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The “Safe Fun” Paradox

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Header image by Manuel QC via Creative Commons

Today’s post comes from obsessive risk management enthusiast Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty.

At ease civillians!

But as you take your ease on this Memorial Day, you MUST remember to stay alert to all safety risks that come with holiday fun.  

Personally, I’m against holidays for this very reason!  The very word “holiday” carries an expectation that the day will include some kind of unique, ecstatic experience.

This is exactly the sort of thing that can get you in trouble, safety-wise.  That’s why I’m much more comfortable with days “on”  rather than days “off”.

Boring?  Sure!  So?

The soul-killing drudgery of day-to-day work is great for depleting energy that might otherwise send you spinning off into activities that are questionable and possibly dangerous.

Firecrackers, speed boats, canoes, frisbees,  ATV’s, softballs, bats, fishing hooks, volleyball nets and water skis are just a few of the expected summer holiday accessories that I find alarming.

Beyond that, I question all the assumptions made around the holiday tradition of “grilling”.

The idea that a man who only cooks two meals a year will suddenly be able to prepare massive quantities of thoroughly cooked food over an open flame strikes me as questionable.

That he will be able to handle all that meat safely and cook it properly while drinking a succession of beers is, in a word, preposterous!

Beer and flames do not go together.  Ever!

I don’t know what Memorial Day plans you have made, but  staying on dry land, properly belted, with ample head protection, and eating in state-inspected establishments using properly maintained and not-too-sharp utensils sounds like great fun to me!

Safely & Securely,
B.S.O.R.

What are YOUR holiday plans?

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Back Seat Games Set To Move Forward

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Today’s post comes from marketing whiz Spin Williams, who is always in residence at The Meeting That Never Ends.

Wow!

I’m just back from a 9 day car trip through Iowa, Wisconsin, Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee and Illinois, and boy, is my butt tired!

There are some big states on that list, and it takes a lot of sitting to get through them. Good thing meetings are my business, because my hindquarters were already road-ready before I left!

Along the way, I had lots of time to think about the coming transportation revolution, when autonomous cars will do most or all of the driving for us. Different states will write different laws to govern this, but my guess is that in most places our job as the “driver” will have some very basic elements:

  • Don’t be drunk
  • Don’t be asleep

Mostly, summer road trips of the future will expand the boredom of the back seat to the entire car, since your only real job will be to sit and watch the scenery go by.

Are there marketing opportunities there? You bet!

When we kicked this around at The Meeting That Never Ends, everybody agreed that backseat car games are due for a renaissance.

In the self-driving car future, everybody will be able to give all their attention to classics like 20 Questions, I Spy, and License Plate Poker.

But once the “driver” is able to swivel her seat and face the backseat passengers as the car picks its own way through road construction around Wisconsin Dells, we predict there will be a whole slew of new games the group can play, including card games and board games.

All we have to do is figure out what the breakaway hit will be in the realm of Whole Family Backseat Car Games, design it, own it, and then wait for technology to catch up.

Any ideas?  

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Billionaire Donors Wanted

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Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing Minnesota’s 9th District – all the water surface area in the state.

Greetings, Constituents, but especially the rich ones!

I’m writing today to tell all billionaires whose fabulous homes border my district (lake shore property is expensive!)  that I am available and willing to talk with them privately about any issue they feel is important enough to possibly merit a sizable contribution .

I’m not saying that I will change my position to entice  mega-donors, but on many of the topics that matter most to the super-rich, I’m still formulating my opinions.   I’d love to hear more about what influential people have to say , and as the Supreme Court has already reminded us,  money is speech!  So speak to me, already!  I can’t wait to hear your voices mingling with the rustling of your cash as you rush forward to press more of it into my hands!

Although actual contributions will only happen if we already agree on the major policies of the day. I am a highly principled public servant and a man of the people.  But like most human beings I feel more agreeable around vast sums of money.

And for my less-well-off constituents, a side note.  Don’t be overly concerned that I am groveling before and buttering up these super-rich donors.

Yes, just like you, I like piles of money.  I like them in the same way anglers love big, fat walleye.  I’m always hopeful that I’ll land one, but I’m not going to let my lust for reeling one in  drag me into the lake.  

And if you’re concerned that I’ve said too much and now the ultra-rich will know that I only see them as fish – bless you for caring but worry not!

Mega-donors don’t read fundraising letters.
Mini-donors don’t read fundraising letters.
Truly, nobody reads fundraising letters.

Everyone has stopped by the 301st word, which is this one.

At any rate, the sort of supporter I’m seeking has already handed this off to a minion, who (hopefully!) has used the information on the masthead to schedule a private conversation.  Because the super-rich don’t contribute to political campaigns based on the sort of words that just anyone can hear. They base their support on the private things I say that can’t be traced, quoted or repeated!

And what are those things?  Political blah-blah-blah, and probably nothing you would find too memorable.  Honestly, even I can’t recall.  But I assure you that if I ever compared someone a big, fat Walleye, I would consider that a total compliment!

Your Completely Honest Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

When money talks, do you listen?

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Dream Job Finally Emerges

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Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden of Wendell Willkie High School

Hey Mr. C.,

Just when I was starting to feel discouraged about finding work that matches the skills I’ve built up through years of ignoring my teachers and spending homework time playing video games, NASA has come up with a great idea that would suit me perfectly.

Here’s the job description:

You ride around in the International Space Station and use a laser cannon to shoot down space debris.  

Lots of little bits of rockets and satellite pieces and stuff are zipping around in low orbit at incredibly fast speeds,  posing a terrible danger to astronauts and other space missions.   Somebody with a sharp eye and quick reflexes has to go up there and save space for the explorers by knocking those harmful nuggets back into the atmosphere where they can burn up.

That could be a real job?  Are you kidding me?  Where do I sign up?  And please, please, please don’t say you have to be good at math to qualify for this.

That would be a horrible bummer if only the “smart” kids could qualify.   What do they know about shooting down space chunks?  They were busy studying their algebra while I was gaining useful eye-hand coordination experience playing asteroids.

Yes, I’ve been an aimless teenager that long!

Would you be a reference for me on my job application?  If anyone could testify that I’ve put in all the needed idle hours to be a good space debris field potshot specialist, it would be you!

And to tell the truth, everybody else I know is going to apply for this job, so the only one left to be a reference is you! Honest, I won’t forget it if you put in a good word for me.  Please?!

Your pal,
Bubby

I told Bubby I would be happy to serve as a reference as long as he understands I would be honor bound to tell any prospective employer that he is certainly NOT a good student. But if the job requires this, I can testify that he is most definitely energetic and enthusiastic about using a space cannon.

Have you ever refused someone’s request to serve as a reference?

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“Ursine Spring” Begins

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

H’lo, Bart here.

Got very excited about this video where a family of bears (my people!) confuses a bunch of tourists (your people!) on a bridge at Yellowstone National Park in Montana.

This is a great moment for bears everywhere, because it can mark the beginning of a change in the way people think about us!

Some decided the bears were chasing the people.

Others saw the bears as being frightened and cornered.

But I think these bears are starting a revolution, taking it to the next level in bear-human interactions. They’re stepping it up so we can become more like the animals I really admire – Border Collies!

Yes!

Border Collies rock because they can get those sheep to do just what they want them to do just by running circles around them, which believe it or not, we bears are fast enough to do.

And you can tell from the Yellowstone video that all those people with the cameras are feeling sheepish. They know they’re not where they’re supposed to be.

They WANT to be in the corral.  They DESERVE to be in the corral.

Plus, Border Collies are dignified, lovable, respected, and recognized by everyone as being super-smart. That’s my dream for bears – that we can have that kind of status.

And at least two meals a day, which sheepdogs also get as part of the deal!

Let the revolution begin!

Your trusted, capable friend,
Bart

I think Bart is hallucinating, or the wild berries have both ripened and fermented at the same moment. The Yellowstone bears are frightened and Bart is no sheepdog. But we all can dream!

What animal do you most admire?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I’m an older person who enjoys his simple pleasures. I cherish my freedom to “live large.” I figure I’ve earned my leisure time. No one is the boss of me and every minute of every day is pretty much spoken for. I guard my schedule of planned relaxation quite jealously.

Sitting in front of the TV with a beer a jar of nuts is one thing I really enjoy. I know it’s not particularly healthy, but I view physical exertion the same way some people look at paying taxes – I don’t do it unless forced, and then with plenty of complaining.

I don’t socialize or do things with the extended family, because that’s not really part of my routine. I start the day with light beer, dry roasted peanuts and morning news shows and slowly transition to dark, hearty beers, cashews, and police dramas.

There might be some intermittent napping in there as well.

Still, my relatives pester me about doing things to prolong my life, citing studies like this recent one that claims people could live five years longer if they would just do three hours of “moderate” exercise every week.

I don’t doubt that any of this is true, but do the math – that’s six full, 24-hour days of exercise each year. And let’s assume you get your five year “extension”. You’d have to continue this exhausting habit to stay alive – no coasting. Six times five is thirty. You’d be stuck doing another month of exercise until the grim reaper finally allows you to quit!

In the meantime, think of all the TV that would go un-watched, the peanuts that would be uneaten, and the beer that would remain un-drunk!

Dr. Babooner, why should I change my comfortable and abundant lifestyle just to spend more time (literally) on a treadmill?

Largely,
Bud Planters (not my real name)

I told Bud Planters (not my real name) that his “routine” is actually a steep downward spiral but he’s free to live five years less than he might if that’s his preference. But I couldn’t figure out two things.

  1. How did the mental fog lift long enough for him to do the math on excise and write this letter?
  2. How did he wind up with relatives who care whether he’s around an extra five years or not?

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

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No Post Today

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At least one baboon was alarmed at the apparent absence of a post yesterday, though she relaxed when I pointed out to her that it was located at The Baboondocks.

But it reminded me how we skate so close to the edge here at Trail Baboon.  The daily post (with Sundays off) is such a relied-upon accessory, one must wonder what might happen if the post didn’t materialize.

Like today.

Yes, because yesterday was such a busy day, I decided late last night that I simply wouldn’t be able to post today.  I was exhausted and  I was all too aware that this morning would bring a day-long chore that cannot be postponed.

My apologies, baboons.   Time ran out.

I briefly thought about quickly writing a post about how there was no post, hoping you’d catch the irony of it and my laziness would seem like inspiration.  You’d be mildly amused, and I’d get away with an easy win.

But I quickly realized you’d see right through that gimmick. Besides, I just don’t have it in me.  Lying takes energy!

So please forgive me for falling down on the job this time.  I hate to deliver less than a sub-par performance, but occasionally events conspire to create failures and disappointments.

No post today!

What th?

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Words To The Woods

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a cell phone in the woods.

H’lo, Bart here.

Out of hibernation for sure now, and looking for food. Still a little early, though.  SO HUNGRY waiting for the berries to arrive.

The fishing opener is good, ’cause stuff gets left on shore. Sometimes chips and even burgers and hot dogs and stuff like that!  Drunk fishermen are the best kind.  Bears and fish say so!

But you can’t count on people to leave food out.  In July, yes.  Not so much in May.

That’s why I got excited to see this article about self-publishing and how there’s a lot of great opportunities to make extra $$ as a book editor.

All writers need a smart, caring, sometimes brutal, roaring rage-filled editor.  And I’m a pretty good one!  You wouldn’t expect it – me with the big paws and doing all my writing on a smart phone.  But that means I’m always cutting words.  Most writers generate a ton of blah-blah-blah that needs to be gobbled up!

Yes, I’m a Nounatarian and a Verbivore.

And it’s all done online, so you don’t have to worry about making a face-to-face impression on your clients if you have bad breath or don’t look very professional or you happen to be a wild animal who lives alone in the woods .

Some writers complain that with self-publishing, the freelance market has been flooded by unqualified people claiming to be editors and proofreaders.

Maybe so.  I’m not going to dwell on it, though.   Here’s my deal.  I edit your book, you don’t have to pay me in money.  Just ship a loosely secured bag of groceries to a campground address I’ll send you once I get your manuscript.   That’s all there is to it!

Maybe your book is good.  If so, my job is easy and your big payday still comes.  But if your book is an aimless, pointless mess, it can hardly hurt things to slap a sticker on that cover that says “Edited By A Wild Bear!”

Your pal,
Bart

How are you at proofreading?

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The Peculiar Physics of Pirate Fame

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Today’s post comes from Captain Billy, the skipper of the pirate ship Muskellunge.

Ahoy!

Me an’ me boys is appalled that a famed “marine archaeologist”, named Barry Clifford, says he discovered th’ lost treasure of th’ notorious pirate, Captain Kidd.

Clifford has been lookin’ fer th’ wreck o’ Kidd’s vessel, th’ Adventure Galley, fer 15 years.  An’ now he finally claims he found it  off’n th’ coast o’ Madagascar.

This may be, but what of it?  It ain’t in the realm of imagination that a fella named Barry Clifford could ever make a dent in the legend of a alpha pirate like William Kidd.

No matter which name he uses, whether “Capt. Barry” or “Capt. Clifford”, neither one is intimidatin’ enough t’ strike fear into th’ hearts of his crew an’ his adversaries.

But then up from down below he brings a big bar o’ silver an’ lays it in front o’ th’ Madigascar president sayin’, “this here booty, what used t’ belong t’ Capt. Kidd,  is now  yours.  It belongs t’ th’ Madigascar people.  Meanwhile, I’ll take the fame what comes wi’ finding it.”

But me an’ me boys says  Clifford’s gambit is full o’ holes, on account of he don’t understand th’ peculiar physics of pirate fame.

  1. Pirate fame don’t ever transfer t’ non-pirates.
  2. A halo of pirate fame surrounds any booty stolen by th’ aforementioned pirate.
  3. That halo magnifies the value o’ the booty many times over, an’ also makes it completely useless.

Th’ undeniable fact o’ th’ matter is that th’ treasure will always be known as Capt. Kidd’s Silver , no matter who is holdin’ it.  An as such, it will always be more valuable an’ interestin’ than an identical amount of silver held by, say, Warren Buffet.

An’ also as such, it can’t never be cashed in fer anything else on account of you can’t buy nothin’ wi’ it that’s as valuable as th’ moment when yer able t’ point at it an’ say, “That there’s Capt. Kidd’s treasure.”

Therefore, me an’ me boys respectfully suggests that Barry Clifford hand th’ treasure over t’ some REAL  LIFE modern day pirates – th’ only sorts in the whole wide world what can take proper care an’ withstand th’ pirate fame what has accrued t’ this particular collection of precious metals.

An’ yes, we has some candidates in mind!

Helpfully,
Capt. Billy

When you find something of value, how hard do you look for its rightful owner?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I bet pretty much all my life savings on the three principal names I thought Britain’s Royal couple would give their new daughter. In my defense, it felt like I was really on to something when I entered the office pool with  “Mayweather Tesla Skywalker”.

A lot of people were trying to second-guess William and Catherine on this, analyzing their public statements and debating each other on Facebook to get some kind of a crucial advantage in knowing which way the couple leaned, baby name-wise.

But Wills and Kate are my favorite royals precisely because they’re so normal.  I figure they’re probably thinking about the same things I am most of the time, so I went with my gut, which was totally wrapped up in the big fight on Saturday night between Floyd and Manny.

I knew that everybody else knew that Mayweather was going to win, so why gamble on that when I could go All In on something that had a much higher chance of delivering a mammoth payoff?

Imagine my surprise when they came up with Charlotte Elizabeth Diana – a totally predictable and profoundly uninspiring choice.

For my money, “Princess Mayweather” is very British-sounding and would have become a much-beloved name.   Much more beloved than Princess Floyd, Princess Paquiao, or Princess Manny, which were some of my other choices.

Now all my money’s gone, but if that bet had come in, I’d be richer than everyone.  No exceptions!

Dr. Babooner, why can’t dreams come true?

Sincerely,
Long Shot

I told “Long Shot” there’s a distinct difference between investing in a genuine dream and throwing away your life savings on some crazy idea you pulled out of a dark crevice.

A dream is inspirational, especially if it includes an element of self-betterment and rises out of a desire to improve the world. But guessing that the royals would decide to call their daughter ‘Mayweather Tesla Skywalker” is flat-out crazy.

But it’s better that you were parted from your cash in this picturesque way. At least you got a good story out of it, and you were going to lose that money anyhow. It was simply a matter of time.

But that’s just on opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?