Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Z is for Zero

is for zero.  It is such an important number, such an important concept.  I am not sure who first figured out zero, if it were the Mayans, the India Indians, the Muslims, the Chinese, or whomever. It doesn't matter, it was probably the most important mathematical discovery in the history of ever.  It is a place holder, it is empty, in computer terms it is null.  And most importantly, it is the number of posts that we have left in our April Alphabetic Post Event.
     That is right, we have come to the conclusion of our event.  From A to Z with no misses in between, and with no repeats from last year.  Now, looking forward I can predict that there will be some problems.  I am going to run out of things for letters like "x" and "z" and "q" before long.  Then I will be stretching for things even more than I do now.  But that is okay I suppose.  We have a second one in the books and we don't have to worry about it for twelve more months.  Well, more like eleven but you get the gist.
      So anyway, now that we are done we will be back with more of the regular stuff once May and its flowers roll around.  Until then we are on vacation.  So we hope you've enjoyed and we look forward to being back on May 1.  Later gators!

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Y is for Yesterday

is for yesterday.  And yesterday I had the most perfect banana that I think I have ever had.
     I got to it at just the right moment.  That is the only way that I can figure out what happened.  It was about 15 minutes past ripe, okay?  Like If ripeness was a bell curve, it would have been just at the part where it started going back downwards.  As far as spotting goes - you know how the peel gets all brown spots all over it and everything - there was just the very beginnings of spotting on the peel.  Just a couple of brown freckles down by the bottom.   It was plump and ripe for the picking; please excuse the pun.
     Inside it was more of the same.  It was like one tick past firm.  Not mushy yet but it I didn't have to work at taking bites.  All I had to do was put my teeth on the top and the bottom and let gravity do the work.  And it did.  The texture was the most perfect banana texture that there could be. 
     The flavor was perfect as well.  It is like whatever stuff was going on inside of the thing - whatever chemistry was being performed with the sugars and enzymes, etc - all the Alton Brown stuff - was at full tilt and had worked to produce maximum banana flavor.  It was very sweet.  And super banana-y.  It almost tasted like it was super concentrated banana syrup or whatever.  And the aroma was at its height too.  It went up my nose as the taste went over my tongue, and it was all good.  I was in banana heaven.
     If you have ever watched the movie Despicable Me on Blu-ray, and watched the animated shorts that come along with it, and you have seen the one where the little minions are fighting over the banana: this is the banana that they are dreaming about.  This was the banana that they are lusting over.  Because only a banana this perfect, in this exact state of ultimate being, could inspire people or minions or whatever to fight that doggedly over a piece of fruit.  It just had to be this banana.  It had to be it.  It was the ultimate banana in the history of bananas.  And it came into my life yesterday.

Monday, April 25, 2011

X Marks the Spot

marks the spot.  Oh wait, no it doesn't.  Let's be honest.  When was the last time that you saw a map in which "x" marked the spot?  Never, that's the last time.  Okay, if you are going to get all technical you are going to tell me that just about every map uses an "x" for some sort of symbol, and I will be forced to admit that it is true.  But if you are holding out some sort of treasure map to me and there is a big red "x" marked somewhere on it, I am going to be forced to call shenanigans on you and smack you in the face.
     We've all seen the classic, stereotypical situation, right Company?  A pirate buries his treasure somewhere on a tropical island that manages to be both deserted and desert, but it still is full of palm trees and vegetation.  Oftentimes there is a waterfall there too, which always confuses the shit out of me even more.  Then he draws up a map that just has the sort of outline of the island on it, and there are maybe a couple of palm trees drawn on it and the obligatory waterfall, and there is a dashed line from some arbitrary point on the coast to a big red "x" which is of course the easily definable place where he has chosen to bury his gigantic treasure of gold doubloons or whatever.
       That doesn't happen.  I am telling you that right now.  First of all, I would suspect that most pirates only bury their accumulated treasure - which by the way he probably stole - in very extreme circumstances.  First of all, anyone can get to it if it is buried, especially if there is a stupid map marking the spot.  But it is basically unguarded.  Secondly, ground disturbance usually leaves a lot of evidence for a long, long time.  So any Tom, Dick, Harry, or competing pirate walking by is going to see that someone dug a bigass hole there.  Third, a hole big enough to fit your treasure (which is always in a wooden chest by the way) is going to take a long time to dig, and if you are desperate enough to have to bury your treasure, you probably aren't going to have the time to dig a deepass hole and cover it properly.  If you had like two hours to get your shit straight you could probably find a better place to hide your treasure somewhere other than underground in a hole.
        So there.  And there is one more thing too: Even if a pirate buried his treasure he wouldn't make a map of it with a bigass "x" on it.  He would put it near a landmark that would be easy for him to remember.  He would bury it like 40 paces in front of the split palm near the waterfall so he could remember the next time he rolled back to the island.  He most likely wouldn't have made a map that was easily stolen and deciphered.  Maybe he would make one that was wrong, to lure people away from his shit.  That's a possibility, or I should say much more probable, but I don't believe that he would make up a map.  Seems too insecure.
     So take your little treasure map and stuff it right where the "x" don't shine, because I think it's bullshit.  It is time to get realistic and learn that you aren't going to find any pirate treasure by following around generic maps.  If there is any pirate treasure buried nearby you are going to find it by digging around your yard like this guy.  So get our and get gardening.  And put that silly map down.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Happy Easter

Happy Easter everyone from all of us here at Big Dave and Company.  No post today, as we are taking the day off to watch the Unpaid Interns search for Easter eggs in the backyard of the Worldwide Headquarters.  The extra incentive is that we have taken their personal effects and put them in the eggs.  Classic!  Hahahaha!  Happy Easter everyone!

Saturday, April 23, 2011

W is for Winter

is for Winter, and depending on who you talk to it has been over for roughly a month.  Everyone sort of defines the seasons differently between astronomers and astrologers and meteorologists and everyone else.  I live in the north, and I always sort of thought that winter began somewhere in the middle of November and ended in the middle of March, which is pretty close in line with how the astronomers define it. 
      But the bottom line is that I live in the north, and I know a lot of people in the north, and it snows and is cold in the winter, and it snows and is cold in the fall, and it snows and can be cold in the spring.  So even though it is like a month after when winter is done, I understand that it still can snow and be cold.  The old adage just says "April showers bring May flowers," it doesn't preclude snow showers.  They are very much part of the equation as far as I have been able to experience.  That is why I am so sick of everyone whining about the weather.
It is still here. Deal with it.
      I understand that summertime is enticing and most people like the warmth and sunshine, but if you live near me you seriously need to stop complaining every time there is a snowflake in the air.  It is not necessary.  Very much not necessary.  We are still perched on the ragged edge of winterime, and snow happens.  Cold happens.  Frost on the windshield of the car happens in the morning where I live in April.  That is why I carry the scraper in the car all year long.  It is like a badge of honor for the things we have to endure, in case we go to Texas or something in the spring and they can see what we have going on.
     But the bottom line is that it is springtime, and it can snow.  And it probably will a couple of more times.  The sun angle is high, and there is usually warm following right on its heels, so it won't stay.  And there is no reason to be angry or worry.  Summer will come.  Winter will go.  But please just be patient. 

Friday, April 22, 2011

V is for Vague

is for vague, which is what the idea that I had for today's part of the April Alphabetic Post Event.  Here's the deal: I had a post sort of floating around in my head for what I was going to write about today.  It had something to do with how I got my days sort of wrong, and how I wasted (well, not really wasted) T on St. Peaches Day.  Because I could have written T is for Toilet and talked about the Nummi that day instead of on "U" day, and then I could have written a post about all the swimsuits that I saw on my recent vacation that were little more than underwear.  Let's just that that there were a lot of people with very European tastes in swimwear.
     But anyway, that post is gone.  Well, not really, it is sort of there still in a vague sort of way because I have a fuzzy version of it sitting back behind my eyes, and I have the sort of rough framework that you need to begin a post, but the bulk of it, the really funny and entertaining parts of it, are long gone, or are never going to be created.  And that is how it goes with me more often than not.  There is an old saying about and among specialists in a subject.  For instance, if I were talking to a an expert in lunar exploration he would say "I've forgotten more about lunar exploration that you'll ever know" and he would probably be right.  Well, let me tell you that for most of you, I have lost more blog posts than you will ever write, and I am not saying that to try and put you down or pump me up.  When you have this weird idea that you need to write a blog post every Goddamned day for a couple of years, through sheer quantity and the laws of probability that is just how it goes.  Don't worry, get cracking and you will catch up eventually.
      Garrison Keillor wrote a forward to his book Leaving Home: A Collection of Lake Wobegon Stories (which by the way was the first grown-up book that I ever bought, for a dollar at a dollar store) about a story that he had written that was in the process of becoming the best story that he had ever written and which he lost in a bus station bathroom in Portland, Oregon.  He pined for that story, lusted over it, and almost wept for it.  And so it goes.  I feel the same way about a lot of the posts that I have had slip away from me over the years.  It goes away eventually, and something else comes along, but there is always that ghost slipped way back in your memory banks somewhere that just won't go away.  It is always there.  And it is always sort of vague.  I wish someday one of them would return.  Then V could be for Victorious.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

U is for Undercarriage

is for undercarriage, specifically your undercarriage and where you park it when you need to go to the bathroom.  Thanks to the miracle of modern plumbing most of you who are reading this will use an indoor toilet to relieve yourselves, and boy has the Kohler Company come out with a doozy of an indoor toilet.
     It is called the Numi and it is probably smarter and harder working than half of your significant others.  And as such, it goes for a staggering $6,390.00.  I can hear you thinking "That is one hell of a shitter, Big Dave, and why would I pay that much for something I can crap in when I can get a reasonable used bass boat for that much."  Well, let me tell you what it can do, in list form, so that it is slightly more impressive:

-  The lid automatically opens as you approach.  (See below) And it sort of opens like the roof on a Eurpoean hard-top convertible, folding up into some sort of seat thing so you can do your business.  This is, of course, assuming that you put it down in the first place boys.

Race it against your Mercedes SL63
-  You can set it to play piano music or the sounds of rushing water as the lid opens.  I wonder if you can choose them on a "per-open" basis.  That way if you are having some prostate problems or something and you have to pee you can choose the rushing water, or if you have to poo you can have the piano music to relax your core muscles.

-  It has a built-in FM radio with iPod jack.  In case you like to listen to Quiet Riot while you take a dump.

-  Adjustable height, heated seat.  Wilt Chamberlin, no more sitting with your knees at the height of your shoulders while you are in the "reading room."  You can adjust the height.  And if you don't want to hear your entire bathroom you can just heat your ass.  Just make sure that you don't turn it up too hight.

-  Hot air vents to keep your heat warm.  Your ass isn't the only thing that deserves to be warm in the can.

-  Charcoal filter deoderizer.  Because there is not reason that you should have to sit in your own filth.  I'd hate to be the guy who has to change that thing though when it gets all gummed up.

-  Bidet.  Yep, you'd better believe this thing has a bidet, but it is no ordinary, run-of-the-mill Eurpoean hotel bidet like you saw in Dumb and Dumber.  Nope.  This thing pluses, oscillates, has a range of water pressure, spray patterns, and temperature options.  And it has a light that can guide you to the hole at night - so you don't miss - and it can dose your bowl for 45 minutes with ultaviolet light, which will kill all sorts of germs and bacteria. 

-  It will decide how much water to use when you flush.  That's right.  Depending on how long you have been sitting it will choose to use a water-saving 0.6 gallons or a more traditional 1.28 gallons.  If you are a reader you will always get 1.28; if you hover 0.6.

-  Jet propulsion and electromechanical valve.  Don't worry about how much water the Numi sends down the pipe, because it will use its integrated jet pump and specially designed valve to vacate the Browns from the Super Bowl, if you know what I mean.  The valve has been times to provide the perfect flush every time, if there is such a thing as the perfect flush.

Wow, that's hot.  Maybe if you're German.
      Wow.  The Numi features a sleek sort of minimalist design, which I suppose you would be into if you were willing to spend like a third of my yearly take-home pay on a place where you deficate.  There is no giant tank on the back like we are used to seeing, as you can see in the picture above or at right.  In fact, it sort of looks more like a camper toilet than anything.
    The marketing, which you can also see at right, features beatuiful people in a beautiful house hanging out around the beautiful toilet.  The people are so beautiful in fact, that their house is made of glass so everyone can watch them take a beautiful shit in this beautiful toilet.  Notice the lack of anywhere for them to wash their beautiful hands.  But I digress.  It is the sort of marketing ploy and stuff that you see for all products - glamorous people in glamorous places with your product.  No big deal.  It is being marketed at Asia and the United States, where there is apparently a growing market for bidets.  So good luck with that.  No only if they could make one that you wipe your undercarriage we'd be all set.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

T is for Tradition

is for tradition, and it is tradition for me to celebrate April 20th not as some drug or Hitler-inspired holiday, but at St. Peaches Day.  So Happy St Peaches Day to each and every one of you!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

S is for Square Footage

is for Square footage.  We measure a lot of things in the US by square footage, which is how many little 1 ft x 1 ft squares can fit in it.  I say in the United States because in the rest of the world they tend to use square meters, which is the metric equivalent but doesn't give you nice big numbers in the hundreds and thousands.  And it is in those hundreds and thousands that most of us live.  I grew up in a house that was about 1500 sq ft.  I was looking at a small house recently that was about 800 sq ft, and that looked tiny.  I think I had about 600 sq ft in my last apartment.  And back in my college days I lived in a 144 sq ft dorm room, give or take, and that was little especially since I was sharing it with another person.  But I couldn't imagine living my entire life in a room that was even smaller than that, which is excatly was 40-year-old professional organizer (only in New York) and Manhattan resident Felice Cohen is doing.
    Before we get into the details, lets start with the raw statistics of the place, okay?  90 sq ft, which you can visualize as 10 ft by 9 ft except that her place is 12x7.  They call it a "microstudio," whatever that means.  Her rent is $700/month for that little thing, which sounds like a lot until you realize that other places in her neighborhood - about a block from Central Park on Manhattan's Upper West Side - go for $3000/month or so.  It is for that reason that she has chosen her place.
     Like most college kids, she has lofted her bed, and the top of her mattress is only 23 inches from the ceiling.  The first night she spent there she had a panic attack.  "When I went up to bed and I woke up in the middle of the night - I had a friend stay over because I thought I was going to fall our of the bed - when I woke up there was the ceiling and the wall on every side.  After that night I have not had a panic attack and it's cosy."  That is what Cohen said.  I am sure that there would be a lot of people who would be clapstrophobic as shit in that apartment.  She has a bathroom - albeit a small one that she has to sit sideways on the toilet - but no kitchen.  She cooks with a combination of a hot plate, toaster oven, and a mini-fridge.  Oh, and two plates, one fork, and one spoon.
     So yeah, she has made some concessions in order to live there regarding what she can own and what she does.  Her "living room" is a chair in front of the window, and she doesn't have much in the way of clothes.  She has no table, and uses a couple of folding chairs for when guests come over.  She spent about $1000 on shelving and the bed, but she still manages to have space for a computer and a small television and lots and lots and lots of storage totes.  Let me show you a picture, from the UK Daily Mail Online:

Oh, and she managed to have lots of room for that stylish cowboy hat.  The place is cramped, which is life in a 90 sq. ft. apartment, but she really seems to like it.  She talks about how she was raised in a giant house, with a big bedroom that had two walk-in closets that together were probably larger than her current apartment.  They probably didn't have a window however, so take that closets.  But I digress.  Good for her that she is able to make this whole thing work, and good for her that she is happy.  I don't know if that would be a good place to raise a family, however.  No shit, Sherlock.  Right?  Anyway, good for her and I hope she enjoys her 15 minutes of fame and 90 feet of space.

Monday, April 18, 2011

R is for Rabbit

is for rabbit.  Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids.  But they work good for adults too and they are tasty.  Anyway, let's get to the point.  R is for rabbit because the Easter holiday is fast approaching, and somewhere along the way Easter became known for a bunny rabbit that laid eggs.

Not exactly like mine as a youth,
but you get the picture.
Yeah, I know, it sounds strange to me as well.  It doesn't at first - I will admit that - because we as a Western society are so used to hearing it.  It is everywhere.  When I was a kid my parents (admittedly my Mom most of the time) would put out these four-foot high blow-up bunny rabbits with baskets attached, and the baskets were filled with eggs.  We got baskets filled with candy at my grandma's house.  My mom used to take the Leggs stockings containers and put them together to make eggs that were filled with jellybeans.  That is a uniquely 80s thing I suppose.  But Easter was always associated with bunnies laying eggs, which I am sure had confused and continues to confuse childer all over the damn place.

Cadbury Bunny.
 My favorite by far of these biologically impossibly representations was the Cadbury bunny, who not only laid eggs but laid chocolate eggs filled with creme AND HE CLUCKED!  Talk about wild - that's wild.  He was always sitting somewhere like on some pastel bedding or in the grass with a wicker basket fill with Cadbury Creme Eggs sitting next to him, as if he (or she I suppose) had just hatched them or was about to deliver them to me.  What the hell is with that?  Rabbits don't lay eggs.  And they sure as hell don't lay candy eggs.  So there.

He is still my favorite, however, because he was always a real rabbit that was sitting there making chicken noises, but rabbit movements.  His nose is twitching like a bunny, and he is furry and cute like a bunny, and he just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy (please excuse the pun) inside.  He makes me feel like everything is right in the world.  So I guess a little bit of species confusion isn't so bad in that light.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Q is for Quickly

is for quickly.  Oh about a month ago or so I had a bad run of luck regarding the infamous DykeSedan II, or DS Dos as I like to call it.  It seemed to know that my tax return had come and decided that in addition to the standard service that it needed and its 50,000 mile tuneup, that the positive battery cable (not covered under warranty) would go bad and that one of the tires (also not covered under warranty but with only 15,000 miles on them) would blow.  So I actually managed to take it in to two different repair shops four times over the course of one week.  It was at the second of these - the tire shop - that I had an interesting experience.
     I walked into the tire shop - with whom I have done business before and who does all my tire rotations (included for the life of the tire) and oil changes and told them I needed a flat repaired.  The flat tire was in my trunk and that attractive donut spare was safely bolted to my right rear.  He asked me a couple of questions and told me to leave the tire and they'd take care of it.  Well, it couldn't be fixed so they ordered me a new tire and told me to come back the next day sometime after noon.  I went in about 12:30 and they told me that the tire truck had just been there and they were busy and hadn't gotten to it yet.
    Then I did something that I think surprised the hell out of the owner who was working behind the counter: I told him I wanted to pay for it and that I wanted to leave the car.  I told him to get to it when he could and I said the five magic words that stopped him in his tracks: "I am in no hurry."  He looked at me with the stangest look on his face.  He was amazed.  He wasn't quite sure what to say.  I told him to just leave the car with they keys in it and I would pick it up later.  He was so happy.  He said "Wow, that is nice.  Most people are in such a hurry and they have to have it done right now."
The DS Dos on a day when it was pissing me off less.
     Quickly, they always want it done quickly.  I understand quickly.  I drive quickly just about everywhere I go.  I have done quickly and will do it before.  People have asked me to do quickly lots of times.  The thing about quickly is that it is not always necessary, okay?  In fact, I would suppose that 95% of the time quickly doesn't need to be done.  Listen, I live in a small town, and granted there is no public transporation and lots of people live out in the sticks so they need their cars, but there are probably a lot of times when quickly wasn't that necessary.  Most of the time quickly springs from poor planning.
     That is right, poor planning.  We have a sign up in our office that reads "Poor planning on your part does not necessarily constitute an emergency on ours" which I think is hilarious and very, very true.  If you know you have a fancy pants wedding to go to on Saturday, June 25 taking your suit in to get cleaned on Friday the 24th and expecting them to rush it through is not reasonable.  Not at all.  You had months to get it done you just didn't bother.  Running into the cell phone store and expecting to get put to the head of the line because your phone is going to be shut off at noon and you waited until 11:30 to waltz in there just isn't going to cut it.  Quickly isn't needed in those situations, or at least it wasn't until you forced it to be.
     Also, lots of places are busy, and lots of places have tons of other customers who are acting just like you are.  So remember that they can only do so much so quickly.  Think ahead and be patient.  Generally, if you just accept that it might take a bit your stuff will get done soon enough anyway.  You waste valuable time arguing, etc.  Man up and settle down.  And take it slow.  You might realize that you like the results.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

P is for Perfection

is for perfection.  I know that we are in the throes of Spring, but I was thinking about shoveling the other day.  I have lived in some places with lots and lots of snow before.  Lots and lots.  Like, snowdrifts over your head kind of lots, and while I lived in an apartment I had some circumstances that led me to be doing a lot of shoveling.  First of all, I had steps and a deck that required shoveling by me, I had a spot that I liked to keep clear in the vacant lot next door, and I had a job that led me to come home late at night a lot of time, when the plow had come through and there was snow in my parking spot.  So I shoveled a a fair amount.  And I learned that I had a compulsion to make my shoveled areas exactly perfect.
He's getting close...
     That's right, and it was something that never happened.  I strove over and over and over, and still do to this day, to have everything perfectly clean.  No snow or ice on the pavement.  Perfect straight lines at the edges.  Nicely sculpted banks on around the sides.  Nicely done in a way that a machine can't do.  They make these straight edges that seem so cold and mechanical (I know, I know, just let it be) whereas the shovel makes nice sloping sides that just make a guy feel proud.
     So I sit here in the sunshine thinking about snow shoveling, and I sort of miss winter.  I wish it were here again so I could have that chance, time and time again, to make the perfect shovel.  Well, to do the perfect shoveling job.  I bet I could get this lawn perfect though...

Friday, April 15, 2011

O is for Open

is for open, which is what we do not want to do to The Cooler.  Let me give you some back story and you will understand exactly why we don't want to open The Cooler.
    One time, Mike-a-licious and I went camping.  It was early in the season - like the week before Memorial Day I think - and we were the only people in the campground until the weird guy showed up.  And he was weird.  He shows up with just him and a travel trailer and parks right next to us even though all the other spots were available.  Then he refuses to tell us where he is from until after we tell him where we are from, and then he amazingly is from the same place.  He gives us some line about spending the weekend fishing (yeah, like someone is going to drag a travel trailer 40 miles for one person to go fishing on a river with no fish by himself) and he bolted.  The ranger came around and discovered that he hadn't paid for his camping.  Then, while we were out he just disappeared.  He didn't have anything to do with the cooler and that is fine but I just wanted to tell you all about him.
The Cooler when it was new. Probably.
     Anyway, we had the cooler, and it was a fine cooler except that it was a little ghetto.  It had split apart somewhere along the way on one side and had been repaired but you could still see the inside.  The latches had been broken and replaced with a one of those latches that you have on your shed that you can get at the hardware store.  But it was big and white and it still kept all the stuff cool and that was the main thing.  So we took it camping and put our food in it.
     Somewhere along the way cooked hamburgers for dinner.  We had one of those packs of pre-made from the store, and we ended up with one extra.  So we thought to ourselves "No reason to waste a good burger" and we put it back in the cooler.  By the time we left it was all that was in there, except for some beers and the water that was the remains of the ice.
      When we got home and were unloading the camping stuff, Mike-a-licious said that he would put the cooler away and we set it under the window of the Gigabyte Studios at the Worldwide Headquarters.  And there it sat.  Through the spring.  And summer.  And fall.  And winter.  And then repeat the cycle.  It just sat.  Somewhere along the way one of us remembered that the burger was in there and we resolved to never open it.  And it sat some more, to the point where it is approaching two years since it was set there.  When the Canadian Clubber came by the studio during the taping of the Podcast and happened to mention it, the issue was back in our faces.
      Mike-a-licious is adamant that we never, never open The Cooler.  He wants to just chuck it at the first opportunity.  He maintains that the burger is liquid, and if there is any water left it is mixed with it.  We have also sort of concurred that the beer in its glass bottles has most likely exploded, adding to the mess.  The Clubber and I, however, feel that The Cooler must be opened.  IT MUST BE SO!  Because we don't know what is going on in there for real.  All we know is that it is going to be terrible and disgusting.  But we don't know to what degree.  It wouldn't surprise me one bit if everything in there was liquid.  But we don't know.  What if the cooler has magical powers against heat and cold?  What if the beer is in excellent condition?  What if we have managed to discover a new form of penecillin?  The point is that we don't know, and we need to find out.  In the name of science.
     So it sits there, getting ready for yet another season, awaiting its fate.  And we will decide said fate eventually.  Or maybe not.  It's not like another year is going to make it any worse, right?

Thursday, April 14, 2011

N is for Name

is for name.  Everyone has one, or two, or generally three.  Some people have more, and some people even have one of those cool things to go after it, like "Jr." or "II"   And how do you get to be Jerry Shitbag II anyway, shouldn't you be junior?  Or is junior only when your dad was the original, so if there is a gap you are the second?  I am not sure how that works.
     Anyway, back to names, your name, my name, your Aunt Matilda's name.  There has been a fundamental shift in names in the world in the last, oh say, ten years or so that hasn't been seen since people were changing their names to "Sunbright" and "Moonshine" back in the 60s.  Names that we have knows as normal since we were kids are no longer in style or use.  No one is naming their kids Jennifer or Thomas anymore.  Nope.  It's all Madison and Dylan and names like that.  Apparently all the names that used to be last names - James Madison and Bob Dylan - have turned into Madison James and Dylan Roberts.  Somewhere along the way we have flipped what is normal on its head.
     Lots of other name things have changed, too.  Family names have gone the way of the Pinto as parents trade in James and Mary for Jonah and Taylore.  That is another thing: Biblical names seem to have come back in vogue.  I just don't understand it.
     But then again, maybe I am wrong.  Maybe I was just brought up in an era that was lacking in naming creativity.  Maybe the Age of Heather - when I was growing up - was just a time when no one could come up with a creative names for their children.  Or maybe there was some sort of naming moratorium, or maybe a name embargo.  Like there was a small list of names for children that we could choose from while the others were under construction or something.  I just don't know.  All I do know is that I have so many friends named Katie or Katy that I have to give them all adjectives so that I can tell them apart.  Like an adverb but an adname instead.
     But just think about it.  There has been a lot of change in names in the last ten or twenty years, and they keep changing.  And by the time you have a child you will be giving it some sort of funky name as well.  I suppose that is just how it goes.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

M is for Male

is for male.  As in being a boy.  A dude.  I am one, and there are lots of others out there.  Now, most of us who are males have been males since the day we were born, although you can get all sorts of hormone therapies and sex change operations.  However, it doesn't usually just naturally occur in this world, except in a chicken in England.
     That's right, Company, there is a chicken in England who has pulled a one-two switcheroo of epic proportions.  Jeanette Howard, of Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire, England (wherever that is) has two hens that she keeps in her backyard.  Over this past winter, both hens produced fewer eggs, and one of them - Gertie - stopped laying eggs at all.
    But that's not where she stopped.  She developed other male chicken characteristics.  First, she came out of her moulting with more feathers and filled out a lot with more muscle and more mass.  "I thought Gertie came out of that really well" said Howard.  Then she developed wattles (like under her neck like a male) and her comb - that red pointy thing on top of her head - got bigger and much more defined.  All male characteristics of the body.  And he behavior followed suit with strutting in the coop and marching like a male around the yard.  All that was pretty strange until Gertie tried to crow.  "She wasn't very good at it at first, but she's progressed nicely and now she really goes for it" related Howard.
Mr. or Ms. Gertie.  We're not entirely sure which.
Photo courtesy of BBC.
     So what is the deal with this shit?  A female hen chicken just becoming a rooster.  A cock!?  That is unbelievable.  Call the World Weekly News, there must be some sort of curse or alien technology at work here because animals just aren't supposed to be doing that.  I mean, maybe under the sea there are some strange creatures that change back and forth depending on if light is hitting them or something, but it is just not commonplace especially on animals that I can eat.  Well, you're right, it is strange.  And there are some outside forces at work here, just not as far outside as aliens.
      English veterinarian Marion Ford, who specializes in poultry - as theorized that something in the stored chicken feed could be the culprit.  And, even more stunningly, that apparent sex changes in female chickens is not that uncommon.  Apparently most of these sex changes aren't featured on the BBC.  "An increase in testosterone will result in a hen growing an extended comb, exaggerated wattles, and cockerel-like behavior including strutting and crowing" said Dr. Ford.  Or Ms. Ford if she prefers, I am not sure if she is a doctor or just a chicken expert.  But she seems to know what she is talking about so let's go with it.  She has hypothesized (that means made an educated guess for those of you without dictionaries handy) that mycotoxins or fungi in the stored chicken feed could be acting like synthetic hormones, which by the way are what they give you as part of a sex change operation.
     So what does this all mean?  First of all, keep your hands out of the chicken feed.  Second of all, there are probably more natural cures and processes than we never could know.  Third, apparently something you eat I guess CAN just change sex sort of at will.  As for our subject, "I'm not really sure whether Gertie has actually changed sex, but to all intents and purposes she's now a cockerel" said Howard.  I guess in the end it doesn't really matter much, she is no good for laying eggs either way.  And she's still equally as good for the pot.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

L is for Laws

is for laws.  We, a long time ago, decided that we would be a society that is governed by them.  There were always laws of a sort I suppose, from back in the day when we had social pack animal rules that were just known and implied in our genes, but we have somewhere along the way decided that we are going to live by a code of laws written down on paper.  The problem with this system, was we are finding out or maybe have found out, is that it as grown obscenely complex and there are too many laws, so it is pretty much possible to get people on anything you want to get them on, and it is possible to get out of just about anything.
    There is a gross proliferation of laws in this land.  For instance, I work in a government office that is charged with implementing the laws regarding one specific issue, and those laws for just our county take up like 80 pages.  So multiply that by the 25 or so different issues that our laws cover and you are up to like 2000 or so pages, actually 2000 pages to be exact if each one is 80 pages.  So that is just this county.  Our state laws - just the laws - take up five volumes of books that are each like two inches thick, and that is just the laws.  The administrative rules could fill a bookshelf.  Times that by fifty states, PLUS the US government and you have a bagillion different laws that you are bound to follow.  And more come in each day.
     Part of the reason is that there are laws for things that probably don't need to have laws, and lawmakers use laws to take care of situations that don't probably need laws.  For instance, a local farmer in a small midwestern town drives his herd of pigs right down Main St. to get them to the slaughterhouse on the edge of town on the same day that the Senator happens to be passing through, so everyone flips out and pretty soon it is a law that you can't have livestock on a paved, public road in the county and when Johnny Cow Farmer's cow gets out and is standing on the county road, suddenly he is in jail.   There are so many old, situation-specific laws on the books that there are actually books made of the silliest ones, and every so often a list of them appears on the front of Yahoo!
     The worst part is that there are so many laws and rules and ordinances and such that sometimes when our elected lawmakers make a new one, it will directly contradict an old one that they didn't know about!  Like there will be a law from the 50s that says that you must put rain gutters on your house, and then there will be a law made next week that says rain gutters are forbidden.  Well what the hell do you do then?  You've gotta know because the gutter guy is on his way over to give you an estimate.  I would suspect that the easiest way is to just forget about it, wipe the slate clean, then restart.  That would be best, even though it is never going to happen.  Never in a million billion years.  So I guess that for now we just do the best we can and hope that we don't end up in jail.

Monday, April 11, 2011

K is for Kiss

is for kiss, which is what people do when they are in love, or when they are all horned up.   Possibly in love and definitely horned up teenagers is what led us to some time ago talk about how the truly awful Twilight series is ruining America by making our youth do, well, stupid fucking things.  In that case, two teenagers engaged in "fantasty biting" resulted in marks on the girl's neck, and to cover her ass she lied to her parents and said she was attacked while jogging through a Florida park.  That was a dumbass thing to so.  Well, today we have People's Exhibit Two as to why Twilight is terrible and ruining society.
     Recently, a Sheboygan, Wisconsin man was sentenced to 30 days in jail for felony child abuse which occurred while he was babysitting a 3-year old boy.  There is what went down:

You are fucking everything up.
      Mark R. Adams, Jr. was babysitting the 3-year-old boy and watching a vampire-themed show.  Now, I haven't been able to verify what vampire-themed show he was watching, but I can tell you that no one would be watching those fucking annoying shows and they wouldn't be making or airing those fucking annoying shows if it wasn't for those stupid Twilight books.  Anyway, somewhere along the way he decided, in his little retarded fucking mind, that it would be a good idea to BITE THE BOY'S NECK THREE TIMES - oh and he admits that he might have said something about wanting to suck his blood.
      I am not sure where young Mr. Adams would have gotten the idea in his head that it was okay to bite a 3-year-old child in the neck three times, but I would be willing to bet all of Little Jeffy's paycheck that it plugs into the wall and is now available in a flat screen.  Because you didn't see any sort of news like this back when The Addams Family was on TV.  Maybe it is because we are consistently failing as parents these days.  Or maybe it is because we have the Internet now and news spreads faster, but I am going to tell you this: the article I read about this went out via the Associated Press, and that has been around since long before the World Wide Web.
     So anyway, the bite marks were clearly visible when the mother came home, and of course she confronted the kid, which leads to my favorite part of this story.  When confronted with the evidence Adams said "I'm not a pedophile" and punched the woman in the face.  Bold strategy, Cotton, let's see how that works out for you.  This makes me laugh hilariously not because a poor woman got punched in the face, but because this guy was fucking retarded enough to think that screaming "I'm not a pedophile" and punching an innocent woman in the face was a good idea on how to proceed.  I am actually a little upset that this fucktard is only going to get 30 days in jail, because I don't want someone that dumb hanging around in society.  He should really be put in deported quarantine on some sort of island in the South Seas where he can't really hurt anyone other than himself.
     But 30 days is what he got, so at least he got something.  He should probably get all sorts of probation and not be allowed around children, and maybe he should never be allowed to purchase a van without windows.  Either way he is definitely stupid and needs to learn a lesson about what is right and wrong, and maybe about responsibility.  Two lessons that I am sure Twilight will never teach anyone.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

J is for Judge Judy (That's Double Points By the Way)

is for Judge Judy, whose name isn't really Judge but it is Judy - Judy Sheindlin - and she was recently in the hospital.  She was taken from a taping of her show "Judge Judy" by ambulance to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center - where all the celebrities go when they don't feel well - for an undisclosed ailment.  I could not have been a very good ailment though because she was admitted in serious condition.
     The Judge is currently 68-years-old and is known for her no-nonsense demanor and colloquial sayings as she presides over small-claims cases in her Los Angeles courtroom.  When I think of Judge Judy I always think about Saturday Night Live's Cheri Oteri playing Judge Judy and jacking everything up to the extreme and screaming at her bailiff Burt - as played by Tracy Morgan.  And just as a quick aside, let me tell you this: I have been watching a lot of Golden Girls lately and I am writing this rather early in the morning so I am not quite with it yet.  That being said as I was was doing some basic research into the Judge Judy show, they had a whole section about her phrases she uses and I was hearing and seeing them all in my mind as being said by Sophia from Golden Girls.  Strangely enough, it works really well.
     But I digress.  Let's just hope that Judge Judy gets well from whatever ails her.  Producers have said that she will be back for her next taping on April 12, 2011 so I guess that is good news.  Actually, all the tests they did came back negative so she just needs a little rest and relaxation.  That is even better news.  Television wouldn't be the same without her.

Saturday, April 09, 2011

I is for Ingenuity

is for ingenuity.  I am sitting here right now watching an old episode of The Simpsons that is done in the style of the Behind the Music series that used to be on MTV or VH1 or whatever, and I am thinking to myself "That's fucking ingenious."
     I always have an appreciation when someone is able to do what they do in a new and different way, which is something that I try to do on these pages whenever I get a chance to.  That is why you are constantly confronted with lists and the occasional open letter or yearly alphabetic post event.  I just don't want you to get bored with the same old dribble that you always get and leave me for another blog.  So I try to keep it interesting, and that is all you can ask for, right?  I hope so.
    The problem is that you can't really manufacture ingenuity, you just sort of have to grab it as it floats on by as if it were a branch and you were in the river without a life jacket.  So that is why you have to deal with so much bullshit here too, because sometimes you just shoot and miss the mark.  That is the price you pay in the search for ingenuity.

Friday, April 08, 2011

H is for Holiday

is for holiday, which is what the English call vacation.  They have a lot of different names for stuff compared to ours, and since holiday is taken I wonder what they call things like Christmas, Guy Fawkes Day, the Queen's Birthday, etc, because I know that they don't call those days vacation.
    Anyway, I am excited because I am going on vacation here pretty soon, which is a rare occasion.  Oh sure I have been on vacation before, and I have gone here and there, but it has been a long time since I have had a real, bona fide vacation like where you go somewhere on a plane and the weather and landscape is significantly different than it is where you left from.  And that is the kind of vacation that my Baby Doll and I are going on, across the country then across the sea on a cruise.  And it is going to be sweet.
     Lots of sun, lots of good food, lots of water in the ocean and in assorted pools, and people waiting on us hand and foot.  And of course movies and shows and probably some dancing.  But I am sure I can survive that.  I am mostly excited about being away and not having any responsibility other than making sure that I don't miss the boat.  And I suppose that even if I were to miss the boat I would just end up being stuck on some tropical island where no one will know that I don't belong except that I have a much lighter skin color, I don't speak the same language, and I am horribly sunburned.
     So that is going to be nice, and I am going to thoroughly enjoy my "holiday" even though going on vacation is always, always, more exhausting than your real life.  Unless you maybe work on a cruise ship and then that is your regular life and sitting in an apartment and filing papers would probably be more exhausting to you.  But I digress.  I am going on vacation and it is going to be sweet.  I hope you get a chance to have a sweet vacation as well.

Thursday, April 07, 2011

G is for Grenada

is for Grenada.  Grenada is an island in the Caribbean known as the Isle of Spice, and you've never been there before, unless of course you are in the US military, in which case you may have been.  Because a lot of people don't know this, but the US invaded Grenada in the early 80s.
    That's right.  Strung somewhere between Vietnam and Iraq was Grenada.  As often happen with foreign colonies, things did not go well for Grenada after it received its independence from Great Britain.  During the civil unrest that followed independence, a more moderate government was overthrown by a strongly pro-communist government, and that was not acceptable to then-President Ronald Reagan.  Neither were the Cuban construction workers building an abnormally long and strong runway on the island.

A clearly pro-communist Grenadan waterfall.
     So, in an operation named Operation Urgent Fury, world military power Jamaica, a bunch of islands in the Caribbean named after saints, and 7000 United States soldiers invaded the island of 100,000 inhabitants.  They were met by 1500 of Grenada's finest, and about 700 Cubans who weren't really construction workers but who were members of the Cuban Military Special Forces.  As would be expected, the US-led forces of justice prevailed over the evil tropical islanders rather decisively. It was not without cost, however, because 19 US servicemen were killed and 116 were wounded, and oh yeah, we pissed off the rest of the world.
     Especially England, or Great Britain as they should properly be called.  See, while Grenada was an independent nation at the time our first Navy SEAL landed on the shore, it was a part of the British Commonwealth, which mean that it wasn't necessisarily all that independent.  The Queen was still its head of state.  They still drank tea in the afternoon.  The British still appointed all sorts of fancy sounding overseers.  So when they found out that we were justifying the invasion as a way to protect a bunch of rich medical students on the island who couldn't cut it back home, we manages to lose the favor of our best friends - England, Canada, and of course Trinidad and Tobago.  Israel, however, was still no board.  It also gave fuel to the usual suspects like China and the Soviet Union to take ecxeption with us, which is pretty much par for the course.
      Now I am not trying to belittle the operation, okay?  Nineteen men lost their lives on the sandy Grenadan soil, and they and the rest of the 7000 soldiers who fought there deserve the same respect as the solders who have fought in Iraq or Afghanistan or Korea or Vietnam or anywhere deserve, because I don't have any actual proof but I am pretty sure that the Grenadans were using very real bullets.  So we should so honor them.  But when you pull back to a wider perspective like you are rolling an overhead projector away from the screen, it just doesn't look good.  And that's why you probably don't hear a whole lot about it anymore.  But that is just how it goes sometimes, there are lots of things that just sort of get lost in history.  So here is to the brave soldiers who risked their lives in Grenada.  Keep up the good work.

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

F is for Fingers

is for fingers.  You ever notice how amazing those fucking things are?  Because they are pretty impressive things.  I was goofin around the other day and I was holding on to something - I don't exactly remember what I was holding on to - but I was holding on to it in such a way that I was impressed that I hadn't dropped it.  It was something heavy with a smooth surface - like a bowling ball or something - and I was holding it up by just my fingertips.  I thought, man those things are fucking incredible.
     Just those little fingers were defying gravity in a way that I couldn't believe.  And the traction afforded them by the fingerprint patters was just amazing.  For such a small and intricate part of one's body, they are incredibly versatile.  I am using them right now to type out this blog post.  Somewhere along the line someone used them to plug in the cords that connect the keyboard and monitor to CPU.  They - if I know my IT people well enough - were also probably used to wedge and pry the box open when the computer arrived from the store.  And so on and so forth.  We use them to grab, hold, did, touch, point, and do about a million other things.  You couldn't imagine life without them, could you?
     While we are taking a moment to discuss them, let is make it perfectly clear: you have ten fingers, okay?  The thumbs count.  They are just specialized fingers that are located a little differently so that they may act in opposition to the other ones, allowing one to play a violin, build a Camaro, or throw a spear at some sort of rampaging beast out on a barren, grassy plain somewhere.  That is all the thumbs are for, and they are exceptionally good at what they do.
     And why wouldn't they be?  Your fingers, thumbs, and hands in general have had million upon millions of year in which to develop into some sort of high-dollar multi-use tool.  The reason that they are the way they are is because nature has learned that it works just so, so well.  They can apply ungodly amounts of force (have you ever had a woman giving birth dig her nails into your arm) or be unbelieveably gentle (like when you are touching a baby's face).  They can also be precise to incredible degrees.
     So take care of your fingers, and thank them for everything that they do.  Take a moment out of your busy schedule and appreciate your fingers.  Just look at them and be happy that you have them.  They are more important and impressive that you realize.

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

E is for Eggs

is for eggs.  Hard boiled eggs to be exact.  I like eggs, I love them as part of breakfast, especially scrambled, and have even been known to eat them whatever way it is where the yolks stay just a little runny and you can dip your toast in them while you eat the whites.  But I do not like hard boiled eggs.  Not at all and not in any form.
     I don't like the taste or texture or smell of them.  If they are cooking in the kitchen I will leave the kitchen.  If they are in my pasta salad I will pick them out or not eat the salad.  I will not eat deviled eggs either, since they are just hard boiled eggs whose yolks have seen the business end of a mixer and been adorned with a little paprika.  Fuck that shit.  Nope, I just won't do it.
     People think I am nuts.  They love the things.  And that's okay.  You can like things that I do not, and vice versa.  I am an adult, and I have tried and been around hard boiled eggs, and I just don't like them.  It is okay.  I don't have to like everything.  I am not out here rallying against them.  It is not like I am going to find out one day that my Baby Doll liked deviled eggs and I am going to be like "Fuck you and fuck your eggs.  We are through.  I am packing my things up tonight!"  Nope.  I am not anti-hard boiled egg.  I just choose not to have them in my life.  Like cosmetically tattooed eyebrows or a Toyota Sienna.
     So keep your eggs away from me.  Well, just your hard-boiled ones.  You should be excited anyway, there will be more for you.  And I, in turn, will respect your food preferences.  Isn't that what life is all about - working together to keep your gross eggs away from me?

Monday, April 04, 2011

D is for Disorder

is for disorder.  As in Attention Deficit Disorder.  You know, A.D.D.  Except it is more like laziness that I want to talk about, I just didn't know how to tie laziness in with the letter "D" in a way that made sense.  Yeah, it's laziness that I want to talk about today.
Laziness personified - on a box.
     It came to my mind just how lazy we have become as a people, and how distorted (there is the D I was looking for - that would have made more sense) we have become the other day when I was looking at the top of the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch that is on our lazy susan.  I was rolling up the bad inside of the box and closing the flap on the top - so clever that it hasn't needed an update or redesign since it seems like forever - when I noticed a little explanation of how General Mills makes it easier to get nutrition information from the boxes.  You can see an example of it at right.  What it does is a couple of things: a.) It makes it easy to see the nutrition information for your particular cereal easily on the front of the box so you can see while you are pushing your cart along, yelling at your bratty kids, and generally dying a little bit on the inside and b.) It is bright and is able to keep your attention for like five or so seconds.
     These are very important things.  The second point, a.k.a. "b" addresses the whole A.D.D. issue.  Because people have the attention span roughly equal to that of a sand gnat, okay?  And they can't be troubled with having to search for their information for more than a split second before something shiny or noisy or a picture of a celebrity comes around.  So the information has to be right on the front of the box for everyone to see RIGHT AWAY.
     The other reason that the nutrition needs to be brightly colored on the front of the box is because we as a society have become seriously, dangerously lazy.  Combine that with our obsession with counting calories and intake (because that is easier than actually getting up and running around) and it leads to little emblems on the front of our cereal boxes.  We want to know how bad out Honey Nut Cheerios are for us, be we aren't willing to take the extra time and effort required to look around the box to find that big, boring, black and white square.  So it has to be on the front or we would never know unless we accidentally have a box that falls down on the floor on its side or something.

Sunday, April 03, 2011

C is for Curtains

is for curtains.  I have curtains on almost every window of the Worldwide Headquarters.  I prefer them to blinds.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I have heard all the arguments for blinds, okay?  I know, they are shiek and cool and versitile and cheap, but have you ever noticed that you can see through them pretty easily if they aren't set correctly.  Plus they are hard and utilitarian.  There is nothing soft or homey about them.
     Curtains aren't that way at all.  They are soft.  They are fabric.  They serve a whole bunch of purposes.  First of all, they keep people from seeing into your house or apartment or car even I suppose.  I don't see why you couldn't put them in your car except that it is highly illegal and very, very dangerous.  The thing too about curtains is that they can keep you from seeing out, which would be difficult since they are on the inside and you set them.  But whatever.  They are much better at setting the mood in the room, and at keeping out light than blinds are.  Blinds let all sorts of light in all the time.  Curtains don't unless they are thin.
     They also are good at taking the heat from your radiator - which is always right under your window (because it is usually the coldest place in your house) - and funneling it right up to the ceiling or right out your leaky window.  So they keep your house colder.  They are also good at blocking drafts that come in those very same windows, which is nice.
     So I guess that I am a curtain kind of guy, and I will always prefer them to blinds.  And that is that.  As fun as blinds are with their strings and turny rods and whatnot, but give me a good curtain any day.  C is for curtains, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Saturday, April 02, 2011

B is for Boobies

is for boobies. BOOBIES!  I love them, and I have the magnet to prove it on my refrigerator.  I never thought there would be someone who could love them more than I do, but apparently they are out there, and one of them is Matt O'Connor, who is the owner of a specialist ice cream parlor named Icecreamists in London's Covent Garden.     For $23 per serving, you can get a dish of ice cream made with human breast milk, and he thinks that it is going to be a big hit with the public.  O'Connor has stated that he hopes the dish - appropriately named Baby Gaga - will be thought of as "an organic, free-range treat."
    Free range?  Yeah, I suppose so, but the donors certainly aren't out wandering around the English countryside chewing on hedgerows.  Yet Victoria Hiley, one of the women who answered an online ad to provide the breast milk used to make the ice cream, echoed the sentiment.  She works with women who have trouble breast feeding, and she laid out her reasons for participating in this succinctly. "What could be more natural than fresh, free-range mother's milk in an ice cream? And for me it's a recession beater too - what's the harm in using my assets for a bit of extra cash?
    I totally agree, at least about the cash part.  If there was some sort of market for back hair I would let the take mine to make a couple extra bucks.  But I am not so sure that I agree about the natural part.  Sure, human breast milk is all natural and can be used to make ice cream, but so are milk, cream, sugar, and vanilla.  Those - along with natural tara gum - are the ingredients used to make Breyers Ice Cream, and you can buy a whole lot of Breyers for $23.
     The ice cream, though, is apparently delicious, as one would expect from an ice cream specialist. Hiley says that "It's very nice, it really melts in the mouth" and it is filled with the kinds of stuff that you would expect to see on the ingredients list at a hoity toity ice cream parlor: human breast milk, Madagascan vanilla, and lemon zest.  Said O'Connor "Some people will hear about it and go, 'yuck' but actually it's pure, organic, free-range and totally natural. I had Baby Gaga just this morning and I feel great."  Of course you feel great dingus, you had ice cream for breakfast.  Who wouldn't feel great about that?
     I will tell you who.  The Westminster Council.  They swooped in after getting some calls from the piblic and something called the Food Standards Agency and took all the milk away to be tested, saying that it was potentially hazardous and could spread disease, especially hepatitis.  O'Connor called the concerns "complete rubbish" and said that the milk had undergone the same testing procedures as milk, blood, and sperm found in donation banks.  I just hope that they cleaned the testing machine first.  O'Connor, for all he doesn't like about this, has agreed to stop selling Baby Gaga while testing is completed.  So I guess you will have to wait for your breakfast ice cream.  Maybe brunch instead?

Friday, April 01, 2011

A is for April Fools' Day

Last year's April Alphabetic Post Event proved to be so popular that we have decided to do it again. 

is for April Fools' Day, which is today, April first.  A lot of people celebrate today by being jingwak and pulling all sorts of pranks, but I am a fool every day so I don't feel the need to act any differently.  Sometimes people put confetti on their bushes.  Sometimes people wear funny hats.  I do both all the time: my bushes outside of the Worldwide Headquarters are the #1 local source of confetti for youngsters and I am always adorned with at least a bowler, generally a pointy birthday-style affair with the little stretchy band that goes under your chin that hurts like a bitch if it snaps.  Sometimes on special occasions there is beanie with propeller involved.
     Anyway, one of the more interesting things about today is that sometimes when a product is introduced on April Fools Day that turns out to be a huge flop - like the AMC Pacer - people always draw some sort of parallel, like the day makes products go bad.  This isn't the cover of Sports Illustrated, folks.  This is just a day of the year that people like to make a big deal out of.
     So thank you Chaucer, for April Fools' Day.  You seemed to have put it in your Canterbury Tales in 1392, but since nobody can understand what the hell you were writing we aren't particularly sure.  But whatever.  Maybe it was a very early April Fools' on us, which would be exemplary on Chausser's part.  That would be hilarious.  So happy April Fools' Day, I hope that you are having an enjoyable time with your pranks.  I won't be making any.  At least not on purpose.  I might bumble my way into one, though.  You never know, because, see, I am a fool all year long.