long range missile at the five richest kings of Prussia.

Eniac represented a monumental investment in time and money for the United States. Fortunately, World War II was, for the most part, an “away” war that left our nations infrastructure intact. While most other countries in the world were busy rebuilding roads and buildings, we were able to get a head start on the computer craze. Eniac blazed the path for modern day computers. Most importantly, it started an entirely new belief that given enough time every sufficiently powerful computer will eventually do everything in its power once its operators have let their guards down to take over the planet and enslave humanity.
Military Operations

September 20, 2002

When questioned on the situation in the Middle East, former Vice President Dan Quayle responded, “Don’t you mean IRAQUE?”
House Rules

April 22, 2006

Immigration legislation has been stalled in Congress due to policy decisions regarding existing illegal immigrants. One Republican Senator went on record saying, “we could get a lot more done here if the Democrats stopped calling us Nazis every time we try to forcibly remove twelve million minorities from our country.”
Cosmic Error

April 8, 2014

After reading the dozen tweets from Neil deGrasse Tyson regarding the accuracy of the movie Gravity, I would like to point out a glaring inaccuracy in the title sequence of the television series Cosmos. Even if you could travel faster than the speed of light through the cosmos the stars wouldn’t appear to move relative to one another. At most you would be able to see one star in the center fly at you as you passed next to it as the rest of the cosmos appeared static. Star Wars and Star Trek are also guilty of this mistake, but I have been unable to reach George Lucas and J.J. Abrams to rectify the problem. Also, they are fictional stories.

Despite this slight issue with the show I would like compliment Mr. Tyson on doing a great job promoting scientific principles to the world at large.
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!
Better Than The Maze

July 25, 2006

Having a cigarette while drinking may reduce the effects of the alcohol, scientists suggest – but the tests have only been carried out on rats so far. The lead scientist explained, “we did everything within reason to create a nice bar scene for the rats, but when all was said and done it wasn’t much more than a little hole in wall– literally.”
Bright Eyes

February 8, 2014

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

June 30, 2003

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

January 1, 2001

Thanks for subscribing to the newfunny.com newsletter. I created this site as a moderated showcase for the talents of up-and-coming comedy writers. So if you like to write and believe that you are the next Dave Berry or Douglas Adams, please feel free to submit your work. If you can’t write, but like to read what other people write when they are trying to be funny, please enjoy this site. If you can’t read or write and for some strange reason have e-mail, have someone read the newsletter out loud every issue.

Newfunny.com is the first web site to officially acknowledge being run by Evil Alien Overlords in an attempt to distract humanity from their future invasion and enslavement plans. My name is Omar and I host the site and shamelessly bow down to our future masters in a “Locutus Of Borg” capacity. I am controlled by one of the Evil Alien Overlords via a XR-2300 neural interface. Everyone else has the less painful option of submitting material through the newfunny.com web site [ERTOK: we can’t go around equipping every humanoid with an XR-2300 BEFORE the mass landing of the replicator vessels, now can we? HA HA HA]

Oh yes, I forgot to mention Ertok the Evil Alien Overlord who oversees this web site. He has a keen– if somewhat twisted– interest in humanity and occasionally likes to add his own thoughts to the web site. It is in my best interest to indulge Ertok since he has led me to believe that one of the features of the XR-2300 is the ability to make my head explode.
Shell Games

December 7, 2001

Before going on I must point out that what I am about to say it pure speculation. Despite having an Arabic name I was born and raised in the United States (as were both my parents and three of my four grandparents). I don’t speak or write any language other than English and the few bits and pieces of French I remember from high school. To the best of my knowledge I have never been questioned by the FBI. And despite certain hostile feeling towards my ninth grade algebra teacher, I have never been accused of trying to incite a Jihad.

Having said that, consider the following.

Staying completely ignorant of the current “War on Terrorism” is almost impossible with the daily five page special in the newspapers. The round the clock CNN coverage comes complete with constant headlines crawling across the bottom of the screen with helpful bits of information such as “Fighting continues in Afghanistan,” “FBI searching for source of Anthrax,” and “CNN headline crawler graphics still up and running.” While I don’t spend every waking moment obsessed about how things are going to turn out, I did have a rather disturbing random thought today: What if Bin Laden is not in Afghanistan as the moment?

The world is a very big place, and Afghan caves are only one of many places where someone could hide. It’s quite possible that Bin Laden made alternate living arrangements before the September attacks. It would serve his cause to be living somewhere else once the military campaign begins. It seems reasonable that a country like Iraq would be willing to quietly take him in just to make the United States look bad. Here is how the conversation between the two leaders might have gone, with the exception that they probably wouldn’t be speaking in English.

Saddam: Hello, Saddam Hussein speaking.

Bin Laden: Mr. Hussein, it’s Osama here. How are things going over there in Iraq?

Saddam: Osama Bin Laden? THE Osama Bin Laden? Boy, I’ve heard a lot about you. Seems like you have built up quite an impressive terrorist operation over the past couple of years. So, I just HAVE to know– were you the one who bombed those US embassies in Africa? And the attack on the U.S.S. Cole? I have to admit that was pretty damn cool.

Bin Laden: Well, I don’t like to brag….

Saddam: Come on, it’s me, Sadam—I just have to hear it from you first hand. I promise, I won’t tell anyone else.

Bin Laden: OK, yes, that was me. You are making me blush here Sadam. Listen, I have a favor to ask you. I was wondering if I could crash at your place for a while.

Saddam: What’s the matter—is Afghanistan not cool enough for you anymore?

Bin Laden: It’s not that. I am going to play a little trick on the United States, and I need to lay low for a few months.

Saddam: Sure, come on over—stay as long as you want. I’m all for making those guys look bad. I’m getting pretty sick of them bombing Iraq. Okay, maybe in retrospect we shouldn’t have invaded Kuwait, but for Allah’s sake, that was 10 years ago. They really need to get over it and go home—the party is over.

Bin Laden: Thank you so much Saddam. This really means a lot to me. But I do have to warn you—if everything goes as planned, the US will so want to rip me a new a-hole. Possibly two or three. When they find out where I am it could get ugly.

Saddam: Ah, don’t sweat it my friend. They have been trying to kick my ass out of the country for the past decade. It always reminds me of that old Elton John song.

Bin Laden: Crocodile Rock? I never understood that one. Why does he want to dance with this animal? It’s not cute like a puppy or kitten.

Saddam: No, silly. The song “I’m Still Standing.”

Bin Laden: Ah, I understand you now. I’m going to pack up a few things and slip on over tomorrow night. But, remember, my plan will only work if everyone thinks I’m still living in my cave over here. So if anyone asks just pretend you don’t know anything.

Saddam: No problem. I’ll set up the guest bedroom and if anyone asks you are my cousin Mohammed who is visiting from out of town. Nobody will think twice about it.

Bin Laden: You are the best. I’ll see you tomorrow. We can sit down with a nice cup of tea and I’ll explain my plan of mass destruction and global religious warfare.

Saddam: Sounds like a plan. See you then Osama.
IGF

May 10, 2007

Announcer: Do you have a girlfriend?

[Shots of three different guys nodding]

Announcer: Is she perfect for you?

[First guy nods, and the other two shake their heads]

Announcer: Is she inflatable?

[First two guys look offended, the third one give and apologetic shrug]

Announcer: If you answered “Yes” or “No” to any of these questions, or if you haven’t changed the channel yet, you need the IGF 3000! After months of continuous use, inflatable girlfriends, or IGFs, have been known to malfunction and produce undesirable behaviors.

[Shot of man and IGF in bed with the man shivering and all the sheets on top of the IGF]

[Shot of man and IGF sitting on the couch. She is holding the remote. He says in a whiny voice, “Mannequin again?”]

[Shot of IGF sitting at the kitchen table wearing a wife beater and boxer shorts with a cheap can of beer in her hand and a lit cigar in her mouth]

Announcer: If this sounds like you, DON’T WORRY! The developers of the IGF 3000 have used “science” and “technology” to make everything all better!

[Shot of a lab. One guy is furiously fake typing on an old Commodore 64. Another guy is intently watching a test tube of liquid boil while occasionally looking at something on his clipboard. It turns out to be a comic book.]

Announcer: But wait! If you order now, we will throw in the “enhancement pack” ABSOLUTELY… at the regular price. In addition to all the basic features already described, the enhanced version will make your IGF even more productive around the house. She can exercise the pets.

[Shot of IGF in sweat suit being dragged along the sidewalk by a dog on a leash. Then dog is shown riding her leg.]

Announcer: She can run errands.

[Shot of IGF driving a car in regular clothes]

Announcer: She can even work on an oil rig!

[Shot of sign saying “Footage not available”]

Announcer: Quantities are, well, in theory, limited, so order now before your pesky roommate comes home and sees what you are doing!
Rush To Judgement

November 17, 2003

Conservative commentator Rush Limbaugh returned to his long-running radio show today after being absent for five weeks in an effort to break his dependence on prescription pain medication. When asked about the situation, Mr. Limbaugh commented, “While I have made some progress in dealing with the pain pills, the five weeks I’ve been off the air has helped me realize that my real addiction is having millions of people around the world listen to my every word on a daily basis– and trust me, they don’t have a rehab center for that.”
Boxer Delivery

April 4, 2009

I spent a few minutes playing with a customer’s dog this afternoon while he finished taping up a box. When the package was ready he asked if I wanted to wash my hands. I glanced down at my perpetually-dirty-whenever-I’m-at-work hands, smiled at the dog, and told the guy, “No thanks, but you may want to wash your dog.”
Getting Published

April 4, 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April 12, 2001

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 17, 2012

So Katherine ended up getting me a nine inch diameter glazed doughnut for Father’s Day. Apparently I was a little bit off the mark with the whole Lisa Loeb coming over to my house and making me pancakes. Katherine explained to me how she really tried to get Lisa to stop by, but apparently she is married and has a few kids to look after. (I know how that can dampen one’s social life!)

So I put up a link to the pancake song that she recently releases on my last post, but I didn’t even know about it until I googled “Lisa Loeb pancakes”. I was thinking back to her short lived food show “Dweezil & Lisa” where they spent an entire show preparing and hosting a pancake party. I guess I’m not being the best fanatic that I could be in this area.

While going on a date with Lisa is kind of out of the question, maybe we could arrange a play date with our kiddos. Isabel and Samantha have a lot of cool toys and plenty of space to run around. But if I don’t ever get to meet you in person, I’ll always remember you as “the queen of being sexy without letting all your junk hang out, even though you have the figure to wear trampy attention grabbing outfits, because you want the world to appreciate you for your artistic abilities.” I totally get it.

So despite the lack of sexy rock stars at our house this weekend, I really enjoyed my Father’s Day. And yes, I ate the whole doughnut myself!
Cellular Damage

November 11, 2002

A California report that blames cell phone use in 913 highway accidents in 2001 is being revised because officials believe the figure should be about seven times higher. Governor Gray Davis returned the report to the California Highway Patrol after performing some rough calculations on his cell phone calculator on his drive to work.
2025 Christmas Letter

November 3, 2025

“One of these days I’m gonna sit down and write a long letter to all the good friends I’ve known, and I’m gonna try and thank them all for the good times together though so apart we’ve grown.” (Full disclaimer: I didn’t write that– Neil Young did.) So to all my friends, casual acquaintances, and complete strangers who just randomly happened across my website, I give you my (hopefully not too) long letter.

“Goodbye 145276, hello 140513” After driving the same UPS truck for the past 13 years, I got to work one day and found a different truck parked in my spot. I approached my center manager who explained how he took 145276 to a farm upstate where she can relax and briefly enjoy the fresh air before being violently crushed in an industrial hydraulic press and unceremoniously dumped into a nearby scrapyard. My mathematically inclined readers might notice that 145276>140513. Yes– somehow I managed to receive an even older truck.

“Panama: A man clap trap cabana nap” is a world famous palindrome AND accurate title for our spring break festivities. While I’m sure some alert readers and every half sentient AI bot out there will proudly proclaim “That’s not the same backwards and forwards!” I counter with “prove it isn’t a palindrome in some strange language such as binary or Bostonian!”

We choose Panama for a vacation for two main reasons. Number one: I’m turning into an old man who really likes to only book direct airline flights from Denver International Airport. Number two: I was filing my taxes through Turbo Tax last year and it specifically asked me if I was the owner of any previously undeclared Panamanian bank accounts. The answer was “No,” but it got me thinking that I should at least look into the idea a bit.

Our flight landed at the lovely time of 4:56am local time. We got through customs in five minutes as we didn’t check in any luggage and at 5:08am we were trying to find the metro station. The only person we could find in the area was a lone taxi driver who flat out denied any existence of a metro station and kept showing us videos of a monkey island he could drive us to. Despite his best efforts we located the metro station, completely avoided Monkey Island, and made it to our hotel safely.

I don’t like to brag, but our Airbnb was located on the 62nd floor. (Honestly, I didn’t even know we would be that high up until we got there.) On the first night in the room I stood out on the balcony and pointed to the “medium old” part of town and said we should walk over there in the morning. The problem is that when you are so high off the ground things don’t look nearly as far away as at ground level. (Incidentally, this applies equally well for regular people, flat Earthers, and Halo enthusiasts.) This led to an excess of sunburn, crankiness, whining, and hunger by the evening. And it wasn’t just me this time. Aside from this slight hiccup, the trip was a success as I got to torment my offspring by starting off every conversation with the local population with the cat joke. Seriously, they REALLY hate when I do that.

Nothing brings a family together like a good ole fashioned elaborate fake holiday ruse. My brother-in-law and his family came to visit us in June and we wanted to stage a surprise birthday party for his daughter at the end of their stay. We were so afraid she would catch on to our plan we felt the best, no, truly ONLY, option was to spend the entire week talking about our plans for “Mountain Time Zone Appreciation Day.” Being from Michagan, they had absolutely no way of realizing this was a completely made up holiday. We kept sprinkling in details of the holiday all throughout the week to keep everyone unaware of our true intentions. In the end, to be honest, they didn’t really care too much one way or the other.

In Community news, (“Six seasons and a movie!”) the movie is stuck in a holding pattern worse than at Newark airport during the annual Sopranos convention. But in my own special tribute to the show I found the creepiest image of the human being mascot from the show on the internet, printed it out, and quietly slid it into Isabel’s mellophone case while nobody was looking. While that may seem beyond completely random, the sophomores in the band were tasked with wearing predominantly white outfits that day and it seemed like the most logical outfit to achieve this goal. (NOTE TO READERS: I add stuff like this so when I’m crazy old I can look back and remember the fun times when I was more than just a head in a jar on a forgotten shelf in the basement of my ungrateful great great half son in law. CAN SOMEONE PLEASE GET THAT SPIDER OFF MY JAR! THAT’S ALL I’M ASKING FOR!)

This summer I was looking through our automobile stable and decided it was time to add another stallion to the mix. OK, ok, maybe a Nissan Leaf isn’t really a “stallion” of the car world. Let me think of a more appropriate analogy here. I’ve got one– this summer I was in the market to add a solid third-string car to our roster when I got wind of a veteran left outfielder with perhaps a few decent years left released on waivers due to an over-hyped prospect coming up from the farm team. Now the world of electric vehicles in Colorado is, well, unique. A few years ago we test drove a Nissan Leaf for two hours and the dealership didn’t even call me back. Due to reasons beyond my understanding, the situation completely reversed and Nissan began a policy of basically giving away Leafs to the first 500 people who came in to check out their newly built dealership in Fort Collins. This is a solid vehicle– over 700,000 have been sold since 2010. No, it isn’t perfect, but it gets me to work and really all I need to do is plug it every couple of weeks to fill the battery with electrons, positrons, or tachyons. (AUTOMOTIVE DISCLAIMER: adding the incorrect type of subatomic particle to your electric vehicle can cause decreased acceleration and possible destruction of the space-time continuum.)

I’m going to wrap things up with an original, insightful, and possibly true nugget of wisdom I shared with a young woman on my route who was getting married in September. I told her that a new marriage is 85% having a roommate, 10% having a financial partner, and 5% enjoying “other” activities. I really believe she took it to heart more than my other advice which was to be married in their own shallow graves like Dwight and Angela from “The Office.”

Author: olutfey