Apparently there ARE people out there that DO give a rat's ass about rat's asses:

Headline of Pharmacology and Experimental Therapeutics*:

"Analysis of vascular responses in rat hindquarters arterial resistance vessels and veins in situ"

(*My subscription's about to run out but I'm holding out for a free toaster.)

Fly Me to the Moon

This is the Mercury rocket I built for our grandson, Ayden. He doesn't have it yet so don't tell him!

The guitar shows the scale. It's 6 feet tall. It's made out of stuff from Home Depot. The body is 8" air conditioning duct, the capsule is a duct reducer, the fins are carved out of wood, the nose cone is a basement drainage screen-cap-thingy, and my favorite, an empty caulking tube (the red tower) is supported by dowel rods. The blast deflector that you can't see on the bottom of the engine is some air-vent doo-hickey that has really cool tabs that I bent to make it look like a nozzle. It took like 45 trips to Home Depot to figure what to use. The people there were always very helpful and asked if they could help me. What could I tell them? I'm building a Mercury Rocket. No. I just thanked them and cryptically replied, "Uh, no thanks, you wouldn't believe me if I told you what I was doing anyway." Now that I think about it, they probably went home at night and watched the news waiting to hear about some serial killer that built a weird contraption strictly from Home Depot parts. Never thought about that. Oops. Wasn't me. Just a rocket.

And now that it's done, I'm not sure how to get a 6 foot rocket in a 4 foot Kia. Hmmmmmmm.

Idea, I'll strap it to the top of the Kia and Sue and I can wear space helmets and pretend we're floating in space while we're driving. We can hang some Tang bottles from fishing line too, soundtrack to 2001 blaring on the CD player. Cool.

Now if I can just figure out how to get it on my daughter's Air Force Base without getting arrested for possession of an unlicensed thruster and orbiter...

Oh, holy CRAP! Thanks NATGEO!

You wouldn't believe the things I'm learning while on vacation. LOTS of useless TV facts. Last night (at 3 am) I watched a program about Giant Snakehead fish invading our rivers. Next time you go skinny dipping in California, New York or Minnesota - Willie and the Boys (or Amy and the Girls as the case may be) could come up missing unless you wear body armor.

Tonight I plan on watching the life-cycle of the Tibetan Donkey. It's a 3-parter.

My favorite gift from my wife

Probably the finest and rarest set of handblown artglass clowns you will ever see because the little glass companion clown (we shall call him BoBo) hasn't been broken or lost. The little clown fits on top of the big one for bedside storage. And no, it's not for sale, so don't bother asking.

I will cherish it always, darling. At least until one of the diseases in the book you got me gets me.

A Gift from My Wife

So far I've identified 7 diseases. I don't think I'll live to see tomorrow. Farewell.

How to properly wrap a Christmas present

It would be helpful at this juncture if you would start humming something like Frosty the Snowman to yourself as you read this... OK... doing it?... go:

1. Arrange all your materials before you begin. You will need:
- Wrapping paper (no, wax paper is NOT a substitute, though aluminum foil DOES have a festive feel if you find yourself in a last-minute pinch)
- transparent tape (duct tape is NOT a good substitute, nor is chewing gum)
- scissors
- a prefab bow (you don't EVEN want to try to make one of these suckers on your own)
- box for the present
- and the present, of course

2. Have a shot of bourbon. It will help set the holiday mood.

3. Roll out the paper and set the box on the paper. What? The paper keeps rolling up on itself? Have another shot of bourbon. This won't help keep the paper flat, but it will calm your nerves. Really, this is a simple task.

4. Set the box on the edge of the paper and as you roll out the paper, simply slide the box down the length of the paper. Voila!

5. Where the hell are the scissors? Did you look under the paper? There they are.

6. Cut the paper as straight as you possibly can.

7. OK, now fold the paper up until both sides overlap. What? The edges of the paper don't meet let alone overlap? Oh, crap you cut it too short! Have another shot of bourbon.

8. Repeat steps 4 through 7, but this time, roll out enough paper to wrap a Toyota.

9. OK! So now the paper overlaps. The next part is simple. But you should probably have a shot of bourbon to prepare yourself. Follow closely now, it's pretty easy: Crease the edge of the paper along the edge of the box, but fold the edge at exactly a 45 degree angle and then fold that edge at a 90 degree tangent to the perpendicular edge of the edge upon which you're working. Tape down that edge to the box. Now repeat that with the edge that is 180 degrees opposite of the edge you've just completed. When done with those two folds, if you've calculated your 45 degree angles precisely, there will result an equilateral triangle at the base of the side on which you are working. Simply fold that flap up 90 degrees and secure it with tape. You've just completed one side.

10. Have another shot. YEEHAA!

11. Look at the other side of the box, yes you get to do that side too. Repeat step 9.

12. Sure, do step 10 again too. YEEHAA!

13. Almost done! Try to remove the sticky paper from the back of the bow. Can't do it can you? Go get the sharpest knife in your kitchen. Try to insert the knife between the sticky stuff and the paper backing. Oops, now you've cut yourself. Have another bourbon as you bleed on the bow. And the package.

14. Stick the damn bow on the package, blood and all.

15. There the damn thing's all done.

16. Look over on the coffee table and notice that the present is NOT inside the box your just wrapped.

17. Finish the bottle of bourbon, wrapping the present in aluminum foil. It IS festive.

Merry Christmas, EVERYONE!

Math Problem

How is it that when my first daughter was born, I was 25 times older than she was?

But when she was 5, I was only 6 times as old she was (30)?

It gets worse, or better depending on how you look at it.

When she was 25, I was only twice as old as she was (50).

If my math is correct, when I'm a 100, I think all three of my daughters will be older than I am. It's about time.

Metamorphosis 5

Satan Speaks

We'd gone to our favorite campground alongside a small river in Indiana. Just my wife and I and a couple of friends. One of our buddies couldn't make it but he sent along a "special" firework he'd purchased from a fellow. The only thing he told us was to be careful and that it wasn't the type of fireworks that was on the normal menu. This one came from under the counter.

Oh, goodie. I'm not real keen on fireworks anyway.

I don't remember, but I don't think it was the 4th of July, as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure it wasn't because we didn't go to jail. We didn't go to jail because the campground wasn't crowded, so there were no witnesses. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This particular firework, other than looking like a giant roman candle didn't look particularly nasty. Just BIG. It didn't even have the obligatory, "LIGHT AND GET AWAY." printed on it. The skull and cross bones might have been an indication of trouble though.

As the crickets cricketted and the river riverred, we nestled into our lawn chairs awaiting the short show. One of our extremely brave (or stupid, depending on how you look at it) friends volunteered to run off into the field and plant the firework with a super long length of model rocket fuse. He planted it about 100 yards away, thank God, lit it and dashed back. Arriving back, out of breath, he barely had time to settle in before off in the distance it POOFED into the sky like a pleasant little fairy's tail. Then ...

Satan spoke - BOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!

and he spoke LOUDLY! It blew me backward out of my chair. OH MY GOD!!! This was the loudest thing I have ever heard. And I used to live on an Air Force Base at the edge of the runway --- I've seen Grandfunk Railroad in concert! This was a roman candle with a SERIOUS ATTITUDE!

We all scattered like bugs. I'm not sure what we did next. I don't remember for sure. I think we dumped the cooler on the fire. I KNOW we dove in our tents and hid. If there were Rangers anywhere in the tri-state region, they would have heard THAT. A deaf guy with his ears sewed shut would have heard THAT.

And Satan spoke again - BOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!

Oh, my GOD - it's got multiple shells!!!!

We shivered in the tent.

And again - BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!

Make it stop, LORD, make the bad thing go away!!!!!!

BOOOOOMMMMM!!!!

Like 6 or 7 times, the Devil barked at us before he was silent.

BOOOOMMM!!!! BOOOOMMMM!!!! BOOOOOMMMM!!!!

The Rangers DID come by. We could see their flashlights shining on the sides of our tents. We pretended we were asleep or dead. I'm pretty sure they didn't hear anything in the tents because we'd stopped breathing. It worked. They left. Off to find the idiots that tried to blow up Indiana.

Thank you, God. Thank you for making the Devil go away.

Screw the Oil Companies

You're right, Mandy. Tada.

Please contact Captain Singer... Whu?

My first car. As shown. Only full of holes from rust. Only cost $140 (the one in the picture is currently selling for a low, low $29,500 - damn the luck). A 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser with pushbutton TurboCruise Automatic Transmission. Yes, that's right, pushbutton transmission. And it was black and yellow just like the one in the picture. Cool. I was hot.

ONE of it's problems was the radiator. Actually not the radiator. The radiator was fine. I had to carry 20 to 30 feet of radiator HOSE with me at all times, about 15 gallons of water, several hose clamps and a complete tool kit. And about once a week, I'd have to replace the hose as it would BOOM! blow all over the place. I didn't bother with radiator fluid. It didn't hold it long enough to make it worth while.

But it ran. Most of the time.

A unique and unmistakable feature of this particular make of car were it's "horse-collar bumpers". They weighed about as much as the engine. My parents bought me the car. I think they bought me the car BECAUSE of the bumpers. It promised to make a good first car for an insane male 16 year old driver.

My high school was too small for the number of students enrolled, so they encouraged us to leave campus for lunch. We obliged them. This particular day I'm discussing, I'd left and had returned. No big deal. And I'd gone to class as usual. What was unusual was the note on my windshield when I returned after classes were finished. It said, quite simply, "Your car has been involved in an accident, please contact Captain Singer of the police force." It was on police force note paper. Gulp.

I looked at the car. I didn't remember hitting anything at lunch. I walked around the car. No dings (like there would be on this steel body or any would show in the rust). I DID seem to recall having parked it a few feet further back from where it was, but that was probably just my imagination. And nothing was gone from the inside. A radio knob was on the floor. How'd that get there? But everything seemed normal otherwise.

Now I'm spooked. What'd I do at lunch. Crap. Did I run over somebody and not see them? Oh my God. Am I a killer and don't know it? My brain's on fire now? What have I done? You fiend! Manslaughter. You'll be some inmate's boy-toy!

Better face the music. I called Captain Singer and squeeked out, "Hello. This is Rick. You left a note on my Mercury saying it was involved in an accident today. Did I do something wrong? ... No? ... He did what? ... He was drunk! ... He totaled his car on MY car? ... Really? ... No kidding. Cool! ... So I'm not in any trouble then, huh? ... Cool! ... No sir, no damage to my car, just knocked off the radio knob. ... Yes sir, BIG DAMN bumpers! ... Yes, I'm sure, I don't want to bring any charges ... Thank you, Officer. Good bye."

I hadn't run over anybody!!!!

A drunk guy had plowed into my parked Mercury, totaled his car and the only damage to my tank was it got pushed forward 3 feet and knocked off a radio knob. Didn't even scratch the bumper. At least we couldn't tell through all the rust.

Now THAT'S a CAR!

Christmas Confession

(yes, that's me, age 9 - on with the confession:)

My dearest wife:

It is with true regret that I show you this photo. Yes, I was with another girl many years ago. We shared a kiss, but it was only a one night affair. Actually, she was voted the Christmas Queen and I was the Court Geek. Or something like that. We were forced to kiss by the crowd. True. That’s the only way in hell you’d get me to kiss a member of the opposite sex back then. Acccht-phhhffffft!

What you can’t see, is the piss in my pants. The camera flash and the polyester probably interacted to render the stain invisible. Thank you, Lord.

Please, please, please understand she meant nothing to me.

It was just a one night stand.

At least I still have the plaid coat and ascot. I’ll wear it the next time I take you to Denny’s. Deal?

Please forgive me.

R.

PS. To the girl in the picture. Whoever you are, wherever you are, I’m TRULY sorry you had to be seen standing next to me in THIS photo. I hope the slide rule in my shirt pocket didn’t poke you too badly.

Metamorphosis 4

Gone With The Wind? The Lady Eve? Citizen Kane? ... sorry, they're ALL amateurs ... THIS is REAL cinema

If you like drunken, foul-mouthed, evil clowns hell-bent on having a good time.

Art. No more need be said.