Buddy

Columnist Paul Krugman wins Nobel economics prize
STOCKHOLM, Sweden (AP) — Paul Krugman, the Princeton University scholar, New York Times columnist and unabashed liberal, won the Nobel prize in economics Monday for his analysis of how economies of scale can affect international trade patterns.

Dear Mr. Krugmen,

I heared you wonned the Noble Peace Prize. I myself was once
nominated for the Noble Peace Prize, too. We are so much alike,
aren't we?

I don't know if you have any plans yet for all that money. I know, if
I had all that money, I would have a tuff time figgering out what to
do with it all.

Wait!!! I have an idea! There are lots of hard working people who
are in trubbel rite now on Wall St! You and I could help them with
that money!

What do you think, Mr. Krugmen? We could be heros if we help them.
You waant to be a hero, rite? I know I do. And you and me are alot
alike!!!

You're Pal,
George "W" Bush, President

PS. You can call me "W", buddy.

LOLs

...just stuff I do when I'm goofing off. And yes, I wrote them all.

Muppet Spin-Off?

I was talking to Gretchen the other morning about the Muppet Show.



Like so many around my age, I was a big fan of the show. My favorites were Prof. Bunsen Honeydew and his hapless assistant, Beaker.



I actually used an impression of Beaker as part of the courtship ritual I used on Gretchen. Regardless, I've always thought that Bunsen and Honeydew could have spun-off from the Muppet Show to have their own TV series.

"They did," Gretchen says.

"Really?" How could I miss it? I would have watched every episode!

"Yeah, it's called Mythbusters."



Of course. And I do watch every episode.

Breathing Normally Again

I gotta tell you, it's nice to breathe without making bubbly gurgle noises.

And in response to my last post, I made it to 2PM before I had to go lie down. I reawoke at, like, 8PM. So that experiment had mixed results.

Gilly, we think, is getting better but has a wicked case of "sick baby syndrome". She can't bear to do anything but cling to Gretchen and complain bitterly about her lot in life. Not fun.

Speaking on Gilly, a funny thing happened the other night. We have an old baby monitor. Gretchen got it when Nicky was born so it's about 10 years old. Has two different channels, "X" and "Y". What with the creeping illness, we started using it to keep an ear out for Gilly during the night.

So the other night we start hearing a baby crying through the monitor. Gretchen is up and out the door like a flash. I've never seen anyone move that fast, let alone Gretchen. Me, I'm none too swift when awoken in the middle of the night so it took me a few minutes to realize that something wasn't right.

Gretchen races into Gilly's room, but I don't hear Gretchen through the cacophony on the monitor. Then Gretchen comes racing up the stairs, and bursts into Harry's room, across the hall from our upstairs room. And there's this wild, panicked look in her eyes. "It's not Gilly!" she screams as she charges back downstairs to check on Nicky and Gilly again.

Blink, blink. Um, what's going on here?

Gretchen whirls back into the room, and she's electric with nervous energy. "I checked Gilly, she's asleep. Nick's asleep. I think I woke up Harry when I checked on him. The crying isn't coming from our house!"

Oh, yeah. I guess someone else's monitor was tuned to our frequency. Oops.

But you know, in the time that it took Gretchen to check on all her babies twice, our neighbors still hadn't gotten up to take care of their kid. So how's that for a Super Mom?

No joke too obscure

"I wish I knew how to C'thul-you."

Swiped from the [hopefully forgiving] folks at
http://www.velvetdicebag.net/2006/10/2006_hp_lovecraft_film_festiva.html

Penguin

Harry, for reasons known only to Harry, decided to dress up as a penguin.

(Note the feet. They're leather gloves.)

Huh?

I drive two hours, each way, to get to work.

Driving as much as I do, I see a lot of the back end of cars and trucks. So I see a lot of bumper stickers, "I Support..." ribbons and the like.

Also, driving around as much as I do, my mind tends to wander a bit.

So perhaps it's no surprise that I occasionally wonder "Did I see that, or do I just think I saw that?"

Like the ribbon sticker with the camo-colored puzzle pieces that proudly proclaimed "I Support Our Dyslexic Troops."

Into Drumming

Lately, Nicky has been getting into drumming:


Well, okay. He got into one drum.

Favorite Fictitious Horror Flicks:

"It Came From France!"

"The Thing That Wouldn't File"

"Squeak!"

"Death Comes a Day Late and a Dollar Short"

"They Might Be Germans!"

"Creature With A Thousand Receipts"

"Faces Of Knievel"

"Murder on the Hoboken Intercity Transit"

And, last but not least, my favorite:

"Arbor Day!"

Emailed Questions Answered

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
An insane supporting character in “Treasure Island”.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
The last time I poked my eye while cutting up hot peppers.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes. It looks just like I wrote it!

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT
Rude people.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Why, do you want some?

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yes, but we’d never remember to call each other. (And what other person would I be? Can I pick?)

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
Yeah, right.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS
Yes, they are in a safe deposit box. (I can’t remember where, though.)

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
How boring. People actually pay money for this?

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Cold pizza.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
I have a man who comes in to do that for me.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
Super humanly.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Whatever is in my bowl at the moment, though I am partial to Cherry Garcia.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
That there are way too many of them.

15. RED OR PINK?
Blue. (Oh, alright… Red.)

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
My least favorite thing or everyone else’s? Because there’s a difference. A big difference.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
No one. I have excellent aim.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
Define “everyone”.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Pants?

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
A census taker.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
The voices in my head.

22. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Flesh.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Napalm in the morning. (It smells like victory.)

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Don’t know, I dialed randomly. (She was ticked, though.)

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
See above.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
High driving and Greco-Roman waffling.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Yes.

28. EYE COLOR?
No.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
See above.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Too many to name, too few to mention.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Scary movies with happy endings. (Much better than happy movies with scary endings – they make me pee a little.)

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
“Your Body And You” in 8th grade hygiene class. Riveting.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Plaid. Wait, is plaid a color?

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Larry or Shelly?

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Depends on where they land.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Sahara.

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
To what? Gentle guidance or a severe beating?

38. EAST LIKELY TO RESPOND
Elvis (if he truly is dead).

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Uh, hello! I’m answering this email right now, not reading. Sheesh!

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Droppings.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T. V. LAST NIGHT?
Videotapes of my neighbor, sleeping.

42. FAVORITE SOUND?
Ka-Ching!

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Rolling stoned Beatles. (Giggle, giggle, thud!)

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Now. See below.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
You tell me.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
In a distant time, in a galaxy far, far away.

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
The IRS.

Murder Mystery!

Today we have a mystery on our hands. A murder mystery. That's right: someone killed an entire roll of toilet paper. Let's see if we can figure out "who dunnit" by looking at this series of photographs.


Exhibit One: The gruesome trail begins.



Following this macabre scene up the stairs, we find Photographic Exhibit Two: Here the trail leads in two directions. Following to the left we find...



Exhibit Three: This is no doubt the scene of the crime. Notice the toilet paper. Even in death, it still clings futilely to the roll. Sad. A life of service cut brutally short.



Finally, Exhibit Four: This is our most damning piece of photographic evidence. Notice how the paper lies in clumps at the door of Gillian's room? See how it drapes over the doll stroller? It's obvious at this point who the culprit is...

The doll! What's more, the doll hanged Scooby Doo, either in an attempt to silence a witness or to throw the authorities off by insinuating a murder-suicide.

Although Gillian was upstairs at a time approximate to the occurrence of this crime, there is no need to question her. The facts speak for themselves and we don't want to make her relive this senseless tragedy.

*Today's blog post was courtesy of the LAPD and Mike Nifong.

Our Dearly Paper Departed

Let's all take a moment to remember the origami that has gone on before us: The ornate boxes, animals and balloons that so excited little children that they were completely and instantly mangled beyond recognition. The creations eaten by cats. The ones taken apart in an attempt to help you build others, only to realize you can't remember how to put the originals back together, either.

I will always recall with great fondness the elaborate paper sculptures that I decide would be better as "origami boulders" than the goddamn complicated piece of carp I was originally trying to make.

We will all meet again on the other side of that great paper bridge.

Okay, Just One More LOL Cat

Another LOL Cat Entry

LOL Cats Entry

Dwight & Earl (older post reposted)

> Eugene Mallove, 56, of Pembroke, N.H., was unresponsive when police
> found him in a Norwich house owned by his parents, and he was
> pronounced dead at the scene.

I can just image the police first on the scene...

"Sir? Sir!"

"Try his other ear, Earl. He might be deaf in that one."

"Good thinking, Dwight. Sir? Can you hear me? Please respond. Sir?"

"I'm thinking 'unresponsive'."

"We should maybe write him up for 'failing to aid in an official
investigation'?"

"Maybe. Give it one more try."

"Sir, if you are not dead, please say so. Otherwise we may be
required to press charges."

"No answer?"

"No answer."

"I'm logging it. 'Subject failed to responded to repeated
inquiries.' What time you got, Earl?"

"All the time in the world, Dwight."

Another One of Those Days

It's another one of those days where I get a tune stuck in my head.

I know, it happens to you all the time, too. (By the way, if you're the kind of person who is very susceptible to memes, I recommend that you stop reading right now.)

This isn't any ordinary tune, this tune stuck in my head. Oh, no. It's a Frankentune. A monster.

It's like the one I had in college. Beethoven's Ode to Joy from his 9th Symphony. Only sung in lousy German by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton.

That was bad.

This one is not as bad. It's one line from Deep Purple's My Woman from Tokyo sung over and over. The title line, actually.

Only, instead of "My woman from Tokyo" it's "My neighbor is Totoro."

Over and over and over.

Clarification

A mess in Topeka


A messy toe picker


I'm glad we could get this straightened out.

From Three Years Ago

I have two children. Nicky is six and Harry is about a year and a half. While building a spice rack for their mother last Saturday I overheard this "conversation" taking place in the living room:

Harry: Doo bada Icky!

Nicky: Get off me, Harry!

Harry: Doo bada Icky!

Nicky: Ow!

Harry: Oo!

Nicky: Ow!

Harry: Oo!

Nicky: Ow!

Harry: Oo!

Nicky: Ouch!

Harry: Ook!

Nicky: Ouch!

Harry: Ook!

Nicky: Ouch!

Harry: Ook!

Nicky: Mom! Harry's hitting me!

Mom: Harry, get off your brother.

Harry: No! Doo bada Icky!

Nicky: Ouch!

Harry: Ook!

That's all I could hear, Nicky yelping and Harry copying him. After that, my laughter drowned them out.

Oprah Gets A Clue

If only it worked on authors.
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0104061jamesfrey1.html
http://www.dibsblog.com/?p=199