SpongeBob Squarepants, MD

Your child returns home from a couple of hours of playing at a friend's house. He walks past you as you're putting the final touches on his favorite meal, Macaroni and Cheese.

"Hey kiddo, glad to see you're back home. Did you have a good time at Billy's house?" you ask.

"Yeah, but I'm not feeling so great" he responds as he slowly walks by.

"Okay, well, you'd better wash up because I'm making Mac and Cheese tonight!" your expectation is that this, if nothing else, will make Tommy a bit more animated...

Then you hear the words which send a shockwave of fear through your very soul, "Nah, I'm not really hungry, I think I'll just go ahead and go to sleep after I take a shower.

"You stare at the child realizing that he has either been:
a.) Taken over by lactose-intolerant space aliens,
b.) Eaten an entire frozen pizza at Billy's and is afraid to tell you about it, or
c.) Your child, your pride and joy, the heir to the throne, is getting 'sick'.

"Hey Dude, come on in here for a minute, I want to take a look at you" you request in a serious, yet friendly voice.

"Dad, I'm really tired, I just want to go to bed" he says this sheepishly but moves towards you nonetheless.

You look at little Tommy and realize that he does look tired and his cheeks are a bit 'flushed'. "Tommy, I think you might be coming down with something, what do you say we check it out?"

"Oh, come on Dad, I'm just tired, that's all. Can't I just get cleaned up and go to bed?" he asks pleadingly.

"No Tommy. We need to get you cleaned up and then we need to take your temperature to see if you have a fever. You look a little 'pink' to me, and I need to see if your temp is actually up or if you were just playing too hard at Billy's house.

"The creases in your son's face are erased as you detect the first sign of hope that maybe, just maybe, this won't be so bad at all.

"Okay Dad, but, but, butt, can we call SpongeBob Squarepants, MD?"

"Sure pal, let's dive into the old medicine cabinet and pull Dr. Squarepants out... I'll get the KY!" You say this as the concerns of the prior five minutes waft away like a half-remembered dream.

"Dad?" Tommy asks.

"Yes son" you reply.

"Can we have music tonight?" he asks.

"Dude, you can have all the music you want -- although it may be a bit muffled for a minute..."

"Thanks Dad, you're the best!"

(Dad thinkingto himself: "No Tommy. SpongeBob Squarepants is the best! But YOU'RE second-best!)

And now, the Rest of the Story...
The folks at Becton and Dickenson Medical (trusted since 1897!) have created the ultimate in children's temperature taking equipment (CTTE): The SpongeBob Squarepants Digital Thermometer!

Yes, it's true, now Patrick's (the cross-dressing StarFish) BFF can be you and your child's MFF (Medical Friend Forever) too! Don't believe me? Well then, check it out!

Click here (it's worth it!):  JEEPERS SPONGEBOB THERMOMETER REVIEW!

Not wanting anyone to be senselessly injured in not knowing the correct procedures for using this, or I'm assuming, ANY digital thermometer, please accept the following instructions, courtesy of the BD website:

TAKE TEMPERATURE BY ORAL, UNDERARM (AXILLARY) OR RECTAL METHOD

Oral Method:Place thermometer probe under tongue. Probe tip should rest in "correct area" as shown in diagram. Hold the thermometer in the same spot under your tongue with your mouth closed.

Underarm (Axillary) Method:
(Alternative method for babies or very young children. Although simpler, the axillary method is less accurate and takes longer.)

Make sure the underarm is dry and there is no material between the chest and arm. Point the thermometer upward and place the tip well into the patient's underarm. Fold patient's arm over chest to hold the thermometer in place and keep air away from the underarm.

Many people find hugging the child while taking the temperature helps assure it is taken correctly and also comforts the child. When using this method, hold the thermometer securely in place for 4 minutes (ignore beeps).

Rectal Method:
(Recommended for babies or very young children who breathe through their mouth)

Lubricate the tip of the thermometer with a water soluble jelly such as K-Y® Jelly. Do not use petroleum jelly. The patient should lie on his/her side, knees slightly bent. If the patient is a baby, place the infant on its stomach with legs hanging down, either across your knees or at the edge of a bed or changing table. This positions the baby's rectum properly for safe and easy insertion of the thermometer.

With one hand, gently slide the tip of the thermometer no more than 1/2 inch into the rectum. If you detect resistance of any kind, STOP. Hold thermometer in place during temperature measurement. Once used rectally, the thermometer should not be used orally, for sanitary reasons.

Please take a moment to allow that last line to sink in...

Your Moos of the Day blog -- Always looking out for you. (Sorry O'Reilly)

Thanks to my son, Jon (not Tommy), who found the above video link and thought it would be funny to include here.

I am so proud of him...

Moo

Dinner With The Stones!

I dropped two of my three sons at Boy Scout Camp Sunday afternoon. Then I, my wife, and oldest son went to a restaurant that we had wanted to try for quite a while. We held off visiting in the past because we had heard that it was on the 'pricey' side. In my world, if a restaurant doesn't have a 'paper sack option', it's pretty much falls automatically into the 'pricey' category.

This evening's trip to Russell's Steak House worked from a couple of perspectives. First, there were three of us versus the five of us that we normally have, and second, my son received an $84 cash 'rebate' from the Boy Scout Trails End Popcorn Sale held this spring. We had CASH (WooHoo!) AND we were missing two-thirds of our kids (this NEVER happens). I'd feel more guilty about leaving kids at camp and eating about $80 worth of food if I didn't know that beginning this Tuesday I will be spending the remainder of the week at camp in a tent lined with spiders, crickets, and some sort of weird 'hatching' cocoons, surrounded by skunks, porcupines, and one old, and near-sighted bear. (This apparently, is the real cost associated with going out to dinner and eating a pretty good Filet Mignon for one night - spending four nights in a tent inhabited with creatures straight out of a Dean Koontz book.)

The restaurant was pretty good, with the only major downside being that the awning outside made it look eerily like the entrance of the 'Haunted Mansion' at Disney World in Orlando. I found myself looking for tombstones that bore the old carvings of, "Here Lies Fred, A Rock Fell On His Head", "I Told You I Was Sick", and my personal favorite, "He Called Jim a Liar". You know, it just struck me that the world (my world, at least) contains profound coincidences and 'interesting relationships', just out of chance. I named this entry "Dinner With the Stones", talked about tombstones, and I have yet to get to the real point of this post. In fact I'm not writing about 'tombstones', but rather, 'kidney stones'.

There was a table of eight next to our table of three at this dark, reserved, and very respectable restaurant. These nice folks arrived, apparently, just before we did (they had just gotten rolls when we received our menus -- I DO pay attention to my surroundings some of the time, no matter what my wife says). They had ordered, and had begun to discuss the topic of the day, which was the fact that the older couple at the head of the table were celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary (Writer's Note: These folks deserve an award. They have been married since Harry Truman was President of the United States -- congratulations, that's phenomenal!)

The table provided seating for six other folks who came out to share the special day with this amazing couple. I'm not sure which of the other people at the table started the following series of comments since my back was to them, but someone seated directly behind me happened to mention that, "Yes, I've had kidney stones many times. And they certainly do hurt when they come out...". For future reference, in case YOU are are wondering, I've had fountain drinks many times. Normally soft drinks do NOT hurt. However, they do hurt a great deal when they come out your NOSE and onto the table and the bread plate directly in front of you at an admittedly, nice, restaurant. Don't even ask about my shirt.

But wait, there's more! Someone else at the table chimed in that they had had their 'spleen' removed seven years earlier, and that was NOT a pleasant experience either. Determined not to repeat my prior 'There she blows!' event, I put my drink down moments earlier and avoided a second nasal soft drink expulsion by mere seconds. In an effort not to be outdone, every person seated at the table behind me had their own medical experiences to discuss with the 'group'.

"I think I had to get a shot for Hepatitis one time." A man said.

"Really, how long ago WAS that? And why would you need it?" A woman asked, obviously curious.

"Oh, that was long before I met you, honey." He responded, and then he fell quiet again. Now that I think about it, I don't believe I heard him again over the next hour that we remained in the restaurant.

This was curious to me, so I just looked up the definition of Hepatitis so we could all get 'uncomfortable' with this man together:

hepatitis /hep·a·ti·tis/ (hep?ah-ti´tis) pl. hepati´tides Inflammation of the liver.
hepatitis A a self-limited viral disease of worldwide distribution, usually transmitted by oral ingestion of infected material but sometimes transmitted parenterally; most cases are clinically inapparent or have mild flu-like symptoms; any jaundice is mild. (How bad could it be, it's 'worldwide'?)

anicteric hepatitis viral hepatitis without jaundice. (Oh, NO jaundice, there's a bonus)
hepatitis B an acute viral disease transmitted primarily parenterally, but also orally, by intimate personal contact, and from mother to neonate. Prodromal symptoms of fever, malaise, anorexia, nausea, and vomiting decline with the onset of clinical jaundice, angioedema, urticarial skin lesions, and arthritis. After 3 to 4 months most patients recover completely, but some may become carriers or remain ill chronically. (Okay, so this 'B' one is NOT so good to have since you can remain 'ill chronically' for the REST OF YOUR LIFE.)

hepatitis C a viral disease caused by the hepatitis C virus, commonly occurring after transfusion or parenteral drug abuse; it frequently progresses to a chronic form that is usually asymptomatic but that may involve cirrhosis. (Nope, not digging this one either...)

Okay, so the man's silence is a mystery no more. Personally, I would've tried to keep this little gem to myself rather than sharing it while waiting for dinner in a dark and very quiet restaurant. Not well played, my friend. Your chances of getting to the 60th anniversary with your spouse just went the way of the 10 cent 'pay phone' call (you can 'sort of' remember it, but you can't imagine it really ever happening again.) Sorry dude, next time tell everyone about how your knee hurts just before it rains, it's probably true and it won't raise any pesky follow-up questions.

Other conversations continued, ones about surgeries, ones about mis-diagnosed ailments, ones about loved ones who have 'gone away' due to bad genes, bad dietary habits, bad habits, and even one to 'good habits' (apparently a cousin became a Nun...). The ebb and flow of the conversation was mesmerizing.

Conversation at our table was lighter than typical. At first I thought this was because there were three of us versus the five we normally hang with. But in reality, I don't think we have 'lived enough' of our lives to have had the experiences that these folks have had. We had nothing to speak about when compared to the constant verbal buzz that drifted the three feet from our neighbors' table over to ours (I'm assuming that the decibel level of medical infirmities conversation was due to the age of the speakers, they were not 'quiet folk'. Although none referenced any hearing ailments in their list of illnesses). We sat, we spoke quietly amongst ourselves, we ate our dinners and then we went home.

I have a deep respect for these folks who after sixty years appeared to be still 'very happy' with each other. I wish them and their friends the best, but I need to remember that as I get further down the road into double digit anniversaries not to bring up any medical war stories during the course of our celebration. There might be some 'wise guy' at the table next to me looking for an idea for his next blog post.

God bless you folks. I hope you laugh a lot, love a lot, but by way of 'Free' advice, don't ever admit to the 'Kidney Stones thing' or 'Hepatitis thing' out loud, in public ever again. Regarding your commitment to each other, I am in awe of you folks. Keep the magic going (you wild and crazy 70+ year old kids!)

I hope illness never finds you, and if it does, please don't talk about it at dinner.

To sum up, I learned that Diet Pepsi can burn effectively enough to render my nasal passages useless today, but in spite of my temporary congestion, my hope for mankind has increased exponentially since dinner last night. Good choices, good friends, and good spouses never go out of style.

I also learned however, that kidney stones are NEVER cool. And they hurt a lot. Life gives you 'ups' and 'downs'. It's how we live with each that determines the measure of our lives.

In hindsight, the Diet Pepsi out the nose isn't so bad. In fact, I'm smiling as I type this.

Moos Clippings

Feeling like you've missed something lately? Well, you're not alone. I've been surfing the Web and have come across a few stories which you probably haven't heard about. I'm assuming that you haven't heard about them, because, I own a TV (AND a radio in my car) and have NOT heard about them either. I guess the interesting thing is that they have been typically posted after 6pm on weeknights, after most of us are out of our cars and presumably eating dinner with our families.

So what have YOU and I missed in the past 48 hours? Oh brother...

May 5, 2009 6:38pm: WASHINGTON (AP)— The Obama administration wants the United States to spend $63 billion over the next six years to fight global diseases and provide more aid for prenatal and postnatal care, children's health and fighting tropical diseases.

"We cannot fix every problem," Obama said in a written statement Tuesday. "But we have a responsibility to protect the health of our people, while saving lives, reducing suffering, and supporting the health and dignity of people everywhere. America can make a significant difference in meeting these challenges and that is why my administration is committed to act."

Obama plans to release his budget proposal in detail on Thursday. Ahead of the formal announcement, the White House has been detailing pieces of it, including $8.6 billion for the fiscal year that starts Oct. 1. The request is a $460 million increase over this year's budget.

Rock star and anti-poverty activist Bono praised the increase in funding.
"The question is no longer whether we can fight these diseases in the poorest countries, it is how much do we want to do? The president is answering 'a lot,"' the Irish singer said in a statement released from his advocacy group, ONE. "His strategic leadership on these issues is protecting the long-term interests of the people in his own country as well as saving vulnerable lives overseas."

If Obama wins approval of his budget request, the U.S. commitment would constitute more than 70% of global health funding.Last year, Congress passed and Bush signed legislation to triple U.S. spending from $15 billion over the previous five years to $48 billion covering 2009 and the next four years.

For the complete article, please click the link which follows:
Thanks America for providing 70% of the World's Global Health Funding!

May 4th, 2009 6:42pm USA TODAY -- Federal aid is top revenue for statesIn a historic first, Uncle Sam has supplanted sales, property and income taxes as the biggest source of revenue for state and local governments.

The shift shows how deeply the recession is cutting. Federal stimulus money aimed at reviving the economy and a sharp drop in tax collections have altered, at least temporarily, the traditional balance of how states, cities, counties and schools pay for their operations.

The sales tax had been the No. 1 source of state and local revenue since the mid-1970s, according to the Bureau of Economic Analysis. Before that, property taxes were the primary source. That changed in the first three months of 2009.Federal grants — early stimulus money plus conventional federal aid — soared 15% in the first quarter to a seasonally adjusted annual rate of $437 billion, eclipsing sales taxes, which fell 2%.

For the complete article, click the link which follows:
Thanks President Obama for Providing More Income to the States Than At Any Other Time In History!

May 5th, 2009 USA TODAY -- Ginsburg: Court needs another woman
WASHINGTON — Three years after Justice Sandra Day O'Connor left the Supreme Court, the impact of having only one woman on the nation's highest bench has become particularly clear to that woman — Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
Her status as the court's lone woman was especially poignant during a recent case involving a 13-year-old girl who had been strip-searched by Arizona school officials looking for drugs. During oral arguments, some other justices minimized the girl's lasting humiliation, but Ginsburg stood out in her concern for the teenager.

"They have never been a 13-year-old girl," she told USA TODAY later when asked about her colleagues' comments during the arguments. "It's a very sensitive age for a girl. I didn't think that my colleagues, some of them, quite understood."

As Justice David Souter prepares to retire at the end of the term this summer, the significance of Ginsburg's position as the nine-member court's only woman has become a point of broad discussion. President Obama is under pressure from groups such as the National Women's Law Center to nominate another woman.

In interviews with USA TODAY before Souter's retirement announcement Friday, Ginsburg said the court needs another woman. "Women belong in all places where decisions are being made. I don't say (the split) should be 50-50," Ginsburg said. "It could be 60% men, 40% women, or the other way around. It shouldn't be that women are the exception."

For the complete article, please click the link which follows:
We Need More Women

I thought you may find these recent news events interesting. Well, at least, I did.

I'm not going to comment at length on the above (mostly because I have to go to work), but I'll leave it up to you to form your own opinion of the stories. I'm wondering if you have you heard of any of these stories? What I will leave you with however, is the following questions:

1. Should the United States be paying 70% of the world's Global Health Funding?

2. Should the Federal Government be Funding States to a greater extent than the states are funding themselves? (And, um, if we ARE the 'States' and the States make up the 'United States of America', and the Federal Government represents US... How are we paying ourselves more than we can, you know, afford to pay ourselves out of our normal tax contributions? Where's the money coming from?)

3. Should a Supreme Court Justice be advocating for 'Quotas'? Is that, like, 'Constitutional'?

4. Lastly, if a Supreme Court Justice believes that we should do things just to be 'fair', is she 'fairly' interpreting the Constitution during her regular day job?

Just wondering...

The Dingo Did It

"All right MISTER, walk a straight line for me!" The officer shouts to the man he has just pulled over.

"But officer, I, I, I, can't!" The man continues to blubber as he slides to his knees on the roadway directly in front of the State Trooper.

This happens often in Loudoun County, Virginia. In Loudoun County, Virginia there are fewer 'straight lines' than there used to be.

Don't believe me? Check out the photo below:

Welcome to Loudoun County, Virginia! Now, leave!

Just don't do it in a straight line!

Q.: So why won't the folks in Loudoun County paint a straight line?

A.: Because the Dingo stole their Road Painter (reference above photo).

Yes, the Virginia Department of Transportation has decided that in an effort to S-L-O-W traffic in several congested areas that they would paint 'interesting and baffling' patterns on the roadways to slow down (in reality, to 'dis-orient' drivers and force them to slow down lest they wind up in a fiery crash (in highly-trafficked pedestrian and cyclist sections of the street)).

A big 'High Five' to our friends in Loudoun, Virginia for having the foresight to 'dis-orient' drivers (who, by their own admission) are traveling at high rates of speed where old people, children, joggers, and Nannies are walking little babies in strollers tend to be found!

I, personally, never would have thought of this! But who would?

To quote a spokesperson from the VDOT: "While at first motorists may be a little disoriented, the main point is to get them to pay attention and slow down through that area."

He then added, "We've found that the sound of screaming children and the 'thud' and 'crunch' associated with striking elderly citizens has been statistically proven to slow down traffic by as much as 7 miles per hour!" (No, I made this quote up, but the first quote above is TRUE.)

The Australians (you know, the British Penal Colony folks who we don't talk about so much any more since Paul Hogan got really old and scary-looking) came up with this gem of an idea for traffic control (the first idea of placing live kangaroos and wallabees on leashes in the street didn't work so well, and it was REALLY messy).

The Australians are the same folks who want us to believe that whenever a child disappears in Australia that the, "Dingo ate the baby!" (You can find more detail on this in the embedded link in "A." above. Assuming that you really like to read about such things, have at it... Okay, I know, it only happened ONCE, but it COULD happen again... And I'm NOT going to Australia since I LOVE my family (and don't want them eaten by 'wild mutant dogs'.)

As for me, we'll be vacationing in Mexico this year, I hear the tourist traffic is WAY off and I can really get a deal on airfare and lodging! Hmm, I wonder why that is...

So the folks at the Virginia Department of Transportation (taking their lead from the six people left alive in Australia (all others were eaten by dingoes)) have decided to paint 'crazy lines' on roadways at several locations in the state to SLOW Virginians down.

If they see people actually slowing down as a result of these zigzag lines, I can only assume that you'll see more lines painted in Virginia. If however, they find people speeding up, taking their hands off the wheel and hanging their heads out the windows of their cars shouting, "This is better than acid man!!! Way better than acid! It's just like 'Jumping into Hyperspace in Star Wars!!!" I can only assume that the Virginia Department of Transportation will lobby Washington for more 'shovel-ready project money' so they can afford to physically BEND the streets to match the stripes, increasing the driving RUSH for thrill seeking, high-speed drivers.

THIS is 'governmental logic' at its finest.

Not to be out-done by Virginia, Washington has plans for some road-painting of its own (although the Obama Administration admits that these road paintings might take a 'wee' bit longer):

Hello, welcome to Washington, DC. Please drive safely!

Nobody, but nobody beats Washington, DC at anything. Ever!

For the complete story, click the following link (I know, I know, some of you don't believe anything I say, but I have never lied to you (by accident)) -- Loudoun Gets Funky

Never doubt the Cow Guy.

Moo

The 'Big Time'

I've always wondered if I would know the moment when, 'I Made It'... I wonder no longer because, just between you and I (or, is it 'me'?), I now know the exact moment in which, 'I did'. It was 6:15pm, last Wednesday.

Scratch another item off my personal 'Bucket List' with a red Sharpie. I was working in Oneonta last Wednesday afternoon and returned to the office later than usual (this, of course, is because I am a loyal and conscientious employee and I don't mind working late to assure the success of my employer (just in case my boss is reading this)).

Returning to the office around 5:50, I found an envelope on my desk. It was an inconspicuous envelope with a logo on the upper left-hand corner which included a large, red, apple. Also found on the front of the envelope were two words: "Mike Kane" (This helped cement the concept that the envelope was actually intended for 'me', I AM Mike Kane.)

It was too small to be a letter bomb (although I never completely rule out 'Itching Powder' in my mail at work...) but I nonetheless decided to brazenly open the envelope even without benefit of my normal HazMat Team. Luckily for me it was only a letter (actually a NICE letter) from a lady named, "Alecia O'Neill" who is Marketing Coordinator at the Cider Mill Playhouse in Endicott, NY.

The letter was, however, unusual for a couple of reasons:

1.) HOW did Alecia O'Neill of the Cider Mill Playhouse find me at work?

2.) WHO put it on my desk? Security at my 'Institution' has apparently been breached (somebody get 'Jack Bauer' on the phone).

3.) WHY is she being so very nice to me? (I am, of course, discounting the fact that maybe Alecia O'Neill is just a NICE person to begin with, but I am bound and determined to keep looking for more sinister motives. At this point I must also add that I haven't FOUND any sinister motives, but I'll keep looking, because, well, being part of the 'Right Wing Extremists', I NEED to keep looking for 'sinister forces' and 'dark energy' because Janet Napolitano told me to - Gee, thanks Janet.)

So here's the deal, I returned to work about an hour later than usual and I found an envelope on my desk with my name on it. I opened it and found a letter which told me that I received '2 complementary tickets' to one of two shows at the Cider Mill Playhouse', either "The Woman in Black" (hmm, sounds 'sinister'), or, "1776" (hmm, sounds a little 'extremist' to me).

And WHY did I receive these complementary tickets? To quote the letter, "I enjoy reading your blog on Pressconnects.com and hope to see you at the Cider Mill Playhouse soon!" Aha! I KNEW that SOMEONE was reading the blog, and now I know WHO it is! HER NAME is Alecia O'Neill at the Cider Mill Playhouse in Endicott, NY -- she's the ONE!

What Alecia probably doesn't know is that I took the family to see "Dial M for Murder" last year at the Playhouse. It was the first time that we had ever been there (although we talked about it for five years after we moved here).

My only gripe about the night's event: No doughnuts. Yes, if you've been to the Cider Mill, you know that they have doughnuts made fresh on premise throughout the day. Unfortunately for me, 'Thespians' do not worship the 'Doughnut' like the rest of us do.

Lack of doughnuts (a.k.a.: 'Artery Stoppers') aside, I enjoyed my first visit and look forward to my encore visit to the Cider Mill Playhouse. And in case you were ever wondering, "Can the Cow Guy be bought?" Well, now you know, thanks to Alecia O'Neill at the Cider Mill Playhouse in Endicott, NY 607-748-7363!

Shameless plugs aside, thanks to Alecia for the two passes; I look forward to my next visit. I will, however, be stuffing doughnuts down into the sleeves of my shirt prior to my arrival, just to complete the FULL 'Cider House Experience' (think 'Jimi Hendrix Experience', just without the drugs).

Wishing everyone a Cider Mill Playhouse Day (conveniently located in Endicott, NY just minutes from the sound of my blog post)!

Best Regards,

Mike Kane

p.s.: In a totally un-related note, I have just recently signed a major publication deal with TIME Magazine!

I will miss you all as I broaden my horizons outside of the Central New York area. I will now be exposed to the entire United States as part of this EXCLUSIVE agreement with the folks at TIME.

All I have to do is agree to have the magazine billed to my credit card and they'll send me four issues FREE with my year's paid subscription for ONLY $20! I'll also get some kind of 'electronic organizer' thing free, but after being alive as long as I have, I'm pretty confident that after not listening to my wife or kids, some fool thing 'beeping' in my jacket pocket won't stand much of a chance.

I hope my kids will enjoy it (once they put it back together again), 'cause I'm pretty sure I'll be smashing it the first time it goes off...

A Problematical Most Mathematical

Yesterday, April 20th, 2009 the Obama Administration had its first Cabinet Meeting. I will admit that I was a little skeptical about the President's desire to reduce 'spending and waste' after he pushed his $3,200,000,000,000 budget through the Democrat-controlled Congress. My fears, however, have been allayed as a result of yesterday's Cabinet Meeting in Washington.

In one bold stroke this President has said, "Enough is enough!" to the the old policies of 'Waste', 'Out of Control Spending', and 'Governmental Mis-Management'. President Obama has thrown the gauntlet to challenge members of his administration to be fiscally responsible. Yes, this is the change, that we as Americans, voted for.

Let's take a look at these bold initiatives discussed at yesterday's Cabinet Meeting / Press Conference (I've attached the video to the end of this post so that you too will be inspired).
President Obama has made it known to his Cabinet that he WANTS... NO, HE DEMANDS that they decrease spending in their departments by $100,000,000 ($100 Million Dollars). That's right, $100 Million Dollars! That's a lot of money, isn't it?

Well, isn't it?

Oh, come on, that IS a lot of money for most of us, and since WE are the government, it must be a lot of money for THEM too, because WE, are THEM, um... Right?

I didn't want to have to go there, but I'm going to 'Do the Math' (Please note this will actually require 'research' and 'effort' on my part, two things I REALLY hate to do. But I want you to fully understand the sacrifice that this President is making for OUR Country by cutting out 'waste'.)

First, let's look at the numbers, shall we? These are the two numbers which we must be most concerned as we begin our 'Adventure in Mathematics with Mike!':

Federal Budget Cost
$ 3,200,000,000,000

Savings requested by President Obama
$ 100,000,000

I've heard several numbers tossed about regarding the budget, ranging from $3 to $4 TRILLION, but the $3.2 TRILLION seems to be the one that comes up the most and since I have to get to work REALLY soon...

The Federal Budget for this year is now officially $3.2 TRILLION! Thanks.

Now, let's stack up these reductions against the overall US Budget:

Federal Budget (Divide) Cost 'Reductions' = % of Total Budget
$ 3,200,000,000,000 / $ 100,000,000 = 0.000031250%

Yes, President Obama has asked his team to reduce their portion of the US Federal Budget by a whopping .000031250%.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Self, hey, uh, that doesn't seem like a very large percentage, as it relates to 'percentage of reduction'." Well, YOU would be wrong, because that .000031250% on a budget of $3.2TRILLION EQUALS, yes, you guessed it, $100,000,000!
Now you're probably thinking to yourself, "Self, what can I do to make a similar sacrifice for my country by reducing my personal spending?" Luckily for you, I have an insert for this also (oh, and, stop talking to yourself, you're making the rest of us nervous.):

Median Household Income '07 X Cost Reduction % = Total Reduction
$ 50,233 X 0.0000312500 = $ 1.57

According to the 2007 US Census Bureau Numbers, Median Household Income in 2007 was $50,233. If you made more than this, I hate you. If you made less than this, I'm with you. (Oh sorry, can't believe I typed that 'out loud'. Just kidding, of course...)

So if you want to help YOUR family CUT wasteful spending on a scale consistent with the Obama Administration this year... Leave that Hersey's 'Big Block' Chocolate bar ($1.49 + Tax) on the candy rack the next time you're in a convenience store. You'll be doing your part for your family AND teaching a valuable lesson to your children...

That lesson? Well, I'm not sure... But what I am sure of is that this administration is spending AT LEAST one Hershey bar less this year than they were going to just the day before yesterday (it would just be a much 'larger' Hershey bar than any you could pick up at the local Hess station).


















Remember NO more Hershey Bars (for a day) in this country -- the FREE RIDE is OVER!

So says the One, so say we ALL!

Fact or Fiction?

One of my buddies from Florida just sent this up to me. While it is obviously a joke, does it ring a little too close to reality for you also?

My apologies to whomever crafted this bit of 'mischief' as I have no one to credit for their excellent use of the language. (They would not qualify for this 'Act'. They have 'skills'.)

The Americans With No Abilities ActWashington , DC - (Dateline March 18, 2009)

President Barack Obama and the Democrat controlled Congress are considering sweeping legislation that will provide new benefits for many Americans.

The Americans With No Abilities Act (AWNAA) is being hailed as a major legislative goal by advocates of the millions of Americans who lack any real skills or ambition.

"Roughly 50 percent of Americans do not possess the competence and drive necessary to carve out a meaningful role for themselves in society," said California Senator Barbara Boxer - Democrat. "We can no longer stand by and allow People of Inability (POI) to be ridiculed and passed over. With this legislation, employers will no longer be able to grant special favors to a small group of workers, simply because they have some idea of what they are doing."

Under AWNAA, more than 25 million mid-level positions will be created, with important-sounding titles but little real responsibility, thus providing an illusory sense of purpose and performance.

Mandatory non-performance-based raises and promotions will be given so as to guarantee upward mobility for even the most unremarkable employees.. The legislation provides substantial tax breaks to corporations that promote a significant number of Persons of Inability into middle-management positions, and gives a tax credit to small and medium-sized businesses that agree to hire one clueless worker for every two talented hires.

Finally, the AWNAA contains tough new measures to make it more difficult to discriminate against the non-abled, banning, for example, discriminatory interview questions such as, "Do you have any skills or experience that relate to this job?""

As a Non-abled person, I can't be expected to keep up with people who have something going for them," said Mary Lou Gertz, who lost her position as a lug-nut twister at the GM plant in Flint , Michigan, due to her inability to remember rightey tightey, lefty loosey." This new law should be real good for people like me," Gertz added.

With the passage of this bill, Gertz and millions of other untalented citizens will finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. Said Senator James Webb (Democrat-VA), "As a Senator with no abilities, I believe the same privileges that elected officials enjoy ought to be extended to every American with no abilities. It is our duty as lawmakers to provide each and every American citizen, regardless of his or her inadequacy, with some sort of space to take up in this great nation and a good salary for doing so."

UPDATE: Apparently the original version of this was published years ago by the folks at 'The Onion'. For more information on its origin and 'variants' click here => SNOPES

Help Stamp Out Duck Pornography

'Non-Pornographic' Pintail Duck

I chose the title of this post for two very specific reasons:

First, you're reading it, right?

And, second, it's oddly appropriate for the post which follows...

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Motto: "We Put the 'Wild' in Wildlife") released a $15 Duck Stamp featuring artwork by an artist named, Joe Hautman. The design is of a pair of Northern Pintail Ducks. They are, based on the small photo in the linked article below (and my extensive knowledge of the Northern Pintail Duck), very attractive ducks...

The duck artwork is excellent.  What isn't excellent, however, is something you'll find on the stamp itself.

Stealing the line from Paul Harvey:  "The rest of the story"...

'Duck Stamps' are sold to waterfowl hunters to fund wetland habitat acquisition for the national Wildlife Refuge System. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service sells approximately $25,000,000 of stamps each year nationwide. The stamp offers a convenient (and FREE) '800 number' with which the waterfowl hunter can order additional stamps for family, friends, and any gift-giving purpose.

In 2008, the self-stick adhesive version of the stamp was wrong.

Very, very, wrong...

The phone number which should have appeared on the stamps was: '1-800-STAMP24'.  The number which was actually printed on the stamps? '1-800-TRAMP24'.

Oops.

As you can imagine, a number like '1-800-TRAMP24' could lead the unsuspecting 'Duck Stamp' purchaser into what my Mom would call a 'bad place'.

For purposes of this post, let's just call it an Adult Phone Service known as 'Intimate Connections'. Yes, the unsuspecting Duck Stamp shopper will be greeted with a message NOT by some surly woodsman asking him, "How many Duck Stamps you want buddy, 5, 10, 15...?"

The greeting awaits the caller of the 'TRAMP24' number is a breathy woman promising that he (or she) can "Talk only to dirty, filthy girls who... (well, you get the idea)" for ONLY $2.99 per minute.

When the artist who designed the stamp was asked if he was aware of the situation with this unfortunate number mix-up, he said, "Oh no. It's just an accident..."  Moments later, he excused himself, and ran away laughing 'explosively' with milk shooting from his nose.  This was especially odd because he wasn't drinking milk at the time of the conversation...  Hmmm?

So what did the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Department do to correct the situation?

In a word, nothing.

It would cost about $300,000 to reprint the 'bad' stamps and have new ones printed and put into circulation.

According to Mannfred Dimwitty of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Department, "The Fish and Wildlife Department bought a 40% stake in the Intimate Connections service earlier in 2008 and our revenues are projected to be WAY WAY up!. Hunters are calling over and over again for 'Stamps' and we're going to be able buy a LOT of 'wetland habitat' this year." No, I made this up. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Department is NOT manned by business people.  They work for government - they don't have to be profitable.  

If I ran the place, I'd advertise these adhesive mis-labelled stamps as 'collectibles' and bump the price up to $75 per stamp. Each would come with a 'limited edition Porn' label and certificate of authenticity.  They'd sell LOTs of stamps to guys like me who think it's funny. But that's why these folks work for the government. They're not funny, and they're not, as referenced above, 'profit motivated'.  

In reality, they didn't replace the stamps because it was just too darn expensive (and they had no imagination). Unfortunately, no one on payroll could have taken the 12 seconds it would have taken a normal person to proofread the copy prior to sending the stamps out to be printed (thousands and thousands of times; every time... incorrectly).

So, I leave you with this thought, if you are looking for the perfect gift idea for your favorite 'woodsman' guy (or gal), consider the purchase of one of the now infamous 2008 'Duck Stamps'. You might also want to buy some stock in Verizon or AT&T because your phone bill is going to go WAY, WAY up. "But honey, I kept trying to order more stamps 'cause it was the perfect gift from you, and this really nice lady kept talking to me, and before I knew it, well, it was Friday..."

Thank you for doing business with your U.S. Fish and Wildlife Department / Intimate Connections Customer Service Agent! Please call again, soon! Look for our expanded collection of bear, deer, and ferret stamps for all of your gift-giving and erotica needs!

I can't make this stuff up -> Help Stamp Out Ducks

Leaded... Vin Diesel Facts

I wrote a post entitled, "Up With Chuck" a while ago. It was a blog post 'laden' with Chuck Norris 'Facts'. During the extensive research that I did for that post, I came across Vin Diesel 'Facts' that I promised that I would discuss later.
It's later. Quite possibly, later than you think.

Vin Diesel Facts:

• If you rearrange the letters in Vin Diesel it reveals his credo: "I End Lives."
  
• When Vin Diesel goes to donate blood, he declines the syringe, and instead requests a hand gun and a bucket.
  
• In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Vin Diesel could use to kill you, including the room itself.
  
• Crop circles are Vin's way of telling the world that sometimes corn needs to just lie down.
  
• There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Vin Diesel allows to live.
  
• When Vin Diesel jumps into a body of water, he doesn't get wet. The water gets Vin instead.
  
• Vin Diesel is the only man to ever defeat a brick wall in a game of tennis.
  
• Vin Diesel has two speeds: walk and kill.
  
• Vin Diesel is not lactose intolerant, he just refuses to put up with lactose's crap.
  
• You are what you eat. That is why Vin Diesel's diet consists entirely of bricks, steel, and the tears of small children.
  
• Vin Diesel once beat Super Mario Bros 3 without even touching his Nintendo controller. He just yelled at his TV in between bites of his "Filet of Child" sandwich, and the game beat itself out of fear.
  
• Vin Diesel has always been able to find Waldo, except for one time. He found himself stumped on the last page of Where's Waldo Now?, not being able to find the Waldo without a shoe. He threw the book down and screamed, "This is TRASH!" They're all wearing shoes." He then proceeded to eat the book and exclaim, "IF I CAN'T FIND WALDO, THEN NO ONE CAN!" The book he ate belonged to a child that he had borrowed it from. The child began to cry and Vin ate him for good measure. The incident has since been refered to as Christmas.
  
• Vin Diesel coined the phrase, "I could eat a Horse" after he ate every last unicorn in existence.
  
• In fine print at on the last page of the Guiness Book of World Records it notes that all world records are held by Vin Diesel, and those listed in the book are simply the closest anyone has ever come to matching him.
  
• Vin Diesel can set ants on fire with a magnifying glass. At night.
  
• Vin Diesel can divide by zero.
  
• Vin Diesel is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
  
• Vin Diesel played Russian Roulete with a fully loaded gun and won.
  
• Vin Diesel was the hunter who shot Bambi's Mother. He then wore her carcass like it was a coat while he made his rounds at the local children's hospital.
  
• The eternal conundrum "what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object" was finally solved when Vin Diesel punched himself in the face.
  
• When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Vin Diesel.
  
• If you were to lock Vin Diesel in a room with a guitar, a year later you would have the greatest album ever, it would sweep the Grammy's. When asked why he doesn't do this Vin replied "Because Grammy's are for queers." Then he ate a knife to show the seriousness of his response.
  
• On his birthday, Vin Diesel randomly selects one lucky child to be thrown into the sun.
  Vin Diesel invented black. In fact, he invented the entire spectrum of visible light. Except pink. Tom Cruise invented pink.
  
• It takes 14 puppeteers to make Vin Diesel smile, but only 2 to make him destroy an orphanage.
  
• If you pause Lion King at a certain point, Vin Diesel can clearly be seen beating on Simba
  
• Vin Diesel once hit a man so hard, it killed all of his extended family and most of his friends
  
• While playing Chutes and Ladders, Vin Diesel treats the chutes as ladders, because he’s not some wimp who can’t climb up a plastic slide
  
• There is a rumor that when Vin Diesel was 8 he wanted to be a fireman. This is false, Vin Diesel was never 8.
  
• Vin Diesel was born with the right to party, whereas most of us are forced to fight for it
  
• Vin Diesel is forced to carry a baseball bat every time he goes to the bathroom, just in case he poops out a wild cat and has to beat it to death
  
• Contrary to popular belief, Vin Diesel inspired the TV series “MacGyver” when he managed to construct a cell phone out of only the blood of his enemies’ children, his pure hatred for the weak, and a cell phone.
  
• Vin Diesel once fell in a pool of lava. He nearly drowned
  
• Vin Diesel once killed two stones with one bird
  
• Vin Diesel has no concept of time, and if you go to his house you won’t find a single clock. When you ask to leave because it’s getting late he stares at you blankly until you sit back down.
  
• Vin Diesel has two kittens . . . every night for dinner
  
• Vin has the heart of a small child. He keeps it in his toaster
  
• A Vin Diesel action figure has slept with more women than most men
  
• Every night, Vin Diesel does 700 push ups and punches himself in the face until he passes out
  

Just so you know, I had to re-read and edit the above list about three times. I'm not complaining, because I laughed each time I went through the list (isn't it GREAT to be a grown-up?). I just wanted to make sure that I did a 'language' and 'decency' scrub so I wouldn't get knocked off the site.

Given some of the things I found on the second and third time through, well, I'm thinking it was time well-spent. If I missed anything, please let me know. And remember...

"If you can see Vin Diesel, Vin Diesel can see you. If you can't see Vin Diesel, you may be mere seconds away from death..."

The Golden Assassin

July is the month MADE for vacations. The weather in the northeast is warm, the sky is a rich clear blue, the kids are over the ‘stresses’ of school, and the oppression of winter is no more than a distant memory. It’s time to get outside and enjoy nature with your family. This would, unfortunately, include your dog; your big, goofy, Golden Retriever dog.

For purposes of our conversation here, let’s hypothetically call her, Kelly.

Assume that your youngest son went to visit his friend, James, who lives ’just down the road a ways’. Then, assume that your son rode his bike to James’ house and you decide that it’s such a beautiful day that you would walk to James’ house with your trusty dog, Kelly, by your side. You ALSO know that you are leaving in two days for a week-long vacation in Maine with your family and your wife’s brother and sister-in-law.

To sum up what we know so far:
· Dog named Kelly
· Youngest boy at James’ house
· Beautiful summer day
· Walking dog to get boy
· Going on vacation with family in two days

Shoot, what could go wrong? Sounds like the perfect day, doesn’t it? Yes, it does sound like the perfect day (up to this point). But wait, there’s more…

So you walk to James’ house with Kelly (the Golden Retriever) to ‘retrieve’ your boy. Kelly doesn’t need a leash because she’s four years-old and NEVER leaves your side while you walk (actually, I think she’s terrified of getting left behind – anywhere). Please keep in mind that Kelly is ‘walking freely’ by your side. This part of the story is critical to the remainder of this post.

“Hi Tim!” I say as I find my son playing in the yard at his friend’s house.

“Hi Dad!”, Tim says as he looks up from the bike he’s sitting on.

“Kelly!” Tim gushes as he sees his favorite adult living in our home (yes, you read that correctly – he LOVES that dog and she’s almost 30 in ‘dog years’).

“Okay dude, we need to get moving so we can finish packing for our trip. And don’t forget, Kelly has to go to the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm (a.k.a.: The Kennel) for the week. She’ll need to get a bath and get lots of love before we take her tomorrow…”

“Can’t Kelly come with us to Maine, Dad?” my son asks with an expectant look on his face.

“Sorry man we can’t do it. We’re staying in a hotel over-looking a bay or something in Maine and there’s no way we can sneak Fuzzy through the front door of the lobby. No outside entrances to the rooms.” I explained.

“Okay Dad.”, My son said as he turned on his bike to begin the ride up the hill back to our house.

“Come on Fuzz, what do you say we take a jog back to the house and race Tim on his bike?” I ask my 70-pound ‘walking fur factory’. The dog looks up at me, smiles, (Golden Retrievers DO this) and gets a look of far-off glee in her eyes.

After an unexpected surge of apprehension, I begin my lumbering semi-run up the hill back towards our house.

By way of back-ground, I am NOT a small man. In my prime I was 6’ 1” tall. (After age-related ‘normal shrinkage’ (a.k.a.: “the collapse of most disks in my spine”) I would estimate that I am just over 4’ 11” tall)).

As for weight, I am a lithe, 228 pounds (including stress-related FAT gained during several of my wife’s pregnancies – it’s hard to be a guy…).

This being said, we now re-join our story already in progress.

Kelly, true to form runs, panting, just next to my left leg as we run ‘with traffic’ up to the cross-street near my home. We turn onto the street in lock-step with each other at exactly the same speed, neither of us surging ahead, nor lagging behind the other. I decide that it would be a good time to ‘taunt’ the dog. (This, it turns out, is NOT a good idea.)

“Come on you great big lumbering pooh-maker, move those old legs and see if you can beat me back to the house.” I said this with a fair amount of smugness in my voice (and quickly ran out of breath because I don’t run MUCH in my day to day life). I continued the taunting questioning her designation as a ‘Sporting Breed’ dog and picked up my pace to begin the final sprint for home.

As I sped up, she quickened her pace to pull even with me. Not to be outdone, I began to pump my arms furiously and accelerate my mass to its maximum velocity (approximately equivalent to that of a possum crossing a busy highway at night (a.k.a.: SLOW)).

We were now fewer than 200 feet from the house. My arms furiously pumped like pistons fueled by an overwhelming desire to ‘Beat the dog to the house to prove a point’. Years later, I still wonder what that ‘point’ was, but yet I still can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I was just trying to prove that at 46 years of age that I could still out-run my middle-aged dog. Sort of like the “Old Guy vs. Old Dog Olympics”…

We’re now 100 feet away from the house. Victory will be mine as I pump my arms and Kelly trails me by a foot, just behind me, on my left. She sensed her impending failure and once again quickened her pace. Within striking distance we both realized what was at risk. The winner of this race would have bragging rights as 'Top Dog for the Day'. I wanted the title. Unfortunately for me, she wanted it MORE.

It happens FAST. She catches me, begins to pull ahead, looks at the driveway twenty-feet away to my right and then accelerates ‘into my path’. Yes, she veers into my path (where I, unfortunately, happen to be ‘lumbering and pumping’ at the time).

In less time than it takes to shout, “Kelly NO!” I attempt to ‘hurdle’ the dog who is now UNDER me as I continue to pump (and stumble) furiously forward. She bolts across the neighbor’s yard as I come down hard on my left foot, believe that I might just survive but when my right foot comes down and I realize that my upper-body is passing my legs.

Yes, there is no longer a question; I’m going down, and I’m going down hard. I’m going to land on my face, quite possibly my face is going into the curb. All 228 pounds of me is nothing more than ‘mass in motion’ at this point.

The pavement, which is now the only certain thing which will stop this forward momentum is going to hurt – a lot.

I found I have a deep-rooted aversion to stopping 228 pounds of my body with my face. Never having thought about it before, I intuitively knew that skidding my body (on my face) to a stop on the street, or crashing my forehead onto the curb will be a really ‘bad thing’. I twist in mid-air to land on my right side. It is all I can do. It is almost enough. I miss the curb by inches but the gravel on the side of the road puts holes in most of my exposed skin on the right side of my body. Apparently my shoulder takes most of the initial hit, following by a solid rap of my head (and glasses) into the street.

I do not remember if I remain conscious throughout the entire event or not. Mostly all I know is that everything hurts. My vision is blurry and there’s blood (lots of blood) coming from my shoulder, arm, palm, and knee. Luckily for me the stones embedded in my shoulder, arm, wrist, and knee from the fall is ‘stopping up’ much of the flow of blood.

As I pull my body up to and over the curb I shout to my kids, who have gathered by the end of the driveway, “Go get your Mom! Tell her I lost! And she should bring towels, lots of towels.”

I realize that the reason my vision is fuzzy is because my glasses are gone. Nonetheless my right eye hurts (a lot). Considering everything that’s happened in the past minute, it’s kind of hard to decide WHAT hurts the most.

When I land on the street the side of my head bounces onto the pavement. The only thing between my head and the asphalt – yeah, my eye glass frames. My youngest comes out to tell me that my wife (the nurse) is coming out and he finds my glasses and hands them to me. I put out my left arm (the only one currently working) and laugh. The left side of the frame is okay, but the right side corner piece is bent to about a 160-degree angle.

My right eye hurts because when I fell, the corner of the frame is pushed into the skin directly above my eye socket. Another half-inch lower and my family will be calling me ‘Popeye’ for the rest of my days.

My wife, the nurse, FREAKS when she sees me. “What happened to you?”

“The dog. The dog cheats. Don’t ever race her.”, It was all I could stand to say.

You know the rest of the story: We spend the next three hours removing the gravel, sand, and dirt from my open ‘wounds’ and trying to figure out exactly how much damage I’ve done to myself.

Unfortunately, I know now. I messed up a perfectly good vacation to Maine (we went, but I didn’t enjoy it at ALL since every movement caused me pain), I bent a perfectly good pair of glasses to a point where they needed to be replaced, and (bonus!) I damaged the rotator cuff of my right shoulder.

Almost three years later I can still use it to predict a change in weather. All because I wanted to teach the dog a lesson. Well, I taught her all right! Now she KNOWS she’s smarter than I am.

As for me, I will never race a dog ever again. Yes, even I can be taught…

Dang dog…

Natural Beef

Men should not shop at grocery stores. This isn’t because they're forbidden by some obscure governmental legislation, but because the casual male shopper finds the local grocery a frightening and confusing place. Trust me on this; guys are not equipped with ‘grocery’ genes. Allow me to convey the following real life example: Tonight as I wandered aimlessly through the grocery store I noticed something that rocked me on my heels. Perhaps hundreds, maybe even thousands of other shoppers (feel free to insert the word ‘women’ here) had passed it prior to my arrival without so much as a second glance.

As I entered the Meat department with my typical ‘I need to buy something, perhaps it can be meat, but what kind of meat?’ look on my face, I noticed something disturbing. In the open refrigerated meat case with other pre-sliced cold cuts I read the following: Pre-Sliced Roast Beef “ONLY $7.89 A POUND”. Okay, on the whole that wasn’t too disturbing (but I’m pretty sure a pound of gasoline still costs less than this). The thing that caught my eye was a circa-1970’s fluorescent orange sunburst sticker pasted on the front of the package featuring the words “NATURAL BEEF” in bold print. I know I’m not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree but, help me here, what would you make of this? Since when does a store label food, beef no less, as “Natural”? Did the cow only eat organically grown Cow Chow? Did the cow actually spend some time outside, actively participating in NATURE?

I want to know what makes this pre-sliced roast beef in the clear plastic caskets able to be labeled as, “Natural Beef”? What other labels could they be keeping behind the butcher’s counter? Do they have a supply of stickers describing the following ‘Beef’ types?

• Un-Natural Beef = Beef from a cow that ate nothing but the stuff men eat when their moms, wives, or girlfriends aren't around
• Primordial Beef = Really old beef. "It's not just aged -- it's petrified!"
• Super Natural Beef = Beef from a cow that had an uncanny ability to predict the future, but was tragically inept at avoiding its own demise
• Free Range Beef = Beef from a cow that 'got around'
• Chipped Beef = Beef I remember from numerous Boy Scout camping trips that consisted of white pasty goo with beef sporting an un-natural brick-red color. Also known as 'S.O.S.', but I'll say no more on this...
• Tipped Beef = Bruised beef from a cow located too close to a college almost anywhere in the U.S. (If you have to ask you didn't go to a real college...)
  

So the next time your mom, wife, or girlfriend asks you to go to the store, or you have a momentary lapse of reason and volunteer to run to the store for a few things; be prepared. Be calm and don’t let grocery store employees see the fear that inevitably steals into the part of the brain that controls the ‘fight or flight’ response. Repeat the following to yourself, ‘It is only a grocery store -- it’s only a grocery store. I made it through showers after high school gym class; I can make it through this.’

Next time you have to shop -- take command! Upon entering the store, walk boldly up the butcher in the Meat Department and ask him to direct you to the ‘Natural Beef’ section. If nothing else, you’ll appear to know what you’re doing – unless, of course your store only features regular ‘Beef’. At this point my friend, you are on your own.

Avert your eyes, turn away and leave the store quickly. And for goodness sake, don’t look at the Head Cheese in the deli counter – it has nothing to do with cheese; but everything to do with head.

And, um, you might want to find the 'Beer' aisle just so the trip isn't a complete waste...

How Men Shop

It’s late Wednesday afternoon, you’re out of elbow macaroni and your wife has informed you that you must prepare macaroni and cheese for the entire family. You must cook because your wife is ill. What will you do, what will you do!?

Do you?

• Explain to your kids that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were omitted erroneously from the ‘Food Pyramid’ and that they ARE actually considered a food group and should be eaten more frequently,
  
• Tell the kids that they’ll eat again when mom feels better,
  
• Stare longingly into the pantry hoping that something requiring no more preparation than a ½ cup of water and three minutes of preperation time falls into your outstretched hand by the force of your sheer will, or
  
• Drive to the grocery store and act like you know what you’re doing
  

I have discovered that there is a profound difference between men and women when it comes to the process of grocery shopping. My wife takes shopping seriously. She makes a list, clips coupons, and she even knows what she wants before she arrives at the store (Gasp!). With single-minded purpose she uses her internal GPS, Grocery Positioning System, to move unerringly from aisle to aisle. She slows only long enough to collect each of the items on her list.

These items are actually listed, in the ‘aisle order’ as they appear in the store. Appropriately alphabetized coupons are transferred from the coupon envelope to the outside ‘coupon compartment’ of her pocketbook. When shopping is completed, coupons are handed to the cashier, the obligatory “Paper or Plastic?” inquiry is addressed and with the swipe of a debit card and entry of four-digit PIN; my wife’s mission is accomplished.

Do all women shop this way? I’ve watched them (studied them even -- no, not like 'stalking'; knock that off) during the period of my life when I was unemployed (this was NOT a good time) and I did all of the shopping. I will concede that there may be a few out there who lack the ‘grocery’ gene and maybe even a few more who make my wife look downright reckless when it comes to shopping. And for you husbands whose wives are more genetically disposed to grocery shopping than mine, all I can say is, I’m really sorry. You may want to check out a few items from the 'BEER' aisle – assuming you can find it, of course.

Grocery shopping for men is infinitely different. Whereas my wife travels the store purposefully, I meander. There is no section of the store that can be overlooked. To this end I start at one end of the store and walk clock-wise through the aisles knowing that I’ll come across something that I will need. No need for a shopping strategy here, I merely continue wandering through the store until the cart looks full enough to justify getting out of the house for forty to sixty minutes. One bright spot is that with drive time factored in, you can get nearly ninety minutes of quality time ALONE. Sure you’ll buy things you don’t need, but you might just need that spare can of pineapple rings.

Consider the following real-life exchange:

Me, “Ed, it’s great to see you, I was just getting ready to peel back the lid on this can of pineapple rings. Are you hungry?”

Ed, “Oh, pineapple rings, uh, no thanks.”

Me, “Well then, how about some hot dog chili sauce on an English muffin?”

Ed, “No, thanks, I'm good...”

Me, “Cocktail franks in barbecue sauce?”

Ed, “No” Me, “Hey, how about we grab some wings at Hooters?”

Ed, “You’ve been shopping again, haven’t you?”

Me, “Well, ah, yes, my wife’s been (insert appropriate response here): a.) very busy, b.) sick, c.) abducted by space aliens, or, d.) astral projecting and isn’t expected back in her body until next Monday.

Ed, “I’m sorry man. Are you using coupons at least? My wife uses coupons.”

Me, “I tried it once, but I didn’t know if I should alphabetize them by manufacturer or by product. In the check-out line there was a group of women glaring at me, shaking their heads and whispering to each other. I heard one of them say something about me being ‘genetically challenged’. It was horrific.”

Ed, “Hooters it is. I’ll buy.”

So the next time you get snookered into running to the store for a few things; be prepared. Accept your limitations prior to entering the store. If your wife wanted the shopping done properly she would have done it herself (like she normally does). And if you are looking for an extra can of pineapple rings; stop on over, I have about fourteen of them right now.

Killer Deer

Once upon a time I had a real job. I was a ‘Global Account Manager’. This meant that I was responsible for things outside of my control, all over the planet. I worked for a large telecommunication’s equipment manufacturer based out of New Jersey. Part of this job was providing high-level training for new and existing customers so they would purchase more telecommunication's infrastructure (or in technical jargon, more 'stuff'.)

I took a customer to the corporate briefing center at Pebble Beach, California. Okay, let’s face it, Pebble Beach is not known for the quality of its Executive Briefings; it’s known for golf, woefully expensive and miniscule servings of food (however, I must say that the food is very ‘pretty’). Meals typically are a veritable feast for the eyes – but you’ll still spend $60 for it and you’ll be eyeing the Burger King on the way back to the hotel. I’m sorry, did I say hotel? What I meant to say was Resort. When you’re dropping $400 a night to sleep there, ‘hotel’ just doesn’t cut it. At this 'resort' the woman at the front desk told me that the rooms were not air-conditioned. Well, at least for $400 per night you get all of the heat that you would want. At the time I was living in Florida and $38 per night got you an Orlando area Days Inn with cable, air conditioning, and one of those vibrating beds.

The customer was able to play the obligatory rounds of golf at Pebble Beach while I rode around in the cart noticing how very overcast and chilly it was. For the golf nut, this was Mecca. The customer even commented that this was his dream, “To play Pebble Beach”. My dream, on the other hand was to get a $5.00 meal and a sweater (which I picked up later in the week at the gift store for ONLY $98).

The briefing event took an unexpected turn with the introduction of “Thom”. Thom was the briefer assigned to ‘brief’ the customer on new product enhancements, feature functionality updates, and applications in the Enterprise. To briefly sum up, I’ve never used the word ‘brief’ this much in one paragraph in my life – but I digress.

On the morning of the briefing, my boss, who was also at the briefing center, mentioned that she had opened the exterior door of her room early in the morning and had seen a deer. The deer (which apparently didn’t have enough money to eat at the restaurants either) had been munching on the flora of the meticulously manicured grounds (why didn’t I think of that? Here I was walking around hungry all the time…).

She and the deer both regarded each other for a moment and then returned to their prior activities, which is to say, munching, and observing. It wasn’t until later in the morning that she was made aware of just how close she had come to death. Thom (okay, is this a guy too lazy to spell Thomas, or is his name really Moth, and he’s dyslexic?) told the following and riveted us with his personal account of the ‘deer incident’. Thom explained that ‘Ninja Deer’ stalk visitors to Pebble Beach. I’m pretty sure I remember the conversation verbatim (and what I don’t remember, I will make up). It went something like this:

Thom began, “Yes, I walked out into my backyard, and there it stood -- the deer. It was much larger than a dog, but not quite as large as, say, as the USS Enterprise. It stared at me with evil intent. Suddenly, it reared up on its back legs and lunged at me with its razor sharp hooves. These talons (I know, deer don’t have talons, but this is pretty much Thom’s story from here on out) flashed razor sharp in the moonlight. I fell back against Patty; Patty O’Furniture the Irish man who lives on my porch, and I felt the wind from the wildly flailing beast’s stiletto-like hooves. I thought it was all over for me, so I turned, grabbed, and threw Patty into the path of the oncoming cyclone of death.

Patty fought bravely, but being afflicted with the Irish Curse, he was also fighting drunkenly. The deer, having no genetic need to imbibe mass quantities of cheap amber beverages effectively neutralized Patty by eviscerating him with the first assault. Luckily, in Patty’s altered state, there was no pain. He fell to the ground like a steaming mass of last year’s Corned Beef and Cabbage.” At this point Thom appeared visibly shaken.

Thom concluded, “I was lucky to escape with my butt – and every day I thank God for that.”

For Patty, death was delivered not through a prolonged liver-related illness, but rather through the killing machine that Walt Disney laughingly referred to as Bambi, Prince of the Forest.
So the next time you stare into the cold dead eyes of ‘your average deer’, remember Patty. Let his death be a warning to you. If you’re ever driving through Pebble Beach and a deer sideswipes your car, don’t open the door and leave the vehicle.

I’ve seen “Jurassic Park” and I’m here to tell you that modern deer are the Velaciraptors of today. That fuzzy veneer and perky white tail disguise one of nature’s greatest killing machines. Bambi, my butt, these guys are killers.

I know, because Thom told me so. I’ve been briefed.

In Bed

Okay, sometimes humor finds you, and sometimes you find humor where you least expect it. Years ago I was sitting in a Chinese restaurant and a young couple at the table next to me was laughing hysterically. Since I'm always up for a 'Yuk' (when I'm around my wife and kids, they say 'Yuck' a lot - although, now that I think about it, it may not be exactly the same thing), I asked them, "Excuse me, but I can't help but notice that you are on the verge of 'making water' in your pants. Okay, so what's so funny?" They told me that the fortunes from their Fortune Cookies were the cause of their side-splitting laughter.

"Are you serious? So is Steve Martin started writing one-liner 'fortunes' for Fortune Cookie companies?" I asked.

"No, no, it's not that." the man sitting at the table answered as he continued to sputter with laughter.

"Were you drinking a lot before I got here?" I asked, trying to shed some light on the true source of their giddyness.

"No, we're going back to work, but it's the... the, 'in bed' rule.", the woman said as she wiped her watery eyes with an already damp red paper napkin.

Oh, oh, maybe I should have kept my question to myself? I thought that this was going somewhere that I didn't need it to, or want, it to go. They recognized my 'discomfort' because the woman quickly followed up with a question of her own, "Do you know about the 'in bed' rule?"

"Ah, all I know is that my wife says that I cannot eat in bed, and that whoever is the last one OUT of bed 'makes' the bed...", hoping this truthful response would keep the conversation from going to a 'weird' place.

"A good couple of rules, but not the 'in bed' rule...", replied the guy as he looked back across the table to the woman.

Now it was the woman's turn once again, "The 'in bed' rule says that whenever you read the 'fortune' from a fortune cookie, you need to add 'in bed' to the end of it... Whatever your fortune is, it will be funny, or at least more interesting, when you add, 'in bed' to the end of it."

"So this is why you guys are laughing your rumps off over here?", I asked.

"You've got it!", the man said, chiming back in to the conversation.

"Does it always work?", I asked.

"Yes, here's my fortune...", the woman reached back to the table and picked up her twisted slip of paper and began to read aloud: "This suspense is exciting, I hope it will last." She then added, "In bed".

"Okay, but it couldn't always work, could it?", I wasn't really convinced yet...

The man picked up his fortune and read it aloud (probably louder than he needed to considering it was an otherwise quiet restaurant), "Efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction - in bed."

"Whoa, that is kind of funny in a weird, Sixth Grade Elementary School kind of way... But I'm a 'Sixth Grade humor' kind of guy", I said. Now I wanted to open MY fortune cookie, before my second trip to the buffett bar. Somehow, the fortune I received was strangely appropriate: "Ideas not coupled with action will never become bigger than the brain cells they occupy. Yeah, 'in bed'", I added, as I read my fortune aloud to the table with the couple sitting across from me.

"Yup, works every time..." the man said as he picked up his check and stood to leave.

The couple paid their bill and walked out of the restaurant, laughing as they went. I never learned their names, but I never forgot the 'in bed' rule. I share it with you in the hope that you will enjoy all of your Chinese meals whether they be, 'take-out', 'buffett', or, 'in bed'.

Just to get you started, I went to a website that has listings of fortune cookie sayings (to save you MONEY and your very LIFE! You know, with the Economy, gas prices, global warming, Africanized Honey bees and all...).

Here are the first twenty that I came across (you be the judge as to if 'the rule' works or not):

There is a true and sincere friendship between you and your friends - in bed.

You find beauty in ordinary things, do not lose this ability - in bed.

Ideas are like children; there are none so wonderful as your own - in bed.

It takes more than good memory to have good memories - in bed.

A thrilling time is in your immediate future - in bed.

Your blessing is no more than being safe and sound for the whole lifetime - in bed.

Plan for many pleasures ahead - in bed.

The joyfulness of a man prolongeth his days - in bed.

Your everlasting patience will be rewarded sooner or later - in bed.

Make two grins grow where there was only a grouch before - in bed.

Something you lost will soon turn up - in bed.

Your heart is pure, and your mind clear, and your soul devout - in bed.

Excitement and intrigue follow you closely wherever you go - in bed!

A pleasant surprise is in store for you - in bed.

May life throw you a pleasant curve - in bed.

As the purse is emptied the heart is filled - in bed.

Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome - in bed.

Your flair for the creative takes an important place in your life - in bed.

Your artistic talents win the approval and applause of others - in bed.

Pray for what you want, but work for the things you need - in bed.

Simba, the circle is complete, the grass feeds the antelope, the lions eat the antelope, the antelope dies to feed the grass, then... Oh, sorry, that's from 'The Lion King'. Well, in any event, this circle IS complete. It was shared with me, and I share it with you now. First the 'I Have a Cow (The Game)' for traveling fun, and now, the 'In bed' thing for dining in 'fine' Chinese restaurants. Try not to have green tea shoot out your nose... in bed. Oops.

Well, anyway, I'm sure some of you may have already have heard of the 'in bed' rule, but for those of you that have not, I offer it to you here 'free' as a passing of the 'in bed' torch. It's sort of like the olympic torch 'pass', but on a 'Sixth Grade' level. If you have any other Sixth Grade humor that you'd like to share, send it on over. For me, at least, Seventh Grade is always another year away...

See ya' in class!

The 'Green' Rodent From Pennsylvania

It was only a matter or time. It had to happen. The only question I have is: So why did I have to find out about it?


I was arguing with my son over the number of times that Punxsutawney Phil hasn't seen his shadow since 1886 (we had to argue about something, so why not something completely pointless?). That answer, so YOU don't have to look it up, is FOURTEEN. Yes, for only fourteen times in the past 132 years, the sleepy, dark-loving, 'un-happy-about-being-dragged-out-in-front-of-13,000-loons' Phil has NOT seen his shadow. Now you know in case you want to start an argument with someone in your family...


But I also found out something that I DIDN'T know. I found out that there are folks 'out there' speculating that since NINE of these fourteen total 'non-shadow' appearances have taken place since 1975 that it's because of... WHAT? Go ahead and guess! Come on, you can do it!

Give up?

What is the significance of 9 out of 14? Take a shot! Do IT! Do IT NOW! (Read the preceding like Ahnooold.)

Well, it is being speculated that this large percentage of non-shadow 'events' since 1975 is because Punxsutawney Phil is sensitive to, and completely aware of... Global Warming.

Yup, even the groundhog is in on the Global Warming kick now. Here is a photo of the environmentally-aware groundhog in his natural environment (being dragged out of a dark box into broad daylight, surrounded by thousands of shouting and laughing 'Phil-O-Philes').

Go ahead, look into HIS eyes and call ME insane...


Yes, stare into the eyes of nature's pre-eminent early-warning system. Feel Phil's psychic presence as he pleads with you to save HIS planet (he, apparently, is very full of himself)...

Okay, enough of that. Can we discuss reality for a moment, just for a MOMENT? From the article, I quote, "(Phil) uttered something in the obscure language of Groundhogese to Club President Bill Cooper, who then proclaimed that the large rodent had seen his shadow and we would therefore be getting six more weeks of winter."

So here's where it gets weird(er): The Global Warming prediction is NOT made by the groundhog himself, but more appropriately, by a guy named, 'Bill Cooper' translating on behalf of the rodent.

How do I know this? Simply put, groundhogs don't speak. Go ahead, you can look it up if you have to, but I'm pretty confident that the section above about 'the obscure language of Groundhogese' is a SCAM made up to amuse TOURISTS (as proof, I offer the following to you: No one in their right mind goes to Pennsylvania in FEBRUARY.)

If Phil actually spoke, I'm pretty sure it would be something more like, "Psst, hey buddy, you put me back in my box away from these lunatics or I'm gonna take off one of your stubby little gloved fingers. Don't mess with me, I'm a rodent, a cousin of the 'rat'. I can do it. Don't push me man. And watch where you're puttin' that other HAND!"

To add more credence to the above theory, it was reported on February 2nd that the New York equivalent of Phil, Staten Island Chuck, did in fact, take a chunk out of NYC Mayor, Michael Bloomberg's hand. From a personal perspective, I hope he's okay. You can get a nasty infection from a bite like that. Regarding Mayor Bloomberg, I'm sure that he'll be okay, I'm more concerned that the poor little rodent may have picked something up from him, you know, him being a politician and all...

If you would like to read the entire story, you can click the following link -> Phil Responding to Global Warming?

Click the link if you want... Or you can just trust me. Just like the Global Warming folks who 'KNOW IN THEIR HEARTS THAT HUMANS ARE KILLING THE PLANET', trust Bill Cooper to translate the frantic gruntings of a panicked rodent (being pulled from his hutch into the cold February air) to predict the winter weather forecast (and the END of the EARTH).

Yeah, you're right, it's probably better to not trust anyone. Not even a guy in the tuxedo coat and top hat.

Game On...

Signs Of Life

Do the people who write this stuff ever go back and read it again once they are done?:

I was following a truck this morning heading north on I-95. There was a huge orange sign on the back of the truck that said “Construction Vehicle – Do Not Follow”. So I turned around and went back to the office.

I had the opportunity to open a toilet paper 6-pack earlier today on which the following words appeared: “Facial Quality”. Butt I didn’t need to wipe my face…

While showering this morning I took time to read the shampoo bottle. Under instructions, it said, “Lather, Rinse, Repeat”. I’m still in the shower and the laptop’s getting wet, what happens next?

Q-Tip Box includes the following instruction: "Do not use in ear canal" What ELSE are they good for -- Teeny-tiny Tiki Torches?

Oh, and on a "Scrubbing Bubbles Fresh Brush" I came across in our bathroom, I found the following verbiage: "Do not use for personal hygiene" Anyone ever see the size of that ' Scrubbing Bubbles Fresh Brush'? What part of your body WOULD you clean with it?

I ordered a 'Southern Style Chicken Sandwich' today at McDonalds. (If you've ever eaten at Chick-Fil-A, you know what they are trying to do -- but naaah, not even close.) I read the back of the little purple and white cardboard casket that my sandwich came in and found the following note: "Made with a minimum 46% post-consumer recycled content" Super, now they're wrapping my lunch in someone else's garbage. Thanks Scary Clown, now I'll tell everyone that the "You Want Flies With That?" blog was about YOU. That's right, your name is on the street -- let's see how long you survive after these two MAJOR scandals?

And, when I ordered the $1.00 hot fudge sundae to wash down my trash-encased sandwich I was relieved to see that the peanuts (that I asked NOT to get) also had a warning: "Allergen Information: May contain tree nuts" So was I 'nuts' for not running screaming out of the building? Lacking that little tidbit of information, how could I have possibly known that my peanuts might have been hanging out with the 'wrong type' of nuts?

I washed my car this weekend and had to open a new bottle of Meguire's Crystal Car Wash. I twisted off the cap on top of the jug and found an inside foil seal labeled: "Sealed for your protection". What are they protecting me from, washing my car?

That's it for now. The "Do Not Follow" sign got me thinking... If you've seen any 'spooky' verbiage out there, send it in as a 'Comment'.

It's FUN, it's EASY, and best of all, it's FREE. (For a limited time only. Actual comment cost may be affected by dealer's contribution and your credit rating, no money down, and EZ monthly payments required, 12,000 characters included in the base comment lease and .32 per character for every character over the 12,000 during calendar period. Remember to always read the FINE PRINT -- it's there for someone's protection (yeah, not yours))...

You Got Me, Under Your Skin

It's one thing to be really 'cheesed-off' at someone. It's quite another thing to create a media circus to get back at your wife of fifteen years because she won't let you see the kids regularly.

Richard Batista, MD has sued his wife for custody. This by itself is NOT a new concept. It happens every day (sigh). The 'uniqueness' of this particular request is that Richard wants custody of his ex-wife's kidney.

Yup, you read that correctly: He WANTS his kidney back from his ex-wife. Turns out that in 2001 Doctor Batista was identified as a near-perfect match to be a donor for his wife who would die without a kidney transplant. She already had two unsuccessful transplants, but her hubby's kidney -- well, "Third time's the charm!"

What a wonderful story! The loving husband saves his wife's life by giving her part of his body... Oh, my, how... How magical!

Please excuse me while I have a few moments alone...

Moment

Moment

Moment

Gee, thanks...

Well, like every 'magical' Disney story, there has to be something else going on here, right? Something to add to the story-line perhaps? Consider Disney's uncomfortable penchant for KILLING the Mom or Dad within the first eight minutes of the film to add a little background 'color' to the story. Yes, there is more here too - much more.

According to the doctor, his wife took the kidney and cheated on him with it for several YEARS. Hold on, that's not quite right - she didn't 'cheat on him WITH the kidney' (that would be SICK).
What she did was she took the kidney with her while she was cheating on her husband with another 'spleen'. No, no, no, I mean she cheated on him with another man who HAD a spleen of his own.

According to Doctor Batista, his wife 'cheated on him for several years. All the while, Dawnell's husband's kidney was in her shouting, "No, no! Don't do it Dawnell! Be strong, listen to me, I am your husband's kidney! I am the lone voice of reason screaming in here! Don't do this or he'll take me back! Just ME, but not you!"

Dawnell did not listen to that distant, inner voice. She made 'bad choices' (allegedly). Now her husband wants his kidney back. To be more precise, he wants EITHER the kidney back or $1.5 Million in compensation (I'm assuming this is for pain and suffering of his organ).

Well enough of that, you can always find out what is really going on by following the money. It's a shame that the doctor had to attack her internal organs to get his fifteen minutes of fame. This story is all over the news today. When the news is over, we'll still have one un-happy guy, and one un-happy woman. Not really news at all, but Americans love a spectacle. And this one, well, it is most certainly a spectacle.

By way of comparison, all my wife ever wanted from me was an 'arm and a leg'. This explains why I type slowly and why, if I were an Oriental woman with one leg... I would be named, 'Irene'. (You'll need to think about that for a moment.) Send me a note if you don't get it...

Does the lawsuit have any chance of succeeding in court? According to legal experts (people in the break room)... No, no chance at all. But hey, that's what makes it fun. The doctor wants $1.5 Million from his ex-wife, bottom line.

In an un-related story Barack Obama wants us to let him spend another $700 Billion of our money for a stimulus package -- to, ah, give back to us. All things considered, I'd rather give him a kidney. Things keep going the way they are in government, I may end up selling my internal organs to pay this year's tax bills.

As for my other major internal organs, no one can have my heart - because it belongs to my wife... Whoa, another magical moment! Now I only have eight minutes to live...

I'd write more now but my leg stump is itching and it's on the same side as my missing arm. And, as stated in the prior paragraph, time is short. Very short...