You want to read the rest of ‘Restaurant Tour’ so CLICK HERE!

Now! Even more accurate with Amazing Additions!

On the 4th of July in 1776 America declared independence from its oppressive colonial masters. The surviving humans of the North American slave colony of New Jersey discovered, with the help of Ben Franklin and the then time-traveling Theodore Roosevelt, the fatal weakness of our alien masters, the D’Aret Krang.      Ben Franklin’s research had revealed that the D’Aret Krang, a race of beings so genetically pure that they shared a single set of chromosomes, collectively suffered from a genetic propensity for epileptic seizures when exposed to bright, flashing lights. His rudimentary experimentation with electricity had failed to yield reproducible results, so Theodore Roosevelt was summoned from his time crypt once again to assist in finding a weaponizable source for blinky-blinkies.      Unfortunately, Theodore Roosevelt’s time-travel machine had only one seat and this, combined with Thomas Edison’s homophobic fear of sitting on the manly lap of the massive Roosevelt, led the rebels to conclude that Edison could not be a part of the solution this time. Without Edison there was scant technology available to the desperate slaves of the time to take advantage of the newly discovered weakness.      Fortunately Dolly Madison had an extensive collection of aesthetically pleasing incendiary devices gathered during her youthful journeys in the orient as a silk-trading ninja. A deployment of this technology was quickly organized by Paul Revere and El Quakerudo*, one which culminated in the simultaneous detonation of approximately 50 metric tons of saltpeter, gunpowder, and ‘fireworks.’      The D’Aret Krang fell as one to the ground in a jiggly, hooting mass of alien flesh. George Washington and Nathaniel Hawthorn led bands of men in dragging our quivering former-masters into the very space craft that brought us our hateful overlords. They then programmed the ships to dive into the sun and America celebrated as the fleet of invaders burnt itself to cinders in the heliosphere if our favorite star, Sol.      So join us in celebrating our victory, planet Earth! Thanks to our American forefathers (and a time-traveling Teddy) humans have been free to oppress themselves in peace ever since. FREEDOM IS OURS! -peace out. * Quakerudo is a musical group made up of youthful Quakers. As they discover their degenerate suxuality** they are replaced with fresh-faced and prepubescent replacements. There are always more fresh-faced and prepubescent replacements… ** I know what I said.

Jun 8, 2009:     Today was Samantha’s 8th birthday.     She was sent to school wearing a tiara: an opulent plastic tiara with imitation diamonds made of simulated glass* and bearing a box of Hannah Montana cupcakes–something I’m certain delighted the little boys most of all**.     Heather bought Sam some nice printed bed sheets. Instead of wrapping the pillowy and awkwardly shaped sheet-bag, a covert operation was successfully executed to dress her bed in the middle of the night. So during the day Heather surreptitiously laundered the new sheets and secreted them within our bedroom.     At approximately 10pm I scooped her little sleeping form up in my arms along with a tag-along teddy bear, carried her silently down the hall and laid her in our bed. It was a few minutes later that we’d removed the several dozen books from her bed, stripped it, and carefully installed the replacement sheets, pillow case and comforter.     I then gathered the little birthday girl up in my arms, carried her back to bed and laid her down amidst the new bedsheets.     In the morning she spent a few seconds in confusion and a few minutes in delight. Any more time than that would imply an attention span my little girl simply doesn’t have.     In the evening we laid waste to a local Chuck E Cheese per her specific request.     It was here that Riley lived some anxious moments fearing the animatronic rodent and then wasted about a half-hour attempting to get its attention. Samantha ran wild; like a gazelle with opposable thumbs and a slight mean streak.     At night-night time I read her the first two chapters of a new Lauren Child “Clarice Bean” book and thus ended the eight anniversary of my initial parentage.

* The plastic was simulating glass, the simulated glass was imitating diamonds.

** That’s sarcasm folks. The average 7-8 yr old boy would rather eat raw broccoli than admit to interacting with the various tween queen personalities littering today’s media environment.

    Christmastime always drills home the fact that American consumers, myself included, produce more trash unwrapping our crap than we probably do throwing the crap away at the other end of the craptispan.

    We succeeded, primarily, in convincing relatives and friends that our daughters would rather have clothes than toys this year, but even so the wraptermath was dismaying*.

    Piles of nearly unrecyclable and glossy four-color print boxes, tough and deadly pieces of twisted plastic blister-packaging, wee little metal twist-ties, and paper! Paper! PAPER!

    There has to be a better way, man. Like, why not have just one pretty display box per item of crap at the store and then just put the crap–a Microsofe Zune**, for instance–into a burlap sack at the check-out counter? I could re-use the burlap for a thrifty business-suit or several sets of underwear. Or, at least, I could use burlap for underwear easier than I could wear a razer-sharp fragment of the Zune’s plastic blister-packaging after I’ve torn it apart with a pair of depressed, short-lived scissors.

* only glossary hoverers will note the redundancy.
** I do not now, nor will I ever, own an actual Zune***.
*** Unless one is gifted to me, after which I will unashamedly sell it on eBay or something.

60 Degrees on Dec 27? Why the heck not?

    Note the piles of startled ice and snow converting to airborne water vapor in embarrassment.

    Three days ago it was, literally, 1 degree Fahrenheit (-18C).
    Cold enough that no amount of bundling could make a man feel cozy.

    This morning I woke up and it was 60 degrees Fahrenheit (16C).
    Warm enough for me to go outside clothed only in a toddler and a pair of sweatpants.

    Whoever knew that signs of impending doom could be so amusing! Its as if Buddy Hacket had assumed the role of grim reaper in tonight’s production of “Death and Dismemberment in The Age of Enlightenment*”

* Not an actual play but, you know, it should be!

    For those of you outside the USA, Thanksgiving is a holiday many people believe was instituted first by the so-called “Pilgrims,” who are more accurately called the “Pilsners,” a name that has since been solely associated with their egalitarian meal-replacement drink, “pilsner beer.”

    On June 15th in the year 1215, the first batch of Pilsners stepped off their sole remaining ship the Lusitania onto the beach of Plymouth, in a territory the natives of that time called “Zeropercentfinansinga,” which means quite literally “Milk of the Bitch”.

    There they met the Incan delegation of king Imhotep who extended the “Wreath of Solitude,” a halo of vegetation said to produce ennui and irritability–qualities indicative of holiness and/or royalty. Uncertain of the meaning of the gesture, and still quite disconsolate following the loss of the Lusitania’s twin Pilsner ship the HMS Edmond Fitzgerald, the Pilsner leader named Herbert Hoover used part of the wreath as kindling to light the hearth fires of his swiftly erected shanty town and consumed the rest as a sort of salad cooked entirely in the hollowed body cavity of a local game bird, the Turkey.

    And while the long and bloody war this diplomatic faux pas created ultimately ended in the destruction of the Incan empire and the adoption of Puritanicism amongst the pagan Pilsners, that first meal was said to be quite a thing to behold as it worked its laxativatious magic on the exhausted and soon-to-be-evacuated Pilsners.

    So from that day forth the god-fearing people of North America have celebrated Thanksgiving and today is the day.

    Also, if you noticed my website was down last night, gee, thanks for calling me and telling me about it. Jerks. If you didn’t notice, well, you need to come around more often. Lastly, Arth! We need an article about the resurgence of the Dummies series! This time….with PROPS!

Now! Even more accurate with Amazing Additions!

On the 4th of July in 1776 America declared independence from our oppressive colonial masters. The surviving humans of the North American slave colony of New Jersey discovered, with the help of Ben Franklin and the then time-traveling Theodore Roosevelt, the fatal weakness of our alien masters, the D’Aret Krang.

Ben Franklin research indicated that the D’Aret Krang, a race of beings so genetically pure that they shared a single set of chromosomes, collectively suffered from a genetic propensity for epileptic seizures when exposed to bright, flashing lights. His rudimentary experimentations with electricity had failed to yield reproducable results, so Theodore Roosevelt was summoned once again to assist in finding a source for blinky-blinkies.

Unfortunately, Theodore Roosevelt’s time-travel machine had only one seat and this, combined with Thomas Edison’s homophobic fear of sitting on the manly lap of the massive Roosevelt, led the rebels to conclude that Edison’s would not be a part of the solution this time. Without Edison there was scant technology available to the desperate slaves of the time to take advantage of the newly discovered weakness.

Fortunately Dolly Madison, through her youthful journeys in the orient as a Ronin, Ninja and silk-trader, had an extensive collection of aesthetically pleasing incendiary devices. A deployment of this technology was quickly organized by Paul Revere and El Quakerudo* which culminated in the simultaneous detonation of approximately 50 metric tons of saltpeter, gunpowder, and ‘fireworks.’

The D’Aret Krang fell as one to the ground in a jiggly, hooting mass of alien flesh. George Washington and Nathaniel Hawthorn led bands of men in dragging our quivering former-masters into the very space craft that brought us the hateful overlords. They then programmed the ships to dive into the sun and America celebrated as the fleet of invaders burnt itself to cinders in the heliosphere if our favorite star, Sol.

So join us in celebrating our victory, planet Earth! Thanks to our American forefathers (and a time-traveling Teddy) humans have been free to oppress themselves in peace ever since.

FREEDOM IS OURS! -peace out.

* Quakerudo is a musical group made up of youthful Quakers. As they discover their degenerate suxuality** they are replaced with fresh-faced and prepubescent replacements. There are always more…

** I know what I said.

    Today was supposed to be a day off for me, but I was on call and spent a large portion of the day working on various emergencies.

    At one point I found myself on the phone with a Jewish accountant who was, of course, working today as well. We got to talking about the fact that it was a holiday (and that he would therefore be charged 1.5X normal rate for my assistance) and I idly speculated that Good Friday must be a strange holiday for him because while it has plenty of Christian iconography there is no marketing involved.

    The fellow, who I’ve known for many years, found the joke somewhat amusing, but I sensed that his chuckle was a little labored. He probably felt guilty for killing Jesus or something.

    I then proceeded to tell him I can’t understand how I’ve been given the day off but there’s no corresponding pile of crap in my way at the drug store.

    There are no “Good Friday” candies or stuffed animals. Not even a chocolate crucifix.

Which gave me an idea which I later broached in a conversation with my good friend, DaveCat..

    The idea? A chocolate crucifix with tiny Spam Jesus hanging from it!
It could even come with a little toothpick to stab into the side of tiny Spam Jesus after you’ve had him in your house for a few hours. Cherry liquor would then ooze out.

    And, late at night, as Good Friday draws to a close, your family could stand around, each of you with your own little spam Jesus, and eat them.

    All together, you cry, “Father! Why hast thou forsaken me!”
    *Chomp!*

    ’Course, I don’t think I’d actually be able to eat spam and chocolate in the same bite without vomiting, and Jesus probably wouldn’t want that.     Especially since the spam-Jesus-on-a-chocolate-crucifix probably qualifies as Eucharist. So I guess this wasn’t as good an idea as I thought. Its just bad mojo to vomit spam Jesus.