Finally.... pumpkin carving

We finally carved pumpkins tonight. We bought six of them, thinking that we would carve and carve and carve. Not so much.

At least we got two of them. Greg drew the face of the pumpkin on the left. One big eye. One small eye. A small nose and a big smile.

The pumpkin on the right was tall and solid. The pumpkin wall was about 2 1/2 inches thick! I used a drill to dot matrix out the eyes, nose and mouth. Greg helped too. The photo came out better with no flash. Sometimes it's easier to see things in the dark.

Drug Bust Evidence

One box filled with various papers.
One manila envelope.
One 36 inch latex dong with MagicThrust attachment.


You might have asked yourself, "What would Superman look like if he just gave up on life?"

A little like this. (The Superman on the right.)

I do not think I will ever live this costume down. I'm also waiting to see the photos that were taken of me after I passed out in Shorty's spare bedroom.

Brer Rabbit and the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby

I recently read that some politicians have gotten into some trouble for using the term “tar-baby.” Apologies were issued and Al Sharpton went back into his condo, foretelling six more weeks of winter.

If you are not familiar with Uncle Remus or the name “tar-baby,” then you’n go off and stick your head in a bucket full o water. For everyone else, I’m sure you are aware of the possible racial implications from using the term. And I think those implications are a bunch of horse hooey. I think tar-baby is a beautiful way to explain how people can get all uppity and put themselves in a bit of a quagmire.

For those of you who are offended or feel like you should be offended, I’ve changed the story so that we can get back to making analogies about the War on Terror without offending anyone who doesn’t know whether or not to be offended or not. Let's let Whitey take it on the chin.

Brer Rabbit and the Marshmallow Fluff Baby

Retold and unkindly edited by Doug from a story retold by Joel Chandler Harris

One day Brer Fox thought of how Brer Rabbit had been cutting up his capers and bouncing around until he'd come to believe that he was the boss of the whole gang. Brer Fox thought of a way to lay some bait for that uppity Brer Rabbit.

He went to work and got some Marshmallow Fluff and mixed it with some corn syrup. He fixed up a contraption that he called a Marshmallow Fluff-Baby. When he finished making her, he put a straw hat on her head and sat the little thing in the middle of the road. Brer Fox, he lay off in the bushes to see what would happen.

Well, he didn't have to wait long either, 'cause by and by Brer Rabbit came pacing down the road--lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity--just as sassy as a jaybird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit came prancing along until he saw the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby and then he sat back on his hind legs like he was astonished. The Marshmallow Fluff-Baby just sat there, she did, and Brer Fox, he lay low.

"Good morning!" says Brer Rabbit, says he. "Nice weather we're having this morning," says he.

Marshmallow Fluff-Baby didn't say a word, and Brer Fox, he lay low.

"How are you feeling this morning?" says Brer Rabbit, says he.

Brer Fox, he winked his eye real slow and lay low and the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby didn't say a thing.

"What is the matter with you then? Are you deaf?" says Brer Rabbit, says he. "Cause if you are, I can holler louder," says he.

The Marshmallow Fluff-Baby stayed still and Brer Fox, he lay low.

"You're stuck-up, that's what's wrong with you. You think you're too good to talk to me," says Brer Rabbit, says he. "And I'm going to cure you, that's what I'm going to do," says he.

Brer Fox started to chuckle in his stomach, he did, but Marshmallow Fluff-Baby didn't say a word.

"I'm going to teach you how to talk to respectable folks if it's my last act," says Brer Rabbit, says he. "If you don't take off that hat and say howdy, I'm going to bust you wide open," says he.

Marshmallow Fluff-Baby stayed still and Brer Fox, he lay low.

Brer Rabbit kept on asking her why she wouldn't talk and the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby kept on saying nothing until Brer Rabbit finally drew back his fist, he did, and blip--he hit the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby on the jaw. But his fist stuck and he couldn't pull it loose. The fluff held him. But Marshmallow Fluff-Baby, she stayed still, and Brer Fox, he lay low.

"If you don't let me loose, I'm going to hit you again," says Brer Rabbit, says he, and with that he drew back his other fist and blap--he hit the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby with the other hand and that one stuck fast too.

Marshmallow Fluff-Baby she stayed still, and Brer Fox, he lay low.

"Turn me loose, before I kick the natural stuffing out of you," says Brer Rabbit, says he, but the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby just sat there.

She just held on and then Brer Rabbit jumped her with both his feet. Brer Fox, he lay low. Then Brer Rabbit yelled out that if that Marshmallow Fluff-Baby didn't turn him loose, he was going to butt her crank-sided. Then he butted her and his head got stuck.

Brer Fox walked out from behind the bushes and strolled over to Brer Rabbit, looking as innocent as a mockingbird.

"Howdy, Brer Rabbit," says Brer Fox, says he. "You look sort of stuck up this morning," says he. And he rolled on the ground and laughed and laughed until he couldn't laugh anymore.

By and by he said, "Well, I expect I got you this time, Brer Rabbit," says he. "Maybe I don't, but I expect I do. You've been around here sassing after me a mighty long time, but now it's the end.

And then you're always getting into something that's none of your business," says Brer Fox, says he. "Who asked you to come and strike up a conversation with this Marshmallow Fluff-Baby? And who stuck you up the way you are? Nobody in the round world. You just jammed yourself into that Marshmallow Fluff-Baby without waiting for an invitation," says Brer Fox, says he. "There you are and there you'll stay until I fix up a brushpile and fire it up, "cause I'm going to barbecue you today, for sure," says Brer Fox, says he.

Then Brer Rabbit started talking mighty humble.

"I don't care what you do with me, Brer Fox, says he, "Just so you don't fling me in that briar patch. Roast me, Brer Fox, says he, "But don't fling me in that briar patch."

Brer Fox says, "OK," and cooked the Brer Rabbit over a fire and et the Marshmallow Fluff-Baby for desert.

The End

**** *******

I always thought that Rabbit was a little too cocky.

Top Ten List of Crappy Internet Top Ten Lists

There seem to be a million of top ten lists on the internet. I was able to crawl through and find these ten offenders of good taste. Whether it be formatting, topic or choice of what is considered the best, these lists are on the bottom of the list. Or the top of the list if it is a bad list. I tried to put these in a top ten order, but there was a nine way tie for first place.

Click the links to see the actual lists, if you must.

Top 10 Oprah Winfrey Quotes
There are some that believe that everything Oprah says should go on a top ten list. I think Oprah’s top ten quotes should be her simple phrases: “Two scoops.” “You’re fired.” “More.” “Just slap a big O on it and mark the price up 650%” “Does this not make me look fat.” “I own that.” “Bring my shoe horns.” “Didn’t I fire you?” “Get off my couch.” “There isn’t anything that can’t fit into a gift basket.”

The Top 10 weirdest case mods
Nothing cries erectile dysfunction louder than case mods. I could imagine that if my dick did not work anymore that I would turn my rig into a volcano with actual lava created by the heat dispersed from processor. The keyboard would be formed of actual pahoehoe. That would be cool. If my dick didn’t work.

Ken's Top Ten Lists
Ken likes cars AND Top Ten Lists. Of all the lists that I hated, this one I hated the least. Even though Ken is a mechanic from Canada, the guy seems to grow on you. My beef with his lists are that no one gives two craps about what their mechanic thinks. Or with the mechanic sense of humor. “Not as many of us around these days that remember the days before front wheel disc brakes became standard on all cars. Most of us were killed in accidents.”

Plus bumper stickers should never be discussed or brought together in a group as a top ten list. People with 80 bumper stickers are a lot less creepy than the people with just one. One bumper sticker person only believes in one thing. That’s creepy.

Top 10 fall foliage destinations
The leaves are so beautiful! It’s like God decided to change his mind about the tree colors three quarters way through the year!

Tree leaves are like a relationship headed toward marriage. The leaves actually have a purpose until the big day when they burst with color in a marriage of botany and beauty. Then they die, fall off the tree and clog gutters.

Top 10 reasons to install Windows XP Service Pack 2 (SP2)
Christ. This list looks like it was created by either Amway or The Church of Scientology. My favorite is “Take action against crashes caused by browser add-ons.” It’s almost as if they had two really good reasons and then hired a perky, museum tour guide to create the rest.

Top 10 Cats
This list stinks because it is a list about cats. It also stinks because it is not a list. When I see top ten, I want a commitment as to which is the best. If this were a list about top ten dogs, you’d see 1 through 10. This list should be about the top ten ways to make it look like the cat ran away from home.

The Top Ten Presidents
I’m not opposed to presidents or ranking them. I am opposed to the formatting of this list. The author was too lazy to write out the first names of most of the Presidents. Somehow, he didn’t want us to be confused with some of the other Presidents named Roosevelt and Truman, so he gave their first names. Some of the others earned first initials. Otherwise this list sucks because J. Carter isn’t on it. He was the only president to have sexual thoughts. That’s my kind of President.

Top Ten Games Over the Past 10 Years
Video games are way too subjective. You cannot build a top ten list of just games and not piss everyone off. I also have to assume that this list was created in 2001. My internet calendar is broken.

10 Best Science Fiction Novels of All Time
Another example of a list gone horribly wrong. Amazon has a tool called Listmania, where users can create a list of their favorite stuff. This Top Ten list has 24 listings of 28 books. And a good percentage (99%) of these are absolute dreck. I’ll give this guy Ender’s Game. Otherwise, get back into your Mormon time machine and wait for the future.

Top Eleven Movie Sequels
At least this top ten list tried to be as creative as the 249 other top ten lists with eleven on their list. Ghostbusters 2 is actually on the list. The only redeeming quality is the mention of Batman Returns and Aliens. Evil Dead 2 is a great flick, but really a remake. The Empire Strikes back is part two of a trilogy. Terminator 2 isn’t even on the list. This guy is a complete turd. I’m surprised he didn’t have Matrix: Reloaded on his crap 11 list.

OK. Superman 2 was pretty good. When compared to 3.

Top Ten List of Crappy Internet Top Ten Lists


I started roofing back in the Summer of 1989. A roofer needs boots. I bought a pair and tried to scuff them up the day before I started so that it would look like I wasn’t a punk kid. I was a punk kid and the roofers called me out on my boots the first day. They had to do it quick because by the second day, they were tar stained and looked like boots.

One day, I screwed roofing washers on to the back of both boots and pretended they were spurs. I sauntered into the group of guys circled up eating lunch with my boots jingling and said something John Wayneish. Old Goat said, “Hey Tinkerbell. Nice fairy boots.” That nickname stuck for three years.

My boots went with me to college and I played backyard volleyball in them because I thought it was cool.

My boots went to Alaska where I wore them in a tent for five weeks and then on the retort line.

My boots went with me to Europe. Though Acton and I never went anywhere that wasn’t paved, I brought them just in case.

They went with me to Shreveport, Boston, Omaha, Denver, Syracuse, Ft. Lauderdale and back to Columbus. They were a conversation piece in my apartment when people would ask what they hell they were.

My boots didn’t get thrown out when Miss Sally moved in, but she did make me leave them in the garage. They traveled from the apartment to our first house and made the cut going to our second home.

The soles were worn almost flat with only suggestions of tread. The laces had been replaced three times. When I slid them on, they felt like a second skin. And I mean a creepy feeling of a second skin. I was usually grossed out for the first five to ten minutes.

Today, I threw away my boots. I probably threw away 400 baby spiders as well. They deserved a better burial or funeral pyre, but I hate to think about the toxic cloud they would have produced.

I took some photos of them before I tossed them in the trash.

Thank you boots. I will miss you.


I found the naming of this gate very amusing. Especially when our flight actually left on time.

Downtown Brown

I am still of the belief that the internet is fake. That most the “people” you deal with on a daily basis via the net are bots and a few lines of programming smeared over toast. I’d have to guess that there are probably only 79 real people on the internet. Six of those people are responsible for 6,456,332 MySpace pages each.

In this fake world, I found myself making a bet with Carpanza. Carpanza’s some guy out of Minneapolis that likes to drink and seems like he’s got his shit together. We are in a Fantasy Football league and we "talk" crap, via the internet, about how crappy the other guy’s crappy players are. We also found ourselves talking smack about Ohio State and the Iowa Hawkeyes. While this talk of the smack was commencing, I made a bet with him that Ohio State would beat the Hawkeyes. He disagreed and agreed to the bet. The wager was for the winner’s choice of a six pack of beer from

Ohio State won.

I chose a six pack of Lost Coast’s Downtown Brown. This was one of Miss Sally favorite beers back when our relationship was young. She had drank it in California and we couldn’t find a distributor in Ohio. It seems the only way to get it is by winning a bet.

So here’s where it got interesting for me. Would Carpanza, an imaginary internet character, actually buy a six pack of beer and have it shipped to some stranger in Ohio who was also probably imaginary?

Today we received a very well packaged, 6-pack of Downtown Brown. The bottles were lovingly swaddled in cardboard and they even folded up the decorative, 6-pack carrier and included it in the box. It was beautiful.

As I type, they are chilling in the refrigerator, waiting for me to savor a Buckeye win, the warm memories of young love and my new belief that perhaps there is a shred of humanity out there in the electronic aether.

The enclosed card read, “I hope this beer arrives skunky, and gives you explosive diarrhea.”

Thanks Carpanza.


With Miss Sally returning to work, we needed some help taking care of Baby Ann during the day. We were only going to need help for about three weeks until a spot opened up in the infant room at Miss Sally's preschool. Because Baby Ann decided to come out four weeks early, we now need seven weeks of help from my mother and Sally's mom.

I cannot tell you how grateful we are. I cannot tell you how much I forgot to realize that they would be spending the entire work week here. We are ending day two and my mom showed up a little bit ago to take the Wednesday/Thursday shift.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Don't ask, no Wonkas!

I did some work at the Columbus Zoo a few years ago. One of the components was a nocturnal building in the Australia area that the exhibits division at the zoo wanted turned into a themed bar/restaurant/travel office/educational center/insect diorama/casino. Another case of if simplicity is good, then a bunch of simple concepts thrown together should be GREAT!

One unique aspect was the signage in the building. They wanted themed/aged humorous signs. As it turns out, humorous themed signs are my specialty.

My favorite:

When we had the signs made, I had a second made for myself. I took it with me when I left the Studio. It’s hanging up at work. A small window that looks out at a more creative time.

The Willie Wonka and the Chocolate aficionados will notice that there is a slight issue with the sign. Any guesses?

If you get a chance to check out the Nocturnal Building (Or Bob and Evelyn's Roadhouse as it lovingly called)look for the huge relief map of Australia on the wall. That is constructed out of blood, sweat, tears and four, one gallon cans of Bondo. Look for the area on the map marked "Mystery Spot" and put your car keys near it.

Rejection is good

My friend Meshell is a very talented and creative illustrator. We got together at B-Hampton’s for a drink a few months ago and she had her portfolio on hand from an earlier meeting. Meshell and I had discussed children’s books in the past and I thought she and I should team up to create something. But like most my ideas, they are simply words with no substance behind them. That night though, Meshell showed me one of her illustrations called “The Power of Soup.”

I immediately thought of an idea for a story and went home and wrote it.

I then submitted it to a publishing company.

And then I waited.

I knew that my story wouldn’t get published. It was my first submission. It was pretty rough. I found out later that my main character’s name was not only a Teletubbie, but also a slang word for kinky sex. (Lala. I choose it because it was Miss Sally’s nickname for her sister. Luckily I had never seen the Teletubbies and only found out what Lala meant when I saw it on a 17 year-old’s T-shirt.)

What I was really looking for was acknowledgement that someone opened my letter and glanced at my five pages of dreck and responded with a form letter suggesting I burn my keyboard and take up roofing again.

And I waited some more.

Most submissions take about 10 – 15 weeks to get processed. As of yesterday, it had been almost 30 weeks and I kept telling myself that I had forgotten about it.

Yesterday, I got a letter from Tricycle Press, the children’s book division of Ten Speed Press. A form letter. A rejection letter.

And I feel acknowledged.

I then went back to re-read my story and oh boy… it could use a bit of editing. I’ll change Lala’s name (though she will always be Lala to me) and beef up a bit of the story. Perhaps I will change the part where Lala receives second degree burns from hugging a pot of steaming, hot soup.


This message is to the girl who was at Skully's last night, dancing around in your bra. You danced for a bit, but were so drunk, you fell flat on your face and had to be carried off.

Thanks. That was hot.

Plaid pants

I have a friend that is South Korean. Towards the beginning of our relationship, I felt we were almost friends enough for me to ask a really awkward question. I asked, “How do you tell the difference between Korean, Japanese and Chinese people?”

He thought only for a moment and said:

Koreans are pretty good dressers and they are clean.
Japanese dress very well and are very clean.
Chinese people are kind of dirty and they wear clothes that don’t match.

It's comforting to know that there are people as shallow as me all over the globe.

A few days ago, I saw a man wearing green plaid pants and a striped sweater and brown shoes with a black belt. He looked Caucasian, but I guess he was Chinese.

I’m not getting a flu shot

I’m not. I never have been immunized and I have never had the flu.

Now, I’m not one of the idiots that think that the flu shot has a chance of giving you the flu. It can’t. It’s impossible. (Unless the dude giving you the shot has the flu and sneezes in your mouth.) (Wow. That was really gross.) The shot has dead flu virus in it and you just can’t get it from that source.

There is a nasal mist vaccine that has mostly dead flu virus in it that has an infinitesimally small chance of giving you the flu. Of course, if you go by Princess Bride logic, mostly dead is slightly alive. But the chances are still slim. As slim as three men versus sixty. Get the mist and you also might want to purchase a wheel barrow and a Holocaust Cloak.

I’m also not worried because I am not old. I am not young. I don’t have asthma. I don’t have diabetes. I’m not pregnant (yet.)

But then I realized that I am what they classify as a “caregiver.” I’ve got one kid that falls in the young category and one that is in the six months and younger category. If I get the flu from that old, asthma ridden, pregnant diabetic woman at work, I could bring it home to the kids. And that would suck.

So, I’ll get the stinking flu shot. Or the mist.

And if I get the flu this year, I am going to be really pissed. And I will probably blame the vaccine. Or the guy that sneezed in my mouth.