humor Humor: มกราคม 2009

วันเสาร์ที่ 31 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Internet is My True Agent

You know the type -- that doodling type. Every time there is a pen and paper on the table, they will be sketching something down, with a mysterious smile, giggling quietly and making funny faces. Vlad Kolarov is no exception -- however, he has built a carrier out of his funny habit. If you are no Internet stranger, probably you have already seen his work. It might be a Yahoo ecard, or a funny cartoon on some web site, a greeting card or even his online portfolio (<a href="http://www.vladkolarov.com" target="_new">http://www.vladkolarov.com</a>). Vlad has been around for some time.

Q> Why did you decide to become a cartoonist?

R> I don't think I ever had a choice. Obviously I was born with the cartoon gene - I've always loved to doodle and create my own little world on paper. As a kid at school I noticed that my cartoons made people laugh and brought me some respect. That's a nice feeling. So to get paid to do it is the best. In spite of my law education (which I actually have never used), I decided to follow my stars and become a full-time cartoonist/illustrator. It turned out to be a very tough job but I also love the fact that I make my own hours and work at home. And it's great having a job that deals with humor.

Q> So how did it all start?

R> It all started in 1989 (my God! That makes me almost as old as the Triceratops). It was a very exciting time. After some time freelancing, I landed a job as a cartoonist for the biggest Bulgarian daily newspaper "24 hours". Several years later I decided to expand my horizon and moved to Vancouver, BC with my family. I've been living and working there ever since -- I love the place!!!

Q> Vlad, how do you find new markets? Do you make any "cold calls" or do you wait for the clients to call you?

R> Finding new markets is the key to being a successful freelancer. As an artist working at home you should be always looking for new clients. I contact magazines, websites, greeting card companies, etc... Also, they contact me. I find having a web site portfolio very useful (check it out - <a href="http://www.vladkolarov.com" target="_new">http://www.vladkolarov.com</a>). A freelancer MUST promote himself in every way possible. If one simply waits for clients to come to him, they'll never make it.

Q> Share a marketing secret with our readers.

R> Always be creative! For example my latest idea is to use the power of the Internet and turn my fans into my agents. Anyone who recommends me and brings in a new client will receive 15% commission of what I get. So if you want to make some extra money -- spread my name around:)

Q> You have such a wonderful drawing style! Do you have any art training?

R> No. I've had some art classes, but I was not very good -- so gave up and started drawing what I like instead. I noticed that my style changed a lot during the years, and eventually it is what you see now. I am a fan of the simple forms, so that is what I am after. Less is more (except in the bedroom):)

Q> What is the schedule of a man "working @ home"?

R> My day starts at around 8AM. I start with answering my mail, then drawing cartoons and promoting my work. The nice thing is that each day is a new challenge with a different project and a different client, so I never get bored. This usually goes till 8PM -- six days a week. Freelancers must work as many hours as possible.

Q> What is the business side of cartooning?

R> Tough...Professional cartooning IS a business. I am the president of Cardsup Greetings Ltd., which is a full-service multimedia company. We (it is a company, remember?) specialize in humor, but we do almost everything -- web design, interactive animation, web hosting, logo design, etc. We also provide humor content to web sites -- right now we have packages of daily cartoons and ecards that work great for marketing web sites.

Q> What is the best thing for you as a cartoonist?

R> Being my own boss. Being able to work from home. Having my wife and kids around me. Cartooning can be quite rewarding:)

Q> Where does your inspiration come from?

R> I am often asked that question...The truth is that after all these years my inspiration comes from the bills I have to pay...Deadline a inspirational too. This is a creative business, and as such, you need some reality biting you from behind.

Q> Is there a secret for being successful?

R> There are no secrets. Being successful comes with a lot of work. You won't be successful if you sit all day in from of the television set. You must promote yourself and produce new material each and every day.

Q> Do you work with any agencies? Do you think they help the artists?

R> No. I've had my share of rejection slips. Agencies are business representatives. In some cases they can help -- having someone out there promoting your work is nice. But they are not a guarantee for success and if you can do the work you don't actually need them. That's why I LOVE the Internet -- that is my true agent! And remember, if you recommend me -- you'll get paid!

Q> Tell us a bit about the selling process. Do you have set rates for your work and do you give discounts?

R> I do have set rates, rates that I usually charge but I am very flexible. Each client has a different budget and a different need. There are a lot of factors that go into determining how much a cartoon costs, and there is always that negotiating process. No client is too small or too big for me. I never turn away clients.

Q> Vlad -- what's up with the name?

R> Contrary to the wide spread rumor, I am not related to Dracula. I was, however, born in a small town on the river Danube relatively close to Transylvania. That could explain my taste for dark humor.

Q> Do you ever laugh at your cartoons?

R> Guilty, your honor! That has happened from time to time. But what I prefer is seeing the others laugh at them -- that is my biggest reward!

Q> How do people react when you tell them you are a cartoonist?

R> Most of them do not understand what that is...May be it's my accent, or may be it's such an exotic profession. How many cartoonists do you know?

About The Author

Dessislava Oundjian is the marketing Guru behind <a href="http://www.etoon.com" target="_new">http://www.etoon.com</a> -- one of the largest searchable cartoon databases in the world. Find T-shirts and other custom apparel, get information about licensing our cartoons or send e-cards.

วันศุกร์ที่ 30 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Voodoo Munchies

Looking for a lighthearted and fun way to remove the negative energy of a certain disruptive person from your life, or from your mind, if the person in question has moved on? Consider the cleansing (and giggle-inspiring) effect of Voodoo Munchies.

Beginning now, whenever you need to deal with this person or the dirty bathtub ring of negative vibes they left in your head, bake a cake or a cookie (depending on your eating habits and kitchen skills) and decorate it with this person's name and or likeness. Spend some time really infusing the essence of your feelings about this person into your creation.

Then, take your time and enjoy demolishing this representative receptacle of remediation, focusing on enjoying the flavor and texture of the item as well as the act of "reducing and compressing" the presence of the person in your life. Spend the next few days meditating on how this person is symbolically working their way through your system, giving up to your body and soul any beneficial qualities they may possess while at the same time being quite literally dissolved and pummeled into oblivion by your internal protective and nurturing organs. Your body knows exactly what it needs and what it should "spit out" - let it do the work.

Finally, a day or so later, spend about 15 minutes in your special "meditation cubby" sitting on your marble meditation stool contemplating the final demise of said person and all related icky-ness. Aaaahhhhh! Doesn't that feel better?

Repeat as needed!

(c) Soni Pitts

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Soni Pitts is the Chief Visionary Butt-Kicker of <a target="_new" href="http://www.sonipitts.com">SoniPitts.Com</a>. She specializes in helping others reclaim "soul proprietorship" in their lives and to begin living the life their Creator always intended for them.

She is the author of the free e-book "50 Ways To Reach Your Goals" and over 100 self-help and inspirational articles, as well as other products and resources designed to facilitate this process of personal growth and spiritual development.

วันพฤหัสบดีที่ 29 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

New Orleans First to Experience Housing Bubble Burst

Are we starting to see the Housing Bubble Burst in the wake of Hurricane Katrina? In New Orleans many homeowner's had their equity literally washed away. They are upside down in negative equity and basically underwater. It appears that the New Orleans Housing marker has gone down the drain. New Orleans experienced significant growth in the past year, prices had increased; many had taken out second loans to pay off credit car debt, which helped fuel the economy there. Relatively few need their credit cards for recent shopping sprees, as they just broke in with a little help from their friends and took those few items they needed for survival. You know like a; Surround-A-Sound System, with HDTV, 64" Flat Panel Display to watch your favorite local team the Saints.

Yes the market is flooded with homes for sale in the City New Orleans indeed. Some of these fine homes are not only very cheap now, but they come with the former residents still inside. The local economic development association director issues a recent statement that he and his staff are very optimistic about the future of the New Orleans real estate and that they do not see a dry period in the housing market there. In addition they indicated that New Orleans has a lot going for it; water rates are cheap with an abundant supply and sewage is not a problem also quite abundant. But that is not all. They touted their many shopping districts with rock bottom prices, so low in fact it was almost like stealing and the city at this point is not even charging sales tax, almost like a duty free shopping spree. Crime and community services are also not a problem and are both abundant and non-existent. Transportation is not a problem there is virtually no traffic at all. Think about the New Orleans housing market, get in on the ground floor while prices are cheap.

"Lance Winslow" - If you have innovative thoughts and unique perspectives, come think with Lance; <a target="_new" href="http://www.WorldThinkTank.net/wttbbs">http://www.WorldThinkTank.net/wttbbs</a>

11 Alternative Garden Games

Tired of the same ol', same ol' when it come to entertaining your garden party guests? Weary of boring badminton and jarts? Croquet not your style? Then you're in the right spot! Here are games sure to make your next party the hit of the gardening social season!

Icebreakers

Game #1: The Gnat Slap
Equipment required: A garden of any size.
As your guests arrive, invite them for the obligatory 'stroll through the garden'. Tell them they are welcome to slap the gnats but only those gnats annoying another guest; never are they permitted to slap gnats hovering around their own eyes, nose, ears or mouth. The winner is the last guest standing. A great icebreaker!
Game #2: The 3-Legged Butterfly Chase
Equipment required: Rope or wire to bind legs.
This is lots of fun. Tightly bind two guests' legs together to make a three-legged contestant. Then tell them you'll unbind them only after they've captured a butterfly.
Tip: For a longer lasting game, declare the quarry to be a hummingbird.
Game #3: Competitive Weed Pulling
Equipment required: Weeds of any kind.
This is a great game to reward the hard working guest. Entrants don't eat until the entire garden is cleaned of weeds. Winner: The person with the most weeds eats first and most, and so on down the line. This game teaches the rewards of the Puritan work ethic.
Game #4: The Wasp Dodge
Equipment required: More wire for binding, an in-ground wasp nest or two (Yellow Jackets are the best!), a small amount of kerosene.
With hands tightly wired behind their backs, have your players stand in a circle around a wasp nest entrance. Irritate the wasps by sprinkling a little kerosene over the hole and oh, boy! Stand back! Entrants are judged on style, grace, self-defensive acrobatic movements and number of stings.

Games to Play While the Frozen Turkey Cooks on the Charcoal Grill

Game #5: Watch the Lawn Go Dormant
Equipment required: A dry turf.
This is for those guests that had a poor showing in the other games. The winner is the person still awake when the lawn is actually declared dormant.
Game #6: Bobbing for Aquatic Insects
Equipment required: A stagnant water source such as a neglected pool, pond or bucket. Kids love this one!
The winner is whoever come up with the largest water strider. Incentive for the competitively spirited: Anyone bobbing to the bottom retrieving the hapless mouse that slipped in about a month ago qualifies for the National Bobb-Off!
Game #7: Slug Races
Equipment required: A slug for each guest.
We suggest two events: The 4" sprint and the 2-foot marathon. Guests may mark their slugs in any way they wish.
Tip 1: Use an air-horn to signify the start of the races. Slugs are hard of hearing.
Tip 2: Entrants in the "Watch the Lawn Go Dormant" game can play this game simultaneously.
Game #8: Hornet's Nest Pinata
Equipment required: 1 large hornet's nest, a stick long enough to reach the nest, a blindfold.
This game really livens things up after the slower pace of the slug races and helps work off dinner.
Game #9: Blindfolded Lawn Mowing
Equipment required: A power mower and the blindfold from the Hornet's Nest Pinata game if it isn't too bloody.
Everyone loves this sport! One by one guests are blindfolded and told to mow the grass. The winner is the contestant who runs over the fewest trees, shrubs, flowers, pets and other guests. Lotsa laughs!
Time Saving tip: Dial 911 before the game begins.

Games for After Dark

Game #10: Firefly Shooting
Equipment required: A BB gun for everyone.
After a fun day of activities and food, gather everyone in the center of the garden in a large circle to try their hand at nailing a few fireflies. The winner, and don't expect one, is anyone who actually knocks a lightening bug out of the sky.
Time Saving tip: Dial 911 before the game begins.
Game #11: Feed the Mosquitos
Equipment required: Go figure.
Play this last game while lingering over "good-byes" in the garden.

When Tom Schneider isn't trying to find new guests to invite to his garden parties, he and his wife Deb are busy with their on-line <a target="_new" href="http://www.windstarembroidery.com/embroidery-design-shop.cfm">machine embroidery design</a> business, <a target="_new" href="http://www.windstarembroidery.com">WindstarEmbroidery.com</a>

Valet Parking: Theft with Consent

This column is long overdue. To put it in library terms, which I guess I already did (but I'd like to elaborate), this column is like checking out a book in 1998 but not returning it until yesterday. And by yesterday, I really mean tomorrow. This analogy will only grow as time continues because yesterday and tomorrow are both relative terms. I can't wait until the space creatures read this in the year 2577. Maybe they will e-mail me when they do, just so I feel like my previous sentence came with a purpose...

As far as my purpose, I'd like to address the issue of valet parking this week because, quite frankly, I think it's the worst system in the world. If I was still on that library kick, I'd add that Dewey Decimal - if that is his real name - would be laughing in his grave. Now I understand that this is a "fancy" way to park because someone is doing the parking for you, and anytime someone does something for you, it's automatically fancy. The same ideology is what makes room service more than just expensive food. I also know the argument that valet parking is a privilege, because instead of having to park your own car into a visibly tight spot, some random person will park your car into an area that you can't see because that's how special it is. Privileges aside, this worries me because if you took away the voluntary nature of the system, it would be considered grand theft auto...

That's right - valet parking is the one time when we are basically telling a stranger, "Go ahead, steal my car. I trust that it'll be here later." And sure, virtually 100% of the time it is. But what about that 0% of the time when your car just isn't there and that valet parker turns out to be a person who knows how to find the appropriate attire online? Furthermore, what is the guarantee that your stuff inside the car will still be there? This is a time period when the valet can do anything he wants with your car - change the radio station, eat your food, kill your friend still sitting in the passenger seat - so we need to think more carefully about why we continue to utilize this system...

Some would say that the system is faster, but oftentimes the self-parking area is right next to the valet. Others would add that valet allows someone else to hold your keys, and if that is supposed to be a good thing, then why don't we just hand in our wallets at the door as well? So, when it comes down to it, speed and convenience aren't prominent enough to be used as valid evidence (I am really tackling the legal terms in this column)...

To prove the risk of valet parking further, I must question why we don't hire random house sitters. You know, just stop a passerby and ask him to stay at your house for three days while you're gone, and in return you'll let him eat all the fish sticks from the freezer he wants - even though you don't have a freezer - and he can pet your dog twice. Or, since I'm on the animal kick, why don't people who walk their dogs in a park just switch dogs temporarily with someone else? This is essentially what valet parking is, except that parking isn't a two-way trade. If it were a two-way system, I guess that would have to be called "parallel" parking, but I'll have to save that for a different column (note to self: please don't)...

Unless required by law or the front-seat passenger, I will continue to park my own car. I am not implying that I want valets to lose their jobs. Rather, I am just noting that I don't want them to do anything. I guess that would make them government officials...

But I digress.

Greg Gagliardi is a teacher and writer. His stream-of-consciousness weekly humor column, "Progressive Revelations," has been ongoing since 1998. (<a target="_new" href="http://www.ProgressiveRevelations.com">http://www.ProgressiveRevelations.com</a>)

วันอังคารที่ 27 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

The Spare Parts Gremlins

Don't you just love getting a little something extra? Sure you do. Everybody does. That's why Online marketers throw in 36 bonus ebooks with that little software item they are peddling.

But a little something extra is not always a good thing.

Flash back a few weeks. I was assembling a dresser for my daughter. One by one, I pulled the wood panels from the box. I pulled out a bag of bits and pieces, which was attached to another, which was attached to another, which was attached to another.

I held up the chain of bags to inspect. There were screws and bolts and dowels and nails and an assortment of metal and plastic bits for which no name exists.

I set about banging bits into boards, sliding bits into boards, screwing bits into boards, snapping bits into boards. By the time I reached step 439 of the instructions, I was finally ready to connect two panels (the bottom and one of the sides).

But wait. What's this semi-white plastic half-moon piece? And what about this black plastic tube no more than an inch long? Where do these mystery pieces go?

I reread the parts inventory ? every chapter of it ? in English, French and Spanish. I took a magnifying glass to every page of pictograms. But not a trace of either mystery piece. What should I do? I could not just throw them away. What if I discover next week that I really need them?

That's when I remembered the "Spare Parts Gremlins". These devious creatures gleefully toss spare parts in where they will most confuse us.

The Spare Parts Gremlins were there last Christmas when I was picking from a box of chocolates. I wondered what the big round one was? I looked at all the little drawings, but it just was not there.

I toyed with the idea of just tasting it. But what if it was coffee flavored? I don't like coffee. (Yes, I know. My mother dropped me on my head when I was young.) What if it was mint flavored? Sorry, but chocolate covered toothpaste just is not my thing. What if it was cheesecake flavored? Mmm. No, that would be just wishful thinking. "Ooh. I hate you Spare Parts Gremlins."

The Spare Parts Gremlins were there at the movie theatre. We were watching The Matrix Reloaded, a psychological action film, when all of a sudden a love-making scene popped out of nowhere. Neo and Trinity were expressing their friendship in a way that only a man and a woman can. The camera switched back and forth between the couple and a mass party of gyrating hips and earthy rhythmic music.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy gyrating hips as much as the next person, but the scene was out of context like a cowboy at a tea party in an English garden. The Spare Parts Gremlins strike again!

Gremlin One: Hey, I have a love-making scene here. It's sort of a primal Amazon thing. What should I do with it?

Gremlin Two: We have to find a totally unrelated film. What about The Matrix Reloaded?

Gremlin One: That's perfect!

You just never know what gremlin will show up. You have to be prepared. Take a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. That's it. Stay calm. OK, continue with your life.

So here I stand with one dresser, two plastic parts that I don't dare throw away in case they actually are needed somewhere, and the fear that the Spare Parts Gremlins are lurking somewhere in my house, ready to force "a little something extra" on me again when I least suspect it.

About The Author

The author is David Leonhardt, The Happy Guy, author of Climb Your Stairway to Heaven: the 9 habits of maximum happiness at <a href="http://TheHappyGuy.com/happiness-self-help-book.html" target="_new">http://TheHappyGuy.com/happiness-self-help-book.html</a> and publisher of Your Daily Dose of Happiness at <a href="http://TheHappyGuy.com/daily-happiness-free-ezine.html" target="_new">http://TheHappyGuy.com/daily-happiness-free-ezine.html</a>.

Visit his web site at <a href="http://TheHappyGuy.com" target="_new">http://TheHappyGuy.com</a>.

<a href="mailto:info@thehappyguy.com">info@thehappyguy.com</a>

How To Get Attention, or: As You Read This, You Feel an Irresistible Urge to Go On Reading!

We all want attention. As children we crave the attention of our parents. Later in life, we want to be seen and noticed by friends and family. And when running most any type of business, we must attract the attention of our potential customers.

But how do you get somebody's undivided attention? When you were an infant, you got attention by screaming and crying. Then your parents knew you needed your diapers changed. As an adult, you can try using the same method to get noticed. Sure, you will get noticed - but in a negative way!

On the Internet, every website that is selling something has the need to be attention-grabbing within seconds; to make the visitors read about their offer rather than just clicking away. Some are then tempted to use the infant method of getting attention: screaming and yelling.

Popup-windows that pop up in your face and obscure the page text you're just trying to read, is one example. Flash-generated intro's that stop you in your tracks and say "Heeey, wait - before you read about our products I've got this f-a-n-t-a-s-t-i-c visual effect to show you...!" is another example of attention-grabbing contraptions that actually defeat their own purpose. They visually yell and scream at you, and draw your attention to the fact that you'd better spend your precious time somewhere else.

Then there is the type of web page that plays some sound effect the moment you arrive. Either it is a piece of music (always just the kind you hate!) or a recorded sales pitch.

Oh yes, then there is the Blinking Text... which blinks at frantic pace, just right to trigger an epileptic seizure.

One of my websites is called "The Hosting Finder". Primarily, it offers some reviews of carefully selected web hosting companies. I am not selling anything on this website, and so I do not feel it would be appropriate to use a hard-selling jargon in my introductory headline. Right now, it reads:

" Finding a Web Hosting Provider That Will Take Good Care of Your Precious Web Pages ... Can Be Confusing "

(I then explain how I researched the web to find good hosting services based on un-biased customer ratings rather than hype.)

Recently, a marketing consultant offered to look at this website and give me some feedback at no cost. I accepted, and after checking my landing page he declared the headline to be "generic and bland". Instead, he suggested the following:

" Want An Objective 'Client Feedback' Guide To Help You Find A 100% Trustworthy, Inexpensive, And Complete Web Hosting Service Provider (Based On Survey Results, Not Marketing Propaganda) -- With All The Options You Need To Run Your Web Site Smoothly And Successfully?

Avoid The Hosting Nightmare Of Trying To Keep Your Site Live And Running Smoothly... Stop Wasting Time And Money In Costly Bad Service "

In my reply, I thanked him for his trouble. I also pointed out that this flood of words might not be the optimal way of building confidence in my integrity as the provider of impartial reviews on web hosting.

Maybe I am wrong, who knows. Perhaps I should start yelling and screaming just like everybody else? But I just don't like the idea of doing that. I'd rather hypnotize people into reading my texts. Some marketing gurus advocate this approach. Here are a few examples of how you're supposed to hypnotize people:

1. As you keep reading this ad copy, you are feeling more and more compelled to experience all the benefits of our product.

2. The more you understand just how valuable our product could be to your life, the less you think about delaying this important purchase.

3. After you read this short ad you will feel like your problems are almost completely solved, all you will have to do is order.

Well, don't you feel compelled to reach for your wallet right now?! These examples are not intended as a joke; they are seriously trying to persuade people. And maybe they are, although I personally find them more amusing than hypnotizing. - I'll make a pause here; I just feel I have to go out and buy something! :-)

OK, I am back. Time to finish this little essay on how to get attention. Oh, you have read this far? So I have managed to keep your attention then! I did it by ... no, I won't give my secret away. You'll have to read my Special Report, which I'm selling for ONLY $97. But hurry, this exclusive limited special offer is expiring, and will always expire, at midnight; whatever day you happen to read this! :-)

Kai Virihaur is a researcher, web developer, and artist. He runs The Hosting Finder ( <a target="_new" href="http://www.thehostingfinder.com">http://www.thehostingfinder.com</a> ), a web hosting directory featuring articles and RSS feeds on web development, website promotion, and online marketing.

The article may be used freely as long as this resource box, with intact hyperlink, is included.

Got Originality?

There are many ways to be original these days. But unfortunately I cannot reveal any of these ways because the followers would then not be original, would they? Now, I realize that somewhere between one to two people would have followed the advice I gave, but just in case my calculations were off - and it turns out three would have followed - I need to be careful about what I write ?

One slogan which completely frustrates me due to its lack of originality is "got ____?" That's right - that lowercase phrase which was formerly synonymous with milk (and is now synonymous with everything) is so clich? that it's even clich? to write "got clich??" But the worst is not behind us. The other day I saw a sign for an ATM machine that asked the question, "got cash?" This makes me wonder how far the slogan will extend before it finally fades. Here are five signs which I hope we never see, for any of them could mean the end of the world as we know it. And if it's the end of the world, how will we ever be able to celebrate the end of that slogan?

5. got goats? - I am not sure why this one would scare me. I guess it's something about selling goats to the mainstream that throws me off, or maybe I am afraid that too many far-sighted people will think it's an advertisement for coats. Either way, goats don't need to be a part of such a cliched scheme in order to be sold. That would be very baaaad. At least that's what a sheep told me.

4. got gas? - Just imagine the confusion. Those who need fuel in their cars would stop in order to fill their tanks. But what about those who just came back from the local Taco Bell? They don't need to be at a station where they can get gas. Rather, they need to be at a place where? Well, you get the picture.

3. got snot? - We don't need to be selling snot, let alone buying it. But if we are ever at a point where snot is something in which people become interested, let's not hold down the sales by asking people if they have it, because ultimately everybody does.

2. got my mother? - No..

1. got death? - If cemeteries start using this slogan, then we know the world has become too commercialized. Not only is it a morbid statement, but those who can answer in the affirmative will not even be given the opportunity to do so.

But I digress.

The Spare Parts Gremlins

Don't you just love getting a little something extra? Sure you do. Everybody does. That's why Online marketers throw in 36 bonus ebooks with that little software item they are peddling.

But a little something extra is not always a good thing.

I held up the chain of bags to inspect. There were screws and bolts and dowels and nails and an assortment of metal and plastic bits for which no name exists.

But wait. What's this semi-white plastic half-moon piece? And what about this black plastic tube no more than an inch long? Where do these mystery pieces go?

That's when I remembered the "Spare Parts Gremlins". These devious creatures gleefully toss spare parts in where they will most confuse us.

The Spare Parts Gremlins were there last Christmas when I was picking from a box of chocolates. I wondered what the big round one was? I looked at all the little drawings, but it just was not there.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy gyrating hips as much as the next person, but the scene was out of context like a cowboy at a tea party in an English garden. The Spare Parts Gremlins strike again!

Gremlin One: Hey, I have a love-making scene here. It's sort of a primal Amazon thing. What should I do with it?

Gremlin Two: We have to find a totally unrelated film. What about The Matrix Reloaded?

Gremlin One: That's perfect!

You just never know what gremlin will show up. You have to be prepared. Take a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. That's it. Stay calm. OK, continue with your life.

About The Author

Visit his web site at <a href="http://TheHappyGuy.com" target="_new">http://TheHappyGuy.com</a>.

<a href="mailto:info@thehappyguy.com">info@thehappyguy.com</a>

วันจันทร์ที่ 26 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Restaurant Manager Gives Out Sexual Favors As Performance Bonus, Raise

While many restaurant workers worry and sweat in anticipation of an imminent job-related performance review, employees at Applebee's in Westland have adopted an entirely different attitude toward the employment evaluation process. This is due in no small part to the fact that the general manager, Lisa Blanco, rewards superior employee performance the old fashion way.

"We have the lowest turnover rate in the company," said Blanco, beaming. "I'm proud of the fact that when I get an employee, I know how to keep that employee happy and productive."

Blanco started this unusual practice with her subordinates about five years ago, shortly after being promoted to management and immediately after her first husband died. This particular motivational technique is, however, deeply ingrained in her nature, and has served her well in many other areas, and at many other times in her life.

"When I was a waitress with this, and other, companies," said Blanco, "I loved my job, and I was continually looking for ways to increase my tips while making the customer happy. Hell, I remember understanding this philosophy way back in high school. I learned there had to be balance, it had to be a win/win situation for everybody...I've always had high values and integrity. I learned that to get what I want it only made sense that I needed to give the customer what he wants, and I knew I already gave above-average service. Now I needed to give above-average head."

Blanco's track record is excellent. Her store outperforms virtually every other Applebee's in Michigan -- and is consistently in the top-five out of all the Applebee's in the country -- in sales, service, customer satisfaction, product quality, penmanship and, for obvious reasons, employee satisfaction. In addition, her restaurant has maintained almost the exact same staff for the last three years, well beyond any previous company records.

"Yeah, it took me a couple of years to get to know my staff," said Blanco, absently stroking an Applebee's pen while gazing reflectively into the distance. "Working in a busy restaurant can be a high-pressure experience. We are a melting pot of diverse personalities, working under often stressful circumstances. You never know how someone is going to react.

"I learned their likes and dislikes, and what motivated them to the point that they'd willingly give me that something extra...that, whatever it is that comes out at that moment of truth when they've reached the point of maximum heightened activity. Is it hot in here?"

Not that her employees are complaining. Several suggested to the corporate office that Blanco's philosophy be adopted company-wide, and because of those suggestions two senior corporate managers plan a visit to observe, and possibly make recommendations, later this month.

"It's great timing," said Larry Ward, who was brought over by Blanco after working with her at another restaurant. "I think most of us are up for review right around the time those big-wigs are supposed to be here. They get to see hands-on what gives us such a strong unit. Sure, we go against almost every modern axiom pertaining to manager/employee relations, but she took the single most important principle -- keeping your employees happy -- and she does it better than anyone else could ever dream."

Said Ward, "While everyone else is looking outside the box, we're all looking inside hers."

After over 12 years as a waiter and bartender, Dennis Rymarz walked completely away from the business and launched Don't Tip the Waiter, a one-of-a-kind satirical publication that reports fictional news and events from the restaurant industry.

Initially intended specifically for servers and bartenders, the publication is now read by a rapidly growing audience that includes just about anyone who goes out to eat.

Don't Tip the Waiter is distributed free-of-charge to bars and restaurants in the Detroit area, and can be read on line at <a target="_new" href="http://donttipthewaiter.com">http://donttipthewaiter.com</a>

The Hidden Driveway

I won't lie: there are a lot of things I want in life, and some of them I'd even pay for. Rather than listing them in some aimless order so that I can feel bad about not having these things, I will instead focus on one thing that is actually attainable: a hidden driveway...

I've wanted a hidden driveway for as long as I can remember, which is sometime between yesterday and tomorrow. I was driving on a busy road when I saw the sign to my right that denoted the hidden driveway existed while implying I should be careful of it. And I was - because who am I not to follow a sign, especially when it pertains to something hidden?

Many would consider hidden driveways to be dangerous because a person who backs out of such a location may be hit by oncoming traffic - or even outgoing traffic, or even a wandering turtle with a jetpack. Sure, there are rearview and side mirrors, but those with hidden driveways are rebels, and rebels don't use mirrors except to adjust their ski masks and glow-in-the-dark sunglasses...

One may now be wondering why I would want a hidden driveway if they are indeed so dangerous. To begin, it would help to cut down random visits from people I don't want to see. I could even be extra nice to these people, inviting them over for the best cheesecake this side of Mouseville. But then, alas, they'd never find my driveway. Thus, I'd be known as a nice person who "unfortunately" lives at a location that is hard to find. This would also elevate the reputation of the cheesecake...

The better reason for wanting a hidden driveway, though, is that it would make me seem like a secret agent every time I leave for work, head for the local convenient store, or even move the car so that there is more room to play horseshoes. To add to the mystique of my persona, I would leave the driveway only when it is dark outside, or when everyone else is at some local festival that I skipped because of how hidden I am. Eventually, after a couple of years of keeping up this routine, I would not even need a car because no one would be able to see it anyway, which contradicts the reason for having one. Rather, I would walk everywhere that is within walking distance - and everything else I would have delivered...

Such would be the life of a person with a hidden driveway. If you have one, please invite me over sometime soon so I can practice backing out of one...

But I digress.

The Hidden Driveway

Such would be the life of a person with a hidden driveway. If you have one, please invite me over sometime soon so I can practice backing out of one...

But I digress.

วันอาทิตย์ที่ 25 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Fried Green Tomatoes Recipe

My next-door neighbors found a human bone in their backyard. Let me rephrase. She thinks she found a human bone. They were putting up a fence in their backyard. They've been digging and shoveling and leveling posts. I unloaded some boards to be a Mister-Rogers-kind-of-neighbor. And she was still talking about the human bone she'd shown me the day before.

I was walking down the driveway, and she called me over to look at the bone. "Don't you think it's a human bone?" she asked.

I put my foot on it and rolled it around, inspecting each side. It's about the size of a small child's bone. I took my foot off it and said in jest, "You should call the authorities. Tell them you found a human bone."

We both stood over it, looking at it, concocting our own beliefs about the bone.

"You really think I should?" she asked. The whole scene had my neighbor talking in a high-pitched voice.

Now I'm not an expert on human bones. I've never set eyes on them. I saw a picture of them the other night on Desperate Housewives. Somebody cut that woman up and put her in that trunk that floated to the top in some lake on the set of the show. So this was a first for me. I could tell it was a bone. Some kind of a bone.

If it were me, I'd pitch the thing in the trash. I wasn't ready to call Cold Case and have that blonde-headed chick come out to put us all under surveillance. Ask us twenty questions. "How long have you lived next door, Mr. Stofel?" Then she would investigate my boring life.

To pursue something like this is to invite too much drama into your life. They'll bring in a backhoe. Close off my driveway. Keep me from getting any work done with all the noise going on outside my window. It just makes your backyard seem like a graveyard. Then you get to worrying about the house. You'll start hearing footsteps on the boards or a heart beating beneath the floorboards like in that Edgar Allan Poe short story, "The Tell-Tale Heart." Remember the story? The narrator kills the old man because his pale blue eye, like a vulture's eye, is driving him insane. Everywhere he turns there's that eye, until finally he can't take it anymore. He inches his way into the old man's room each night until he finally springs on the old man who shrieks. The narrator throws the mattress over him. Suffocating him. Waiting for his last heartbeat. It happens. Then he dismembers him, like that body in Desperate Housewives. He raises the three planks of the floor of the chamber. The old man is gone. Elation.

Then a knock upon the door. Three policeman stand at his door. A terrible shriek coming from his house has been reported. But the narrator fears nothing. He's performed the perfect crime. He throws open the house. Slings his arms into every room. They are satisfied that it was indeed the narrator yelling in his sleep. The police pull up chairs and chat.

At first it's exhilarating for the narrator. He's getting away with murder. Then it gets old. They will not go away. And it isn't because they are suspicious. They're not. Just tired. Just feel like talking. But this is when the heart begins to beat beneath the three planks, up under the three policeman's feet. But they cannot hear it, only the narrator hears the sound of the heart beating from beneath the three planks. He starts talking in a crazy, idiotic way-his voice reaching crescendos. But the heart beats above the sound of his voice. Louder and louder. Until the man cannot stand it any longer. And he pulls up the boards and reveals the old man's corpse.

The narrator shrieks, "Villains! . . . dissemble no more! I admit the deed!-tear up the planks! here, here!-It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

Maybe I'm taking my neighbor's archeological dig too far. But it got me to thinking about Edgar Allan Poe and that zany story, and about how it bleeds into my story. I'm that way. Everything bleeds into a story for me. We are stories. You and I. Stories.

So, as I said, it got me to thinking about my own heart. How it was hidden beneath the floor, inside this skin and bones that the Apostle Paul calls "the old man." That old sinful nature inside.

I thought about how my heart was the first thing to respond to God on that day in a 1,000-member church. And the wild thing is-the evangelist speaking that day-he heard my heart. It must have been beating in his ears the way the heart beat in the ears of Poe's narrator.

Louder and louder it thumped, as if a low-rider was sitting at the red light at the corner with the bass thumping against the moment. It beat in his ears until he couldn't stand it anymore, and the evangelist shrieked, "Someone here; your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You need to get up and come down here to the altar and give your beating heart to Christ." I can remember his words like a mantra, even after twenty-three years. Word for word. True story.

And it freaked me out. I was new to all of this church stuff. I went to church as a small child, but I can't tell you anything about it. I can't remember much before I was ten. But I can remember what that man said to me at the age of eighteen.

I could relate to him somewhere deep inside my soul, underneath the three planks of the chamber. My heart beat. It pounded. Louder and louder. So I jumped up, went down to the altar, and shrieked, "I am the one with the beating heart. Me, this heart. It beats. I did it."

Of course, we are all guilty. We killed the most precious thing. The One thing. The One heart that took its last beat here, only to come back and beat inside everyone who listens. Louder and louder. And with each beat a new beginning for some poor soul whose heart has taken its last beat here, only to utter his first eternal hello there.

● ● ●

My wife told me Bonnie buried the bone a couple of weeks ago. Put it back in the ground behind her house. I figured that was the end of it. Then Lee called this week and said, "Go to your backdoor, Bonnie has something for you."

So I did as told. I went to the backdoor and Bonnie was walking across the driveway we share. She had a basket with something inside. I could see right off that supper was mine. I even grinned. I just happened to be starving at the moment.

And she held out this basket with a good ole' southern smile and said, "We had some extra barbeque ribs. It's Lee's secret recipe."

"You've got to be kidding me! This will be a feast. Thank you."

She smiled and turned to cross the driveway. And man, were they good! Succulent. I'd eat them every night of the week and die of hardened arteries. I wouldn't care. I was so excited about receiving them that I even thought about becoming a Bo Bice fan.

Then I got to thinking about that bone she found in her backyard, the bone I was telling you about a couple of weeks ago. Well, I got to thinking maybe they'd cooked up some secret recipe all right. Secret meat that used to be on that bone she found. You know it happened in that movie, Fried Green Tomatoes. They killed that man, chopped him up, made barbeque out of him, and fed him to that Georgia detective, who told Big George that it was the best barbecue he'd ever eaten, and asked him what his secret was. And Big George smiled and said, "Thank you, suh, I'd have to say the secret's in the sauce."

And I was thinking, I hope they aren't feeding me a dead person.

The neighbors even found a grave marker in the backyard to go along with the bone. No lie. First came the bone, and then this grave marker appeared. This is where they said the bone must've come from. Said it may have been a soldier in the Civil War. They had my attention. It was some kind of white stone with a rough texture. It had three initials on it-W.C.P. I know because she had it leaning against the back of her house and called me over to look at it. Sure enough, it was a grave marker. And sure enough, it could be a Confederate soldier. General Hood, the Confederate general and full-time sot, took his men across the Tennessee River near Decatur on his way to get all those boys killed in the Battle of Franklin. So it could be a Civil War man. Or it could be they are setting me up. Making me think it was a Civil War man.

They could've bought that grave marker at a yard sale. She's big into yard sales anyway. She bought a butcher's block at a yard sale today. I saw her tugging on it, trying to get it out of the back of her truck. I just happened to be walking out the backdoor. I swear I don't spy. I ain't a nosy neighbor, but like I said, she was trying to lift it out of the truck, and when I asked her if she needed help she said, "Naw, I got it." Then she said, "It's a butcher's block. I bought it at a yard sale for $3.00."

I was thinking, That's an awful big butcher's block. She had both hands gripping it and she was straining a bit to carry it in the backdoor. I was also thinking, What's she going to cut up? A whole cow? Then I remembered the bone and grave marker. It was all coming together. She's Jeffery Dahmer's sister or something. I pictured her in her kitchen with a detached arm on that butcher's block. Freezer bags to the left of her and a knife in one hand, while the other hand on that arm's hand. Then I remembered the ribs. I figured I'd just eaten somebody the other night while I watched my NASCAR race. Maybe that's why, when I told them how good they were, she said, "Really?"

I said, "Oh, yeah. Best ribs I've ever sunk my teeth into."

She said it again with this funny look on her face, she said, "Really? . . . Well, its Lee's secret recipe."

(Yeah, right.)

Now I'm not accusing anybody of anything. But I tell you what, if I catch her toting a body bag in through the backdoor, I'm gonna go over there and tell her to let me know when the ribs are ready. I'm like that Georgia detective in that Fried Green Tomatoes movie-that was the best barbecue ribs I've ever eaten, and I'll eat'em again. I don't care whose ribs they are. They some good eating as long as Lee can keep his secret.

PUBLICATIONS

1. God, Are We There Yet?: Learning to Trust God's Direction for Your Life, a non-fiction book published by Cook Communications. Released-September 2004. Sales thru November 2004-2,262.

2. God, How Much Longer?: Learning to Trust God's Redirection for Your Life, a non-fiction book published by Cook Communications. Expected release date-September 2005.

3. Survival Notes for Graduates: Inspiration for the Ultimate Journey - a devotional for graduates published by Ambassador Books. Release date-March 2004. Sales 7,500.

4. Survival Notes for Teens: Inspiration for the Emotional Journey - a devotional for students published by Ambassador Books. Release date-October 2004. Sales thru December 2004-3,500.

OTHER AWARDS AND PUBLICATIONS IN LITTLE MAGAZINES:

"Post-it Note from God at the Edge of Faulkner's Yard," ?2000 Writer's Digest Writing Competition Winner

"Post-It Note from God at the Edge of Faulkner's Yard," St. Anthony's Messenger, which exposed his writing to an audience of 340,000.

"The Gene of Dysfunction," Aura Literary Arts Review-University

Sell [Your] Phones

Today while driving I saw a young girl, probably around 11 years old, on a cell phone. She was walking along the side of the street talking to someone, and I couldn't help but think that maybe she was talking to someone across the street because she wasn't allowed to cross it. Whatever the reason, though, there is something about an 11-year-old on a cell phone that legitimately scares me, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she is probably getting more calls than I am...

I always (for the past five minutes) thought it would be interesting if the transmissions from cell phones could be visible, so that I could look out the window right now and see all the words that are being passed from one phone to another. Another added plus of the words being visible is that I could reach into the air and take away the ones that I don't like, therefore completely changing people's conversations. With me controlling the airwaves, people would never use cell phones again, and we would no longer have to worry about walking down the street and being hit with a "hello," or a "goodbye," or a "he needs to stop messing with my mother's wounded llama," the latter of which would be a sentence that I formed based on stealing certain key words from zookeepers' conversations...

I always wondered - as has everyone - what it is like when two zookeepers got together. Do they act like party animals? Maybe go ape? If two zookeepers are reading this column simultaneously, I think an e-mail is in order. But I will only read this correspondence if both zookeepers have equal say in the wording...

Back to my complaints about cell phones, though. If I am unable to control the words soaring through the air, I would at least like to take a visit to a central satellite which serves as the basis for cellular conversations. I am thinking that if I point the satellite in a different direction, this would cause each person to call people they normally would never call, like the kid in homeroom who said he'll "keep in touch," or that telemarketer you said you'd get back to at some point. Better yet, perhaps I can point the satellite in the direction that forces each person to only call his or her own phone, which would be a useful concept in the Dakotas, where there aren't a lot of people to converse with anyway...

With this accomplished, I'd also like to set up a pen pal system amongst the residents of North and South Dakota. I don't necessarily think they should send letters to each other, but I believe they should trade pens on a weekly basis. This kind of sharing will prove valuable in the unity of the states, as well in the general maintenance of ink and the management thereof...

Such a program will be coordinated by an 11-year-old on a cell phone...

But I digress.

The Top 10 All Time Worst Jokes About Piano Players

Here, for your barfing pleasure, are the top ten worst jokes of all time about piano players. Nothing personal, you understand, since I am one. But a little comic relief laughing at ourselves is good for both our soul and our humility.

So without further ado, here are some of the all time worst piano jokes in descending order:

10. What do a vacuum cleaner and an electric piano have in common.

Answer: Both suck when you plug them in.

9. What does a piano player dream about?

Answer: Sheet music.

8. What do you get when you drop a piano down a mine shaft?

Answer: A flat minor.

7. What's the difference between a piano accompanianist and a terrorist?

Answer: You can negotiate with a terrorist.

6. How do you make a million dollars playing the piano? Answer: Start with two million.

5. How do you get two piano players to play in perfect unison?

Answer: Shoot one.

4. Did you hear about the piano player who played in rhythm?

Answer: Neither did I.

3. What's the difference between a piano and an onion?

Answer: No one cries when you chop up a piano.

2. What did the piano player get on his IQ test?

Answer: Drool.

1. What's the difference between a medium pizza and a piano player?

Answer: A pizza can feed a family of four.

Pretty bad, eh?

I agree. Now let's all get back to our piano practicing.

PS: None of these lousy jokes are original with me -- they have been around for ages in many forms.

Desiree Bruyere is a free-lance writer and amateur piano player who plays jazz & pop piano strictly for the love of it. She takes piano lessons online and on DVD from her native France, and got started by taking the free 2-year online course in <a target="_new" href="http://www.playpiano.com/">http://www.playpiano.com/</a> Secrets of Exciting Piano Chords & Sizzling Chord Progressions</a> offered worldwide, then later took the <a target="_new" href="http://www.pianolessonsbyvideo.com/">http://www.pianolessonsbyvideo.com/</a>Crash Course In Exciting Piano Playing For Adults</a>

Not Your Average Sunday Morning

Just recently my ex-husband stopped in to visit during his vacation. In the course of small talk, a few old memories usually crop up in the conversation. One that instantly came to mind was the day our second son was born.

It was early Sunday morning on a crisp day in the middle of May when I was awakened from my sleep by what I knew to be labor pains. Since it was my second pregnancy I was not alarmed. I already had one child so I felt like an old pro. I knew it was early labor and I had plenty of time before heading off to the hospital. I decided to let my husband, Jim, sleep a little longer. After all, there was no need to awaken him yet.

I slipped quietly out of bed and went to the bathroom to relieve the pressure from my heavily burdened bladder. After washing my hands and face, I brushed my teeth then went into the kitchen to make the morning coffee. I poured myself a steaming cup, retrieved the newspaper from the side porch, then sat down at the kitchen table to look over the headlines. After glancing at the morning news, I poured myself a second cup of coffee and slipped quietly back into the bedroom to get dressed. Jim was still sleeping soundly. I took my already packed overnight bag from the closet and carried it to the living room. I placed it beside the door so that we could just grab it when we were ready to leave. Then I returned to the kitchen to make breakfast for Jim.

My sixteen month old son was spending the weekend with my husband's mother and stepfather. My mother-in-law, Eileen, had insisted on keeping him since she just knew I would go into labor during the weekend. She calculated this prediction due to the fact that I was six days past my due date. After placing the scrambled eggs and sausage links on the plate, I went into the bedroom to wake Jim up, who was still snoring peacefully.

"Morning honey," I said as I kissed him on the forehead. "Get up. Breakfast is ready."

"Morning babe," Jim replied. He sat up, ran his hand through his dishwater blonde hair then stumbled to the kitchen table. He didn't bother to get dressed and since it was only the two of us, I figured it was okay for him to eat in his underwear.

The contractions were getting stronger. My husband gobbled down his food then headed for the bathroom. (No. It wasn't the effects of my cooking!) As I cleaned off the table, I felt the grasp of a contraction, then a sudden warmth of fluid. I leaned against the sink. Jim came out of the bathroom looking relieved but that only lasted momentarily. Glancing over at him, I said, "It's time. My water broke."

"Oh God!," he said. "I have to find a ride. I have to get you to the hospital. (Our car was in the shop for repairs at the time.)

"Calm down," I said. "We have time."

"Time!," my husband shouted. "What time is it? Oh God! I have to catch Lisa before she goes to church." And with that said, he took off out the side door and down the steps. I followed him to the porch. "Honey," I called. "Jim," I yelled, but he was already gone. All I could do was laugh and hope that none of the neighbors called the police on the tall, slender man running down the street in his white Fruit of the Loom briefs!

Lisa was my husband's cousin. She and her husband lived down at the end of our street. I've never been quite sure why Jim ran to her house instead of calling her. It must have just been his first reaction. Although the contractions were stronger now I couldn't hold back from laughing when Jim returned. He was wearing a pair of pants that were entirely too short and he had to hold them tightly around his waist to keep them from falling down. He looked hysterical! It reminded me of the episode from the old Dick Van Dyke show when Laura went in labor! I insisted he change pants before we left for the hospital. Lisa had given Jim the keys to her car and told him to drive carefully. We had two stops to make before going to the hospital - to pick up our mothers. They both wanted to be there and I figured my husband could use their support.

We arrived at my mother's house first. She jumped in the car so quickly I wasn't really sure the vehicle had come to a complete stop. It wasn't until we reached my mother-in-law's home that we realized my mother was still in her nightgown! We all exited the car and went into the house in hopes that my mother-in-law could provide my mother with something more appropriate to wear. While I was in the kitchen talking with my husband's stepfather, we heard a car going down the driveway. Looking out the window, we realized that Jim and his passengers had left for the hospital - without me! My mother had grabbed a bathrobe from a hook on the inside of the bathroom door to cover her nightgown. My mother-in-law left with one side of her head still rolled in foam curlers and the other side displaying loose, bouncy curls. And the three of them were off!

They actually didn't realize they had forgotten me until they arrived at the hospital. Luckily for me, the hospital was only a few minutes away. Yes, they did return, pick me up and deliver me safely to the hospital. Shortly afterward, I delivered a healthy seven pound fourteen ounce son. Mother and child were fine. But I think my husband and our mothers were a little worse for wear!

Darlene Zagata is a freelance writer and columnist for the print publication Moon Shadows Magazine. She is also the author of "Aftertaste: A Collection of Poems" and "The Choosing." Her work has been published extensively both online and in print. For more information visit her website at <a target="_new" href="http://darlenezagata.tripod.com">http://darlenezagata.tripod.com</a> or contact Darlene at <a href="mailto:darzagata@yahoo.com">darzagata@yahoo.com</a>

Very Precise Fortune Cookies

I cracked open the fortune cookie and read the little slip of paper on the inside. Immediately I realized that it had been written by a weather forecaster.

"You will be approached in the late afternoon by a pink polka-dot octopus..."

It continued on the other side: "... and asked to provide details of your application for a yellow cloud mulching permit."

Two things struck me about this particular fortune. The first is that they have come a long way in their ability to predict exactly what will happen and when, just like weather forecasters. This is undoubtedly due to recent technological developments. Laser technology, for example. Nano technology. Robotics. Bioengineering. And so many other specialized fields have been developed to points of precision unimagined just a generation ago.

And it's not just the weather forecasters.

In London, Ontario, specialists are performing microscopic cardiac surgery on patients miles away using a robot named CSTAR (Can't you just wait for new parents to start naming their children after the famous surgeon, CSTAR?). This has opened up the door to many benefits, such as sending robots to remote locations without having to worry about a surgeon replacing the wrong organs due to jet lag.

But the real benefit was revealed when one surgeon confided in me: "You know the world is a better place when we don't have to scrub our hands before surgery anymore."

I can call anybody in North America on the telephone and they will answer in real time. Not only is this a better response than I can give people face-to-face, but the telephone cables direct my call to the exact person I want, saving the other 400 million telephone subscribers the inconvenience of having to say, "Wrong number...again!" Just a few decades ago, Switchboard Suzie was manually connecting everybody.

"Janice Land? No problem. I'll connect you." CLICK.

"No, wait. I wanted to speak to Janet Lam. Hello?"

My father can pinpoint the exact amount of blood sugar he packs in his veins. Not very long ago, people could not care less how much sugar was in their blood, as long as they had plenty of it in their double-fudge sundaes.

Yes technology has come a long way, allowing us to send and received very specific information in great detail and in great volumes, allowing such thrilling 21st century innovations as spam (I know, I know, the great spam innovators you admire most did their heroic deeds in the 20th century, but you ain't seen nothing yet!)

Despite the volume of information I receive in my inbox, there is one very disturbing element to all this extra free information, which brings me back to the second thing that struck me about my fortune cookie message.

It was wrong.

I waited all day for that pink polka-dot octopus to approach me, and it never did. Just because modern technology can deliver huge volumes of laser-detailed information, does not make that information valuable or even accurate.

Which brings me back to the revelation that a weather forecaster is now writing fortune cookies. Weather forecasts have become increasingly more precise. For instance, I am told that today it will hail in the town just east of here and be sunny in the town just west of here.

Once upon a time, the forecast would be simply "Sun and hail expected to pass through the region." Less accurate and less wrong. Just as useless, though.

Maybe we should hire CSTAR to make the fortune cookies. Surely CSTAR would deliver fortunes that are not only precise but also accurate, right? As a bonus, the pastry chefs won't have to scrub their hands before baking.

And I wouldn't have to wait for a pink polka-dot octopus all afternoon.

About The Author

David Leonhardt is author of Climb Your Stairway to Heaven

<a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/bookSearch/isbnInquiry.asp?ISBN=059517826X" target="_new">http://search.barnesandnoble.com/bookSearch/isbnInquiry.asp?ISBN=059517826X</a>

Read more personal growth articles: <a href="http://www.thehappyguy.com/self-actualization-articles.html" target="_new">http://www.thehappyguy.com/self-actualization-articles.html</a>

Visit his liquid vitamins store: <a href="http://www.vitamin-supplements-store.net" target="_new">http://www.vitamin-supplements-store.net</a>

Or his happiness website: <a href="http://www.thehappyguy.com" target="_new">http://www.thehappyguy.com</a>

<a href="mailto:Info@thehappyguy.com">Info@thehappyguy.com</a>

วันเสาร์ที่ 24 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Cant Get There From Here

<P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align=center><B style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">Can't Get There From Here</B>

Juneau is the capital of Alaska, but did you know that you cannot drive there from anywhere?

You can fly into Juneau or you can take a ferry to Juneau, but you can't actually drive there. There are no roads into Juneau. Can you imagine not being able to drive to the State Capital in the state where you live?

Normally, a lot of business and a lot of government takes place in a state's Capital. Not having easy access to it would create lots of problems, wouldn't it? Well, not in Alaska.

In fact, up until a few years ago Juneau was two time zones or more away from the rest of the state. A few years ago Alaska had five time zones. Now we have only two time zones and our Capital is now in the same time zone as most of the state.

Governor Frank Murkowski has a transportation plan that would include the building of a 65 mile road from Juneau to Skagway by the year 2010. That would connect Juneau by road to Anchorage, Fairbanks, and much of Alaska.

Of course, you would have to drive through part of Canada to get to Skagway. Not a big deal, since Canada still likes us.

However, many Alaskans are not too thrilled by the idea of building an expensive road to Juneau. According to Skagway business owner, Jan Wrentmore, "It will be as stupid an idea in 2010 as it is now."

Part of the issue is that Skagway and Haines depend on the marine ferry system for business, since Skagway and Haines are the northernmost terminus for tourists who want to disembark the ferry and drive. The fear is that Juneau would become the northernmost stopping point for the ferry if a road is built from Juneau to Skagway.

"We lose our status of what we've had for 100 years," said Jan Wrentmore. "It creates a competing port."

Of course, the rest of Alaska doesn't really care about the competing port issue. The point is that the rest of Alaska doesn't really care about the whole issue. Our legislators at the State Capital seem to get along just fine the way things are currently.

Change comes slowly in Alaska and I would guess that this issue will be talked about for a good many more years to come.

If we talk about it long enough, eventually it will become a mute issue. We won't need a road. Eventually we'll be able to teleport ourselves to the Capital if we wish.

Beam me up Governor.

*****************************

Garry Gamber is a public school teacher and entrepreneur. He writes articles about real estate, health and nutrition, and internet dating services. He is the owner of <A target="_new" href="http://www.anchorage-homes.com/" target=_new>www.Anchorage-Homes.com</A> and <A href="http://www.thedatingadvisor.com/" target=_new>www.TheDatingAdvisor.com</A>.

Poor Rixs Almanac 8-27-05

Hey, Poor Rix: What do you think about school food? ? Former Student

Poor Rix ate lunch at a school last week, and really liked it. Who knew they could make a dessert out of corn chips?

Fact is, Poor Rix enjoyed everything about school, except for the "study" part. Lunch period was best the part of all.

One day I saw a dish labeled "Tuna Surprise." "Why do you call it that?" I asked.

"Because," said the cook, "we started out with a catfish. So if it tastes like a tuna, we'll be surprised."

Yeah, lunch was a scream back then. One time my friend Carl found two well-seasoned cockroaches in his green beans, and asked who'd be willing to eat them.

"I will," said Dave, who was once elected class president by promising "no homework anymore." But he didn't clear this with the teachers, so we immediately impeached him.

Anyway, Dave downed both roaches, and bragged they tasted better than the beans. But he didn't come to class the next day.

Another time we took a field trip to a neighboring school. At lunch, Carl chose the "mystery meat."

"Outstanding," he raved. "What is it?"

"Here's a clue," said our host. "Why do you think our team's called the Buzzards?"

Poor Rix offers bad advice to good questions. E-mail him at <a href="mailto:rixquinn@charter.net">rixquinn@charter.net</a>

Rix's book "Words That Stick" is available at <a target="_new" href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1580085768/qid/">http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1580085768/qid/</a>

Not Your Average Sunday Morning

"Morning honey," I said as I kissed him on the forehead. "Get up. Breakfast is ready."

"Oh God!," he said. "I have to find a ride. I have to get you to the hospital. (Our car was in the shop for repairs at the time.)

"Calm down," I said. "We have time."

วันศุกร์ที่ 23 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Bed Bugs Bite

I just turned on the news a minute ago and wondered why there weren't news flashes regarding when -- and perhaps where -- people are turning on the news. Sometimes it is a slow news week, and there's not much to read in Newsweek, so maybe this could take up some space. I think that's how Neptune got there...

What I am really wondering, though, is how bed bugs got their reputation. Don't worry, there is no need to inspect your bed spread, although I heard the spread does improve the taste of toast. But I've been thinking for at least 32 seconds about the history of bed bugs and why they are among the most feared creatures in the world, and possibly in the universe, assuming that other worlds have beds. Think about it. We don't tell people, "Don't let the rabid dogs bite" or "Don't let the spiders bite" unless we're in the White House, in which case all warnings are figurative anyway. Everywhere else the line a person hears before sleeping is "Don't let the bed bugs bite," as if bed bugs are worse than the nightmare the person will likely have anyway...

I feel sorry for that sucker who was actually bitten by a bed bug, because he can't shrug off the warning like the rest of us can. In fact, he's the reason we use the statement to begin with:

Victim: Well, I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

Victim's Acquaintance: Be careful in there. You remember what happened the last time you went to bed, right?

Victim: Yeah, yeah, I remember.

Victim's Acquaintance: Well, don't let the bed bugs bite. Not again.

I just hope there's no worldwide phenomenon of people being bitten by all kinds of animals while sleeping, because that's just too many things to list while wishing someone a good night. And just imagine if a person was bitten by a sheep while sleeping. That would throw the whole sleeping process for such a complete loop that we'd all probably just stay awake forever. Think about how stale the Fruit Loops would get...

In between the previous paragraph and this one I decided to take a few minutes to do some research. After all, research can save lives, and the typical reader checks out this column to have his or her life saved -- or maybe it's to read about lime Life Savers. Regardless, I've read that bed bugs are commonly found in homes that have bats in the attic. Now, I know what you're thinking: "That's good to know. I'll go to the attic right away to get rid of those darn bats." But don't act so quickly! Remember: those bats are protecting your old boxes, including your Yahtzee game. So slow down and think before you do something you'll regret in a day or two...

It is said that a room with bed bugs typically has a distinct odor. Furthermore, black spots may be found on sheets, or there may even be small blood stains that are evident. So before you blame your crazy aunt for coming over to your house and leaving a trail of her own blood, understand that she probably never made it past the attic after her entrance through the chimney. The same applies to Santa Claus, I'd imagine...

Since bed bugs are nocturnal, they hide in dark places during the day before feeding at night. Placing glow-sticks all over your house, so that there is no dark crevice, will assure that these creatures will seek a house more conducive to their ways, although this other house is probably not nearly as well-decorated. Realize that bed bugs feed on wild birds, in addition to domestic animals, bats, and humans. So pretending to be a wild bird all day isn't your best escape, unless you are a wild bird, in which case it's good you aren't afraid to be yourself. And I thank you, wild bird, for reading...

Bed bugs are most commonly found in old rooms and hotels, as well as in places which are considered unsanitary. Something tells me, though, that if you are living somewhere unsanitary, you have other issues besides bed bugs, such as the fact that you are sleeping in your own filth. This aside, the best way to not let the bed bugs bite, wherever you live, seems to be ignoring their existence. When they hear, "Don't let the bed bugs bite," their obvious reaction will be one of the following:

a) Hey, they're acknowledging us, but in a negative way. Let's go do some serious biting.

b) I hope no one has caught on to our Yahtzee fetish in the attic, especially those darn bats.

So by not giving the warning, and using some other bedtime greeting instead, you're saving yourself in the process. You see, the purpose of this column is not to stop you from getting a good night's sleep, because we all know that's what fire trucks and crickets are for. Instead, please take this column as a warning that bed bugs do exist, and you know what? They're a lot like news flashes. That's right -- they come when you're watching late-night television, and they leave you with an empty feeling after they take some of your blood. Yes, exactly like news flashes, yes...

But I digress.

The Patience of Job

Voltaire said, "God is a comedian playing to an audience afraid to laugh." Translated, if you're a tight ass, there's a two drink minimum to read this article.

Let me just say, I believe in God but like many, I've questioned His existence. Most people will say the reason they doubt God's existence is because, "If there's a God, why is there so much suffering, and why is there war?" Blah, Blah, blah, blah blah?

My sole reason for doubting the existence of God is work. (I, however, never question the existence of a higher power for I worship at his altar every day from 9 to 5.)

If there is a God why do we not have five-day weekends and two-day workweeks? He's God. He can make it happen. In God we trust, right? Well I trust in God to give us a five-day weekend.

Think of the positives of a two-day work week. You'd say things like, "Wow, that workweek really flew bye."

Think of what it would do for the economy because as Americans what are we really, but consumers? Think of it this way. If the United States Senate can get away with only working 110 days a year, why can't we?

Women will have five full days a week to shop, and tell men what to do. Maybe, just maybe, we'll have more time to spend with our kids so they don't remain a bunch of illiterate crack heads.

More people might believe in heaven because life on earth won't be such a living hell.

I believe, with faith, God will grant us my wish. Let me illustrate through the Bible. Isn't it ironic that in the book of the Bible where the name of the person who suffers the most is spelled J.O.B.?

The story of Job is one of perseverance. Job is given leprosy, has his family, money and worldly possessions taken from him and it's all a test of faith. It is a horrible story! I didn't like it when I read it but I said. "Fine, He's God. He can do what He wants. After all, it is His world. Like Job, who am I to question?"

What I can question are employers playing the part of God by expecting us to have the patience of Job in order to keep our job. They may not be giving us infectious diseases but they are sure taking our money, ruining our personal lives, and making work a living hell. (Personally, I don't have the patience of Job. I'm like the Prodigal Son--at the first sign of a party I'm off to the fatted cow happy hour for half-price matzoh and dollar shots of Manishevitz. If I need some bread I'll come back in the morning crawling on my hands and knees.)

In the Book of Job, Job finally said, "Hey God, how bout a little something for the effort?" God responded, "Don't question my authority but you're right. I have been a little harsh on you." Job then had all his riches returned ten-fold. Now that's pretty just, is it not?

Well, I'm asking, "Hey God, how bout a five-day weekend, for the heck of it?" (If you see me on the golf course mid-week you'll know God answered my prayers.)

Michael P. Westhead is the founder of <A target="_new" href="http://www.cutthroatcomedy.com">www.cutthroatcomedy.com</A> which features original quotes, jokes, cartoons, products, and articles focusing on politics, current events and life in general.

Your Stars Part 3

Libra

Hit TV show 'The X Factor' is back on our screens giving us all a rare, legitimate chance to laugh at the mentally ill during the audition stages. In this PC berserk world we now live in, such an activity has become scandalously frowned upon so it's only right to thank ITV for reviving this tragically forgotten pleasure by switching on in your droves. Also coming soon to your screens?.Black & White Minstrel Idol!

Scorpio

It's time to confront your partner about their recent suspicious behaviour - the extra hours spent at work, returning home slightly dishevelled and an unwillingness to make love to you because 'they're tired'. Be bold and act first ? burn all their clothes and smash their belongings to pieces before confronting them about their infidelity. Do not accept their explanation that they're doing overtime to pay off all the credit card debts you've run up because they love you and want to enjoy a stress free future with you. Ditch them and find someone that accepts you for who you are ? a paranoid, insecure, unreasonable, unhinged, spendaholic who'll do whatever a rubbish fictional astrologer tells them.

Sagittarius

A night out with an old friend makes you realise what a hash you've made of your life in comparison with theirs. They've got a better job, better relationship (including regular sex) and a better car and there's absolutely no prospect of you improving matters. Take solace from the fact that they had something nasty hanging out of their nostril for the entire evening.

Capricorn

This could be a month to really make something of your life. So go out, find a drug dealer, score some crack and heroin and start developing yourself a habit. This advice may fly in the face of previous wisdom on the subject but just look at Pete Doherty ? the moment he starts getting off his face on junk he gets in the papers every day, scoops a couple of top ten singles, makes a bucket load of money and bags himself a super model girlfriend. Just say 'no'? Just say 'pass the crack pipe' more like.

Aquarius What the hell is going on here? I'm not getting anything for you Aquariusans (or whatever you're called) this month. Every time I do this chart I just get a sudden urge to rush out and buy a Ford. Bizarre.

Pisces

DO NOT watch the third programme of the current series of X Factor UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES! Apparently there's a hopeful who, in a bad light, may resemble myself slightly (but certainly IS NOT) who sings a wonderful rendition of a Brian McFadden song, and after an utterly unjustified mauling from Simon 'Wouldn't Know A Singing Psychic Megastar If It Poked Him Up The Jacksy' Cowell, ends up crying hysterically in the arms of Kate Thornton. Even though that poor unfortunate WASN'T ME (!) I'd like to take this opportunity to tell Simon Cowell that he's deprived the country of the greatest musical talent since, well, Brian McFadden. It's your loss Cowell ? not mine that bloke that looks like me!!!

Aries

Loss is difficult for anyone to cope with but please remember the old adage that time is a great healer. Your life may, at the moment, seem emptier than a fridge within the vicinity of Eamonn Holmes, but you must cling onto that light at the end of the tunnel ? Big Brother WILL be back on next year.

Taurus

September- the month that Summer turns to Autumn and a little happiness disappears from our hearts. There's a chill in the air where once there was glorious warmth. Those bright summer evenings start being lost to dark, depressing ones. The opportunity of the odd cheap thrill disappears as attractive young people start wearing more clothes and Saturday night TV on BBC1 becomes unwatchable as they trot out another appalling flop of a new series in a bid to compete with Ant & Dec and The X Factor. It's all gone rubbish hasn't it? Hang on though, it's not all bad ? if you're a parent, the kids go back to school! Woo-hoo!!!

Gemini

The new moon this month brings with it renewed optimism and with it banishes any doubts you had about certain major decisions you've had to make - you were absolutely right not to refuse your best friend's fianc? when they came on to you recently. Your friend is still on the verge of a breakdown following the death of their mother and would certainly have been in no mood get up to the filthy stuff their fianc? demanded of you. You are truly a wonderful friend, a view they will no doubt endorse when you tell them what you did. I'd leave it a few years before you do though ? or perhaps a few decades.

Cancer

Cancer- terrible name for a star sign isn't it? Surely if we have to have a sign named after an illness or affliction, it'd be better if it was something less awful - like 'Ricketts' perhaps or 'Thrush'. Mind you, there'd have to be a new symbol to go with it and designing one wouldn't come cheap. Hang on- got it! We can keep the existing symbol and just change the name to 'Crabs'. Bingo!

Leo

Beware of your short tempered nature and try and keep a perspective on things this month. We've all been there and it would be a struggle for anyone to retain their composure in similar circumstances but just remember this ? as infuriating as it is, being asked 'if you want fries with that' when ordering a McFlurry does not give you the right to get the assistant in a head lock, march them out of the door, drive them to a remote location and force them to watch re-runs of Celebrity Love Island. Sicko!

Virgo

I see cards - greetings cards. Gifts. A cake-with candles on. It looks like some sort of celebration, perhaps even a birthday celebration. Yes ? it's going to be your birthday! Happy Birthday (except those of you born in August)! God I'm good.

Your stars are available via <a target="_new" href="http://www.24-7london.co.uk">http://www.24-7london.co.uk</a>. They are written by a variety of people under the guise of 'Alex Barker'. 24-7 London is an online entertainment guide to London, England with a sense of humour.

humor Humor

วันเสาร์ที่ 31 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

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วันอังคารที่ 27 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

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วันจันทร์ที่ 26 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Restaurant Manager Gives Out Sexual Favors As Performance Bonus, Raise

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วันอาทิตย์ที่ 25 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

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Not Your Average Sunday Morning

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วันเสาร์ที่ 24 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Cant Get There From Here

Poor Rixs Almanac 8-27-05

Not Your Average Sunday Morning

วันศุกร์ที่ 23 มกราคม พ.ศ. 2552

Bed Bugs Bite

The Patience of Job

Your Stars Part 3

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