Nuclear Family Warhead

The test results came back, and AP is in the clear.  Cujo the squirrel didn’t have rabies.  We already knew that, of course, it’s just nice to have validation.  Cujo did have an affliction, though; he had a scorching case of “The Stupids”.  This virus can manifest itself in many different forms and is easily transferable between species.  It has many different levels of infection.  A mild case of “The Stupids” could cause you to go out and buy a Jonas Brothers CD at the age of 27.  The cure in this instance would be to give the CD to a little brother, sister or niece/nephew.  A few more days of bed rest, and you should be fine.  A really bad case of “The Stupids” may cause you to wear multiple gold chains around your neck and only button your shirt up to your belly button.  In modern times the largest outbreak of “The Stupids” was seen in New York City in the late 70’s.  This particular strain was called the “Disco-staphylococcus” strain and actually spread nationwide before being brought under control in the early 80’s.  Researchers worked tirelessly to come up with a cure for “Disco-staphylococcus” and they finally made the break through in 1980.  They called it “NewWaveicillin”.  It was a second generation version of the original “PunkRockicillin” which had too many side effects.  Patients complained of spiked, colored hair, safety pins through the nose and projectile vomiting.  “NewWaveicillin” had far fewer side effects; the most serious being an acquired addiction to John Hughes movies. 

Wow, that was quite the tangent!  There’s a reason for it, and I’ll explain in a minute, but let’s get back to AP for a minute.  He really is doing fine.  He knew that before he went to the hospital, but you can’t take chances when you’re attacked by a squirrel.  In the 75 times that it has happened since they started keeping records back in 1874, seeking medical help is always first on the list.  That’s an average of one squirrel attack every year and a half; so anyone reading this who wants to feed the squirrels in the park can do so safely until November of 2009.  I’d start getting leery around September or October of ‘09 just to be safe.  AP looks fine.  Here is a picture for you.  He looks a little grey, but the Doctors say that’s a normal reaction to the antibiotic they gave him; arsenicicillinsomethingorrather.  They said the flaky skin will take care of itself also, but he can use a putty knife if he wants to expedite the process.  I offered my belt sander; we’ll see if he takes me up on it. 

Now; the explanation for the tangent.  I watched the 4 hours of the alleged “movie” The Andromeda Strain on A & E the other night and I was very disappointed.  I loved the original movie, and though I haven’t read it yet, the book has always been on my “must read” list.  It was written by Michael Crichton who gave us Jurassic Park, Congo, Sphere and many other great stories.  I saw the original movie when I was 10 or 11 and it scared the crap out of me.  I saw it again when I was older and had much better control of my bodily functions.  The new adaptation goes for glitz and over-embellishment where the original concentrates on pure story and suspense.  Thankfully the original will be airing this week also.  If you saw the new one but haven’t seen the original, do yourself a favor and watch the original.  It was made in 1971 when they didn’t have CGI, Lucasarts and the plethora of special effects options that they have today, so it relies on the story itself; and the story itself is great.  If you need Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck blowing things up, then you may not like it.  Either way, it’s worth a look. 

I found a really cool link.  You’ve all seen the “Motivational” posters of people conquering mountains with words like “Perseverance” or “Determination” underneath them?  They then go on to describe what “Perseverance” or “Determination” is and what it should mean to you.  They’re actually really kind of cool.  Therein lies the problem; they open themselves up for mockery and ridicule, and who am I to shy away from that?  The link I found allows you to make your own “De-motivational” poster.  You can upload your own picture, add your own title and text, and create your own poster.  You can then save the poster to your computer and use it to impress your friends.  I showed this one to all of my friends and they were both quite impressed.  Here are the first 3 of my creations.  I will add more as the wittiness comes to me.  Let me know what you think.  Hopefully, in the future, we can run a contest or two.  Oh, and, apologies to Rod Stewart; I’ve always been a fan (mostly), but he REALLY needs to take a break.  If it looks a little small to you, click on the picture and it will give you a little bigger picture to look at.  Oh, almost forgot; here is the link for the De-motivational Poster Generator.  Enjoy.

Here’s one that I made after writing this post about my experience at one of her concerts.  Please read the post before you send me hate mail about my “insensitivity”.

I just saw this picture and it spoke to me.  It said; “That girl is waaay too big for that car”.

Send me your posters as you get them done, I’d love to see what you come up with.

In honor of Memorial Day I thought we would choose a couple of words with confrontation in mind.  You can use these when you get into a war of words with someone who needs a good jab to their verbal solar plexus.  The leader of the play group is too easy a target, and I’ve used them as an example before anyway, so, let’s see……I know!  You know the seasonal help you meet when shopping for last minute gifts at Christmas?  The ones who can’t be bothered to give you an extra shirt box, even though you spent over $300 and asked nicely?  The ones who mutter; “Anything else?” with all the enthusiasm of a tenured postal worker?  That’s the type of people I’m talking about.  The ones who, no matter what you do, simply will not be happy.  Save these for them.  Hell, it’s not like you’re going to make their day any worse.

Our first word is putrescence.  Fans of The Princess Bride (Hi Momo!) will recognize this one.  The pronunciation is a little different than they way the old hag pronounces it in the movie, so use the little speaker button next to the word to hear the proper pronunciation.  If you happen to meet up with someone who is especially rude and ugly, you may want to drop this one early in the conversation.  It’ll give you the advantage, or at least let your sparring partner know that you’re a force to be reckoned with.  The second word this week is kvetch.  This one is kind of tricky, so again, I suggest using the pronunciation button to help you out.  You would think the “K” is silent, but it’s not.  It’s not fully pronounced either.  It actually has more of an “H” sound to it, really.  You start with the hushed “H” and throw in the tail end of the “K” and you’ve got it.  Kind of like when your trying to hock up a loogie in the middle of cold and flu season.  Sorry for the graphic description, but I don’t know how else to explain it.  Listen to it several times and you’ll see what I mean.  The first audio is by a woman, the second by a man, so the spectrum is covered.  As always, you can check the BWW home page  if you need to brush up on your verbal arsenal.  Enjoy!

My friend Kyle the hat stealer, you remember him, just emailed me pictures of his son’s first trip to the horse track.  He told me that the little guy hit the daily double for $158 and won $323 on a quinella.  I suggested getting the tyke a golf pencil and teaching him lotto.  We’ll see.  If his luck holds, maybe the little guy will be sending me a check for 10% of their lotto millions.  You know, consulting fees and all.  Can a trip to Vegas be too far away?  I think not.  If you’re on a winning streak, you gotta stick with it; so Kyle, whatever you do, don’t change that kids diaper.  It’s bad luck.

*This is not a picture of Kyle’s baby.  His baby prefers Mandalay Bay, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a newborn baby exploiting Golden Palace dot com beanie*

I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.  His name is Andy.  We worked together at The State Line Restaurant in El Paso, Texas when we were growing up.  Our group worked hard together and we played hard together. Once, after a fishing trip, I put the head of a catfish on Andy’s pillow and left him a Mafia-esque note from “The Codfather”.  It took him a few days to forgive me, and we all had a good laugh, but even after a week he told me he couldn’t get the fish smell out of his pillow.  He was good natured, and an average golfer.  He’d laugh at your jokes, and tell a few of his own.  He was a friend.  A brother.  A son.  A husband.  A father.  A soldier.  He died doing what he loved.  He died protecting his country’s freedom.  His wife and son’s freedom.  My freedom.  Your freedom.  Please remember Andy and his family in your thoughts and prayers today.

It has been quite the week in our neighborhood.  Our male Beagle puppy; Buddy, thinks that our lawnmower is prey that needs to be hunted and killed, and our neighbor; the Assistant Principal was attacked by a squirrel.  I kid you not.  Attacked is maybe too strong a term; almost maimed is probably more appropriate.  Both of these incidents beg the question: what in tarnation is going on with the animals in our neighborhood?  Could it be that we are about to experience an earthquake?  They say that animals will get spooked and wig out right before an earthquake.  Or is it maybe that the earth is completing it’s Milankovitch cycle, or earth wobble as it is more commonly referred to?  Who knows?  I say it’s an election year and all kinds of crazy unexplainable stuff can happen during one of those.  Take George McGovern for example.

Psychotic animals (or people, for that matter) are great subjects in the hands of a Master like Stephen King; but they tend to disrupt the fabric of normalcy in an otherwise quiet suburban neighborhood.  That fabric was shredded in our neighborhood yesterday.  Buddy, all 8 months and 21 pounds of him, decided that he was going to hunt, track, kill and field dress our Craftsman lawnmower.  This is surprising due to the fact that Buddy can usually be seen dashing, tail between the legs, underneath the deck when he hears a butterfly burp.  Now, all of the sudden he’s Conan the Destroyer?  His sister; Penny, watched from the shaded Utopia that is our deck with mild amusement.  I could tell she was getting a kick out of it.  Buddy can’t beat up his sister (she whips up on him daily), so he’ll just take on the whirly-bladed metal thing instead.  I can’t afford doggie therapy.  We may just have to let him “catch” the lawnmower once, just so he can get a taste of the kill.  If we do that, though, what’s next?  Will he stalk the oven?  Pounce on the computer?  Jump the fence and join a wild pack of Ice Cream Truck hunters?  Maybe we should have gone with hamsters instead.

Our neighbor, the Assistant Principal (heretofore referred to as “AP”), is lucky to be alive.  Truly.  AP was minding his own business when a ruckus erupted in his back yard.  His daughter; APgirl we’ll call her, was yelling frantically at their rat terrier mix Annie to “Let Go! Let Go!”  Seems Annie had been patiently waiting for the right moment to decimate a trio of squirrels who had been taunting her for weeks.  Well, one of them paid the piper yesterday.  The three were casually dining on acorns in the back yard when Annie got within striking range.  Two of them; Smart and Smarter, we’ll call them, made for the fence.  Alvin, the smart-alecky one, had his back turned and never had a chance.  “Hey!  Where you guys goin’?”  Fade to Black. 

I imagine the last seconds looked something like this:  His chipmunk cousin pretty much nailing the facial expression, I think.  By the time AP got to the scene, Annie had already thrashed the squirrel into submission.   He yelled for her to drop it, and she did.  Then she pounced on it again.  He told her to drop it again, and as he was trying to push the “dead” squirrel out of the way with one hand while holding on to Annie with his other hand, the squirrel struck.  Seems it had been taking some cues from the possums in the neighborhood.  It got him on the tip of the finger, so AP did what any normal human would do in that instance: he yelled and snapped his hand away from his body, sending poor Alvin nose over tail all the way to the fence.  Alvin executed a perfect 4 point landing on the fence and held on for dear life.  Little did he know that that would end right about…..now.   He fell from the fence and was dead before he hit the ground.  Annie had been wrangled and put back in the house, and AP had a chance to look at his hand for the first time.  The bite was superficial, but the skin had been broken.  It was bleeding in two locations and the closest clinic was already closed.  He would have to go to the hospital.  Can you say Holiday Weekend Traffic? 

Four hours and 3 doses of anti-biotic later AP was sent home.  Alvin is on his way to the autopsy room and results should be back within 4 or 5 days.  We’re all 99.9% sure that what Alvin suffered from wasn’t rabies; it was cockiness.   Annie is walking with quite the strut today, the ER nurses got a good laugh, and we got a story to tell.  Boy, did we ever.

As I’m sure you have noticed, Dr. Isaid No has been noticeably absent the last few weeks.  I was trying to avoid writing this post, but I feel that you, dear readers, have a right to know.  The Doc is missing.  Honest.  I have no idea where he is.  His face is too big for a milk carton, and he’s beyond the age limit as well, so I’m running out of options.  I’ve called Interpol, but no one answered at their “International Mad Scientists” desk.  Nurse Thighhighs is gone too, as are the children: Ebola, Bunson and Beaker.  They left about a week after the last time I saw the Doc.  I went to their house and combed over the yard, but didn’t find any fresh, shallow graves, so I’m reasonably sure that he is still alive.  The lab seemed to be in order, but the Lair was empty.  It’s quite possible that he has gotten himself caught up in some madman’s scheme again. 

Oh, you didn’t know?  Yeah, a long history of hanging out with shady characters; Qaddafi, Arafat, Hussein, Dr. Evil, SPECTRE, C.H.A.O.S., and  more recently; Putin, Chavez, the Clinton Campaign and an unconfirmed report that he was in the owners box at the Dallas Cowboys Divisional playoff game loss to the Giants.  Damn that Jerry Jones, can’t he see that the man is sick?  The last time Jones got his hooks in the Doc, Emmit Smith rushed for over 1,200 yards, and Barry Switzer almost sounded intelligent.  I’m not sure exactly what the Doc did while he was in Dallas, but let’s just say that the Doc was able to upgrade the lab after that trip.  Come to think of it, has anyone seen Barry Switzer since then? Hmmm.

Rest assured that we will leave no stone unturned in our search for Dr. Isaid No.  No, really, he loves cold, dark places; under rocks is the first place we will look.  He’s like Patrick Star with orange sunglasses.  Failure to find him there may lead us on a journey to the deepest, darkest slums of the Eastern Bloc.  Again, cold, dark places, he just loves them!  I can just picture him in some bar in a Prague slum celebrating the Czech’s Bronze medal in Hockey at the 1920 Olympic games in Antwerp.  He always was a hockey fan.  If you happen to see the Doc, please contact Interpol or your local High School Physical Science teacher; either of them will know what to do.

Full Disclosure: 

The Doc has been working tirelessly at school.  He just finished up last week, and then started back in again with Summer school this past Monday.  His classes are 4 hours a night, 4 nights a week.  Needless to say, his free time is almost non-existent.  If and when his school load eases up, he will return to being a regular contributor again; until then, you will continue to be stuck with me.  But that’s not all bad, is it?

I’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest with my Rick Astley comment yesterday.  Again; no link, just scroll.  Apparently there are quite a few Rick Astley fans left, and they both called me yesterday.  My intent was not to rile up the “Astleynation”, I was just making a point.  It seems that I am not alone in this regard.  The New York Mets fell victim to being “Rickroll’d” in early April, and other victims include the Eastern Washington University Women’s Basketball Team and The Church Of Scientology.  Mr. Astley is quite good natured about the whole thing, and actually embraces the idea.  Well, sort of.  He says he won’t try and capitalize on the phenomenon, but that’s probably because sales of his back catalog have increased to the point that he can cancel the second leg of his Dinner Theatre Tour this summer.  Go Rick!

I don’t hate Rick Astley, it’s just hard to process the audio/visual contradiction that is the “Never Gonna Give You Up” video (sorry, can’t bring myself to embed it).  He obviously deserves some credit for having such a soulful voice.  His parents, however, should be chastised for teaching him to dress like a Ken doll and eat like a bird.  That voice cannot be coming from that body.  I see Rick in this video, and all I can think of is Anthony Michael Hall asking Molly Ringwald if he can “Borrow her underpants for 10 minutes” in Sixteen Candles.  He looks like a 12 year old who stole his Mothers sunglasses.  Seriously, think about it; if you saw a Barry White video, but the sound coming out of the TV was “Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club, wouldn’t you question your sanity?   Don’t even get me started on the “Dance moves.”  Until I saw this video, I always thought running into a chain link fence was an accident, not a dance move.  Who choreographed this video, Elmer Fudd?  Oh great, now I’ll get inundated with hate mail from the “Looneytunesnation.”  Apologies in advance, Mr. Fudd.  Please don’t send Marvin the Martian to melt my face off with his explosive space modulator.  I think two things would have helped the credibility of the “Never Gonna Give You Up” video: longer hair and puberty.  

I’m calling myself out. Actually, someone else called me out, but they did so in a private forum rather than a public one. I thank them for that, and if I’d just keep my mouth shut, then some of you would never know the difference; but then, that would defeat the purpose of our little experiment here wouldn’t it? Those of you that have noticed it can quit laughing now. You see, in my brilliantly observant, tirelessly researched, poorly spell-checked post It Came From Planet Spudtron, I wrote “potato’s” when I should have written “potatoes”.  There.  It’s out in the open.  Call me Dan Quayle (Hope I spelled THAT right) if you want to, at least I’m not in front of a classroom of children on national television with the Election hanging in the balance. That’s right, folks; if you want, you can blame (or Thank, if you’re a Clinton fan) “Potatoe” (singular) for 8 years of Bill Clinton. Well, for the first 4 at least.  I can hear him now: “I did not have lunch with that potatoe…..Ms. Spudinsky.”  Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get down to business.

One of this weeks words comes from yesterday’s post; Lester Holt Saves The World.  I won’t waste a link on it, just scroll down 3 inches.  The word is bated; as in bated breath.  Some thought it should be “baited” with an i, but after the “potato’s” fiasco of May 15th, you can bet your bottom dollar I doubled checked it.  It means: to moderate or restrain; to lessen or diminish; abate.  It even has a definition for the actual phrase “with bated breath” (number 4): with breath drawn in or held because of anticipation or suspense. Long “a”, as in “bay”.  Not the biggest of words, but one that is often misused.  Our second word this week is pernicious.  You may have heard this word before, but not known what it really meant.  It doesn’t mean; a girl that “gets around” (promiscuous), it means: causing insidious harm or ruin; injurious, hurtful.  Kind of sounds like a Rick Astley song.  Remember; you can see all of the words in our series by visiting the Big Word Wednesday Homepage.  Until next week. 

Like most people, I’m waiting with bated breath for the Indiana Jones sequel.  Can’t wait to see Harrison Ford beat down some Nazi’s with his walker and bedpan.  Is it just me, or does he look older in the previews for Part 4 than Sean Connery looked in Part 3?  Look for the Metamucil and Depends product placements, they’re bound to be in there somewhere.  Probably when they’re in some temple miles away from a bathroom.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Harrison Ford, he’s made more blockbusters than anyone, but hopefully he’ll be passing the hat and whip off to Shia LaBeouf. 

We’re taking Nukeboy1 and Nukeboy2 when it comes out, and over the past 2 weekends the Indiana Jones movies have been playing on the Sci Fi channel, so we got them caught up on the first three.  Last night, after Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, the Sci Fi channel ran a special called The Mystery of The Crystal Skulls.  Lester Holt from NBC/MSNBC, Today Weekend and God knows where else he’ll be showing up next, was the host.  After the first 20 minutes of the show, I began to wonder; who did he piss off in order to get stuck with this?  Did he forget to pick up Matt Lauer’s dry cleaning or something?  I mean, the poor guy gets bounced all over the place.  One minute he’s on MSNBC as a political analyst, then he’s on NBC doing investigative journalism, then he’s on Today Weekend having a coffee klatch with the NBC babe du jour talking about the best way to keep the dogs from digging in your garden this summer.  Lester; buddy, meet with your agent and slap them upside the head.  One of you needs to be in control of your career, and it looks like it ain’t you.

Enough about Lester, let’s get to the “show”.  Mystery of The Crystal Skulls could have been an educational show.  Instead they went with the “Weekly World News” option: make outlandish claims, back it up with no proof, over promise and under deliver.  This was the type of show that spends the last minute and a half before commercial telling you what’s coming up after the break.  After the break, they recap what they have covered so far, and then tell you what’s coming up next.  Then they show you what’s coming up next.  Problem is; at that point it’s time for another commercial break and the cycle starts all over again.  This show had more filler than a prom dress.  Total running time of pertinent information?  About 17 minutes.  Total running time of actual show?  Two hours.  Cheese molds faster than that.

This show was all over the place.  It talked about the skulls, the Mayan calendar, 2012, the end of the world and how we had all better get ready.  What?  Again?  Doomsayers have been around forever; hell, they still quote Nostradamus today!  Look; when it’s your time to go, don’t bother packing a suitcase, it’ll be over before you know it.  It might be an asteroid (Potato?) tomorrow, or a late running city bus the next day, but when your ticket is punched, there aren’t any refunds.  In my lifetime alone I have survived a lot of things that were supposed to kill me, or very well should have killed me.  Here is a partial list:  Skylab, H.R. Pufnstuf, the 7th grade, Disco, DDT, the ‘69 Mets, Chunky Peanut Butter, Punk Rock, Y2K, Saccharin, Aspartame, Splenda, Olestra, Drilling in ANWR, Voting for Reagan, Reading too much Stephen King, My 1971 Volkswagen Beetle, 501 jeans, Voting for Reagan again, Nicholas Cage Movies, Anthrax, Tearing off those mattress tags, Playing Led Zepplin backwards and Shopping at Wal-Mart.  Any one of these could have easily done me in.  Can you imagine what would have happened if I had worn my 501’s into a Wal-Mart to buy chunky peanut butter in the 7th grade?  We wouldn’t be having this conversation; would we? 

I’ve learned to enjoy the moment; don’t get yourself all worked up over something that will probably never happen.  Even if it does happen, what can you do to stop it?  Nothing.  Just go to a Van Halen concert featuring David Lee Roth and wait for the Apocalypse; or is that an oxymoron?