With Death, Who Leaves Whom? (Humorous)

by Daniel Taverne

In the news tonight, I listened as the anchorman informed our nation that John Walton, heir to the Wal-mart fortune, was killed in an accident. We were told that he crashed ultra-light plane he was piloting, almost in the same sentence that he told us Walton was one of the wealthiest men in the world, and that he was worth some 18 billion dollars. The newsman then somberly pointed out which next-of-kin he left behind. Although I probably won't say anything that hasn't already been said concerning death, this last part of the report got me to wondering: When we die, are we leaving the living behind or do the living move on, leaving us behind?

When attempting to address this question, one has to look back upon ones own life, look at the present, and then try to predict what the future holds. It then has to be determined which idea is more comforting for ones own piece of mind. When I made my attempt to answer this question, I looked back on my own life and found that the notion of being left behind does has familiar connotation's for me, dating back to my childhood. In fact, it only took this one incident to make me feel that being left behind was an unpleasant proposition. It was when I was about three years old that my mom and dad informed me they were going out for a while. I was told that I'd be staying home with the baby sitter, and that I was to be good. Well, when my parents finally returned, they both had ice cream cones. From then on, until I was around seven my parents never went anywhere together (without me) until I received a good spanking for throwing a temper tantrum. My point is, I didn't want to be left behind for fear of what I might be missing out on.

There were times though when I certainly did like being left behind. I liked being left behind on those occasions when my mother took my sister shopping, to the beauty salon, and to ballet lessons. I also liked being left behind when the rest of my family went over to my Aunt Kathy's house. She had a way of planting a nasty wet kiss on my cheek that made me think of a slug crawling across my face. My point here is, as a kid there were allot of occasions when being left behind meant that I'd be spared having to endure unpleasant circumstances. So, when I die, I wonder what unpleasant circumstances I'll not have to endure.

when my little sister was growing up, I grew to understand just how truly liberating the idea of leaving others behind could be. You see, my sister was like an accessory that came with me at no additional charge. That is, wherever I went, she followed. Fortunately, this wasn't all the time. There were, in fact, rare occasions when I had the opportunity to run and play with the other boys without her. It was these times when I could work on my spitting, and cussing proficiency, and when I would turn into a 'big-shot' in front of my friends. This freedom induced euphoria buried my inhibition’s and I confidently did all those forbidden things I Wouldn’t have done when she was around for fear of her tattling on me. So you see, the idea of leaving others behind isn't necessarily a bad thing. Neither is it necessarily a good thing.

One afternoon, I was dared by four of my 'friends' to put our biology projects (dissected earthworms, into our teacher’s handbag. Well, after the teacher regained consciousness, and after my four snickering 'friends' were done pointing at me, I was dragged to the principal's office (alone) by my left ear lobe. It was only seconds later when, my 'singled out' fanny became well acquainted with Mr. Barefield's paddle. Here, leaving others behind was a negative thing. I was angry because I was dragged away leaving my four 'friends' behind.

Having looked at the past, I then looked at the present, and used it to imagine what the future might be like after I'm gone. Currently, I see that everything is more costly than ever, making it harder and harder for common people to get by. Also, we humans are consuming the world’s natural resources at an alarming rate, and there is a pervasive feeling of discontent affecting almost everyone I know. In addition, man has gone so far against nature by either doing things, or allowing things that are such blatant challenges of its authority, that I wonder how long it will be before it retaliates. Specifically, Unnatural 'Lifestyle' choices, as well as growing babies outside of mothers, and killing babies inside them are a few examples.

Presently, we are also contending with war, famine, mysterious diseases, terrorist sleeper-cells, and a whole myriad of other problems. Sadly, I've concluded that the future probably isn't going to be a place I would want to continue living in. I think that I will welcome the day that I leave everyone else behind, or that I get left behind by the living. When that day comes, I don't think this debate will matter much though, since at that moment, looking at it either way will be comforting. I hope.

Our World Gone Awry: I'm Tired of Hearing it (Kinda funny)

by Daniel Taverne


For years now I've been hearing, on the news that the world is going awry. Information sources of all sorts have been feeding us with stories of doom, gloom, and the notion at not enough is being done to combat or reverse any serious threats to our global ecology. Well I say, "I'm tired of hearing it, and I don't want to hear about it anymore'! What's the point? Everyone knows that the people who spread these 'stories' are either a bunch of status seeking fear mongers looking for some airtime, or they are money-seeking malcontents who are trying to use fear to get it from us.

I'm tired of those fear-mongers insisting that every aspect of our environment has been thoughtlessly contaminated, and I'm tired of hearing the malcontents blaming it all on us consumers. They're saying that, because we are gluttonous (consuming so much) we've polluted the air, water and land. However, since I see no evidence to support any of this, I say to them, "Go away! Complain to someone else! I don't want to hear it; I'm tired of it."

Surely, that notice on the reverse side of my water bill that says, my water is contaminated is not evidence, it is simply a ploy to raise my bill. I know this because the water that comes out of my tap looks and tastes perfectly fine to me. Also, Regardless of what people say, as with my drinking water, there is nothing wrong with the rain that falls from the sky!

Acid rain? Please, as far as I'm concerned I haven't seen, nor heard any concrete evidence in support of what is being said about its effects. I've heard that acid rain has been implicated as a causative factor in the slow growth, injury, and even deaths of entire forests in the Eastern United States, but I haven’t seen any forests dieing off around here! So I'm tired of hearing this too. And, when I'm outside in the rain, my skin doesn't burn or turn red. Therefore, its ph is of no concern to me. Ultimately, it's all hog-wash when they say sulfur dioxide (SO2) and nitrogen oxides (NOx) are the primary causes of it, and that In the US, About 2/3 of all SO2 and 1/4 of all NOx comes from electric power generation that relies on burning fossil fuels such as coal.

Neither do I believe what is being said concerning our fish being contaminated with mercury. I don't believe that there is anything really wrong with the fish that come out of the local rivers. I do believe however, that the only reason people are saying the fish are all contaminated is because they're selfish and want all the fish to themselves. Even the EPA discounts the notion that upwards of 50 tons of mercury emitted from coal burning power plants every year can increase the mercury levels in fish. And, if a government entity such as the EPA says it, it must be true.

I'm tired of hearing that global warming is only due to green house gasses such as carbon dioxide which is emitted from every fossil fueled product in the world when there is another school of thought contending that the Earths warming is a natural fluctuation which occurs about every 100,000 years. Personally, I'll go with this second explanation and guiltlessly continue driving my gas-guzzling S.U.V. everywhere.

Something else I'm tired of hearing about goes hand in hand with the green house gas complaints: air pollution. Nonsense! My air isn’t polluted. In my opinion, aside from the 'rotten egg' smell of sulfur coming from the factory two miles away, the air I breathe is perfectly fine. Recent studies have proved in fact, that This factories emission has no impact on the increased number of sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) in my area, nor does it contribute, as people believed, to the abnormal rates at which nearby resident's teeth seem to be rotting out of their heads. Note: we in our area, are grateful to the factory owner for funding those studies.

The next thing I'm tired of hearing is that our oceans are polluted. The fear-mongers and malcontents have been whining about how ocean going vessels dumping trash into the oceans for years now, and they've mentioned how man's dirty interference has contributed to the shrinking of the great choral reef. I'm also tired of seeing on the news how millions of dead fish wash up on the world's shores every year, and how oil slicks, caused by leaking transports, and spills, are ruining the habitat's of many species of animals as well as fish. Although tragic, I don't see how these problems affect me, so I'm not concerned with them.

Continuing with the next item I'm tired of hearing about, brings me to the burning of the rain forests. I'm certain that all of us have heard about how so much of it is burnt every day as well as how our planet will suffer when it's gone and so on and so forth. Baloney! There are plenty of other trees in the world, and with awareness programs such as Arbor Day where everyone is encouraged to plant a tree, this problem is mute.

The last thing I'll mention here is land pollution; I'm tired of hearing about it as well. surely our planet Earth is large enough that we'll never run out of places to put trash. They've been telling us for years now, to recycle. What for? I put my trash on the street, and the garbage man picks it up on Thursdays like clockwork. Since he has never refused to pick it up, I refuse to believe they are running out of dumping grounds. Also, is it really worth worrying my self over that the plastics I toss in the trash on a regular basis will still be here, on Earth, in that form for at least a million years? No-Way. I'm not going to be here, so why should I give a hoot?

To sum this all up, the issues I've mentioned here are nothing to concern you with. In fact, if you look around, you'll see that everything is fine and dandy, and soon you'll be just as tired of hearing it as I am. Ultimately, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the status quo, but if I did change some things in my life, I know my neighbor wouldn't follow suit. So, I'm not changing a thing; at least not until I have distinct and irrefutable evidence that these problems really exist. Until then, I wish all those malcontents would just plain shut-up, because I'm tired of hearing it. I've heard it all before.

Beware: Old Weapons with New Packaging (Humorous)

Handle with Care:
History and Dangers of two Lethal Weapons
By Daniel Taverne

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say, “Better watch out, your gonna open a can of whoop ass!” The same goes for hearing people describe how they got a ‘case of the red ass. These illiterations have always intrigued me so, I finally decided to investigate them. To my amazement, what I’ve discovered is that they are not just illiterations. In fact, I’ve found that they have been around for a long time.

Apparently, the citizens of Boston Massachusetts were the first people on earth to discover whoop-ass. In fact, whoop-ass was discovered aboard the ships, of the Boston tea party. It seems whoop-ass wasn’t packed in cans back then, , it was crudely packed in crates and carefully stored in the ships belly. It is unclear exactly where those crates of whoop-ass came from, but it is believed that aliens were observing the americans struggling against the odds to be independent, and decided to even the odds by bestowing upon us the power of the whoop-ass by placing crates of it where Americans would find them.

Shortly after discovering the crates of whoop-ass, Americans endeavored to find more innovative ways to package it. In fact, the next step along the continuum of packaging was beer bottles. As crude as bottles of whoop -ass appear today, they are still occasionally found and used in bars and basement s across the nation.

The original bottles were simply rinsed out, and whoop--ass was loaded by hand. Unfortunately, many people were accidentally beaten to death when whoop-ass unintentionally discharged. Eventually, Americans ‘wised up’ and learned to carefully insert whoop-ass with a whoop-ass loader. Whoop-ass loaders were pieces of equipment that allowed the whoop-ass technician to load the bottles without accidental beatings taking place. This allowed the minute men , the meridian army to carry whoop-ass around with them where ever they went., and could be used at a moments notice.

The packaging of whoop-ass was bottled this way until WWII when hundreds of bottles of 2hoop-ass were broken as paratroopers landed on the ground. This problem necessitated repackaging . Fortunately, newly discovered tin proved to be the perfect storage medium. Tin was formed into cans and the cans were then loaded on assembly lines across America.
Another significant discovery was made about this time. Evidence suggests that upon observing Hitler’s terrible deeds, aliens once again stepped in and placed cases full of a powerful item where Americans could find them. This new item known as ‘Red Ass” came along at just the right time because cans of whoop-ass could fit snuggly inside the cases that red-ass came in.
It’s unclear exactly how red-ass works, however when utilized in conjunction with cans of whoop-ass you can bet there is either going to be a really big mess, someone’s going to be bleeding or both.

Modern cases of red-ass and cans of whoop-ass come in varying sizes, strengths and speeds. In fact, Americans have built really big boats to accommodate /carry devastating cans of whoop-ass with a range of up to 40 miles!. Marines aboard ship also carry cans of whoop ass with them on any mission they are given. Navy seals have cans of dehydrated whoop-ass tailored especially for their needs, And, they are packed inside waterproof cases of red-ass. Dehydrating whoop-ass allows military people to pack a whole lot of whoop-ass within one can. To use this whoop-ass all they have to do is add water.

Wives and mothers have their own cans and cases. They try to keep theirs out of reach of their children, and out of sight of husbands. Unfortunately, their children/husband finds one or the other and accidentally discharges it. Wife’s/mothers cases of red ass is particularly powerful, and should not be placed within easy access to anyone. Storing it under the kitchen sink is a common place to find it, but it is also a dangerous place since most cans of whoop-ass are also stored there. God forbid these compounds should ever mix the result could be unspeakable. As a matter of fact, the Bureau of Tobacco, Alcohol and Fire Arms is trying to make it a federal law to mix these without a licensee.

While researching these volatile weapons, I came across two additional items that have been incorporated in cans of whoop-ass and cases of red-ass for years. It was determined after extensive experimentation in the 1980’s that incorporating these two items was a task best suited for trained professionals. This conclusion came about after hundreds of technicians filed for workman’s compensation due to unpredicted discharges (of whoop-ass and red ass) had workers beating each other to bloody pulps on a regular basis.

In the 1980’s , It was discovered that thousands of people were mailing cans of whoop-ass and cases of red-ass within the same packages they used to mail their short fuses and hair triggers. It was further discovered that although these items were regularly packed inside bubble wrap, postal workers regularly came in contact with packages that had either whoop-ass leaking from them, or red-ass showing through them. Unfortunately, there were rare occasions when a hair trigger, or short fuse came in contact with red-ass or whoop-ass and subsequent shootings and severe beatings took place. As a result of the postal worker incidents, public law PL 121.2a was instituted making it a federal crime to transport whoop-ass, red ass, hair triggers and/or short fuses through the postal system.

Finally, just as yesterday, cases of red ass and cans of whoop-ass are nothing to play around with. History has taught us not to open them unless we intend to use them, and even if the cases and cans are believed to be empty, they need to be treated as if they are loaded.

Home Improvement: Lessons Learned (Humorous)

by Daniel Taverne
I don't know how many times I've stood looking out my back door, scratching my head, asking myself, "What is going on around here!?" Eventually, I chalked the mystery up to a cosmic force within my back wall; a powerful magnetic force that's attracting junk I never knew I had. Truly, this force exists in varying strengths throughout my home. It's this force that is additionally responsible for all the stuff piled in the center of my closet floor and my daughters toy box where allot of my stuff ends up. This force is also located in the kitchen, in various spots where the counters and the walls meet, as evidenced by the piles of old junk mail, coupons, empty medicine bottles, jewelry and other stuff.

While standing there one day still scratching my head, I began thinking about doing something about the terrible state of affairs outside my back door. My dissatisfaction wasn't limited to all the junk along the back wall, it was also due to the fact that it didn't matter what I did, grass simply would not grow back there. Little did I know that the solutions I entertained that day would lead to an epiphany: A shed and a brick patio.

Thankfully, I now have my shed and brick patio. It wasn't a complete 'joy-ride' getting to this point, but I've learned a few things along the way that I feel inclined to share with you here. Hopefully you will read something here that helps make your project go a little smoother and maybe even a little cheaper.

The first thing I learned was that I should have looked through books and magazines for pictures of thing similar to what I wanted. I could have drove around town, knocking on doors, looking at other peoples patio's until I found one similar to what I wanted, and I could have then took some snap shots to show my contractor afterward. Sadly, I don't know how much time I wasted trying to explain to my masonry contractor that I wanted a pattern that was like, "This way and that." As I moved both my hands simultaneously in a lunatic like manner, I swear I saw the bricklayers eyes cross as I stubbornly repeated my explanation the fifth time.
The second thing I learned is that I should have found a dog sitter for Spike, right from the start. I can't tell you how many times the bricklayer said he had to wrestle his trowel from the slimy jaws of Spike before I witnessed it with my own eyes and finally did something about it. Additionally, Spike is responsible for my having to pay for a new wheel barrel tire since he bit and flattened one as one of the guys pushed a full load of mortar across the yard; what a mess it made.

I learned the next lesson thanks to my neighbor, Bob. After my patio was finally finished, Bob had an exact replica of my patio built in his back yard. He then had the nerve to brag to me about how he saved $500.00 just by digging the footings and moving the brick around from the front to the back, himself. In addition, he went on an on about how I spent too much money, and he didn't hesitate to let all our neighbors know how immeasurably superior his intelligence is to mine. What he told everyone was, after receiving the bid proposals, I should have asked the contractors what I could do to cut down on labor costs, like he did. Fed up with Bobs preaching, I told him that if he didn't shut up I'd be telling his wife about those three speeding tickets he was given the last time we went fishing together.

The price tag on the next lesson learned makes me want to cry. Initially, I bragged because of how cheaply I was getting off after receiving a bid that was 30% less than the next lowest bid. I, as sure as I'm sitting here, threw some money away by choosing to hire that cheapest contractor without first checking his references. I hired that contractor because I knew the sister of the contractor who said her brother did that kind of work and was really good. She couldn't have been more wrong.

It should have clued me in right away (that they didn't know what they were doing) when I said to them, "A herring bone would be nice, but a running bond is fine too. What do you think? And the contractor suddenly looked confused like I was speaking in tongues or something. He stared inquisitively at my mouth as if $100.00 bills were coming out of it like an A.T.M.. They may as well have been because after a week my patio was looking like a monkey laid the bricks. I had to pay them for their time before I could let them go and hire someone else who had to tear up what they laid and start over.

I found the second crew by asking the clerk at the brick Supply Company if she could refer me to a reputable contractor. After producing a list of company names, the clerk suggested a few who handled the type of brickwork I needed. This second contractor did a great job.

Home Improvement: More Than Mere 'House' Improvement

by Daniel P. Taverne

It’s Saturday morning, the sun is shining through your kitchen window and painting itself on the floor.. You pour yourself a steaming cup of coffee and step outside on your new brick patio. As you look down at the basket weave pattern , you remember back when just a few short weeks ago this space was a jumble of rocks and weeds. In other words, the space was ugly. While deeply inhaling the crisp morning air, you sit down at your new patio table and watch Cardinals and Chick-a-Dee’s playing tag with the feeder you hung from the roofs edge about 20 feet away. Finally, as you take a sip you think to yourself, “Almost paradise.”

Although this is quite a fantasy, it is not a description of impossibilities. As a matter of fact, this scenario could become a familiar one if you have the imagination, money and desire.

When considering what modifications to make to your home, keep in mind that what you are doing is called ‘home improvement’, not ‘house improvement’. Thinking about how you are going to change your home, improve your home in such a way as to promote happiness and contentment to all your homes members will help you decide what you want to do.

As in the above scenario, a patio is a great way to improve the home for all of its members. Years of cook-outs with friends and family are certainly made for, with and by all. Maybe you’ll decide to enlarge your home by adding a room. This benefits everyone by creating more space. Adding a family ‘game room’ is a popular improvement choice especially with kids. Speaking from experience, kids look forward to many hours of play not only with siblings and friends, but with parents as well. This kind of room when utilized to spend meaningful time with your kids is worth its weight in gold because spending time with your kid’s influences who they are and who they become. Also you’ll get a chance to know your kids when parents of other kids are still struggling, wishing they knew theirs as well as you know yours.

Home improvement could even be a garden where all members of the home get a say in what is planted and everyone participates in tending to it. Then, after much attention and nurturing everyone who participated in the gardens growth gets to benefit from it by enjoying its beauty or eating the vegetables that grow from it.

Fortunately, the amount of money you spend on your home improvement project is not a reflection of how well your home has been improved. In fact, I know a family who lives in a mobile home, and the dad built an 8’X10’ front porch for less than $150.00 . Since built I’ve observed his family sitting out there (on many occasions) laughing, playing cards, talking and eating. I think they got a lot of 'home' improvement for very little money.

Choosing home improvements not only improve your immediate home, by virtue of time spent and lessons learned, they improve the future homes of your children. Your children learn the value of spending time with their kids, they learn patients, how to plan projects and they learn that home improvement is much better than mere house improvement.

The Pictures Below:

The pictures below were all taken at about the same time as the others located in the archives of this blog. I took them all with a $15.00 cheep-'o' special digital camera. It's quite suprising to me how my cats just seemed to pose for me: as if they were professional models. I especially like the one with the cat on the birdhouse; luckily no bird lived there... I think they're afraid to move in!

My niece and nephew came over one afternoon last year and I snapped the pic with the diffuse light coming in through the glass storm door. This pic reminds me of a valuable, old painting one might see hanging on the wall of a mansion.
If you havn't seen the other pics on this blog, I recommend you look at them and read the cute little captions.

Thanks for visiting Forward Observer, and come back soon!

"I should've been named 'Twinkle-toes, huh?" 

"How is this pose? Cute enough for you?" 

"My nose is not too big! I'm handsome!" 

My niece and nephew. I really like the lighting here. 

"Lunch will arrive any minute now." 

Bad Drivers: Confused or Crazy?

I can’t stand other drivers! I couldn’t stand them when I was able to drive, and now that my wife does all the driving, I find that I still can‘t stand them! Don’t people remember anything they learned in drivers-ed? I remember my driver education class. I also remember a lot of my class mates not paying attention. So I guess it goes without saying that those, now adults, get confused whenever they try to recall things they should have learned. The problem with this is, they’re trying to recall these things while driving!

Take the ‘Two-Second-rule’ for example. Do you remember the two second rule? No, it doesn’t mean forget the driving rules two seconds after you take your driving test! It doesn’t mean two seconds after the light turns green you must be doing sixty miles an hour. Nor does it mean that it’s okay to stop on the interstate on-ramp (if you only stop for two seconds) prior to merging. As you can see the two second rule appears to be a confusing rule for many people. It very simply means that you should maintain a two second interval between your car, and the car ahead of you.

‘Following distance’ is another term I’ve noticed people having a difficult time understanding. Frankly, I wish there was a book to teach them what it isn’t! Following distance does not refer to your skidding distance following slamming on your brake pedal. It is not defined as the distance traveled when following someone home from the pub. Certainly it doesn’t refer to the distance it’s safe to drive following drinking at that pub. In a way, for this last example, following distance could mean the distance driven to jail (in a squad car) following being pulled over.

Reaction-time is another one of those confusing concepts. For example, some people define it as the time it takes to put down their cell-phone and ‘flip you off’. Others think it’s the time it takes to roll down their window and scream obscenities. Amazingly, some people have become unbelievably astute at performing these three actions, and can do them (simultaneously within the time it takes me to react with, “Oh my God!”. Still others believe that ‘reaction time’ is the time it takes to recover their dropped cell-phone, which slipped from their hand while trying to put on make-up, drive, eat a breakfast burrrito and talk on the phone simultaneously. So, what do they do? They search the floor-board with one hand while steering down the road with the elbow on the other arm, trying not to spill the coffee they are holding. Now can you see why I don’t like other drivers?

Another driving element many people (myself included) can’t seem to understand is the labeling of stretches of highway (where you have to slow down) ‘speed’ zones? Wouldn’t ‘slow’ zones make more sense? Just because I don’t speed through them, doesn’t mean I understand them. Unfortunately, I have witnessed, first-hand, many people (not understanding) flying through school ‘speed’ zones dodging kids left and right as if they were orange cones on a stunt driving course. Alarmingly, these school zones are the same areas where you will commonly see signs that read, ’SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY’! Some of these kids can’t even run out of the way!

Highway construction signs that read, ’men working give them a brake’ are confusing to more than a few people; I’ve noticed. It’s because of this knowledge that I’ll never be one of those workers. Believe it or not, my brother-in-law is a highway worker. Last Thursday a driver slowed down and threw a used brake pad at him shouting, “have a brake!” If that isn’t bad enough, last year I saw a driver give a worker two breaks: both of them legs!

Unfortunately, it’s not just on the streets and highways that other drivers get confused. Many of them get this way in parking lots as well. For instance, some drivers believe that if they can use their ‘hand’ to put on and take off their ‘cap‘, then they can park in the ‘handicapped’ spot! Additionally, some people get confused in terms of their vehicle size. For example, I recently witnessed a lady trying to park her Lincoln Navigator into a space that I would hesitate to park a Yugo. Oh, she managed to park it there, but it took three failed attempts at exiting her Navigator through the doors before she realized that because she wedged herself in between two other vehicles so tightly, she’d have to climb out through the back window.

Even worse than being confused, some drivers, especially women, loose their minds in shopping center parking lots . We’ve all seen them creeping along ( driving laps around the same lanes of parked cars) circling; looking like vultures waiting for something to die, or we’ve seen them impatiently idling in-place, hell-bent on getting a space close to the door. I submit, If you look closely enough, you will see red furious eyes, and clenched- barred teeth. You’ll also see their white-knuckled death-grip on their steering wheels, and veins popping out of their foreheads, forearms and necks. Caution is strongly advised whenever any shopper finally comes out and heads up one of the many parking lanes. Dangerously, in an effort to get to the space the approaching shopper leaves behind first (the driver, who by now has worked herself into a psychotic frenzy) suddenly floors it (squalling her tires, peeling rubber and smoking up the place) as if she were doing a victory burn out at Daytona! God forbid any children are watching as another driver gets to that spot first, since the now irate woman has the perfect excuse to ‘show-off’ her reaction-time by rolling down her window, screaming and flipping him off (in a flash)!

Being able to perform a U-turn, a three-point-turn, as well as being able to parallel park are skills that can certainly come in handy from time to time. Unfortunately, I have come to suspect that many people get confused when they attempt the execution of such maneuvers. A ‘U-turn’ turns into a U-end-up-in-the-ditch turn, a ’three-point-turn’ ends up being a ’three hour display of transmission shifting ability, and parallel parking looks like someone ran out of gas (in the middle of the road) and left the car right where it quit! People who drive like this should have their licenses revoked! Don’t you agree?

To sum this all up, you take your life in your own hands whenever you are on the road with stupid, idiotic, and confused drivers. It doesn’t matter if you are driving, just riding (like me) or simply a pedestrian you must keep your eyes open at all times. Sometimes though, I think I’d be better off if I went around blindfolded. This way, I wouldn’t see all the confusion going on around me.

Can't Sleep? Make the Most of your Insomnia

6/2/05
by Daniel Taverne 1261 words
I don’t know how many nights I’ve stood at the kitchen window (looking out) wondering why I’m the only one still awake, creeping silently through the house like a phantom. In addition to wondering why I can’t seem to sleep, I have also eaten more than my share of micro waved dinners, burritos, cakes, cookies and left overs in the still quietness. Unfortunately, the extra eating has become evident, both when I look in the mirror and when I stand on the scale.

One sleepless night while sitting on the sofa, I was about to eat the very last Oreo when it seemingly jumped from my hand (as if it was alive) and shutdown, disappearing behind the sofa cushions (in a flash). Upon searching for the escapee (still having every intention of eating it) I discovered some interesting items within that crevasse under the cushions. I found 6 three-month-old french fries, a potato chip, a dirty sock, 38 cents, and an old dried up hotdog (age unknown). Remarkably, It took finding these things to help me realize all the productive things I could be doing at night when sleep doesn’t come easily and since I know that countless numbers of people suffer from insomnia, I felt obligated to share what I've learned with you.

First of all, there are some important guidelines to consider before engaging in any insomnia-derived activity . First and most obvious, since everyone else is sleeping the activity has to be a quiet one. Also, with very few exceptions, it should be something that can be completed from start to finish in one evening. Unfortunately, trying to remain quiet when doing an activity or chore is a lot easier said than done. Experience has taught me that whenever I am trying to be my quietest, for some reason, really loud things happen. For example, I was quietly, slowly and very carefully trying to get a fork out of the drawer when suddenly the entire bottom of the drawer gave way sending all the silverware crashing to the floor! What I heard after that was even worse: "What the hell are you doing!" My wife yelled, her voice cutting into me making me wince.

Many more tasks than you would believe can be completed (from start to finish) in one evening especially if you try to have fun. By playfully using your imagination, you can view each task as an adventure rather than a chore. For example, with my very first task utilizing this principle I imagined myself being interrogated and tortured by some ruthless government as I stood in front of the mirror yanking my own nose-hairs out by the roots. This is a task I’ve been meaning to complete for sometime, and thanks to Uri and Vladnikof I completed this painful task in less than two hours.

Another thing I’ve imagined in the wee hours of the morning is that I was ‘Indiana Jones’ searching through the barren wastelands of no return for long forgotten and lost artifacts, fortunes and ruins. The things I’ve found thus far (in all actuality) aren’t worth all that much. With a flashlight and a broom handle I investigated the dark caverns beneath the stove and refrigerator. Since these areas had never before been searched, their contents (just as the contents of the couch crack) proved to be quite intriguing. I found the dirty mate to the sock that was in the sofa cushion, eleven more cents, a petrified slice of bread, a little plastic army man and a dried up cat turd. As you can see, having fun accomplishing tasks is easy and you can accomplish much when you use your imagination to think outside the box.

An important point to make here is that (if you let it) your imagination can get the best of you. One night, not too long ago, I began a task and soon imagined that I was a marine biologist searching through the partially digested stomach contents of a Great White Shark . I was lost in my adventure when I began to feel nauseous thanks to some awful stench. I couldn't tell if the smell was real or imaginary, but the sick feeling it caused snapped me back to reality just as I was pulling a stinky bowl of excessively hairy sweet peas from the refrigerator. Ultimately, in this instance the scenario got the best of me when I suddenly blew chunks all over the kitchen floor.

As alluded to earlier, some tasks can take longer than one evening to complete. In fact, for some tasks it’s simply impossible. One such activity is my imaginary safari. In this scenario, I am a hunter of an endless supply of wild game on the African tundra. However, for obvious reasons, a gun cannot be my weapon of choice. Instead I utilize a rubber band, a stack of Q-tips, some rubbing alcohol and a book of matches. Cleverly, I dim the lights and sit quietly on the floor waiting for my prey to make an error in judgment and cross my path where it's easier (and safer) for me to launch flaming -alcohol-soaked-swabs at the unsuspecting wild game, via the rubber band. I have watched many flaming roaches run in frantic circles while turning black and crispy. Be advised; I speak from experience when I say that it is entirely possible to give yourself posttraumatic stress disorder by performing graphically violent activities such as this. On the other hand, utilizing this method of venting pent up frustrations can be quite healthy.

If, however, you’re not into imaginary interrogations , archeology digs or African hunts, there are plenty of other tasks that can be accomplished utilizing more traditional and more lucid methods. You should also keep in mind that the middle of the night (while everyone else is sleeping) provides you with the perfect opportunity to do some tasks, which would otherwise be impossible to tackle efficiently. During the day, for example, that‘ junk drawer’ in the kitchen with all those ketchup and taco sauce packets could never be cleaned out properly! With so many people having a stake in that drawer‘s contents, throwing something away would be like trying to sneak Christmas past a child.

One night, I was finally able to toss all those empty scotch-tape dispensers my wife’s been saving for three years. Hopefully my wife will never miss all those recipe cards she never uses; I tossed them too. I was also finally able to throw away that headless Barbie doll that’s been haunting me for months! Upon tossing these items, I was finally able to make room for more important items. From the floor of the cabinet (beneath the kitchen sink) I gathered up all those loose nails, nuts and bolts, my old roll of fishing line and that trailer hitch I’ve been meaning to put on the truck and deposited them confidently in that drawer.

One problem, my wife also occasionally suffers from insomnia. I woke one day and found my things missing from that drawer. In place of my items was a manicure set, a bottle of polish remover, a pack of tampons (ew!) and a huge pile of fuzzy rubber bands.
To sum this all up, be creative when deciding on insomnia derived activities, but don’t abuse your new found abundance of quality ’get stuff done’ time. Life is short, but even if you can’t sleep you can make the best of what it throws at you.

Surgeon General's Warning: American Couch Potatoes at Risk of Developing Necroencephalosis

By Daniel Taverne


I often find myself sitting on the couch yanking my hair out by the roots. Remarkably, I don’t feel a thing until my mind wanders from whom out of the final four is being evicted
from the house or voted off the island, to my own thoughts (struggling to be noticed) telling me, ‘You’re in pain and you need to go to the bathroom!’ These phenomenon’s are just two illustrations of the classic symptoms of necroephalosis (NE)- a condition characterized by an inability to think rationally and/or independently, loss of awareness, loss of common sense, loss of creativity and (most disturbingly) loss of time. In simple terms, people afflicted with NE are said to be ‘brain-dead‘. People afflicted with cryptic necroencephalosis are brain-dead but don’t know it.

Unfortunately, Most people (especially teens and preteens) fall into this category of not knowing. Case in point: Last week, I observed my fifteen-year-old nephew watching television. Why would he ever feel the urge to partake of illegal drugs? He doesn‘t need them! He can, simply and legally, sit at home in a mind-numbed stupor (transfixed on the TV) just as he was the day I observed him. It was obvious to me that he had no Idea he was in such a catatonic state with his eyes glazed over, and his gaping opened, drooling mouth, watching a talking yellow sponge as if he were tripping on acid.! Looking at my nephew that day, I would testify in any court of law that he was under the influence. As you can see, cryptic necroencephalosis is particularly debilitating to our youngsters.

Necroencephalosis (NE) can be further defined as acute or chronic. Acute necroencephalosis occurs swiftly when a relatively normal person (through no fault of his or her own) is suddenly exposed to television‘s necrotic effects without warning. In this acute version of the condition, exposure is brief and may occur, for example, when the victim reflexively glances toward strange sounds of choking emanating from a TV. Then he (upon witnessing a young lady dressed in a bikini struggling to eat a ‘cow-uterus’) immediately begins losing both his intelligence, and his perception of time.. Another route of exposure may be a careless family member, or friend, who may say something inviting, such as,’ Watch this!’ Fortunately, the effects of acute necrotic encephalosis, or brain death are temporary, and begin to reverse shortly after a brief exposure is discontinued.

Since the early '70's, the number of chronically brain-dead children has increased significantly thanks to shows like, 'The Brady Chumps', 'Captain Kanga-loony' and Sesame Sleep'.
Recent studies show, however, this version of the condition , by far, targets adults more frequently than children, and tends to be more severe in adults who frequently need a 'fix'; self-medicating by purposely exposing themselves to repeated doses of ‘soap opera’s, and/or ‘so-called’ reality shows. If a steady supply of the mind-killing stimulus is not provided, then the victim will suffer withdrawal symptoms: otherwise known as (T.D.S.) or ‘Television Detachment Syndrome'. It goes without saying that the person is addicted, and must receive an intervention by loved ones and must also receive professional counseling in order to begin reversal of the brain dead symptoms.

Subsequently, the CDC has issued a list of current programs that studies show are responsible for most of today's brain dead. Included on the list are the following,: Oh brother, Freak Factor, skankvivor, The Amazing Waste, Somebody Marry My Dad, Who doesn’t Want to Marry a Millionaire, Stupid Nanny, Spouse Swapping, As My Stomach Churns and Lays of Our Guys. To counter the devastation caused by these programs, the CDC has also issued a list of more productive activities that can be performed in lieu of watching them. Among the more productive activities noted are: tittely-winks, thumb twiddling , tongue clicking and making popping noises with finger and cheek.

As noted earlier, loss of time is a typical symptom of N.E. and is responsible for many failed marriages, countless late and/or missing homework assignments, countless unkempt homes, countless children staying up past bed-time, and countless hours of inactivity, contributing to the current obesity epidemic. In addition, many accounts of time loss once attributed to UFO abductions are now explained by television induced acute necro encephalosis. To illustrate the extent of time loss, studies are indicating a nearly seven year total loss of it over the course of an average lifespan.

Necro encephalosis is a condition common to Americans where virtually every home has two or more televisions. The current brain-dead are watching television everywhere. Aside from their living rooms, they watch it in the kitchens, bedrooms, dens, offices, day cares, hospital rooms, bars, and even on ’camping’ trips with portable TV’s. It’s frightening that we have an epidemic of brain-dead in all walks of life, and it’s alarming to think that many teachers, policemen, judges doctors and many other professionals in positions requiring a high degree of responsibility, and authority are performing poorly due to being brain dead. I’m sure you’ll agree that you meet people such as these every day; lacking intelligence and common sense .

Finally, helping the brain-dead is a matter of inducing television detachment syndrome. Only after long periods of time spent engaging the brain-dead in other activities will their chronic symptoms reverse. Society must be aware however that T.D.S. is responsible for most road rage incidents, and postal worker disgrunteledness. Only after the brain-dead of society are revived will we overcome its woes. Simultaneously, we must launch a preventative program aimed at young mothers who utilize their television sets as a new age baby sitting device; perpetuating NE in the defenseless. There will always be brain-dead people making things difficult regardless of what we do, however, in this case, turning the televisions off, smashing them or even tossing them in the dump could do nothing but help. Ultimately, avoiding NE altogether is paramount to successful eradication of it and it's associated difficulties.