Uncategorized

Take and Give

35 Comments

Today’s post comes from Bart, the Bear Who Found a Smart Phone in the Woods. His words have been translated from the original Ursus Textish.

Bart Blackberry2

H’lo. Bart here.

It’s been a while since I’ve written because I’ve been keeping a low profile. Bear Hunting Season is still underway.

Not that anybody talks about it much. If there was a hunting season for YOU, it’d be all over the news but since it’s only legal to shoot me, all you hear about is the government shutdown.

I don’t care much about whether the government is operating or not unless it means all the bear hunting licenses got revoked, which of course they haven’t been because there are still bullets whizzing past my head. For me, fewer people at work means there are more people in the woods – and that’s not good.

Please get it fixed soon! I have to admit I resent it a little bit that I have to be afraid for my life for six weeks every year. People can be pretty cruel.

So until then I’m kinda on personal lockdown. I’ve turned off all the ringtones on my phone. I can’t even afford to have it vibrate because there are some people out here who shoot first at sounds and ask questions later. If you’ve sent me a text lately I haven’t been able to pick it up – sorry. One more week and I’ll be able to relax a bit.

And I’m kinda fasting. Staying away from food is important during bear hunting season, cause that’s where they expect you to be – near the tasty morsels. And when you’re being hunted, hunger is a weakness!

But after October 13th, I’ll be able to chow down. Then it’s a race to put as much fat on as possible before the weather turns really bad. Lucky for me Halloween comes in there a few weeks later. Do you know how many Milk Duds I can score with this bear costume? Plenty! And I love it that you really don’t have to say anything. Oh, people try to make me say “Trick or Treat,” but I just look at them and let a little drool spill out of the end of my snout and they hand over the candy pretty quick. As I walk away I’ve heard some people say “Man, that kid has bad breath.”

So that’s the thing. You humans take away my freedom and my security, and then you hand over exactly what I need to survive. You sure are funny that way. Kinda contradictory. I’m not complaining but you sure do keep me guessing.

Anyway, let this be a reminder to you. Bear season is almost over. Time to stock up on candy!

Stay calm and aim high,
Your Pal,
Bart

What’s your most profound contradiction?

The Baboon Congress

Pastels and Pixels

89 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Clyde.

I am an addict without a support group.

Clouds. I am addicted to clouds. Not ICloud or Dropbox or Mozy. No, the things up there in real space, not in etherspace. The white, gray, blue, pink, purple, yellow, orange things. The puffy, stringy, tiered, tumbling, feathery things. The spring, fall, summer, winter things. The gay, brooding, ominous, exhilarating, majestic, mysterious things.

I got this addiction when I started pastels. Delightful and fulfilling it is to paint clouds in pastel. You layer on the dust, push it around, coloring your fingertips. If it goes right, which it often does for clouds, in a few minutes you have the top portion of the painting completed. Wise you are to make the sky the major portion of the painting.

Then came, sorry to say, the digital camera. I can shoot and shoot clouds and pick out the best. At least the theory was to pick out the best. Pretty soon I was keeping all the pictures, printing most of them, on the premise that any view of clouds might work in one picture or another. First I had a file called “Clouds.” Then I had files labeling clouds by colors, forms, moods, seasons.

Just when I thought I was getting control of my addiction, we went to Seattle, which is Sin City for the cloud addict.

We went to Seattle Center, site of the Space Needle, beneath which lies the Experience Music Project. I did not see its broken guitar architecture. I saw how it reflects clouds.
We went 5400 feet up to Paradise on Mt. Rainier. After I took 57 pictures of the clouds, I needed heavy detox.

It must be on our genes.

What’s in your genes?

Uncategorized

Role Models

61 Comments

Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden.

Hey, Mr. C.,

The school year at Wendell Wilkie High is off to a great start. I really, really love my Political Science class with Mr. Boozenporn.

US_Capitol

He started out the year being all stern about how the rules were going to be enforced this time and EVERYBODY had to have ALL their work done EVERY day. NO EXCEPTIONS!

Mr. B. said it was necessary because the big test next April will show whether we’re able to learn anything or if we are as dumb as a Target end cap full of Miley Cyrus CDs. “Your futures hang in the balance,” he said. “Will you be a success? Only YOU can decide.”

It was a good speech except I’ve only heard it two thousand times before.

But some kids got kind of stressed over that and a couple of them were actually talking about working hard this semester. That’s how intense it was. But then Alicia Nugent spoke up and said “Mr. Boozenporn, would I be a success if I got elected to Congress?”

Mr. B. assured Alicia that he would consider her a success if she did that.

And then she said “Mr. Boozenporn, what will happen to YOU if we boot that test in April?”

Mr. B. admitted he would be in serious trouble if his whole class booted that test.

Then she said “I’m sure I speak for most of the class when I say, Mr. Boozenporn, that you are not in the best bargaining position to make demands. Rather, we have demands for you since we control the only variable in this equation – namely – our performance on said examination.”

Alicia went on to explain how she could, with the help of just a few of our brainiest classmates, totally ambush the school by choosing to perform poorly on the test. And they could pull it off, too. Because it’s easier to get a question wrong if you know what the right answer is to begin with!

Mr. Boozenporn considered this for a moment, and then lectured for the rest of the hour on integrity and the importance of trying your best to do the right thing and blah, blah, blah, blah and boogety boogety and something about the opportunities we’ll have (or won’t have) in the future.

I didn’t hear too much of it because I was kinda falling in love with Alicia Nugent right then.

But Mr. B went on. Booting a test on purpose, he said, especially that big test in April, would be like the carpenter who recently shot himself in the chest with a nail gun. He seemed pretty sure we wouldn’t do that to ourselves and undermine our chances at success.

But then Alicia said … and this is why I kind of have an enormous crush on her … “But you already said I’d be a success if I got elected to Congress. Are the people in Congress the ones who got good grades, or are they the ones who were willing to wreck everything just to get their way?”

We all jumped out of our chairs and did a standing ovation. It was a totally awesome moment, like in one of those Spunky Teen movies, except one that’s really, really cynical all the way to the end.

Mr. Boozenporn gave her an “A” right there on the Machiavelli unit, and then told her to be quiet.

Still, I really love that class and I’m thinking of asking Alicia go to a movie with me. Should I?

Your (still a) sophomore pal,
Bubby

I told Bubby he should definitely ask Alicia out, but he might not be bright enough to hold her attention for long. Picking a good movie is key, but consider the showtimes and locations carefully. After all, the theaters are likely to be full of furloughed Federal workers.

Seen any good movies lately?

Uncategorized

Game of Chicken

32 Comments

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

Beechly faces down an onrushing boat.
Beechly faces down an onrushing boat.

Greetings Constituents,

I’m delighted to be able to report that we in Congress are busy doing the work you sent us here to do – spirited fighting among ourselves. Obviously we (and you) are in a state of deep disagreement over which of our fears is most compelling.

We’ve heard your musings about the failings of government and by having two parties refuse to budge in a legislative game of chicken, we’ve made them come true! Now only one thing is certain: fear-based, blame-the-enemy, take-no-prisoners legislating is going to lead us to a federal government shutdown this week. That, and we have the most-hyphenated government in the world.

You’re welcome!

Chicken_2

I’d like to apologize to all chickens, by the way. It’s unfortunate that their name is attached to this kind of destructive strategy. I’ve known chickens and worked with chickens and have been served chickens in the past, and my fellow Representatives are no chickens! Chickens can be knuckleheads but I’ve never seen them be quite as stubborn as some Members of Congress. In fact, I’m fairly sure if we sent actual chickens to Washington, we would not be having a Game of Chicken over shutting down the government.

But I know you are wondering what a government shutdown would mean for my office and our relationship. Let me assure you that even when scores of federal workers are furloughed, I will continue to work as hard for you as I always have and will be as accessible to you as ever.

And by that I mean this – leave a message on my machine and someone will get back to you.

I mean it.

Your Faithful Representative,
Loomis Beechly

Have you ever been involved in a game of chicken? Who blinked first?

Songs, Uncategorized

The Ballad of Bo Xilai

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China is beating us in the race to build a high speed rail network – a contest many of us did not know we were in, not to mention losing. But there you have it – Chinese trains go faster on an ever expanding network of rails with robust growth among passengers. Before long they’ll be schlepping more people around their country on steel wheels than we do in ours using the old standbys – rubber tires, wings and airport rage.

But no matter how advanced they become in the bullet train department, one area where China will have a tough time overcoming us is in the realm of grisly railroad legends, particularly folk songs like “The Wreck of the Old 97” and “Casey Jones.” Don’t get me wrong – I believe the Chinese people are capable of any achievement, but they’ll need a sudden surge in faulty equipment and careless operators to catch up to the standard we’ve set for putting the throttle down and saying “to Hell with it all” if it means the train will come in on time.

Train_wreck

We are still the world leaders in Reckless Bravado.

The most recent Chinese character to emerge with that Casey Jones brand of swagger isn’t a railroad man at all, but the convicted, disgraced politician Bo Xilai. Apparently he embezzled, lied, bribed people and tried to cover up the fact that his wife murdered a British businessman. Driving a train into the ditch is apparently the only thing he didn’t do.

Come all you peasants if you wanna chat
about a reckless guy and a bureaucrat
Bo Xilai was that fellas name
And the party hierarchy’s where he played his game.

The Party people told him “You’re the man”.
He had proletariat in the palm of his hand.
He had the charm and skill and a rockin’ wife
with political ambition and a sharpened knife.

Bo Xilai. What an up-and-comer!
Bo Xilai. Indulging every urge.
Bo Xilai. Getting busted is a bummer
It’s a drag to be the loser in a party purge.

What’s your favorite tragic ballad?

Poems, Science

We Are Not Snakes!

38 Comments

Biologists in California have discovered some new legless lizards living in a few very specific areas, most notably at the end of a runway at the airport – LAX. These previously unknown creatures spend most of their lives underground and a very small area, and may have eyelids and ear holes, which are just a few of the tiny details that distinguish them from their more familiar writhing cousins.

Legless_Lizard

We amateurs would call them snakes anyway, because up to this point most of us didn’t know there could be a non-snake with a that distinctly snakey look – all wriggly and appendage-free.

For some reason, the notion of legless lizards at LAX made me consider the trials facing these unfortunate creatures – they spend their lives in the area the size of a small tabletop at the end of a runway that launches countless humans riding mammoth rumble-machines into exciting far-flung journeys.

So bleak – rather like living without money in South Minneapolis.
Envy is a possibility, not that there is an option to wriggle on board. “Legless Lizards on a Plane” is a bad idea for a movie on a number of levels, not the least of which is the amount of dialog it would take to repeatedly explain that they are not snakes.

So I decided they need a limerick.

The no-legged lizards at LAX
watched the planes pass while flat on their backs.
With each flight that occurred
They were profoundly stirred
with each tooth shaken free of its plaques.

Where’s the loudest place you ever lived?

Uncategorized

Big Softies

53 Comments

Today’s post comes from personal counselor and mass communicator B. Marty Barry. He’s an online relationship manager, and a bottomless well of wellness!

Yes, that’s what I do. I work as an unseen online intermediary using only words and emoticons to help people I have never met as they struggle to acknowledge each other’s humanity.

And yes, I see the irony in that job description.

But what I’ve learned is that the world is a very troubled place and it does not provide a happy environment for hard line extremists. And when I say “extremists” I’m talking about those who won’t budge concerning matters of conscience or the time of day or personal morality or the color of the sky or closely held beliefs or their harsh opinions of the habits of others or just about anything, really. They are steadfast in their opposition to everything that is not already a part of their value system.

And if you think you recognize someone in that description, please understand that I am not permitted to reveal identifiable details about any of my clients, no matter where they live in the world.

Soft_cone

And just because I know a thing or two about extremists, that does not prove I am working with a group of Taliban Commanders who have accumulated a little money and plan on opening a string of political activism and ice cream salons called Hard Lines and Soft Serve Cones and Drones. Or that they dream of expanding it to Florida by 2018.

All I’m saying is that radicals and immovable scolds are people too. That’s being proven right now by all the kinder, gentler talk coming from Pope Francis and Iran’s new prime minister.

Which just goes to show you that one of the nicest gifts a person can receive in any line of work is to have had a harsh predecessor. If the person you replaced was widely known as a party pooper, they can help you look instantly better to almost everyone!

And to all you wild eyed fire-breathers out there, keep up the good work and thanks a bunch from the rest of us! You know who you are! And although I (maybe) have never met you, I do care about you very, very, very much.

Are you a toughie, or a softie?

Uncategorized

Ask Dr. Babooner

41 Comments

Dear Dr. Babooner,

dr_babooner_balloons

Recently I made a very public attempt to live out an ambitious dream by suspending myself under a whole bunch of big balloons with the announced intention of riding the wind across the Atlantic Ocean. My reasons for wanting to do this are not very sophisticated. I remember thinking as a child that with enough balloons, a strong piece of string and a tight grasp, a guy could travel just about anywhere.

When I grew up I gave it a try and discovered that with all three of those things a guy COULD travel just about anywhere. And I mean anywhere. Especially if the winds are changeable.

Upon lifting off with all my big balloons and setting a course towards London (I can’t really set a course, of course), I discovered that I was floating towards the North Pole instead. But then I remembered what Diana Nyad said about pursuing your goal single-mindedly and never, ever giving up. When she swam from Havana to Key West in shark-and-jellyfish-infested waters, she proved that a person with enough determination can, through perseverance, write her own story.

So I considered calling Diana Nyad to ask her if she could grab the rope in her teeth, jump in the water, and tow my balloon cluster at least 90 miles closer to England. But I decided that would be cheating.

Eventually I landed and gave up, even though I could probably have survived all my altitude and direction problems. I wanted to accomplish something that would give my life some meaning, only to realize that life is too short to waste a lot of time trying to manufacture meaning for a thing as ephemeral as life, especially if you need a lot of balloons to do it.

I mean, sure it was a dream. But not a dream that HAD to come true. It was just an interesting thing I thought of one night while trying to come up with a way to get out of school the next day because I hadn’t done my homework. I managed to get out of fourth grade anyway so I guess the need for a daring balloon escape isn’t quite so urgent. But I’d been telling people about for years, so I felt like I needed to follow through.

Now I’ll have to explain to my friends and family, who financed me and cheered me on in this wacky notion, why I’m not a big fat loser. Any suggestions?

Lightly,
Flo Tation

I told Flo there is no reason to explain anything to anybody. You tried to fly ACROSS AN OCEAN using A BUNCH OF BALLOONS. Even in your Fourth Grade Fantasies, this ended badly more than half the time (although in those cases you were usually eaten by dragons and sea monsters). Accept the attempt as a learning experience, a life lesson, and a story you’ll always be able to tell. And if it gets you a chance to meet Diana Nyad, I say you’ve come out ahead.

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

Uncategorized

Pill Pupper

69 Comments

Our fourteen year old dog came home from the vet last week with a pharmacy – a collection of pills and ointments to treat a recurring skin condition and a recently acquired limp. As the resident canine pill and injection nurse, I’m the one charged with slipping needles under furry skin and pushing mammoth capsules past slobbery tongues. Lucky me!

Dog_pills

Good thing the dog doesn’t realize I’m clumsy with needles. Sharp objects give me the creeps, and I get a little shaky and short of breath when I’m trying to hold the dog steady to find a proper spot for the injection. If the needle nurse at your doctors office reacted this way you’d switch clinics. I’m sure it won’t be long before I give myself a shot instead. Pill stuffing is something I’m better at – I’m not likely to miss there and my hands and fingers just happen to be a size that is dog-throat friendly. But this can be a messy, drooly business.

Some pills go down easily if I act like the medicine is actually a treat. I’m convinced dogs read faces and body language, and there is an expression I use when I’m about to hand over something tasty and fun. I smile, lift my eyebrows and hold the pill close to my chest like it’s a treasure. Then, with a quick, generous sweep forward I bestow the pill on her as a delicious prize. Small pills are gone in an instant. Large pills, however, come back out almost immediately.

Ptoooie!

Then the game is on. I have to pick the pill up off the floor and quickly re-insert it before she turns and leaves the room. It is crucial to be both speedy and watchful, because there is a serious downside to administering oral medication to the wrong end of the dog. This goes on as many times as is necessary until she swallows, usually with a gulp, and always with a look of dismay and betrayal.

How well do you take your medicine?

Uncategorized

Sunday Driver

103 Comments

Pope Francis, that publicity hog, is getting favorable press again by simply acting like your next door neighbor. You know the neighbor I mean – that smiling, soft-spoken, humble one. The one who commands a worldwide legion of millions and has the ear of God.

This time he’s accepted a 20-year-old donated car and announcing he plans to drive it around the Vatican grounds. This seems to have taken the world by surprise. All the guys who have done the Pope job have had access to a glorious array of wonderful perks. So the position was ripe for some contrary sort to come along and flaunt his common touch. It’s not hard to seem to be a man of the people when the bar has been set so low.

But this one was way too easy. Get appointed to the papacy and people immediately forget that you’ve already lived a long life and have learned to do many ordinary things. Driving a car is not really a big deal. If Francis wants to show some “street cred”, let’s see him change the oil while wearing those white clothes of his. If he can do that and then go celebrate mass without switching to fresh robes, I’ll be impressed.

The article says the Pope’s bodyguards “were amazed” when he took the keys from the car’s former owner, Father Zocca, and “drove off.”

Karambolage!
Karambolage!

But I’ll bet “amazed” is not quite the word. Panicked, yes. Possibly apoplectic. They’re his bodyguards, after all, and the car is a Renault – not known for its crashworthiness.

When Gus turned 16 and started driving, we gave him a birthday gift that still makes me chuckle – a weirdly charming book called Karambolage. It’s the life’s work of a Swiss police officer named Arnold Odermatt whose job it was to take photographs of automobile accident scenes. Every picture tells a story – exactly the kind of story that ran through the Pope protector’s heads when they heard him release the brake and saw the PopeRenault take off.

Ever wreck the car?