Panic

{Author's Note: This is a repost from several years back, but I thought you might want to read about the fire I was caught in years ago.}

Sleepy Dude One, "You want some bacon?"
Sleepy Dude Two, "Yeah. Bacon. Lots of bacon."


When you are on the road for long periods of time, one of the only good things you have to look forward to is the peace and safety of the place where you sleep. While I was traveling, I had contacts through the museums and I could find a nicer place that normally wouldn’t rent for a short term. For those four months, I had a small, comfy nook to hide.

In Omaha, things were different. The museum I was working with decided to save money by putting me up in an apartment building just down the street. If you are familiar with museums, you might know that they are usually built in the shittiest part of town so that:
a. it’s cheaper rent
b. it’s a cornerstone for other business to build near to revitalize the community

This eleven story monstrosity was the second cousin once removed of the projects. Vagrants were always loitering about the front. Trash everywhere. The fire alarms were always falsely sounding. The walls were paper thin. (I didn’t have any sex, but I listened to the neighbor lady get her socks knocked off.) It smelled like other people's food. The elevators worked as long as you wanted to go down. The only difference from the projects was that the front doors locked. At any time when you unlocked the front doors, some dude would be there, mumbling to you about losing his keys and needing to get inside. You would have to pull the door shut to keep them out. There was a pile of fingers in the foyer where they hadn’t quite pulled their hands out in time. When they did sneak in, they would make a bee-line to the basement and the warmth of the laundry room. At least the bums were Downy Fresh.


I lived on the very top floor of the shit hole.

On December 31st, I woke up to the sound of the fire alarm. It wasn’t the first time. My clock showed 6:00am. At first I was pissed, but then I remembered that I was going to drive down to Joplin, MO after work to party with my buddy Don, who was a reporter at a Joplin television station. I thought I might score some weathergirl action. As I laid there thinking about how I could get out of work early that day, the fire trucks pulled up.

Now, don’t panic. The fire trucks always pull up when the alarm is pulled. Some law, I’m sure, that says no matter what, when an apartment alarm goes off, the trucks have to check it out. They always drive up on my side of the building. A dude jumps off the back and walks into the building. Five of the other guys loiter around the truck until the first guy comes back out and they head back to the fire station. Clockwork.

So, the fire trucks pull up. Everyone jumps out. Dude runs in the building. The loitering guys start to pull hoses off the truck. Ha. Funny. They hook the hoses up to a series of hydrants and start to unwind other hoses from the truck and run them into the building. I started to do the math in my head. I also started to smell smoke.

Panic.

I opened my window and was hit with cold air and again, the smell of smoke. A bit stronger now. I could see other people sticking their heads out their windows. They seemed to be doing the math as well. I decided that I should get the fuck out of the building.

I put on some pants. A shirt. A jacket. I also grabbed a book and my car keys. Shoes on and I was out the door. The fire stairs were to the immediate right of my door and I thought I’d walk down the eleven flights of stairs and hang out in my car. I looked down towards the elevators and saw the most horrific, beautiful sight. Dark smoke was squeezing out of the elevator shaft and coating the ceiling. It rolled over itself like an upside down wave hitting the beach and chased on the ceiling down the hallway. It was building upon itself and thickening, filling the hallway with haze. I began to tell myself not to panic. The fire escape stairwell would be safe. I mean, it had a big red door. That’s safety if I ever saw it.

I pushed through the door. The fire escape was filling with smoke from below. Oh fuck! I went down to the tenth floor and the smoke thickened (duh.) I yelled down, “Is it safe to come down! Where is the fire!” No one answered. I covered my mouth with my shirt and went down to the ninth floor. As I went down one more floor, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I was coughing and couldn’t breathe. My eyes welled with tears. I turned around and ran back up the stairs. I was in pure panic mode. I was unable to process the current situation. I was breathing hard from running, but it was really the start of hyperventilation. I reached my floor and fumbled for my keys.

Luckily for me, the chick next door burst out of her apartment and was somehow panicking a lot more than me. She had her kid’s head under her arm and was squeezing the crap out of her. I got to see a dude run out of her apartment and check out the fire stairs filled with smoke and then run down the hallway to the other stairs. In that moment of clarity, I realized that was the dude she was banging all the time.

Whether it was seeing the woman panicking more than me and needing help or thinking about that dude banging her, my head cleared and it all became very, very simple…

I gave her an update: The stairs are blocked. You cannot use the elevators. Go back in your apartment. Stick wet towels under the door. Wait for the firemen to rescue you. Be ready to go. Put on socks (yes, I know) and shoes and your jackets.

Dude came back and said the other stairwells were filled with smoke. I repeated what I said to the woman and he went inside.

I went inside my apartment and did exactly that.

At the windows, everyone from the 5th floor and up was yelling back and forth. Someone was on the phone with 911 and they were sharing information by shouting what they learned from the 911 operator. The fire was on the 4th floor. It was being contained. The firemen would come and get us. Stay where you are.

With nothing better to do, I called my co-workers from the museum and friends at home to tell them I was in a fire. No one is very excited to listen to your fire stories at 6:30am.

There was a knock (er pounding) at the door. A full wall of smoke roiled in as I opened the door. An actual fireman in a mask was standing there with an axe. He said (in that muffled mask voice) to take the stairs. He placed a gloved hand on my shoulder turned me towards the red door. That hand left a soot mark on the shoulder of my jacket that never came out.

The stairs were clear of smoke and I went down eleven flights and into the fresh, smoke filled morning air. They had giant fans in the stairwell to evacuate the smoke.

As it turns out, two drunk dudes with eyebrows made breakfast before passing out. They neglected to stay awake long enough to eat the food or turn off the stove. The fuckers did wake up in time to throw water on a grease fire and it spread though the kitchen. The two, now eyebrowless, dudes ran out of the apartment and didn’t shut the door. The fire took out the apartment and spread to the hallway. The fire doors at the ends of the hallways didn’t seal and smoke filled the emergency stairs in minutes.

The only losses were the apartment, the hallway and two pairs of eyebrows. My invincibility was also a casualty. If I am anywhere and an alarm goes off, I leave. I was humbled by my ineffectiveness. I know I came around in the end, but for those fifteen seconds of running up the stairs, I was completely worthless.

I used the fire as an excuse to leave work early to drive to the party in Joplin. Luckily I did leave early as bad weather rolled in and it took me an additional two hours to get there. On 29S on the way out of Omaha, a truck jackknifed right in front of me, blocking the entire road. Jumping out to see if he was alright, the swearing driver said he was fine and I got back in my car and drove through the snow filled median and around his cab. No other car followed me and I was alone for a long stretch.

I made it to the party with four minutes before the ball dropped. I did not get to bang the weathergirl.

Group hands out cell phones to homeless crazy people so they do not look silly when they talk to themselves

COLUMBUS OH (HJ) – How many times have you seen a homeless person on the street talking to themselves and thought, “That person is crazy!” The founders of the non-profit group EMIT or Equality for the Mentally Inept Transients want to rid the homeless of that stigma.

Bruce Shaw, founder of EMIT, purchases new or collects used cell phones for the homeless in Columbus so that they will not seem so out of place. Bruce explains, “When you see someone talking on a cell phone you assume that they are conducting business or chatting with a friend. If you see someone talking with no cell phone, you think they are insane. By giving the homeless cellphones, we not only give them an outlet for the voices in their head, we give them dignity.”

EMIT volunteers began collecting cellphones in late last year. The phones are cleaned, charged, loaded with 200 minutes and handed out at shelters and underpasses. Janice Truly, an EMIT volunteer, has handed out over 35 cellphones just this month. “The look on the face of the crazy person is priceless. You’ve got to show them how to use the phone. It’s helpful if there are numbers all ready stored in the memory.”

When asked about the homeless calling random people, Mr. Shaw laughed, “At first we erased the memory of the phone and only added the numbers of the other homeless. When none of the homeless could get a word in edgewise with each other, we just decided to leave the numbers on the used phones or program in local radio talk show phone numbers.”

When asked about how they hand out the phones, Mr. Shaw shared, “We’ve actually tried giving cell phones to some people talking to themselves only to realize the “crazy person” was wearing a Bluetooth ear piece.”

EMIT will re-charge and supply more minutes for any phone for free, but so far they have not had to. “Once the phones go dead, they just keep talking into them. They still seem happy.”

The Chop-Pick

I assume that your office is somewhat similar to mine at lunch time: if you need some accoutrement, like a packet of mustard or a spoon, you can never find what you need, but there are 7,000 other things like knives or packets of Taco Bell sauce.

In my office, it's forks. We have spoons and straws and mustard and toothpicks and small paper plates and soy sauce... but no forks. I tried using straws as chop sticks, but they are weak and slippery. I would sometimes use a toothpick to stab my lunch, but that doesn't work for noodles and I get food all over my fingers.

So the other day, I developed the Chop-Pick. Here's what you'll need:

Two straws and a toothpick with a square center


Squeeze down one end of the straw


Insert the squished end of the straw into the second straw and tamp it down until it is completley in the second straw


Poke the toothpick into the straw at a slight angle... I'm guessing this is about 15 degrees off plumb.


Shove it through 33% of the length


It's great for picking up both small and large chunks of food. The double straw gives amazing strength to the handle.



I assume it is good with noodles as you can twirl the straw and wrap them around the two tines.

And after you are done, it's great for picking the food out of those hard to reach places in your mouth!

A vote - if you feel like it

A friend at work.... blah blah blah.

If you have a minute, drop a vote. Thanks!

HERE’S THE FAVOR – Please vote for Nick and Leigh.

Go to: Today Throws a Wedding: Race to the Altar http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/30370935

Select Couple No. 4: Leigh and Nick

Click on Cast Your Vote

A box pops up to say you can only vote once – are you sure Yes or No

Click Yes and that’s it, you’ve voted.

Dating Tips for Girls and Boys

Dating is confusing. Here are a few tips to help you out with knowing if someone wants to date you or not:

TIPS FOR GIRLS
Signs that a boy does not want to date you:

1. He ignores you
2. He pushes you at school
3. He calls you and hangs up
4. He dates your best friend
5. He tells all his buddies that he hates you

Signs that a boy wants to date you:

1. He ignores you.
2. He pushes you at school
3. He calls you and hangs up
4. He dates your best friend
5. He tells all his buddies that he hates you.

TIPS FOR BOYS
Signs that a girl does not want to date you:

1. She says that you are a great friend
2. She immediately introduces you to her friend
3. She says things like, “That’s sweet” and “You must have a lot of girlfriends.”
4. She asks if she can bring her boyfriend along
5. She pepper sprays you

Signs that a girl wants to date you:

1. She crinkles her nose at you
2. She sticks her tongue out at you
3. She says, “I don’t ever want to get married.”
4. She runs away and waits for you to chase her
5. She starts her sentences out with, “Well, aren’t you going to…”

Wednesday at E3 (plus a little of Thursday thrown in for good measure)

I’m a bit late on this, but I had to get the photos together… you’ll see.

At 10:00am on Wednesday, I caught the shuttle to the E3 conference. There were a lot of folks from the Kawada Hotel going to the show. It was interesting to eavesdrop on people discussing their previous day’s dealings with Sony and Nintendo and debate on whether the show was better/worster/lamer/unawesomer that last years show. I was an E3 virgin, so to me the show was fantastic. I can see how the show could get old over time, but it’s not yet!

Right as we got to the Los Angeles Convention center, we noticed a group of 10 or so folks protesting the show.



Here's a sampling of their signs:
Turn Your PlayStation into a PrayStation
I’ll get my high score in heaven

(author’s note: what we didn’t know at the time was that this was a clever marketing ploy by a game manufacturer. It kinda worked because there was some buzz about it, but I’m not mentioning their name here because I’m a dick.)

My original E3 plan was to scout out the whole show on day one and dig in on day two. I got most of the conversations I wanted to have completed on the first day, leaving me all of day two to play. That was until I realized that I missed the entire West Hall, known to some as the other 50% of the show, and my plan was squashed. The West Hall had Nintendo and Sony. I did a quick walk through of the West hall over the next two hours and then decided to get some play time in. I bee-bopped from area to area, observing some games and playing others. I played Wii games with a bunch of strangers and we all had a lot of fun. This is also where I met Nintendo employee, "Cherry" (made up name). An extremely hot red head with cherries tattooed on her wrist... yowza! She played the new co-operative Mario game with us. I, newly official creepy guy, snapped this photo of her.


The rest of the day was a blur. I stuck around until 5:30pm playing games and checking out the taping of Attack of the Show. I got my photo taken next to the G4 stage in the photo area:


Later that evening, I drove up to Sunset Blvd and had dinner with Lacey at the Bowery. When I asked Lacey for directions, she suggested I park at the ArcLight Cinema so that I could get my ticket validated.

Here are Lacey and I after dinner:


As we walked to the side entrance of the ArcLight, Lacey mentioned that she had seen Drew Barrymore and Justin Long there before and that they were shorter than she expected. Our timing was perfect as a movie was letting out as we were walking in so we would blend in with the crowd and no one would be the wiser. As we stood in line to get the ticket validated, I noticed that Drew Barrymore and Justin Long were standing in front of us. Lacey was chatting away and I kept giving her the wide open eyes and pointy finger. She said what, “What?” and then “Oh!” The validation dude was taking way too long and Drew and Justin skipped out. It pays to be famous. By the way, every actor in Hollywood is about 5’ 7” tall. I was a giant and some worshiped my large head as a stone idol.

Lacey and I parted ways and I went back to the hotel. I had a 9:35am flight and for about ten seconds, I pondered getting up early and taking the 6:35am flight. I quit pondering and fell asleep around 11:00pm.

I shot out of bed. Something was wrong with the TV and it was creating extremely loud feedback. I searched for the remote. Then I realized it was not the TV, but the fire alarm. It was louder than fuck. I was right on the street and could see out the window. Nothing; no fire or smoke. I got on my pants and shirt from that night and slipped on my shoes without socks. In the hallway, people were pissed. Some people were just getting back from a full night of drinking and were laughing. I’ve been in a high rise fire before and didn’t stick around. I went down the hall looking for the stairwell. The only stairwell I had seen was the emergency metal stairs on the front of the hotel.

I didn’t think they could be the only stairs, but as I headed down the hall, I asked the people I saw where were the stairs and the people getting on the elevator (yes, getting on the elevator) said they could not find them. All the emergency doors had magnetic locks on them and they all shut automatically when the alarm sounded. The whole place was a maze of closed doors and I decided to bail out the front stairs. As I stood at the top of the stairs, the first four of eight fire trucks showed up:



We stood at the top of the stairs as the firemen scampered off the trucks and into the building. I yelled down to ask if it was safe. Someone yelled up, “They want you to come down.”

So we did. Three flights of metal stairs down to a counter weighted ladder that dropped down. The people below us wouldn’t get out of the way until the ladder started coming down and then they found other places to be. When I climbed down, the ladder was all over the place, so at the bottom, I held it for the people climbing down. That’s when this photo was taken by @traceyjohn


A few moments later, they let us back in. I went up to my room via the elevator and went around, opening the doors back into their magnetically open positions, thus releasing several stuck guests who could figure out how to open the doors. I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was up until 6:00am when I took a shower and finished packing. I spent the next 12 hours trying to get home after my 9:35am was delayed and I missed connecting flights.

All in all it was a very fun and positive trip. I got to talk to some interesting programmers and designers and I got E3 out of my system. I hope to go again someday for completely different reasons.

HolyJuan - Atheist Blogger?

I recently I found out that I was an Atheist. Well, my site is. I personally don't believe in my site, but I do believe that an actual blog exists, so I'm Agblogstic.

I'm currently rated as the 34th most popular Atheist site on the web.

http://atheistblogger.com/rankings/

There's only one instance of my using "atheist" on my site (at least before I created this post) with this cartoon: Jesus in Therapy.

I assume the friendly Jesus posts are a dead giveaway...

Greg and Dad - The Wish

Airline requiring passengers to use bathroom before flight to reduce plane weight

CHICAGO (HJ) - American Airlines announced a cost savings measure today that has passengers up in arms and they are literally not taking it sitting down. Airlines have been cutting fuel costs by reducing weight on planes through baggage restrictions and cutting back on provided amenities such as food and blankets. Courts have struck down attempts to charge passengers by the pound so a different route was required.

In a drastic effort to cut down on plane weight, American Airlines is requiring that all passengers use the bathroom before boarding the plane. Special porta-potties are being brought into Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport for a trial run of the elimination requirement.

Passengers are instructed on how to use the porta potty measuring device.

Passengers were not at all pleased with the new requirement. “I’m not ten years old,” remarked an anonymous passenger. Steven Bosch, 32, of Evansville, IN stated, “I just used the facilities before I went through security. Now I have to try to go again?”

American Airlines spokeswoman, Jeannette Spencer, attempted to quell much of the concerned public. “This is in the best interest for all our customers. Not only does it reduce fuel usage and lower costs, but it also reduces the lines for the bathroom on the plane at the gate and once it is in the air. We estimate that each year, 10,374 hours are wasted at the gate while our customers use the on-plane lavatory causing takeoff delays. This will ensure that everyone has already gone before the flight departs.”

Passengers must use the facilities at least twenty minutes prior to leaving and will not be allowed to board unless they have “tried to go” at least twice. Receipts are provided at the facilities for proof of deposit.

As a bonus, passengers who eliminate more than two pounds of waste will receive a refund for every additional six ounces deposited. Mark Crawler of Byhalia, Mississippi has taken full advantage of the situation, “I ate like a champ last night and made sure I had bran flakes and a bunch of coffee this morning and wah-la, $25 in poop-ons”.

Ms. Spencer commented, “We don’t officially call them poop-ons, but rather certificates of deposit.”

The test program will continue though the end of this year.

Stop Light Bird

One Minute

With the eternally painful benefits of hind site, I should have taken the 6:30am flight. I did not and here I am and there I am not. The 9:35am flight from LA was hiccup delayed: 10:05... 10:35… 11:05… Around 10:15am, I ran off to a counter and did stand by on another flight leaving at 10:45am. I was 9th in standby and they only took 2. Fortunately, 11:05am was the latest my flight was delayed. As everyone else stood 20 deep in line at the delayed flight counter, I went a counter a few gates down where there was no line. I’m not sure everyone knows the secret that you can make any transaction at any counter. You don’t have to stand in line at your gate. Go to another gate. They all access the same system. At my empty counter, I had the guy change my connecting flight in Chicago to a 5:45pm flight. When it was all said and done, our delayed flight would be landing in Chicago around 5:15pm and I would have just enough time to get to my flight.

The crew was very helpful in expediting the coordination of all connecting flight information and I was told what gate my flight was leaving from. When we landed at 5:20pm in Chicago, the flight attendants somehow convinced the Chicago people to all stay seated while the rest of us connecting flight turds ran off the plane.

I ran to my gate… and it was the wrong gate. Well, at least they gave me incorrect information. I ran back to a set of screens and got my gate. I ran to my gate which wasn't too far off. It was 5:31. Orange vest wearing gate lady told that the flight was full. I said I had a ticket with a seat number. She said they close the door at 15 minutes and do not let anyone else on. I said they should have known I was coming. She said they don’t get that information. Skirt wearing lady stepped in and said she would take care of me. She issued a stand-by ticket for a 6:45pm flight and a real ticket for an 8:30pm flight which was realistically the first open flight.

So I went to the 6:45pm gate and hoped that some other turd on some other late flight would be one minute late and stuck at the closed door while I got his seat. I was first in line on the stand-by list. Time passed I was second on the stand-by list. Then I jumped to fourth. Stand-by is a very fluid list that changes depending on your Club Membership level and if you are wearing pilot’s clothing. I am not a member and don’t have a hat with wings, so I dropped down the list.

Only one person got on standby and he was wearing wings.

There was a 7:35pm flight on another concourse, and all 15 people on standby were rolled over on to that list. 14 people ran off to the H concourse. I saddled up to the bar and ordered an $8 beer and wing chunks.

After I ate dinner, I then bought a bag of Swedish Fish and a pop and here I am at the 8:30pm gate. I’m waiting for the 14 people to come running to this gate hoping that 14 other people are one minute late.

{Author's note: I am at home now. It's good to be home.}

Xe (formerly Blackwater) Contracted to Evict People in Foreclosed Homes

CHICAGO (HJ) – Sources have just confirmed that mortgage loan companies are contracting with Xe (formerly Blackwater Worldwide) to assist in the eviction of people still living in foreclosed homes. Though Xe has not yet confirmed this, we have several reports of Xe contractors stealthily lurking through Chicago in full military fatigues with camouflaged furniture dollies and armored moving vans.

Xe, better known for contracting with the US State Department for “protection” work in Iraq, is moving forward with the company's newest initiative, Operation Deadbeat. Just recently, it has been confirmed that model homes are being constructed at Xe training sites for what is presumed to be tactical planning purposes.

Joan Readford of Easthampton was removed from her home this morning. “The men ran up to my door in formation. After handing me a series of colorful eviction brochures, they staged an attack of the first floor, packaging up my breakables and putting my appliances in a separate interrogation area. The house was packed up in about thirty minutes. Those assholes were very efficient and swept the floor right before they jumped into the armored moving van.”

Just last year, Cook County sheriff Dart had refused to evict renters whose landlords have quit paying the mortgage. He was quoted as saying that eviction can be part of his job but, “What isn't part of our job, however, is to carry out work on behalf of the multi-billion-dollar banks and mortgage industries.” It seems that the multi-billion-dollar banks and mortgage industries can’t wait for Sheriff Dart’s morals to be changed so they have taken the evictions into their own hands.









Sherriff Dart and the families he is protecting.
An unnamed Xe source has shared with us that he and several other Xe employees have undergone intensive moving training. “Many people think our only job is to kill and torture. This isn’t so. We undergo weeks of training in the art of wrapping valuables and box labeling. Just last week, we blew up a townhouse, moved it to a ¾ acre lot with a view of the lake and pieced it back together. That's customer service.”

E3: Tuesday Revisited

(Please note: all times are completely made up)

5:30am - alarm
5:37am - while I'm in the shower, I hear the alarm. I hit snooze instead of off.
7:30am - Gate B30A is not in concourse A
(Switching to West Coast Time)
11:45am LAX airport, saw someone who wishes they were famous
1:15pm At the hotel. Just like the reviews said, there is a cooking food smell. Otherwise, very nice staff.
1:16pm What the hell is up with this freaking CAT5 cable that is 24" long?
1:17pm What the hell is up with the 200 baud modem?
1:18pm Leave to catch shuttle to E3
2:00pm Get badge and walk in
2:10pm Re-finance home- 9.25% ARM to buy sandwich and drink
2:20pm I. Am. In. Heaven.

The next four hours are a blur. Games. New releases, G4 television show being taped. Chats with developers. Chats with smaller vendors. People are keen on our projects. More later when I upload photos.

6:00pm Back to the hotel.
6:04pm More internet anger. Very, very slow connection.
7:00pm Finally download directions to restaurant.
7:30pm Meet Dustin at restaurant.
7:35pm Margarita in hand. All is good.
12:01am Back at hotel.

Had some very good conversations with Dustin. He's living the life.

I was trouble shooting the gadget that the internet comes in on and figured out that by disconnecting the phone from the device, my internet is just fine, which is why you are able to read this now.

Off to E309

I leave tomorrow for E3. I have not traveled in two years and I have not been to LA since Allen and I recorded the XO GameShow back in 2002. E3 is supposed to be taking it up a notch from last year's disappointing show.

I'll try to write as much as possible and give you an idea of what I'm up to. Though I am going as part of work, I'm hoping I can namedrop and mention that I know HolyJuan. We'll see if that gets me anywhere.

If you know me and you'll be at the show, drop me a line and we can meet up. Know the secret HolyJuan pass phrase:

I cheat.
I lie.
I steal.
I malign.

You don't know me.
You don't need me.
You can't have me.
You see through me.

We should talk.
We should meet.
We would laugh.
Then I'd leave.

The Real Story of Jesus

Everyone should know that the story you have probably heard of Jesus is really not that correct. Here is the actual story:

Back in 0 when Jesus was born, his parents received some stolen merchandise from three gang members (The Kings of Asia) who asked them to hold on to the stuff and hide it until the tax season was over. Mary pawned the Myrrh, Joseph and some other sheep herders smoked the frankincense and they made haste with the gold.

On the road, Mary and Joseph set up a traveling circus with a side show to try to make money to pay off the Kings of Asia. They put Joseph in a dress as the bearded lady, Mary guessed age/weight while tending to the trained animals (seven seals), and they set their kid Jesus up to do slight of hand and sell the cure-alls.

As he grew up, Jesus got sick of the circus and started his own gang. He’d do anything to get members, even talking to the stinky people and the ones with gross diseases. Free sushi sandwiches brought thousands to his recruitment seminars and Jesus’ buy one jug of wine get twelve free offer was well known throughout the region. More people might have joined the gang, but Jesus only liked certain types of men with which to hang out.

Jesus was a pretty nice guy, but he always seemed focused on his dad's bi-polar disorder. Every story he told would start out fine, but he'd always end up back with his father issues and that someday he'd stand up and tell him how he really felt.

In the end, as the Kings of Asia were closing in, Jesus was visited by Time Travelers from the future who promised to provided him a cryogenic suspension device and convinced him that if he deposited his 30 silver coins in the bank today and waited to pop out in a few thousand years, he would not only have unlimited fortune, but fame as well.

Jesus agreed, paid the money, had a huge dinner to celebrate and then was immediately turned over, by the Time Travelers, to the Romans. Jesus was hung on a cross until dead and tossed in the side of a cliff. The Time Travelers got the guards drunk, stole the body of Jesus and left behind a life sized painting of Jesus that looked almost exactly like him except that he was painted Caucasian.

The Time Travelers slipped the rest of Jesus’ gang a shitload of LSD on unleaven bread and told them that they better not pout and better not cry or Jesus would come back and make with the pestilence. After sprinkling the country side with hundreds of chalices and Spears of Destiny, the Time Travelers disappeared into the sky.

The End

Double Handicapped Failure

A favored local Mexican restaurant has two handicapped parking spots. Both spots are clearly marked with, well, handicapped handicapped symbols.

This poor guy had his non-working legs cut right off.


This guy can stand, but it looks like his huge bent penis is counterweighted by a hook stuck in his back.


FYI

Worst Slide Ever

We went to the park this past weekend and found a newly installed play area. As we walked up, I saw the greatest slide in the world. It was snake-like with several huge curves in it.


My increasingly large butt was too big for it, but both Greg and Ann would shoot down that sucker and hopefully make it to the bottom without incurring the negative setbacks from whiplash.

I sent them to the top to slide down. I put my camera on the highest intensity video setting to capture the high speed decline. I only hope the frame rate was fast enough to capture the moment without blurring their glee filled faces.



Wow. That is the worst slide ever. I'm not sure if they designed it to be a slide or a ladder, but they failed at both. Huge disappointment.

On a positive note, they had two very awesome, carved climbing rocks.


Some of the bitterness went away because of the fun we had on those.

Some.

Jesus' Bathroom Mirror

Twins

Sometimes you plan the day ahead what you two should wear.

Sometimes, you call each other that morning and coordinate clothes.

And sometimes you just roll over and say, "Keegan, let's have a twins day."

General Motors CEO announces "Financial problems fixed with one phone call to number on telephone pole sign"

DETROIT, Mi (HJ)- In a surprising turn of events, General Motors Corp. CEO Fritz Henderson announced today that GM would be avoiding bankruptcy and possibly even be retuning the $15.4 billion in federal loans it received. Mark LaNeve, GM vice president of sales, service and marketing, said in a statement, “By golly, it’s a frickin’ miracle.”

While Wall Street’s reaction has been one of shock and surprise, Mr. Henderson said all it took was a simple call. “I was being driven home at 2:00pm after a long day at the office. I had Westerly take the long way home and in doing so, we passed a telephone pole with a sign stating ‘Fix Your Credit’. I decided to give it a go.” Within a few moments and presses of the keypad, Mr. Henderson was connected with a helpful sales associate named Ramón Greschchi. “In just a few minutes, we were able to restructure GM’s loans and spread the debt out over 3,134,554 credit cards with a 23.9% interest rate."

While many stockholders are wary of the deal, Mr. Henderson was ecstatic about the future of the company and the details of the restructuring, "I’m also getting a free name brand computer with monitor and printer!”


Photo via http://www.flickr.com/photos/thetruthabout/

Google Voice Transcription Service Experiment: What I Learned

A few months ago, I signed up for a free Grand Central phone number. A wonderful service where a user could receive phone calls on their personal phone without giving out their private number and manage them in various ways that would be useful for selling items on Craig’s List or for internet guys, like myself, to pull pranks and scam Nigerians. Recently, Grand Central was purchased by Google, renamed Google Voice and several features were added. One of those features was message transcription where Google would turn your caller's voice into text.

Yesterday, I put my Google Voice phone number (614-429-4365 or 614-GAY-IDOL) on reddit.com and asked people to call my number and leave a message. I said I would copy and paste what Google Voice transcribed and then I would type in what I heard below the transcription so that we could all compare the two. I did not expect the flood of voice mails nor the varied, creative messages.

Here’s what I learned:

1. Google Voice does not like compressed audio or you yelling about your privates
If Google does not like what you said due to background noise or screaming or a bad connection, it will state, “Transcript not available.” Before I started receiving a call every minute, I would listen to the “Transcript not available” messages to see why they would not come through. Sometimes it was because some dude would scream, “PENIS PENIS PENIS!” A few times it would be because someone was holding up their phone to the television so that I could hear a line from Monty Python or Family Guy. Most the time it was because their phone sounded compressed, like they were using Skype or an internet phone. I could hear them fine, but if they sounded like they were calling from the bottom of a fish tank and Google didn’t like it.

2. Google likes you to say “hi” and “bye.”
The Google people are pretty smart because they assume that most phone calls start with a “hello” and end with a “bye”. Whatever logarithm or logic chart they use, it makes some very broad assumptions. I assume it would work with a lot of phone calls, but not when you are dealing with people dropping “The Prince of Bel-Air” in your message box.

Speaking of Bel-Air, you must check out the translation tanscript by Google and the audio file created by jayssite that follows immediately after. Brilliant work, jayssite.

3. Google Voice is good with numbers
If you can leave most your messages as numbers, you’ll love the accuracy!

4. Google Voice wants to save your marriage
I listened to a message that said, “Cindy, you dirty whore. I'm divorcing you.” Google felt compassion and transcribed it as: cindy and very on the work something out bye

5. Google allowed callers to sneak through
Late in the afternoon as my voice mailbox was on fire, calls started to come in on my cell phone with the number 000-000-0000. I let them go to voicemail and when I checked, the messages were the same quotes from the "The Big Lebowski" I’d been receiving all day. This was disturbing because they were going into my personal voice mail which gives my real name. Google Voice is supposed to give you an opportunity to remain anonymous so that the people from the local roofing company you pissed off on consumerist.com can’t track you down and flatten your tires. I sent Google a note and hope they fix that.

6. Google Voice believes in conspiracies
Message: 9-11 was an inside job. Wake up sheeple.
Transcript: nine eleven with the inside job we cox you pull

Truthers like Google Voice. “You can clearly hear Google Voice saying “pull.”

7. Google Voice doesn’t think you should swear
Message: What the fuck.
Transcript: what the phone

We think Google Voice did the TV version of “Snakes on a Plane” (via Vortex22222)
“I've had it with these monkey-phoning snakes on this Monday to Friday plane!”

8. Google Voice gets it right… rarely
I’m not going to beat Google Voice up that badly. They are in a kind of beta testing. But here was the first message it got 100% correct: hi honey

The second was:
Transcript not available.

9. Google Voice lets you post messages on line
This creepy message is interesting for two reasons: one, because it is creepy. And two, because I never though of the word “beauty” as B O T. When Google voice gets something stuck in its head, it runs with it. If it hears a letter, it listens for more. This is also to show you that Google Voice allows you to post messages on your website.

Transcript by Google: B O T as in the heart mobile to work around that
The actual message:



10. Well, here are some things that you can learn from all this:
a. I do not work for Google
b. I got over 500 voice mails
c. 50% of them were “Transcript not available.”
d. There are a lot of funny people out there
e. There are just as many crazy people
f. Most spoken word in the messages seemed to be “um.”
g. No, I do not have any gVoice invites.
h. No, I will not hurry up and post your message
i. No, I will not post your political opinion
j. Yes, I am gay (the colleague one is day)
k. The whispering people were the creepiest
l. There were some very depressing voices out there: like the girl who got deodorant for a birthday present from her boss.
m. I did not listen to all the messages. After the first 50 “Transcript not available” messages, I quit listening and just started deleting. Sorry to all of you that did not get posted.
n. Yes, Google Voice does track your phone number and logs it in the inbox.
o. No, I deleted all the messages except the one in this e-mail.
p. Thanks to reddit.com and all the redditors that helped with this completely unscientific experiment.
q. Yes, I picked 614-gay-idol on purpose
r. No, I will not be using the whole alphabet

Five things I want to get rid of

The Penny
Someday we will get rid of the penny and when we finally do, we’ll look back and say, “Why didn’t we do that sooner.” Well? Let’s get rid of it now! Old ladies in front of you in line won’t need to dig for dark, dirty pennies when they can clearly see the large shiny nickels. Think about the poor Burger King employee that screws up the register and can sing the Schoolhouse Rock - Ready or Not, Here I Come (Count By Fives) Song while counting your change out! And we can get rid of that dirty, stinking Need A Penny – Take a Penny dish, the universal coin ashtray.

Get rid of the stinking penny. Check out this high-tech website for more information.

Daylight Savings Time
Remember back in the 90’s and 00’s when CEOs were getting 90 million dollar golden parachutes and when someone would raise their head above the din and suggest that was bullshit, we’d all shrug our shoulders and say, “That’s just the way it is?” Well now we know different. The same goes for Daylight Savings Time. Twice a year we get beat upside the head with sixty minutes of unnecessary agrarian adjustment. People suggest, “Well, farmers and retailers can use the extra sunlight and there are less accidents. It’s just the way it is.” Bullshit. Farmer gets up when rooster says git up. Retailers will make up any lost time on the back end. I have kids and every time the clock changes, I have to re-wire my kids’ schedules over seven days to get them back on track. Let's just pick one or the other-forward or back- and stick with it. I assume one is better than the other. I just think that once a year the bars should stay open an hour later and everyone would be happy with that. Get rid of DST change. Here’s a site where you can pretend you care.

9/10 Gas Prices
What really pisses me off about the 9/10 gas prices is that you cannot get the pump to give you the 9/10 price… it rounds up for you. That’s why whenever I go into the station to pay, I take a penny from the dirty, stinking Need A Penny – Take a Penny dish. If we can’t get rid of the 1/10th of a cent, I don’t see how we are going to get rid of the penny. So let’s start small. No prices shall be posted unless there is an increment of change in that denomination. I think everyone knows that Richard Pryor faked his own death and is on a remote desert island somewhere collecting the 1/10th of a cent from every gallon of your gas purchase. {photo from The Truth About... on Flickr}

Corks
I was recently stuck on a deserted island with Richard Pryor. During my “note in the bottle” project, I had the choice of putting an air tight screw cap on the bottle or shoving some tree bark (cork) in the top of the bottle to safely secure the note within the bottle. Being a romantic, I chose tree bark. As I watched the bottle fill with water and sink, I had to ask myself, “does the cork industry really have this much influence on my life?” Screw caps work better than corks. You can actually keep a bottle of wine for 24 hours with a cap and not have it littered with cork shrapnel. Get over yourself and let’s get rid of corks.

Gift Cards
I’m not sure if your mom or Uncle Bob realize this, but cash is the best gift in the world. There is no better gift and there is absolutely nothing wrong or tacky or gauche about giving cash. A gift card is like buying dinner for your date and having the big box store under the table with their hands down your date’s pants eating the leftovers. Nothing good can come of a gift card. I have never spent exactly what was on a gift card. Either I left $1.89 on the card or spent more that what was on the card. Either way, the store wins. I still have an AppleBee’s $25 dollar gift card in my wallet. I assume that some day I will use it to try to jimmy a lock, otherwise I will never use it. Fuck it… I’m going to sell it on e-bay for $49.99. Anyone stupid enough to buy a gift card in the first place will be dumb enough to pay way too much for it in the second place. Buy it here: http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=130306190376&ssPageName=ADME:L:LCA:US:1123

Local Man Almost Commits Suicide when Twitter Goes Down

TOLEDO OH (HJ) - Hank Rufus (@hankepanky on Twitter) is a gentle, secluded man with very little outlet for his emotions. Though the medium for his hidden emotions were first revealed on AIM, his real love is Twitter. “I Twitter everything I am thinking about doing, what I am doing and what I do after what I did is done.”

On May 8th, Hank was preparing to share his dinner plans with his “followers” (Pizza Hut with ice cream at Baskin Robbins – Carmel Chocolate Crunch #doubledip) when he had trouble logging in to his Twitter account. Over the next twenty minutes, everything would change in Hank’s life.

“At first I thought my cookies had been deleted. I tried logging in for a full two minutes. I started to panic.” Hank suffers from several undiscovered social disorders which cause him to get agitated when he doesn’t get his way. “After about twenty failed attempts, I just knew that my life was over. So I decided to end it.”

Fortunately, Hank was unable to make any decisions without consulting his Twitter “followers” and he was helpless. Without their guidance, he just sat around and toyed with the loose cat5 cable under his desk. He tried consulting Wikipedia on suicide, but was unable to connect. After another ten minutes of going between playing Hearts (offline) and attempting to connect to the internet, Hank figured out what was wrong and plugged the cable back in the wall. In just a few short seconds, he forgot all about his suicidal plans and Tweeted his thanks to the Twitter community, “THXS for being there in my darkest times. Wo all f u I would be strnded on an islad w/o frinds or food 2 tlk about. I hav a new lv 4 life!”

Hank’s next goal is to accumulate ten more followers. "I've deleted all my other posts to start clean and fresh so that the people I have followed forget some of the things I said I wanted to do to them."

Employee Smoking Area Helps Employees to Quit

I have actually seen the store workers smoking out there.

PalmerFest 2009 "riots?"

Well, sometimes this stuff happens when you mix alcohol and matches. The peaceful PalmerFest of years past got a little out of control last night. Setting fires is one thing, but it is egregious that stupid fucks would throw bottles at the firefighters.

I will suggest that when this kind of shit does happen, it is usually because of people from out of town who don't give a shit. 70% of arrests in Athens during the annual Halloween party are guests of student from out of town. But that is no excuse. I don't know the whole story, but I assume that PalmerFest will look a lot different next year.

Congrats.

Photos from the rough parts of the night by Andrew Spear The aftermath.

Article from The Post.

PalmerFest 2009

PalmerFest 2009 is this weekend (May 9th, 2009.) I know this because a reporter from The Post, The Ohio University student run newspaper, called to ask me a few questions about the original PalmerFest back in 1990/1991.

She had researched The Post archives and the earliest reference to PalmerFest came from a May 1991 edition. She tracked me down via the people mentioned in the article. Here is that article:


The reporter asked about the details from the first PalmerFest. I spoke about the first PalmerFest actually taking place in the Fall of 1990. 17 Palmer (The Barn) had a lot to do with the planning. The stage for the bands was two 4' x 8' sheets of plywood with 4x4 supports. The backyards of 17 Palmer - 25 Palmer were utilized for the bands, but they have since disappeared when several of the houses were turned into duplexes. I have spoken with a couple of people who think they were the originators of PalmerFest and they didn't go to OU until the late 90's. When I tell people I was one of the originators, they doubt me. I understand.

When I mentioned this interview to Two-Sack, he reminded me of how one PalmerFest, I shot bottle rockets out of my cup of beer and continued to drink the sulfur and ash contaminated beer. A very hot girl who I do not remember called my beer "Firecracker Juice."

Russ tells a great story about how I blinded him in one eye when a thrown key deflected off my hand and popped him in the cornea.

I got laid once at PalmerFest and six of my closest friends watched through a window and Paul even open the window and came in the room to taunt me.

Our hammock was stolen.

In 1992 we turned the water off in the bathroom to keep people from using the toilet and slamming our water bill. As it turns out, turning off the water does not keep people from using the toilet.

The doorbell rang one Monday after a PalmerFest and there stood a girl I went to high school with. She didn't know I lived there and was immediately embarrassed. She had been on the roof and removed her top and bra for a fleeting moment. Her house key was on a necklace that had fallen off during the shirt removal process and she was looking for it. We had found the key and I pulled it off the mantel and gave it back. I have not seen her since.

PalmerFest turns 18.5 this year. Have fun this weekend. I don't think I will be able to make it...

Performance Plus

Conny was in town this weekend. If we learned one thing, it’s that in Ohio, you cannot buy beer from a store past 1:00am. We tried three places and all of them, even the seedy one, denied us. We felt a little like 18 year old kids on prom night, with girls begging for wine coolers, knowing that they would be running off with the olda boys if we couldn’t provide.

(Into the time machine we go, back to 1997.)

Conny and I worked together at the same museum way back when. In 1997, Conny decided to move on as I decided to stay with the organization. Every year during our annual review process, we would learn about our bonuses. In years past, bonuses were a big deal. The company would talk about the huge pool of money there was to draw from. The monthly meeting before the bonus dispersal was always exciting with people discussing what cut of the pot they thought they would get. The pot announcement was always a big affair. In 1997, as we all anxiously waited for the announcement that never came. Later we learned that resources were being utilized in other areas and that the pot was much smaller. There would be bonuses, just not as big in years past. Everyone was disappointed.

Every year we were told not to consider the bonus part of our salary and that it was in fact, just a bonus. The bonus was divided up and given out in quarterly portions, so people did end up budgeting their lives around the bonus. During my review, I was told what my raise was going to be and my bonus. When added together, I was actually making less than I was the year before. I was in a pretty good position with the company at the time and was able to act disappointed. My VP understood and wished there was more she could do. I then reiterated that I was very disappointed with a head tilt and shrug that suggested that I was going to look for another job. She crossed her arms and put her hand on her chin to suggest that I could go fuck myself for pretending like I was going to quit when she knew I wasn’t. I leaned back in my chair and put my hands behind my head to communicate that not only was I going to quit, but that I might burn down the building and piss on the ashes. With that and a head nod, she said that was all she could do and left.

About ten minutes later, she came back with exciting news. She said that due to an odd coincidence, she was able to pull together an additional $200 to add to my bonus. Not much, but it was a very thoughtful gesture. I thanked her and thoughtlessly spent the money at the nudie bar.

The bonus system got smaller and smaller until it just wasn’t there one year. Everyone saw it coming and they did a good job of weaning us off of it.

Years later at a party, someone brought up the old bonus system. I told the story about how I squeezed an extra $200 from the company. That’s when Conny said, “$200? Back in 1997?”

Yes?

“That was my bonus that they took away from me.”

Conny had been a part timer in 1997 and they got smaller bonuses, but $200 was huge to a guy like Conny. When Conny moved on, he was told that he would still get his bonus. A day later, he was told that because he was leaving the company, he was now ineligible for the bonus. He was alright with that until he found out that other people leaving the company got to keep their bonuses. He got dicked.

Because I bitched, I stole Conny’s bonus.

I have to laugh at that story because Conny now makes a lot more than I do. I think he pays in taxes what I net every year. Conny says he’s over it, but last night, I caught him counting out $200 in quarters from the change jar in the guest room. He said he was just seeing how much change was in the jar, but we all know that he’s still bitter.

Creepy Hannibal Lecter Thumb Sucking Device


Scan from Parenting Magazine

I think it's really the look on the kid's face that creeps me out. He seems half sad and half kill-you-while-you-sleep-for-taking-away-the-only-joy-I-had-in-life.

Who is Miss Sally?

Miss Sally is my wife. But you already knew that. What many of you have asked me is why I call Miss Sally, "Miss Sally." To make this easier, I’ll call Miss Sally, Sally.

Years and years ago, Sally and I lived together in Columbus. I was working for a local shipyard as a merchant marine and Sally was working at a pre-school as a teacher. Sally was the lead teacher in a room full of four year olds. At the pre-school, all the children called their teachers by their first name, but with a Miss in front of it. Miss Carrie. Miss Vickie. Miss Sally. But that wasn’t enough for me to start calling her that name. I never got to hear her called Miss Sally, so I really didn’t even know about it.

One day, Sally came home with a funny story about how a little boy came up to her in the middle of the day and blurted out, “Miss Sally! I pooped my pants!” The way she said it was hilarious. I immediately repeated it back to her and we laughed and laughed.

This story would be very boring if you could not hear the inflection of the words. Luckily, we have the internet and youtube so that you can hear how I heard it and how I repeated it back to her:



We spent the evening yelling back and forth from different rooms of the apartment, something like this:

Me- “Miss Sally!”
Sally – “Yes?”
Me- “I pooped my pants!”

The next day we were doing laundry and we said:

Me- “Miss Sally!”
Sally- “Yes?”
Me- “Is this dry clean only?”
Sally-“No.”
Me- “I pooped my pants!”

This continued on ad nauseam in several various and sundry iterations. The only thing that remained constant was that I would call Sally, “Miss Sally.”

At some point, it stuck. I can’t put my finger on the time or date, but I remember Loy making fun of me for it one day and then referring to her as Miss Sally the next without missing a beat. Friends and family sometimes slip and say "Miss Sally" and don’t bat an eye.

I hope that helps with all your questions.

“Miss Sally! I pooped my pants!”

That never gets old. But the boy did. He would be about seventeen years old now and will never know that he lives in infamy.

Telephone Poll Trickery

I tend to be a phone prick. The sales people on the other end sense this and usually hang up before I say anything wiseass-ish. We’re on the Do Not Call list and anyone that does drop us a line is in for a treat as I might be deaf or maybe Pakistani depending on my mood. Someday I’ll work my way up to deaf Pakistani.

I prepared for the worst on Sunday when I saw a call from 919-375-1252. When I picked up and said hello, an automated message started up and explained that they ("they" was left undefined though the robot sounded pretty white) were doing a survey and that they’d only need three minutes of my time. I had three minutes and listened in.

At the first mention of Newt Gingrich I had to smile. Conserative politics! This was going to be fun. I was asked about my favorable/unfavorable opinion of him and to press 1 or 2 depending on my opinion. The list continued with Mitt Romney, Mike Huckabee and Sarah Palin.

The questions then went to Obama and how he was doing in office. Then stimulus questions. So far I was scoring 100% as my opinion is always right.

Next was a series of “who would you vote for” questions: “Who would you vote for between Newt Gingrich and Obama?” Press 1 for Newt Gingrich and 2 for Obama.” “Who would you vote for between Mitt Romney and Obama? Press 1 for Mitt Romney and 2 for Obama” (I’m writing this out for a reason… keep reading.) “Who would you vote for between Mike Huckabee and Obama? Press 1 for Mike Huckabee and 2 for Obama.” “Who would you vote for between Sarah Palin and Obama? Press 1 for Obama and 2 for Sarah Palin.”

What? I mentally replayed what I just heard and I heard it right… they flip flopped the numbers. Trickery! I don’t get why they would do this because they almost fooled me and I’m smart. I assume Sarah Palin supporters would immediately press 1. But then I realized that Obama supporters would more than likely just hit 2. I’m not sure what results they were fishing for, but no matter what, I’d think that 50% of the people (no matter what affiliation) would answer the opposite way if they weren’t listening which would give them the exact same results.

The next series of questions asked about my job and how satisfied I was.
The white robot thanked me and we parted ways.

I went and looked up the phone number online and only found a website for people complaining about being on the Do Not Call list and still getting these unwanted polling calls. Here’s what the Pew people have to say about that:

Legitimate survey research is exempt from the Telemarketing Sales Rule, which was adopted by the Federal Trade Commission to fight fraud and protect consumers from harassment. The rule covers marketing but not opinion polling or market research that does not involve an effort to sell you something. Nonetheless, our telephone survey interviewing centers will honor any request not to be called.

The way the questions were worded made me think this poll was not exactly “Legitimate survey research”

One of the best complaints on the was of what I would categorize as phone rape:
Caller Type: Political Call
Phone Number Report: Without realizing that I didn't know who was calling, I gave answers to a political survey from this number. I believe it is unethical not to identify the organization that is sponsoring the call. When I tried to call back, of course the answer was "We're sorry, your call did not go through." That's when I did the web search to see if anyone else had had problems with this phone number. This is a complaint! With my phone system I can block future calls, but I feel I've been exploited and that my privacy has been invaded.

That complaint made my three wasted minutes completely worthwhile.

President Ford's Artificial Leg Sold at Auction

New York (HJ) – In front of a busy Sunday saleroom and crowded telephone bank at Sotheby’s New York today, against a pre-sale estimate of US$300,000 - $450,000*, President Gerald Ford’s artificial leg was the subject of intense bidding between several American collectors and Scandinavian Royalty.

President Ford lost his leg in a boating accident in 1946. The loss of the limb was kept secret from the public, especially during his political career. Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library and Museum historian Mary Hasston was at the auction and gave some insight into the history of the limb, “Many thought President Ford to be a clumsy person and those people might feel a bit silly knowing that the President wore an artificial leg. Mrs. Ford and I were the only people outside of the White House that knew of the limb.” She recalled, “He kept a bottle of Dewar's White Label Scotch Whiskey in a secret compartment of the leg. The half empty bottle was removed prior to the auction.”

Talking about the prices achieved today, Rufus Kessler, Sotheby’s International Head of Artificial Limbs, Eyes and Hair commented: “We’re greatly honored to have been given the opportunity to provide this rare item to our members. Hopefully someone will put it to good use.”

After an intense bidding battle between at least three bidders; it was eventually sold to an antiquities dealer from Pittsburgh, PA who asked to remain anonymous. Mr. Kyle Deeds did state for the record that he was going to turn the leg, “…into a lamp or a hat stand. I hated President Ford.” The final bid for the artificial leg was $1.3 million.

The price represents a new auction record for a Presidential artificial limb. Only one other Presidential Artificial Limb exists and that one is buried with President Gerald Ford.

* Pre-sale estimates do not include buyer’s premium or any disinfecting of the item

Ask HolyJuan: Who's tougher: Chuck Norris or Dan Cortese?

Dear HolyJuan,

My friend and I got into an argument you might be able to settle for us. Who's tougher? Chuck Norris or Dan Cortese? My buddy cited all those lame Chuck Norris jokes, you know, Chuck Norris is so tough he eats hemorrhoids and bunions for breakfast. I get it, he's a black belt kung fu master and that's tough and all but so is my 8 year old nephew.

My man Dan would kick Chuck's ass! He was on MTV Sports and did all sorts of extreme sports like hockey, sky diving and freestyle Frisbee. AND he was always a gamer when it came to Rock and Jock Softball.

HolyJuan, you always have the answers. Help us out with this one.

Senior Blanco


Dear Sr. Blanco,

Wow. This might be the toughest question I’ve ever attempted to answer. Tough only because I have balls and cock and not a vagina. What establishment did you and friend get into this “tussle” at? Charles Penzone’s Grand Salon? Havana? The Smith’s Reunion Tour? I envision that your friend’s mascara was running when you insulted his tough guy and that you tore though a whole quart of Butter Pecan and two rolls of Rolos to quench your indignation when you got home.

I assume that Twitter was a buzz with your open palm slap fight of fury. And that tomorrow, your LiveJournals will both be filled with insults that you couldn’t think of the night before as you both stood back to back outside the Goth bar, using the breathing techniques learned in “Men Coping with their Feelings” Lamaze class that you both gave each other as a gift last Valentines Day.

What real man gets into an argument about what other man is the tougher man? Real men don’t talk to each other. Real men beat each other senseless. At worst you should have both chopped down a tree or drank a flagon of pine tar.

This sickens my masculinity and I resorted to popping an entire pack of my wife’s birth control pills, just so that I could get within a menstrual cycle of your so called “manliness.” After I post this, I’m going to eat a bale of hay and a sack full of prunes to flush this debacle from my system. You, sir, fail at man.

Signed,

HolyJuan

PS (Cortese would totally win with weapons, but I think Norris in hand to hand. BTW: I liked the shirt you wore today. It matched your ear buds.)

Do you think he knows that she's fake?

I am a thief

A few months ago, I had a great, original idea for a t-shirt. I spent about three minutes on the photoshop and then zipped on over to Skreened.com where I promptly added my “Milk, Milk, Lemonade” design to a t-shirt and waited for the money to roll in.



About three days later, a reader e-mailed me to say that someone had stolen my shirt idea and created a similar t-shirt. They mentioned that this somehow happened about two years before I designed my “original” shirt. I immediately started to track down this thief and their time machine.

When I looked up “milk, milk lemonade t-shirt” on Google, I was amazed. There are at least 20 varieties of the same design.

This design (clicky) is exactly like mine, right down to the curly arrow pointing ‘round the corner. Sure there are slight differences, but basically I am a plagiarizer.

I am a thief. I suck.