If you live in a cave somewhere, take a second to get caught up on the hysterical story.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/POLITICS/08/29/craig.arrest/index.html
In a nutshell, a homophobe (literally) Republican senator was arrested for playing footsie in the men’s room of a Minnesota airport in an attempt to get an undercover police officer to slam him in the thrower. Throw him in the slammer. Whatever.
Now, he’s mystified that his massive, well-publicized hypocrisy has him between a rock and a hard place. And not like that night in the park when Bruno had him between a rock and his hard place. On the one hand, Idaho isn’t really the place to be known for getting an itch for bathroom sex. I’m always impressed when sixty year old Republican senators turn out to have sexual resumes that can beat mine. On the other hand, from now on, every time he plays “hide the silverware” before going through airport security, he’ll get a stripsearch from a female officer. Both of his joys in life have been taken from him.
On the other hand, this is a politician who really “gets it.” He’s so dedicated to serving his constituents, that he doesn’t even take bathroom breaks without trying to shake people’s hands. That’s the kind of dedication that you only find in a true leader. This guy has clearly proven that he’s more than willing to take the American people directly by the balls and demand 120%. He’s obviously a “hands on” leader. And if things get messy, this guy undoubtedly has plenty of experience in cleaning up.
You can’t say that about anyone else on the docket at the moment. Larry Craig for president!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Not Quite Spiderman
Continuing my series about confident people who shouldn’t be, I’d like to take a moment to give special kudos to a retired custodian for my building at work.
The man used to transport floor cleaning equipment through the building during high traffic moments. Then he would complain violently when it seemed that other people would also be using the elevator.
It is necessary to stop and describe the elevator briefly. The doors remain closed at all times, unless the elevator has been called and is on your floor. If the elevator is in use, the “in use” button lights up and it ignores all call commands. It is not a complicated system.
That is, unless you are a cranky, confident old man. On two (TWO!) separate occasions, this guy became too impatient with the elevator to wait for the doors to open for him. He therefore got out one of his tools, wedged it between the elevator doors, and pried the doors open wide enough to enter.
There are many things that make that a bad idea. However, he took this concept to new extremes by failing to check if the elevator was actually present on his floor before entering the shaft. That’s right. On two separate occasions, a grumpy old man pried open a huge pair of elevator doors and stepped through into black nothingness -- only to fall down the elevator shaft. He survived only because he kept doing this on the ground floor. There, the fall is only about eight feet.
Confidence like that is rare. On one level, he really is just like a super hero. But I still say he’s not quite Spiderman.
The man used to transport floor cleaning equipment through the building during high traffic moments. Then he would complain violently when it seemed that other people would also be using the elevator.
It is necessary to stop and describe the elevator briefly. The doors remain closed at all times, unless the elevator has been called and is on your floor. If the elevator is in use, the “in use” button lights up and it ignores all call commands. It is not a complicated system.
That is, unless you are a cranky, confident old man. On two (TWO!) separate occasions, this guy became too impatient with the elevator to wait for the doors to open for him. He therefore got out one of his tools, wedged it between the elevator doors, and pried the doors open wide enough to enter.
There are many things that make that a bad idea. However, he took this concept to new extremes by failing to check if the elevator was actually present on his floor before entering the shaft. That’s right. On two separate occasions, a grumpy old man pried open a huge pair of elevator doors and stepped through into black nothingness -- only to fall down the elevator shaft. He survived only because he kept doing this on the ground floor. There, the fall is only about eight feet.
Confidence like that is rare. On one level, he really is just like a super hero. But I still say he’s not quite Spiderman.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Best News Day in Years
Today I got my laugh fix first thing in the morning. I didn’t have to go any farther than CNN. It was one golden nugget after another. It’s like the whole network just decided to say “Yeah, we’ve run our usual stories to the ground. Now let’s focus on a new key topic: People are morons.”
First, a student got his ass tazered by asking John Kerry a whole bunch of retarded questions. http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/09/18/student.tasered.ap/index.html This is good news. I feel that we should expand this practice to most political Q&A sessions, and additionally tazer the speaker if he or she decides that “truth” and “propaganda” are two halves of the same hair.
The next one I have not actually watched. It’s a video link. The headline says it all though. “Man puts rattlesnake in mouth, gets bitten.” http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/offbeat/2007/09/18/burton.snake.bite.kgw
I approve of news stories that say, in effect, of you are a complete dumbass, this is how things will probably go for you too.
I love this next one for a small chunk of the otherwise retarded article. The headline is “Older women and younger men: Can it Work?” http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/personal/09/07/olderwomen/index.html
The entire article is seemingly filler to house the following single outstanding paragraph: "Societal attitudes have definitely changed," says Susan Winter, 52, co-author of "Older Women, Younger Men: New Options for Love and Romance" -- and she would know. At age 40, she was dating a 19-year-old. "We had to break it off. Quite frankly, his mother made it so impossible."
Next up, a man with no arms was arrested for allegedly killing another man in “a fist fight.” No joke. http://www.wsbtv.com/news/14138164/detail.html
The last story is real, I swear, but I simply cannot find the link now. I read this story less than six hours ago, and no amount of searching will turn it up for me again. I think the story was pulled for some reason, possibly because it was a steaming mound of fiction as reported, or perhaps because of legal clout. It was still hysterical though, and the main inspiration for this post. Some moron working in the Florida legal system was arrested for flying from his home and wife (in Florida) out to a Midwest state (Ohio?) because he was talking to an undercover police officer about some questionable financial agreements. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Specifically, he had made an agreement with an alleged mother to buy sex from her supposed five year old daughter. Even better still, apparently the “mother” expressed some reservations that selling her daughter out for sex might cause her harm. Such depths of insight are rare in our age. The guy arrested countered, “Don’t worry, I only go slow and gentle. I do this all the time.” The story ended there, but I have to assume that the officer, seeing no limits to what this guy was willing to confess to having done, replied, “Can you provide photographic proof that the other five year old girls enjoyed having sex with you?” To which the idiot replied “Sure!” and merrily emailed out a scrapbook full of pictures of himself with various other (real) abused children. I can’t decide what I find more alarming: that some state felt it was a good use of taxpayer money to devote an undercover officer to pretending to sell a five year old girl out for sex, or the fact that it was apparently money well spent.
First, a student got his ass tazered by asking John Kerry a whole bunch of retarded questions. http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/09/18/student.tasered.ap/index.html This is good news. I feel that we should expand this practice to most political Q&A sessions, and additionally tazer the speaker if he or she decides that “truth” and “propaganda” are two halves of the same hair.
The next one I have not actually watched. It’s a video link. The headline says it all though. “Man puts rattlesnake in mouth, gets bitten.” http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/offbeat/2007/09/18/burton.snake.bite.kgw
I approve of news stories that say, in effect, of you are a complete dumbass, this is how things will probably go for you too.
I love this next one for a small chunk of the otherwise retarded article. The headline is “Older women and younger men: Can it Work?” http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/personal/09/07/olderwomen/index.html
The entire article is seemingly filler to house the following single outstanding paragraph: "Societal attitudes have definitely changed," says Susan Winter, 52, co-author of "Older Women, Younger Men: New Options for Love and Romance" -- and she would know. At age 40, she was dating a 19-year-old. "We had to break it off. Quite frankly, his mother made it so impossible."
Next up, a man with no arms was arrested for allegedly killing another man in “a fist fight.” No joke. http://www.wsbtv.com/news/14138164/detail.html
The last story is real, I swear, but I simply cannot find the link now. I read this story less than six hours ago, and no amount of searching will turn it up for me again. I think the story was pulled for some reason, possibly because it was a steaming mound of fiction as reported, or perhaps because of legal clout. It was still hysterical though, and the main inspiration for this post. Some moron working in the Florida legal system was arrested for flying from his home and wife (in Florida) out to a Midwest state (Ohio?) because he was talking to an undercover police officer about some questionable financial agreements. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Specifically, he had made an agreement with an alleged mother to buy sex from her supposed five year old daughter. Even better still, apparently the “mother” expressed some reservations that selling her daughter out for sex might cause her harm. Such depths of insight are rare in our age. The guy arrested countered, “Don’t worry, I only go slow and gentle. I do this all the time.” The story ended there, but I have to assume that the officer, seeing no limits to what this guy was willing to confess to having done, replied, “Can you provide photographic proof that the other five year old girls enjoyed having sex with you?” To which the idiot replied “Sure!” and merrily emailed out a scrapbook full of pictures of himself with various other (real) abused children. I can’t decide what I find more alarming: that some state felt it was a good use of taxpayer money to devote an undercover officer to pretending to sell a five year old girl out for sex, or the fact that it was apparently money well spent.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Flamers
Fake out! Believe it or not, I can get away with a title like that for yet another unwanted, work-related blog post!
First, we’ll start with a quick geography lesson on the four production facilities of my site. These are the buildings where chemicals are actually reacted and made. This list does not include the support buildings, QC buildings, labs, main offices, etc. Lined up like ducks in a row we have:
Production I: This building specializes in air sensitive reactions. By “air sensitive” I mean that if you take a jar of their products and open it up, it will likely spontaneously burst into flames.
Production II: This is my building. We have hardware designed to stand up to the nastiest, most corrosive, most lethal substances made. (Really.) We make many products that are less intense, but let’s not focus on that in this post. Some of our less friendly products include the active ingredient in a pepper spray (like “Mace”), phosgeneation chemistry, chlorinations, brominations, use of solvents like chloroform, etc. For fun, think back to the last time you saw a video where some guy gets maced. That’s a spray of extremely dilute material in some other solvent. To understand what we (sometimes) make, you have to imagine the stuff pure, in a 2000 gallon reactor. It’s party time! In contrast to Pro I, our products are rarely prone to starting themselves on fire without help.
Production III: This building is more general, and works on a variety of products without special conditions.
Production IV: This building focuses mainly on purifications, separations, and other generic reaction-unintense tasks.
In summary: Pro I makes things that flash fires. Pro II doesn’t.
Moving on, we had a new engineer hired for one of the other buildings. At one of the recent engineering meetings, he had a question that reminded me of when I started work as an engineer here. I’ll tell my story first.
About two years ago, I was walking out behind my building when I noticed a roaring fire blazing behind Pro I. Basically, about ten drums (550 gallons) of some unknown chemical were blazing up under a metal awning. No one but me was around. I went back inside and asked my manager, “Is Pro I doing anything special at the moment? They seem to have a bunch of product on fire.” A quick call next door revealed that they were aware of the fire. In fact, they had intentionally taken the drums of impure material out back, opened them, and left. The (correct) theory is that the problem of having to dispose of impure chemicals will go away on its own for the people in Pro I. (Flamers.) This happens all the time, and you get used to it.
Now for the new engineer’s story. At the group meeting for engineering staff, he asked, “Those huge fires that Pro I starts in that metal awning… We have a lot of electrical wiring up there. Is it rated for that?”
“You mean, is the electrical grid rated to be run inside of a bonfire?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe someone should look into that.”
“Yeah.”
I just sat there, staring around the table, laughing quietly to myself.
First, we’ll start with a quick geography lesson on the four production facilities of my site. These are the buildings where chemicals are actually reacted and made. This list does not include the support buildings, QC buildings, labs, main offices, etc. Lined up like ducks in a row we have:
Production I: This building specializes in air sensitive reactions. By “air sensitive” I mean that if you take a jar of their products and open it up, it will likely spontaneously burst into flames.
Production II: This is my building. We have hardware designed to stand up to the nastiest, most corrosive, most lethal substances made. (Really.) We make many products that are less intense, but let’s not focus on that in this post. Some of our less friendly products include the active ingredient in a pepper spray (like “Mace”), phosgeneation chemistry, chlorinations, brominations, use of solvents like chloroform, etc. For fun, think back to the last time you saw a video where some guy gets maced. That’s a spray of extremely dilute material in some other solvent. To understand what we (sometimes) make, you have to imagine the stuff pure, in a 2000 gallon reactor. It’s party time! In contrast to Pro I, our products are rarely prone to starting themselves on fire without help.
Production III: This building is more general, and works on a variety of products without special conditions.
Production IV: This building focuses mainly on purifications, separations, and other generic reaction-unintense tasks.
In summary: Pro I makes things that flash fires. Pro II doesn’t.
Moving on, we had a new engineer hired for one of the other buildings. At one of the recent engineering meetings, he had a question that reminded me of when I started work as an engineer here. I’ll tell my story first.
About two years ago, I was walking out behind my building when I noticed a roaring fire blazing behind Pro I. Basically, about ten drums (550 gallons) of some unknown chemical were blazing up under a metal awning. No one but me was around. I went back inside and asked my manager, “Is Pro I doing anything special at the moment? They seem to have a bunch of product on fire.” A quick call next door revealed that they were aware of the fire. In fact, they had intentionally taken the drums of impure material out back, opened them, and left. The (correct) theory is that the problem of having to dispose of impure chemicals will go away on its own for the people in Pro I. (Flamers.) This happens all the time, and you get used to it.
Now for the new engineer’s story. At the group meeting for engineering staff, he asked, “Those huge fires that Pro I starts in that metal awning… We have a lot of electrical wiring up there. Is it rated for that?”
“You mean, is the electrical grid rated to be run inside of a bonfire?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe someone should look into that.”
“Yeah.”
I just sat there, staring around the table, laughing quietly to myself.
Monday, September 10, 2007
I’d Like a Double Order of… Uhm… That. Please?
So I spent this weekend doing absolutely nothing. It was blissful. I haven’t had a weekend with nothing I had to do in ages. Naturally, I decided to celebrate by spending the entire weekend practicing lucid dreaming, deep meditation, and astral projection.
At first, I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. It felt mostly like I just kept nodding off and having extremely odd dreams. But then, Sunday night, I signed onto MySpace and noticed I had about 16 bulletin messages about Britney Spears. I rarely get mail about Britney. I decided to investigate.
Opening several, they seemed to be more or less in agreement that the cosmos were out of line. (I changed the wording slightly for clarity.) One of them included a link to her recent performance on the MTV Awards Show thingie. That clip can be found here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=ihH6TpxPcRI Out of bored curiosity, I clicked the link.
That’s when I realized my horrible, arrogant mistake. My attempts at astral projection had not been the dismal failures I thought they were. And those dreams were no dreams. It seems I accidentally hijacked Britney’s body for this performance. It was not my intent. However, in an effort to make it up to her and her fans, I want to take the time to answer the question I heard the most. “What was she thinking?!” Well, remember, I thought I was just having a peculiar dream after I fell asleep with the radio on. But I can tell you what I was thinking, more or less. I’ll include the thoughts in italics, spaced by the lyrics below.
Again, you have my sincerest apologies.
Lake Dances to “Gimme More” at the MTV Video Music Awards
Where am I and why does my face feel sticky?
(It's Britney, bitch)
What the hell is wrong with my hair?
(I see you, and I just wanna dance with you)
Who are you people and why are we doing the bunny hop? Fine, whatevz.
Everytime they turn the lights down
Whoa. Hey baby. Thank you, but I think my fly is closed. Hey! Where are you going?!
Just wanna go that extra mile for you
Fine be that way. I’m taking my dignity with me and going over here.
Public display of affection
Feel's like no one else in the room (The room)
We can get down like there's no one around
We'll keep on rockin' (We'll keep on rockin')
You people look like a bunch of spazzes. And what is that odd smell? I’d better take a sec here to check my deodorant. Nope, not me. Thank god. I think.
We'll keep on rockin' (Keep on rockin')
Cameras are flashing while we're dirty dancing
They keep watchin' (They keep watchin')
Keep watchin
Feels like the crowd is saying
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme (Uh)
Why do I have tits, and why am I dressed like dominatrix with her kids at the beach?
Gimme gimme more
::laughs:: Hey, I can make my tits bounce!
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Give me more what? Pie?
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
Dude, I can NOT walk in heels. Get me down from here!
Center of attention ('tention)
Even when they're up against the wall
Dudes, I’m sure you’re lonely, but this is me time here. Practice giving each other hand jobs at the urinal later. And get the fuck out of my way! Dick!
You got me in a crazy position (Yeah)
If you're on a mission (Uh-uh)
You got my permission (Oh)
Ok people, this isn’t the subway, let’s clear me a path here…
We can get down like there's no one around
GET OFF ME!
We'll keep on rockin' (Keep on rockin')
We'll keep on rockin', rockin' (Uh-uh)
Cameras are flashing while we're dirty dancing
Ok, I see a clearing over there! Go for it! Breath deep! Head clearing!
They keep watchin' (Wait)
Keep watchin
(Feel's like the crowd is saying)
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Give me more what?! Ok, you guys are seriously starting to piss me off here! GET BACK or I’ll give YOU some more of my fist!
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
What the fuck is this song about anyway? It sounds like it was written by a drunk pedophile during a masturbation fantasy.
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
(I just can't control myself, oh)
(They want more? Well I'll give'em more, oh!)
Yes, I know these pants are tight, but I think it must be laundry da… HEY! DO NOT MAKE ME THROW YOU!
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more (Gimme more)
Gimme gimme more
GROSS! WIPE HIS SWEAT OFF ME! NASTY! GET IT OFF!
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more (Ooh)
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more (Gimme more, oh yeah)
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
Ohh, gimme more, gimme more (More)
Gimme more, gimme more baby
I just wanna more
Ok, breathe deep. Calm. Let’s do some stretches to forget. Stretch. Arms up, breathe, breathe…
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme
Gimme
Gimme gimme more
Ok, let’s do a little two step here. Shake it out, stretch, shake it out. Better. Breathe…
Gimme gimme
Gimme (Ooh)
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme
Gimme
GOD DAMN IT THEY’RE swarming! PLAY DEAD! PLAY DEAD! ABORT!
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme
Gimme (Ooh)
Gimme gimme
I will kill all of you. And WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS SONG MEAN? If you don’t shut up, I’m going to give you more all right…
Ok, fine, at least you chicks know how to NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME. Maybe I can blend in. Are you seriously still doing the bunny hop? Fine, I’ll blend in. Blend. I played hopscotch like three times. When I was about six. I can do this…
Shit, they all died or something. Uhm dancing. Yeah… I guess I’ll do a little pirouette here or something… Uhm…
At first, I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. It felt mostly like I just kept nodding off and having extremely odd dreams. But then, Sunday night, I signed onto MySpace and noticed I had about 16 bulletin messages about Britney Spears. I rarely get mail about Britney. I decided to investigate.
Opening several, they seemed to be more or less in agreement that the cosmos were out of line. (I changed the wording slightly for clarity.) One of them included a link to her recent performance on the MTV Awards Show thingie. That clip can be found here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=ihH6TpxPcRI Out of bored curiosity, I clicked the link.
That’s when I realized my horrible, arrogant mistake. My attempts at astral projection had not been the dismal failures I thought they were. And those dreams were no dreams. It seems I accidentally hijacked Britney’s body for this performance. It was not my intent. However, in an effort to make it up to her and her fans, I want to take the time to answer the question I heard the most. “What was she thinking?!” Well, remember, I thought I was just having a peculiar dream after I fell asleep with the radio on. But I can tell you what I was thinking, more or less. I’ll include the thoughts in italics, spaced by the lyrics below.
Again, you have my sincerest apologies.
Lake Dances to “Gimme More” at the MTV Video Music Awards
Where am I and why does my face feel sticky?
(It's Britney, bitch)
What the hell is wrong with my hair?
(I see you, and I just wanna dance with you)
Who are you people and why are we doing the bunny hop? Fine, whatevz.
Everytime they turn the lights down
Whoa. Hey baby. Thank you, but I think my fly is closed. Hey! Where are you going?!
Just wanna go that extra mile for you
Fine be that way. I’m taking my dignity with me and going over here.
Public display of affection
Feel's like no one else in the room (The room)
We can get down like there's no one around
We'll keep on rockin' (We'll keep on rockin')
You people look like a bunch of spazzes. And what is that odd smell? I’d better take a sec here to check my deodorant. Nope, not me. Thank god. I think.
We'll keep on rockin' (Keep on rockin')
Cameras are flashing while we're dirty dancing
They keep watchin' (They keep watchin')
Keep watchin
Feels like the crowd is saying
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme (Uh)
Why do I have tits, and why am I dressed like dominatrix with her kids at the beach?
Gimme gimme more
::laughs:: Hey, I can make my tits bounce!
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Give me more what? Pie?
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
Dude, I can NOT walk in heels. Get me down from here!
Center of attention ('tention)
Even when they're up against the wall
Dudes, I’m sure you’re lonely, but this is me time here. Practice giving each other hand jobs at the urinal later. And get the fuck out of my way! Dick!
You got me in a crazy position (Yeah)
If you're on a mission (Uh-uh)
You got my permission (Oh)
Ok people, this isn’t the subway, let’s clear me a path here…
We can get down like there's no one around
GET OFF ME!
We'll keep on rockin' (Keep on rockin')
We'll keep on rockin', rockin' (Uh-uh)
Cameras are flashing while we're dirty dancing
Ok, I see a clearing over there! Go for it! Breath deep! Head clearing!
They keep watchin' (Wait)
Keep watchin
(Feel's like the crowd is saying)
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Give me more what?! Ok, you guys are seriously starting to piss me off here! GET BACK or I’ll give YOU some more of my fist!
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
What the fuck is this song about anyway? It sounds like it was written by a drunk pedophile during a masturbation fantasy.
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
(I just can't control myself, oh)
(They want more? Well I'll give'em more, oh!)
Yes, I know these pants are tight, but I think it must be laundry da… HEY! DO NOT MAKE ME THROW YOU!
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more (Gimme more)
Gimme gimme more
GROSS! WIPE HIS SWEAT OFF ME! NASTY! GET IT OFF!
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more (Ooh)
Gimme gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more (Gimme more, oh yeah)
Gimme (Uh)
Gimme gimme more
Ohh, gimme more, gimme more (More)
Gimme more, gimme more baby
I just wanna more
Ok, breathe deep. Calm. Let’s do some stretches to forget. Stretch. Arms up, breathe, breathe…
[CHORUS]
Gimme gimme
Gimme
Gimme gimme more
Ok, let’s do a little two step here. Shake it out, stretch, shake it out. Better. Breathe…
Gimme gimme
Gimme (Ooh)
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme
Gimme
GOD DAMN IT THEY’RE swarming! PLAY DEAD! PLAY DEAD! ABORT!
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme
Gimme (Ooh)
Gimme gimme
I will kill all of you. And WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS SONG MEAN? If you don’t shut up, I’m going to give you more all right…
Ok, fine, at least you chicks know how to NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME. Maybe I can blend in. Are you seriously still doing the bunny hop? Fine, I’ll blend in. Blend. I played hopscotch like three times. When I was about six. I can do this…
Shit, they all died or something. Uhm dancing. Yeah… I guess I’ll do a little pirouette here or something… Uhm…
Friday, September 7, 2007
The Most Terrifying Weapon Known to Man
During my recent trip to Las Vegas, which, in the grand tradition of my blog, I will completely otherwise ignore, I had the opportunity to realize something of shocking importance. Apparently, yet again, I was on the forefront of developing new strategies to help the terrorists bypass the security measures in place in our grand nation.
Allow me to explain in detail.
We arrived on time at the airport. On my back, I had slung my only bag. In my hands, I clutched a garish pink box with “Ronald’s Donuts” stamped on the front in ugly black letters. (Literally, stamped there, like via a return address stamper.) Inside, a baker’s dozen delicious vegan donuts glinted magically in the non-light. For people who are feeling a little lost here, allow me to mention that I went vegan before the Krispy Kreme craze even got off the ground. Those things look delicious. I have never had one. But my longing to do so burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Well, no. Perhaps a thousand candles. Hmmm. Still too strong. Ok, ok. The burning of my desire lit my brain with the brilliance of a thousand lazy, post-orgasm fireflies.
Anyway, low and behold, Las Vegas has a vegan donut shop. During my stay, my sinful urges inspired a pilgrimage to this curious shop. I was skeptical. I have had vegan donuts before. Most of them boast all of the culinary delights of a Styrofoam cup. However, one look at the wares of this store brought me new hope. Many donuts were purchased. Many were consumed.
Fast-forwarding back to the present, come departure day, I had many left. I had no intention of abandoning them to the anonymous hotel staff. They were mine. And thus, I clutched an ugly pink box close to my chest as we raced through airport security. When we reached the security checkpoint, I had a sudden revelation. Many of the remaining donuts were exotic flavors. I had jelly-filled, crème-filled, and moist-glazed donuts galore. And I had them in a questionably-labeled pink box. A quick glance at my packed-to-bulging quart-sized bag offered no hope. It was already full to the brim with such lethal weapons as an ounce of toothpaste and propylene glycol packets. (If you don’t know, you can ask.) Thus, the security scanners were sure to discover I was traveling with a large quantity of undeclared gels and liquids in my suspicious looking and oddly labeled pink box.
Scenarios of the impending confrontation flashed into my mind. I imagined myself asking the security guards if the horrors of my vegan jelly donuts would require me to dispose of all of them, or if I might be allowed to keep the less lethal chocolate glazed versions if I relinquished my crème-filled pastries in the name of national security.
As the box passed through the X-ray machine, I waited to be called aside for questioning. Then my box of donuts popped out in front of me, still nestled in its grey tray. I looked up, curious, at the guard. She sat squinting at the grave threat posed by what appeared to be a hamster frozen mid-hump, making love to a curling iron. Apparently, I was free to go.
Suddenly, I was filled with a mild annoyance that my donuts WEREN’T filled with gel-based explosives. Apparently, I shot too low when I settled for passive, vegan “eco-terrorism.” My skills are being underutilized.
Allow me to explain in detail.
We arrived on time at the airport. On my back, I had slung my only bag. In my hands, I clutched a garish pink box with “Ronald’s Donuts” stamped on the front in ugly black letters. (Literally, stamped there, like via a return address stamper.) Inside, a baker’s dozen delicious vegan donuts glinted magically in the non-light. For people who are feeling a little lost here, allow me to mention that I went vegan before the Krispy Kreme craze even got off the ground. Those things look delicious. I have never had one. But my longing to do so burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Well, no. Perhaps a thousand candles. Hmmm. Still too strong. Ok, ok. The burning of my desire lit my brain with the brilliance of a thousand lazy, post-orgasm fireflies.
Anyway, low and behold, Las Vegas has a vegan donut shop. During my stay, my sinful urges inspired a pilgrimage to this curious shop. I was skeptical. I have had vegan donuts before. Most of them boast all of the culinary delights of a Styrofoam cup. However, one look at the wares of this store brought me new hope. Many donuts were purchased. Many were consumed.
Fast-forwarding back to the present, come departure day, I had many left. I had no intention of abandoning them to the anonymous hotel staff. They were mine. And thus, I clutched an ugly pink box close to my chest as we raced through airport security. When we reached the security checkpoint, I had a sudden revelation. Many of the remaining donuts were exotic flavors. I had jelly-filled, crème-filled, and moist-glazed donuts galore. And I had them in a questionably-labeled pink box. A quick glance at my packed-to-bulging quart-sized bag offered no hope. It was already full to the brim with such lethal weapons as an ounce of toothpaste and propylene glycol packets. (If you don’t know, you can ask.) Thus, the security scanners were sure to discover I was traveling with a large quantity of undeclared gels and liquids in my suspicious looking and oddly labeled pink box.
Scenarios of the impending confrontation flashed into my mind. I imagined myself asking the security guards if the horrors of my vegan jelly donuts would require me to dispose of all of them, or if I might be allowed to keep the less lethal chocolate glazed versions if I relinquished my crème-filled pastries in the name of national security.
As the box passed through the X-ray machine, I waited to be called aside for questioning. Then my box of donuts popped out in front of me, still nestled in its grey tray. I looked up, curious, at the guard. She sat squinting at the grave threat posed by what appeared to be a hamster frozen mid-hump, making love to a curling iron. Apparently, I was free to go.
Suddenly, I was filled with a mild annoyance that my donuts WEREN’T filled with gel-based explosives. Apparently, I shot too low when I settled for passive, vegan “eco-terrorism.” My skills are being underutilized.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Pre-Engineer Quiz
[Author's Note: This post was written over a week ago, and not on a weekend. As is often true, I actually have a backlog of unposted material at the moment. I write in real time, but rarely post as such. If I did, The ebbs and tides of what I crank out would be difficult to fathom, let alone read.]
Yesterday, I wrote a post that made my job sound like being an engineer on Star Trek. Exotic (to most) control systems, large computers, and tropical and arctic climates came together in a whimsical package.
Towards the end of the day, I got a phone call from my least favorite coworker that inspired me to new lows. This post is expected to make my job sound like the supervisor in charge of making a thousand monkeys write the complete works of Shakespeare. (Hint: it involves a lot of crying and despair.)
In one of the production bays, we have a steam generated vacuum system. It has no moving parts. It is either on or off. As steam blows into the unit and condenses, a vacuum is generated which we can then apply to process vessels. I repeat that the unit has no moving parts.
I got a phone call from my special work friend telling me that the vacuum hardware was broken. Without missing a beat, I answered that I was aware of the problems with the steam-generating boilers and that there was already someone working on it. As I moved to hang up, my extra special friend told me that, no, the trouble wasn’t the steam, it was the vacuum, because the vacuum kept getting really strong, then weak, then strong again. I paused. In case there was confusion about the hardware, I pointed out that the vacuum hardware has no moving parts. Therefore, the fact that it is capable of being strong most of the time and that it always recovers proves that the problem is not with the vacuum hardware. The steam was obviously just moving through said stationary hardware in erratic pulses for some reason. I was told that I should really go look at the vacuum hardware to be sure.
I should stop to point out that this guy is a chemical operator. Don’t get me wrong, we have some clever chemical operators. I just wish this guy would be more like them. He could also stand to realize that he is no one’s boss. (He gets confused on that often.) But again, my big gripe with this phone call is with neither of those issues. It was with the fact that his premise was wildly retarded.
Then again, I suppose I should not rush to judge. Instead, I decided to create a helpful quiz, to help people judge their engineering aptitude before they call me with suggestions. Answers are provided. See how well you do!
Question 1) You are watering your lawn with the garden hose. You notice that the water comes out of the hose really fast sometimes, and barely at all other times. You conclude:
(a.) The water pressure is behaving strangely for some reason.
(b.) There is something wrong with your hose.
Answer: Unless you tend to find your thumb wedged unexpectedly in random holes, we can conclude that there is a problem with the water pressure. However, if you circled (b.) and are male, I would not rule out that you might also be having some trouble with your hose.
Question 2) You regularly watch pornographic films on your PC. Most of them play normally, but since last Wednesday, every time you play your favorite film, (entitled “Robin Williams Does Russia”) your computer crashes. You conclude:
(a.) This is obviously Microsoft’s fault.
(b.) It seems likely that the file somehow got corrupted.
Answer: (b.) The sudden appearance and localization of the problem hints that something about that specific file has changed. However, if you circled (a.), you should probably switch to a Macintosh computer anyway. Also, there is enough information given in the question to conclusively prove that there is something wrong with you. Seek therapy.
Question 3) Every time you heat an un-opened can of soup in the microwave, the label starts on fire, the can explodes, and you burn your hand when you take it out of there. You conclude:
(a.) The concept of a “Microwave Safe Container” should be looked into.
(b.) The soup was probably imported from Mexico.
Answer: (a.) Cans do not go in the microwave. However, if you answered (b.), you obviously have extremely discriminating tastes. I recommend taking a vacation to an exotic resort town just across the border and checking your passport and all forms of ID with the local taxi driver for safekeeping.
Question 4) Every time you eat shellfish, you have difficulty breathing, swell up like a balloon, and are removed to a hospital by concerned friends or wait staff. You conclude:
(a.) Shellfish are delicious.
(b.) You are allergic to shellfish.
Answer: (b.) Some sharp readers will argue that in this case, both answers can be considered true. Therefore, the best answer should have been chosen. If you feel that (a.) is the best answer, I encourage you to eat more shellfish, but pursue a career in something other than engineering. Perhaps marketing.
Yesterday, I wrote a post that made my job sound like being an engineer on Star Trek. Exotic (to most) control systems, large computers, and tropical and arctic climates came together in a whimsical package.
Towards the end of the day, I got a phone call from my least favorite coworker that inspired me to new lows. This post is expected to make my job sound like the supervisor in charge of making a thousand monkeys write the complete works of Shakespeare. (Hint: it involves a lot of crying and despair.)
In one of the production bays, we have a steam generated vacuum system. It has no moving parts. It is either on or off. As steam blows into the unit and condenses, a vacuum is generated which we can then apply to process vessels. I repeat that the unit has no moving parts.
I got a phone call from my special work friend telling me that the vacuum hardware was broken. Without missing a beat, I answered that I was aware of the problems with the steam-generating boilers and that there was already someone working on it. As I moved to hang up, my extra special friend told me that, no, the trouble wasn’t the steam, it was the vacuum, because the vacuum kept getting really strong, then weak, then strong again. I paused. In case there was confusion about the hardware, I pointed out that the vacuum hardware has no moving parts. Therefore, the fact that it is capable of being strong most of the time and that it always recovers proves that the problem is not with the vacuum hardware. The steam was obviously just moving through said stationary hardware in erratic pulses for some reason. I was told that I should really go look at the vacuum hardware to be sure.
I should stop to point out that this guy is a chemical operator. Don’t get me wrong, we have some clever chemical operators. I just wish this guy would be more like them. He could also stand to realize that he is no one’s boss. (He gets confused on that often.) But again, my big gripe with this phone call is with neither of those issues. It was with the fact that his premise was wildly retarded.
Then again, I suppose I should not rush to judge. Instead, I decided to create a helpful quiz, to help people judge their engineering aptitude before they call me with suggestions. Answers are provided. See how well you do!
Question 1) You are watering your lawn with the garden hose. You notice that the water comes out of the hose really fast sometimes, and barely at all other times. You conclude:
(a.) The water pressure is behaving strangely for some reason.
(b.) There is something wrong with your hose.
Answer: Unless you tend to find your thumb wedged unexpectedly in random holes, we can conclude that there is a problem with the water pressure. However, if you circled (b.) and are male, I would not rule out that you might also be having some trouble with your hose.
Question 2) You regularly watch pornographic films on your PC. Most of them play normally, but since last Wednesday, every time you play your favorite film, (entitled “Robin Williams Does Russia”) your computer crashes. You conclude:
(a.) This is obviously Microsoft’s fault.
(b.) It seems likely that the file somehow got corrupted.
Answer: (b.) The sudden appearance and localization of the problem hints that something about that specific file has changed. However, if you circled (a.), you should probably switch to a Macintosh computer anyway. Also, there is enough information given in the question to conclusively prove that there is something wrong with you. Seek therapy.
Question 3) Every time you heat an un-opened can of soup in the microwave, the label starts on fire, the can explodes, and you burn your hand when you take it out of there. You conclude:
(a.) The concept of a “Microwave Safe Container” should be looked into.
(b.) The soup was probably imported from Mexico.
Answer: (a.) Cans do not go in the microwave. However, if you answered (b.), you obviously have extremely discriminating tastes. I recommend taking a vacation to an exotic resort town just across the border and checking your passport and all forms of ID with the local taxi driver for safekeeping.
Question 4) Every time you eat shellfish, you have difficulty breathing, swell up like a balloon, and are removed to a hospital by concerned friends or wait staff. You conclude:
(a.) Shellfish are delicious.
(b.) You are allergic to shellfish.
Answer: (b.) Some sharp readers will argue that in this case, both answers can be considered true. Therefore, the best answer should have been chosen. If you feel that (a.) is the best answer, I encourage you to eat more shellfish, but pursue a career in something other than engineering. Perhaps marketing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
