I want it noted that for, no doubt a very very brief time, It's a funny thing... Was number one with a bullet in humor-blogs.com!




Timing is of course, everything.

(I'm expecting a congratulatory call from The 15 Minute Lunch momentarily.)


Meanwhile, click here and keep me there!!!

Our story so far: (Ohhh sooo far!) In pursuit of the origin of the 123 Meme, the Lewis and LOBO Expedition has plowed, disked, and harrowed their way through 35 blogs, leaving a trail of overturned topsoil and empty beer bottles in its wake.

Identifying themselves as Chelle B at each of the blogs they plundered, our heroes, utilizing survival instincts normally associated with higher level organisms such as lichen, have managed to divert any potential retribution to someone who actually seems to enjoy being offended.


After surviving the incredibly tedious 123 meme rapids, which would have stripped the readership of many a better humor blogger, ( Brent Diggs) Idaho Don and LOBO have arrived safely at a peaceful and calm lake.


Or have they???

As our story continues, LOBO reveals a terrifying truth:

"...It's the Cat People!!"

"Cat People...Sure. Pass me up a beer...Thanks...Cat People, huh? You know LOBO, I've been facing forward for most of this trip. Exactly how many beers have you drank?"

"Hard to say Don. Seems like as fast as I empty them, I fill 'em back up again. Heh Heh!"

"PWWWFFF!!!...Geez LOBO! The cases up front are now all mine! MINE DO YOU HEAR!... Right... so what's so bad about cat people?"

"Don, there's a theory that at the center of the bloggosphere, there are groups of bloggers so dense that not even diggs (Not Brent Diggs, the other kind.) can escape. These knots of highly compressed bloggers are called Whack Holes. And one of the most feared of those groups is the Kitty Committee; the Feline Fraternity... The Cat People."

"...LOBO, honest to God now, IS there any real beer left?"

"Ah...no."

After striking LOBO repeatedly about the head with my paddle, we continued on. At first everything seemed normal. Then, we first encountered a blogger that occasionally mentioned a cat:

Cat in the Bag.

Don: "That wasn't so bad."

LOBO: "Just wait."


But then:

Kitty Limericks
"A celebration of the kitties (and their friends) of the CatBlogosphere in verse."

Don: "OK, that was a little strange."

LOBO: "Oh, I don't know. Nice A-litter-ation. Get it?"



Cat's Eye

Then it became all cats all the time and slowly the cats begin to appear as the primary authors.



Save Moki

The Furry Fighter

Yao-lin's Yawnings
Excerpt: "What can I say? I am spoiled, regal,handsome, adored, worshiped. Some say I am self obsessed, I prefer to think of myself as stunningly siamese."

(And I prefer to think of myself as full-figured or solidly constructed.)

Mickey's Musings
Excerpt: "I'm Mickey.I'm 14 years old. Mom got me from the vet when I was 10 weeks old.She heard me screaming and saw my arms reaching out through the prison bars.Once she held me,I knew I would be going to my forever home. Now,I have her so well trained that she goes out to pick grass and feed it to me a blade at a time.I am a happy cat."

(No doubt. If I asked my wife to do that, she'd skip the yard and go right to the cutlery drawer. And I'd get fed a blade at a time too.)

Sly Likes Things

(We're talking cat dating tips here. I didn't delve too deeply, but other than a bouquet of catnip to put her in the mood and a fish head, what else would you need?)


The Furry Kids
Excerpt: "The Mom is thankful that there was a somewhat solid poo in the litterbox this morning."

Jimmy Joe's Pad
Excerpt: "And it's a good thing that Coco and I are in good moods, because Momma has been saying a lot of bad words this week."

Lily's Pad

Puuuuuuuuuuuurs From Merlin
Excerpt: I am soooooo sorry efurrybody! I haven't posted in like a month! Just gotta get back into the habit. Here, I'm gonna post at least one picture every 3 days. (It's hard to get on and post sometimes because I'm wondering what my owners doing over at his other house.)

Artsy Catsy
Excerpt: Humph. On Friday, my human artist left us and went out of town supposedly for a day - but she just got back this morning. I swear, you can't believe anything humans tell you!


And.....THE END


And that folks is the conclusion of the Lewis and LOBO Expedition.

What??? Are you saying that Artsy Catsy started the 123Meme?

Is he, she, or it, the ultimate source?

Not exactly.

If fact probably not at all.

See, Artsy Catsy was tagged by Moki (See above.)

As Artsy Catsy says: (I can't believe I said that) "While she was gone, Moki tagged us for the Book Meme."

That mean that Moki got it from the Furry fighter, who got it from Yao-lin's Yawnings, who got it from Mickey's Musings, who got it from Sly Likes Things, who got it from The Furry Kids, who got it from Jimmy Joe's Pad, who got it from Lily's Pad, who got it from Puuuuuuuuuuuurs From Merlin, who got it from Artsy Catsy, who got it from Moki.

Got it?



In other words...Nobody started the 123 Meme. Nobody.

We are thus faced with only two possibilities.

Memes spontaneously generate. (Like fungus, Federal Budgets, or LOBO's blog posts.)

Or

All memes are created by cats.

While the first scenario is frightening enough, I believe that the second is the more likely. Somewhere, in some Stygian chamber smelling faintly of Petromalt and Friskies, some secret Cabal of Cat-Kingpins create memes and launch them out upon the rest of us.



I don't know anyone who claims to enjoy being tagged with a meme, so it stands to reason that only a Feline Demon from lowest pits of Hell would actually create one on her own to trouble the world of normal (or even LOBOnian) Bloggers. And it's not just the 123 Meme of course. I suspect that a close examination of any meme will find dirty little paw prints.

Having brought this to you, I want you to know that I am fully aware of the danger I've placed myself in. Outside of Islamic Fundamentalists, Cat Fanciers are the most ruthless and dangerous people on earth.




Finally, I want to leave you with the end credits for this adventure provided generously by Predator Press Productions. Having not looked at it prior to placing it on my blog, there's no telling what it may do to my readership numbers. (Odds are, I won't be seeing many of you again, but if popularity were all that important to me, I wouldn't write these "War and Peace" sized blogs.





Here is where I normally beg for humor-blog.com hits. However, I'm not doing so this time, because today, Diesel, the owner/operator of HB is re-vamping the entire scoring system and dropping everyone to zero to start. (Or so he says. I note that I'm down to -1 today.)

Soo as I figure it out, I'm sure I'll be back here whining and demanding your support again soon.

So take today off! Rest that index finger. You deserve it!

And thanks for your continuing support.

Just a brief break from the adventure to wish all a happy and safe 4th of July weekend!



Just took this photo about 30 minutes ago at the local fireworks display.



humor-blogs.com

Our story so far: Idaho Don, handsome, strong, wealthy, brave, and true, had determined to find the ultimate source of the 123meme.

In the company of a great deal of cheap American beer and a shiftless, undependable, and scurrilous lackey named Crazy Wolf a stalwart, fearless, and in no way unequal co-explorer named Lobo, (Ouch! LOBO! Geez! Alright! Next time you sit in the front of the canoe!) he had survived the Science Fiction blogs in the Twilight Zone and gazed at the wonders of the Kingdom of Queens.

But the dynamic duo still had far to go. And even the potential danger ahead paled in comparison to the peril of:

"Mutiny in the Ranks"


Our story continues:

" I said, stop calling me Crazy Wolf."


"What?!"

"Stop calling me Crazy Wolf. My name is LOBO."

"Lobo??? What kind of name is that for a comic-relief second banana? That's like; The Lone Ranger and Paul, or Batman and Brent, the Boy Accountant! Not a chance ,"Crazy Wolf".

"It's LOBO, not Lobo. Oh, and from now on, this trip will be called:

The Lewis and LOBO Expedition."

"You're mad! What can you possibly do that would cause me to knuckle under to such a ridiculous demand!"

KERPLUNK! "Oh dear! There goes a case of beer. Someone should have tied these things down better! Pity you're up there in the front of the canoe. KERPLUNK. Opps!"

"AAAAHHGGGhhh!!!.... Well, ah...Lob...LOBO...Start paddling. And quit splashing me."

Paddling was soon to be of no use, for in a desperate attempt to wind this series up, we almost immediately came to a long stretch of class 7 rapids on the metaphorical 123 Meme river!



We rapidly (rapidly, get it?) passed through the land of Film Noire.

Film Experience
Cinematic musings, actress worship and awards mania from NATHANIEL R.

Cinema Styles Banners
Pretty neat work actually

Arbogast on Film
An Investigation Into the Mystery of Cinema That Can End Only with My Death

Frankensteinia
Tracking Frankenstein and all things related in the arts, media and popular culture.

MovieMorlocks.Com
MovieMorlocks.com is the official blog for TCM. No topic is too obscure or niche to be excluded from our film discussions. And we welcome your comments on our blogs and bloggers.




Don Lewis - "...Charming, witty, and delightful. "It's a Funny Thing..." is the blog hit of the summer! A thumbs up!"

LOBO - "Way too long. And the popcorn's stale too. Thumbs down."


Slaloming by the looming crags of Highbrow Music;

Monotonous Forest
"New music, art and the occasional cocktail recipe."

Tonic Blotter
Politics, Opera and Birding

Thirteen Ways
"Adventures (in new music) with eighth blackbird"

Musical Perceptions
Perceptions about music, perceptions that affect music, perceptions colored by music, perceptions expressed by music.

listen.
101 essential pieces of 20th Century concert music and perpetual variations on the musical life

Notes from the Kelp
Nature and music in the San Juan Islands, from composer Alex Shapiro


Musical Assumptions
Music is a mystery for people who play it, write it, listen to it, and write about it. The only thing I can really do when I try to say something about music is assume.

Orange Crate Art
"Orange crate art was a place to start"


And the Lowebrows of Literature;

Lowebrow
occasional thoughts about reading, writing, and the lowelife

Bookwitch
Book reviews and interviews.

Crime Always Pays
"Crime is but a left-handed form of human endeavour." W.R. Burnett
Blog of a crime novelist.

Eoin Purcell’s Blog
Eoin Purcell is Commissioning Editor with Mercier Press in Cork, Ireland.

FORTIFY YOUR OASIS
Rowan Manahan, Dublin, Ireland. Founder of Fortify Services, a Dublin-based consulting and career management firm. Author of 'Where's My Oasis?



And finally slowed down in a treacherous patch of personal blogging.

Eclecticity
"Virtually Unread." Ardently Superficial. Opining from the cheap seats. Intensely focused on the non-reader. A Blog Not To Be Reckoned With. Posting to Myself. Repackaging the Repackaged From The Web. Perpetually writing to someone, anyone! "Peeing like a baby on a changing table into the brisk digital wind." Puts all my sickness out there for nobody to see! An "Evil Wizard?" In the Technorati top 2,124,856! Here A Blog, There A Blog, Everywhere a Blog Blog.

Days of Transition
Documenting the days of life partners as they approach the biggest change of their lives, selling one beloved house to build a new one after 30 years. "Every day is a day of transition."


Keep The Coffee Coming
The ramblings of a more than middle-aged baby boomer looking at the world with increasingly blurred eyes and wrinkled features.

So far,The Lewis and Lobo (LOBO!) er...LOBO Expedition had traveled through 35 blogs into the heart of the bloggosphere, tracking the perfidious 123 Meme back to its origin.

The ride had been wild, but we finally left the mad rush behind and arrived at a broad and placid lake.

"Well LOBO", I said. "This looks like easy sailing for a while. Pass me a beer....Hey LOBO!...LOBO! Wake up!"

Peering back through the rapidly diminishing cases of beer, I could see LOBO. He was shaking and his skin was the color of old tuna casserole. Drool was running down his chin and he was staring madly about with eyes the size of saucers.

Yet despite this seeming normality, I could sense that there was something wrong.

"What is it LOBO?"

"Oh God Don! I've been here before man! There was this night, they had a two for one sale on Robitussin at Walgreens and I was between lithium refills. I was messing around with URLs and I typed in 'SnookieOkums.com'!"

He shuddered. "We got to get out of here Dude!"

"What are we talking about here LOBO? Multilevel marketing blogs? Draft Ron Paul Pages? Danger Couch???!!"

"Worse. Much worse" said the tin foil topped fetal ball in the back of the canoe.

"...It's the Cat People!!"


What can this mean? What dire terrors await our intrepid explorers?

And can we really take the word of someone to whom "flash-back" only means to "before lunch"?

Tune in next time for the thrilling Conclusion to:

Raiders of the Lost Crusader Temple Skull Meme: Isn't this thing over yet????

Please remember to do me the favor of clicking here at humor-blogs.com I would be very appreciative, it won't do you any harm, and it just might be the spur I need to wind this puppy up. And I think that would be in everyone's best interest, Hmm?

PS Holoscan (my comment thingy) seems to be down.




Free chat widget @ ShoutMix



So give this a try. Thanks!






:>

Our story so far: Having consumed more beer than prudent, our hero, Idaho Don, has vowed to strike deep into the wild bloggosphere to hunt for the elusive origin of the 123 meme. (see here for part 1.)

Accompanying him on the trek is his faithful humanoid companion, Crazy Wolf. Master of the low blow; cunning yet surly.



Day 1. After carefully selecting the supplies for our mission



and loading the boat, we got underway.



We started in the familiar waters of The Squib. Evil Genius, and the man ultimately responsible for this blog series, so don't blame me.

Amazingly, we quickly left the territorial waters of Grand Humor-Blogwick

(Note to self: Must have Mark Rayner's true allegiance checked out)

and passed through the extremely literate home of “Enter the Octopus”

The day being pleasant, we decided to simply float for a time on the Information Super-River. A mistake, as it happens, as the rocking of the boat and the consumption of some of our supplies caused us both to fall asleep.

We awoke to a most frightening sight! We were being captured by a huge, unearthly, flying craft using some kind of powerful energy beam that lifted us and our craft towards it's ravening maw!

We appeared to be entering.....

The Twilight Zone



I remember little about the ghastly experiments performed on us by:

SF Signal "A Science Fiction Blog"

Big Dumb Object "A Science Fiction Blog" (There appears to be a pattern emerging.)

And the especially hideously named: Velcro City Tourist Board,

...except that Crazy Wolf was completely dissected and then reassembled. I recall this clearly, because the Aliens made a mistake in putting his skin back on inside out, but as it didn't seem to make any real difference, I decided not to mention it.

I have no idea what happened next, but in the morning, we found ourselves back on the river - apparently no worse for the experience except for extreme headaches, nausea, and a surprisingly diminished beer supply.

Intrepidly we pressed on, passing through a hamlet of several seemingly normal blogs (That being a relative term of course.)

Chips Quips : "The unpredictable ravings of Sterling W. “Chip” Camden, independent software developer."

The Vaguetarian Tea Room " personal blog by Tenni; a stay at home wife of a techno-geek and so much more.

and

Merrily We Roll Along A Canadian, blessed with "a sweet and often unintentionally, humorous man."

(Unlike me, who is often unintentionally unhumorous.)

After passing these blogs by, we came to a bend in the River and suddenly... the entire landscape changed!

Passing through a deep cleft in a Brokeback Mountain, we came upon a land of milk and honey.

"Look here Crazy Wolf! Have you ever seen such remarkable specimens? Strong, straight, handsome men. And so affectionate with each other. None of that machismo that is so common in Grand Humor-Blogwick! These fellows are truly in touch with their feminine sides! And happy? Why they tell you so almost instantly upon meeting you! It's: 'Hi. I'm Ronaldo. I'm happy.' Or something like that.

"Seems kind of queer to me that we don't see any women."

"That's because you have the intuitive abilities of a turnip, fool! Obviously these men revere their women so highly that they protect them from even being seen by the likes of us! No doubt women hold a special place here. I shall therefore call this land:

The Kingdom of Queens! (Thanks Spo-Reflections!)"

We passed through:

Spo-Reflections "A psychiatrist who writes his daily doings and thoughts."


Tiger by the Tale "I am a Gay man in my forties in the prime of life!"

(Note: See? There's that happy part again!)

mrpeenee "A Big City Queer with a Small Town Attention Span."

(Crazy Wolf: See? Told you it was a queer place.)

the notorious j.o.e. "i'm not sick, but i'm not well. and i'm so hot, because i'm in hell."


MY GREY GARDEN " Gay 30-something artist with a lot of opinions about a lot of things."

and finally:

MODERN FABULOSITY "The world sucks, we kiss it better"

As we swept beyond the Kingdom of Queens, leaving that cheerful land behind, I said,

"What an amazing adventure so far. We've climbed through fourteen levels of the 123 meme already and visited new and even occasionally interesting folk that we would never have known existed, but through our journey. And who knows what lies just beyond the bend Crazy Wolf!"



"Yep. Who knows. Only one thing. Stop calling me Crazy Wolf."


Indeed! What strange and amazing adventures await Idaho Don and (provisionally) Crazy Wolf next! How far must they travel to reach the source of the 123 Mime. And what will they do should they get there? And will the Beer Last???

Stay tuned for tomorrow's continuing adventure, as the:

Raiders of the Lost Crusader Temple Skull Meme continue!


And please be so kind as to click here for me. This link will take you to humor-blogs.com, where I am ranked. And that rank depends on your click. See, the wheel of life keeps turning! Thanks.




:>

Today I begin an adventure. An adventure that I will be reporting on all this weekend. A grand, exciting, travelogue of strange and exotic locales populated by arcane and enigmatic peoples from all over the world.

But first:

Housework.

I got another meme. This one is at least incredibly easy. It was given to me by Mark Rayner of the fabulously funny blog:

The Sqwib

To comply, all I need to do is pick up the nearest book and turn to the 123rd page and provide the fifth sentence here.

Of course, nothing is that easy with me. I've got two books close at hand and I can't tell which is closer. So I'll do both, because lets face it, this isn't a lot of work.

Book one:

Page 123, sentence 5: "(1) Use a clean, well-banked forge fire, and heat 1/3 of the share point to a cherry red temperature."

There, that was easy. And practical too.

The other book is Diesel's incredibly hilarious book,




Page 123, sentence 5: "Use a clean, well-banked forge fire, and heat 1/3 of the share point to a cherry red temperature."

That guy just kills me! Where does he get this stuff??



And now for the adventure part!

This Meme thing got me thinking (Beer helped.)

Specifically, where do these things come from? Most of the folks you see on my lists and rolls to the right are all citizens of the relatively small kingdom of Grand Humor-Blogwick. But many of those same bloggers have dual, or even more citizenships elsewhere. And they are all connected with people just like them.

What strange and mysterious e-lands are out there? Do they think like we God-Fearing and Morally Decent Blogwickians? (Brent Diggs excepted. (That better?))

What strange and perverse rites and societal abnormalities might one see beyond the bandwidth horizon?

Do they have more beer? 'Cause I'm out.

So.

I am going to begin a "trace-back" of the 123 meme. I'm going to look for the source. I'm going to take it as far as determination and alcohol will allow me to go in a single weekend.

I won't be going alone. It's a dangerous internet out there. I've hired the best guide, tracker, and gum bearer I could acquire for a half-empty drum of the Colonel's best wings and fry-o-later scrapings.

He's no stranger to highways and byways of the Information Super-river. And he knows the fetid land-lines like the backs of his pasty white hands. He feared and respected wherever hop-headed Blog-Meisters raise frosty firkins to the memory of the ill-fated pleasure vessel, the Chelle B.






Wish me luck, and see you tomorrow with the first installment of:

"Idaho Don and the Raiders of the Lost Crusader Temple Skull Meme!"





:>

Yesterday morning spring finally came to Northern Idaho. I'm not expecting it to last very long. In point of fact, I'm hoping that it'll be gone by dinner. After today, I'd just as soon skip spring and summer and head right back into winter.

Due to an excess of regional cooling, winter held on until the longest day of the year. But spring sprung this morning loudly and Patrice and I were finally able to go out on one of those early-morning nature walks that used to make me glad I lived here on the edge of the wild.

Patrice is a naturalist by temperament and education and she delights in the challenge of figuring out the name of practically every plant that she sees. She makes her plant identification by consulting the "Native and Medicinal Plants of Northern Idaho" identification book.

"Oh look! It's rediginous dorcus, or "Northwest Common Spotteddogwort".

Or something like that. I don't actually pay a lot of attention to what she says on these walks. After 17 years of marriage, it's the cadence and the melody, not the content. And I usually avoid asking any plant questions because, against all logic and common decency, she will answer them.

This morning however, lulled by actual sunshine, I made the near-fatal mistake of asking, "Is it poisonous?"

"Absolutely!" she replied. Joyfully, she read the description of the plant from her book. "The Northwest common spottteddogwort can cause"..."bleeding from the gums, incontinence, flatulence, dizziness, and vomiting if ingested."

"Well who the hell would ingest it then?"

"According to this," she said, "it was used by Native Americans as a medicinal plant".

Somehow I don't find that surprising. My admiration for the Native Americans is second to none, but as study after study has shown, those guys will stick anything in their mouths.

"So we got any other poisonous plants around here?" I asked naively.

"Oh golly yes!" (She actually does speak like that.) Patrice began to spin in a circle, pointing and calling out name after name.

"That's Crampberry, and there's Northern Spleenrot. That lovely flower over there is Pearlie Gates, and there's Clubfoot and Western Hairlip, and Buckle n' Bury. And that's Fools Onion, and over there is Devils Clubsandwich. Practically all of them can kill you."

I began to feel certain external organs retreating into cavities for self-protection. "How about this?" I reached towards a lovely purple-blossomed stock.

"Don't touch that! That's False Hells-Hound. Let's see"...'symptoms include frothing of the orifices, nausea, paisley-vision, lockjaw, vomiting, diarrhea, total liquefaction, and of course, death'... "Just the pollen on a windy day can wipe out whole villages. Umm"...'Some native people use it medicinally'.

"For what? Birth control?!!", I gulped. "If that's the false stuff, I wonder what real Hells-Hound is like?"

flip...flip..."It's a lot like the False Hells-Hound, only it chases you. But don't worry. It's relentless, but not very fast."

Looking around wildly for stalking vegetables, I asked, "Is there anything around here that ISN'T poisonous?"

"Ah...no... Oh wait!" Patrice pointed at the ground. "That isn't."

"What? That grass?" I started to reach for it."

"Yes. That's razor vetch. It can cut you to the bone and causes a nasty infection. But see, the Indians used it for..."

"Medicine, yeah I got it."

So now I'm sitting here in my house with the lights out, the curtains drawn and clutching a spray bottle of extra strength herbicide. I am so ready for winter.




It's a proven fact that most of the writers at humor-blogs.com are not fatal. OK, I made the part about "proven fact" up. But take a walk on the wild side and click here. And Thank you.





:>

From the DONCO SCIENCE CENTER:

The final chapter of our award winning* series on the relationship between CO2 and Global Climate change.

*(We are currently accepting awards for this series, please contact DONCO Inc. about any spare or unused awards you may have lying about. Thank you)

To recap our series so far:

CO2, or Carbon Dioxide, is a naturally occurring stuff that seems to rise and fall before or after temperature changes. (Much like hemlines.) Higher CO2 levels are associated with more women in Bikinis; lower CO2 levels, with eating seals.


For much of the Earth's history, variations in temperature occurred without the benefit of Man. Fortunately, such slap-dash and completely random glacial-interglacial cycles have now been harnessed by humanity, finally allowing third-rate political hacks to get their place in the sun, so to speak.



Hello, I'm Don Lewis. A (Say it with me now.) Real Scientist.

Today we complete our look at the Carbon Dioxide-Global Climate Change Connection (GCC).

I am now, courtesy of Photoshop, high above the Earth on the hunt for the elusive CO2 molecule. Be vewwy vewwy quiet!



As you no doubt recall from our previous sessions (You did take notes, right?) CO2 makes up a whopping 0.03 percent of the atmosphere.

Many Real Scientists, who have now received many real millions of dollars in grants from dispassionate and non-partisan sources like the UN and George Soros, now agree that CO2 is the culprit behind GCC. They have therefore proposed that we do our utmost as the rational rulers of the Earth to leave modern society behind and return to the hunter-gather lifestyles that so many of our ancestors were, strangely enough, so anxious to leave.



They say that the way to do this is to reduce carbon in our everyday uses by driving less, not serving meat well done, and avoiding excessive pencil sharpening.

Well I say, that's not good enough!

Lets take another look at the CO2 molecule shall we?



As we can see from this picture, the carbon portion of the molecule is a lump. It can no more get into the atmosphere than I can get above 10th place at humor-blogs.com! No, it's the oxygen that does all the heavy lifting.

If we could "pop" the oxygen balloons,



Then the carbon would return to it's natural place, safely back on earth.



That's right, good and faithful readers, the Answer to Global Climate Change is obvious.

We need to get rid of the oxygen.

Most of you out there have just slapped your foreheads, making a collective clap that has caused NORAD to go to Defcon 2, but for those who do not immediately see the rightness of this statement, let me explain further.

It's understandable that some nay-saying supporters of Big Air will begin to snivel and whine about asphyxiation. But I'm not talking about getting rid of ALL the oxygen. We simply need to roll the oxygen levels back to pre-modern carbon dioxide levels. To the Precambrian possibly.

I believe there are a number of programs that can be instituted to cut down on our dependence of foreign air.

1. Develop alternatives to Big Air.

Replace oxygen with less flammable gases like helium. Not only won't it combine with carbon, but it will make all the upcoming Presidential debates a lot more fun to listen to.

2. Develop a "Cap and Trade" program for Oxygen.

Each person will be allotted a specific amount of oxygen. Those who don't use their full allotment (Like people who spend all day writing blogs.) can sell their surplus oxygen to people who have a real life.

3. Cut down on unregulated oxygen producers.

Most of the oxygen we have comes from plants, which take in CO2 and regurgitate, or up-chuck, oxygen. In fact, recent increases in CO2 are causing well documented increases in vegetation growth world-wide! It's a vicious circle. And this must be stopped. I therefore propose that a large portion of the earth's vegetation be encapsulated in epoxy resin.





Not only will this trap dangerous oxygen and cut down on forest fires - as an extra bonus, it should really make all those pushing for more roadless wilderness areas really happy.


Thank you for sticking with this series on Carbon Dioxide. I knew it was getting tedious about half way through the second part. But this blog is not about internet popularity. (That should now be obvious.) No, it's actually about me getting nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (You do realize that all you need to do is send an email to the Nobel committee nominating me? Right?)

Thank you. I accept.



OK, you don't want to go through all the effort of getting the Nobel Committee's email address. I understand. So here's an easier thing to do. Just click here. If enough of you do so, I will break the number ten spot at humor-blogs.com That's good enough for me.





:>

I had intended to present the final part of the DONCO review of carbon dioxide today, but something of much greater importance science-wise has raised its ugly head.



While speed commenting my way through my list of favorite bloggers, I came across Diesel's latest posting at Mattress Police entitled "All In Favor of a Heliocentric Solar System Say "Aye!""

Diesel is not only a very funny guy, he's also the owner and operator of humor-blogs.com. Normally that would be sufficient for me to tread warily when commenting about his work, especially as he appears to be ready to introduce a new rating system there, and for all I know, he could slip an anti-northern Idaho bias into the ranking algorithm that would firmly establish me as the bottom feeder by which all other humor blogs would be judged.

Now, as my regular readers know, I care nothing for my relative rank on humor-blogs.com.

But...I do care about Diesel.

Deeply.

That's why I am so concerned about his suggestion that simply by commenting on his blog, anyone can instantly be created a scientist.

Diesel says:

...I’m starting a scientific institute called, um, the Mattress Police Institute for the Advancement of Scientific Missions of Awesomeness, also known as MIASMA (the ‘P’ is silent). To work at MIASMA, you must:

1) Own a white lab coat, or intend to buy one when you have the money

2) Believe in the advancement of Science through Scientific Missions of Awesomeness

3) Believe that no list is complete without at least three items"


Oh if only it were that easy!

As a Real Scientist, I'm here to tell you that there is much more to the job than just owning a lab coat and subscribing to some vague Mission Statement.

Government funding is also important.

Furthermore, a true scientist is born, not made. To demonstrate this, I've prepared a small test that should be taken to determine if you really have the "Right Stuff" to be called a Scientist.

Question one: Chose the correct response to the following statement.

Spouse: "I'm so glad it's clearing up! We could use a little sunshine."

1. You: "Yes"

2. You: "Uh-huh"

3. You: "Actually, and I'm sure I've told you this many times before Dear, but the Sun doesn't "shine". Shine is a inexact reference to the reflectivity of an object or body rather than an intrinsic attribute of radiographic character."

Spouse: "I want a divorce."



Question Two: Which of the following best describes you:

1. I know who M.C.Escher is.

2. My walls are covered in M.C.Escher prints.

3. I've built the scale-models.



Question Three: Complete the sentence.

Man-made Global Warming is:

1. A real condition proven by scientific consensus.

2. A false doctrine established by the ridiculous notion of scientific consensus.

3. Job Security


I won't bother to provide you with the correct answers. If you are a real scientist you wouldn't agree with my findings anyway and would demand that I be peer-reviewed. But as you can see, the correct mind-set is necessary for anyone to be classified as a scientist.

Diesel has created an organization that he calls Miasma. Having access to the vast research machine that is the internet, I, using my finely honed skills as a college graduate, was able to locate a definition of the term Miasma.

Miasma: "Noxious exhalations from putrescent organic matter; poisonous effluvia or germs polluting the atmosphere."

While I do agree this is fairly representative of most of the staff scientists I've met, it could hardly be applied to the average reader of The Mattress Police. It seems like Diesel may be playing a little joke on his faithful readers, an attitude that would NEVER occur here on It's a Funny Thing... where we love, nay, worship our visitors.

For that reason, I wish to offer the science-minded readers of my blog a badge that truly reflects a sober and disciplined scientific deportment.





<a href="http://humorium.blogspot.com/2008/06/real-science.html"><img src="http://www.donlewisdesigns.com/blog/realscientist.jpg" alt="realscientist" /></a>




In doing so, I in no way wish to appear to be in competition with Diesel whom I hold in the highest admiration; and I say that with absolutely no regard to the fact that he could crush me like a bug.

But considering the number of folk who have followed my seminar on Carbon Dioxide with such interest, it seemed appropriate that I should acknowledge your eager scientific minds with a small token of my esteem.

I promise, soon I will post the exciting conclusion to my seminar, where I will provide the answer to the Carbon Dioxide problem. After all, I wouldn't want you to begin to think that I didn't have a solution and was only delaying it's presentation while I frantically cast about for something, anything really to present. HaHa! But of course you know that's just crazy! Absolutely I have a solution! And its a really really good one. The best ever in fact! Just wait!




Let's not judge Diesel too harshly. As a matter of fact, lets show him that we still respect him by clicking here. It's the least we can do. I know he'd thank you, and so do I.


:>

Welcome to the DONCO Science Center.

Today we begin the second part of our look at the Global Climate Change (GCC) - Carbon Dioxide (CO2) Relationship, by asking ourselves the question: What's with all the capitol letters?

I am, once again, your host, Don Lewis, a Real Scientist.



We begin our quest for carbon dioxide today here, at a real carbon mine. Please note that the photo is actually in color. It's just that carbon miners are a dull lot.

Carbon, a commonly occurring mineral or element or metal, can be found in many places including; fish tank water cleaners, pencils and old cigarette filters.



A carbon dioxide molecule consists of a carbon atom in some kind of unholy Ménage à trois with two oxygen atoms. Fortunately, most scientists now agree that carbon is male, because otherwise the whole thing is too "icky" to contemplate.

Carbon dioxide is considered a "Green House" Gas, as opposed to methane which is more closely associated with the "White House". And as previously noted, there appears to be a strong correlation between rising CO2 levels and GCC. Currently the official measurement of overall CO2 levels is collected at the Mauna Loa Observatory in Hawaii.

(Special Note: And what climatologist thought of that wheeze we want to know?

"You know boss, I think we should collect our CO2 data in Hawaii...Monthly."

My admiration appears to be in strong correlation with a soul-corrupting envy.)


Currently there is about 385 ppm of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.

(Note: ppm stands for Peter, Paul, and Mary, a 60's folk group who first brought CO2 to the world's attention through such songs as "Blowing in the Wind", "Puff the Magic Dragon", and "Leaving on a Jet Plane".)


The following diagram shows graphically the incredible danger these current high CO2 levels pose to the environment. Please note that each "dot" represents a molecule of some kind of gas. There are 3000 dots. And the total molecules of CO2 per 3000 molecules of atmosphere are shown in red.



The lowest concentration of CO2 in the last 1000 years (below) occurred around 1600 AD at 275 ppm:



As I'm sure these two visual data sets demonstrate, recently increased CO2 is definitely a problem, especially to those of us who really should be wearing corrective lenses.

Well thats all for today. I really do have to do something to make a living. Mrs. Scientist is starting to get worried. But have no fear, I will be back! And next time, I will present the DONCO solution to the GCC - Carbon Dioxide Crisis. Don't miss it!


----------------

Special note: The final half of my interview over at Angry Seafood is now up. So head on over there and find out just a bit more about the way I drink think.


And of course, please do me the honor of clicking here. I've really gone up in the ranks at humor-blogs.com recently, and I owe it all to you-all. Thank you.




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I will soon be bringing you another installment of the DONCO Science Series on the Carbon Dioxide-Global Climate Change Controversy. But before I do, I have a chore to take care of.

As I believe I've stated before, I have a tremendous loathing for memes, tags, and other such chain-letter-like plagues. In fact, I think I'd prefer to let people have an extended go at my neck with a bamboo saw (10 points to the first person who can tell me what book that reference was from.) rather than be assigned the task of completing one.

Having said that, I've done two of them since I started blogging. In both cases it was principally because I had previously admired the bloggers who decided to infect me.

The miscreants were:

Brent at The Ominous Comma

and

William at Dead Rooster

I answered both of those tags here.


Despite my dislike for the creatures, (Tags, not William and Brent - time heals all wounds.) I am now answering a tag from another blogger. There are two reasons for this.

One - I'm a wimp.
Two - The blogger who has tagged me is female, young, pretty, morally upright, and innocent. (All of which begs the question of why she comes here to read my stuff.) These are attributes that have always strangely attracted me, since I am, not to put to fine a point on it, none of those things. Plus, I've always gone for these kinds of women, because I knew that they would immediately haul out the garlic and douse me with Holy Water, thus saving me from an entangling personal relationship. (Worked every time but once. I ended up married to her. Go figure.)

Anyway, this tag comes from Robyn at This is My Life

The rules are as follows:

• Link the person(s) who tagged you
• Mention the rules on your blog
• Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
• Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them (or 5)
• Leave a comment on each of the tagged bloggers' blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged

Having fulfilled both one and two, we come to the problem of rule three. My chief difficulty here is that all of my quirks are spectacular. (Meaning that I often make a spectacle of myself whenever they are displayed.)

But I'll give it a go anyway.

1. I abhor being late. For anything. I can be a complete jerk about it. Now God, in His Infinite Wisdom, has decided that this attitude of mine is a Sin. (I'm not sure of the category; doesn't seem to fit into gluttony, pride, or lust and I forget the others.) Since it is a Sin, God has decided to chastise me by giving me a wife and two daughters. Thus I never get anywhere on time anymore.

2. I like nothing better than a sandwich, specifically ham and cheese. I enjoy variety only so far as to the vegetative options of tomatoes, onions or as a special treat, avocado. Mustard and mayo are important too, but the mustard MUST go on the ham side of the bread and the mayo on the vegetable or cheese side or the whole thing sucks.

3. I'm a diet Coke addict. My wife, as a wedding present, gave me 20 cases.

4. I possess negative ESP. Once, as a kid in school, a teacher decided to give my whole class an ESP test, using those little cards with waves and circles and such like on them. We all had to try to determine which symbol she was holding up. I think there were 50 cards in the deck made up of six symbols.

We all marked them down on our wax tablets or tree bark or whatever we used back then for writing. It WAS a long time ago. She ran through the deck three times, and I was the only one to not get any of them right. Apparently, that was beyond the laws of probability by a couple of light years.

Since that time, I have never made a correct prediction in my entire life. If I could find someone to pay me for this skill, I could make them rich. Just bet against me every time. (On the other hand, that sounds a lot like a prediction, so they would probably die in a freak meteor strike. (But of course that couldn't happen, because I just predicted it. Oh Dear.))

5. I am mechanically inept. Completely. Don't let me near your car's innards. You've been warned.

6. I'm a night owl. One or two in the AM is not at all unusual. I usually write at this time or watch old movies. I make up for these late evenings by being exhausted through out the next day. Interestingly, I seem to wake up about 9 PM the next evening.

OK, that takes care of rule 3. I'm going to cheat on rule 4 and send this on to only two other people. And I already named them above.

What goes around comes around guys.




So go around (I just love a good segway. Don't you?) to humor-blogs.com A click here keeps me up all night. Thanks



:>

Today we begin a series of articles that look at the role of carbon dioxide in Global Climate Change. I'm your host, Don Lewis, a Real Scientist.



Let's start by defining some important terms. As many of you no doubt know, carbon dioxide is two words, consisting of 13 letters. (And a space.) But perhaps you didn't know the derivation of these two words.


Carbon is a compound word:
car = "automobile" and, bon = French for "good".


Hence we see that carbon means a good automobile. I haven't the faintest idea how they came up with dioxide, so to hell with it.

Carbon dioxide has been associated closely with Global Climate Change (GCC). GCC is a recently observed phenomena, where over time, the Earth's temperature goes up or down. For many millions of years, this did not occur. It is only recently, as a result of the introduction of so many good cars, that scientists have discovered the truth: no one actually knows what dioxide means.

However, by comparing the amount of carbon dioxide trapped in glacial ice with that found in carbonated soft drinks mixed with bad bourbon, climate researchers have determined conclusively that increases in carbon dioxide may, or may not, precede temperature increases!




With this kind of ground-breaking research, accompanied as it is by heavy drinking; is it any wonder that whole industries and uncounted (and unaccountable) new regulations have suddenly blossomed to regulate carbon dioxide and therefore control GCC?

Interestingly, there now also appears to be a direct correlation between the creation of new government environmental regulations and temperature increases. Scientists at DONCO are currently working on the:




Tomorrow, we will look at how carbon dioxide is formed and what its role is in temperature change and rock concert stage effects.



Further research can be viewed at humor-blogs.com And remember, DONCO depends on the funding you provide by simply clicking here. Thank you.

(Disclaimer: No actual polar bears were harmed during the creation of this post. The animals you see were actually polar bear suits stuffed with penguins. Sadly, they didn't make it.)



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Sometimes these things almost write themselves.

Case in point; the problems being experienced with the Senate food facilities in the US Capitol building. I almost decided to simply post the real news articles I found on-line, because they're just funny as anything, but of course that would be wrong. Those guys have lawyers on staff and for that reason alone I prefer to plagiarize from small-time bloggers who can't afford to sue me.

Anyway, There's trouble brewing on Capitol hill. Since 1993, the various Senate side restaurants, cafeteria and miscellaneous coffee shops have lost revenue to the tune of 18 million dollars and according to one report, the red ink so far this year is about two million.

In fact, a special tax-payer donated $250,000 will have to be "contributed" from the Senate emergency fund just to make next months payroll for the 100 or so restaurant employees who are paid, on average, 37,000 dollars per year. Not a bad job for a coffee shop waitress. And that doesn't include the retirement bennies and the "free" health care. But it's not all skittles and beer. Since they serve politicians, I assume the tips are lousy.

Yes, the times they are a'changin'. The various Senate facilities, which are logically managed by the Capitol Architect (???) are also overseen by whichever party is currently in power. At present that means the Dems. And that's what makes this so much fun!

In a case of irony so heavily-laden as to set off every metal detector on the DC Mall, Senator Diane Feinstein (D) has proposed, after considerable wailing and gnashing of teeth, that the various eateries be privatized.




Obviously, this went over like a lead soufflé amongst her colleagues to whom "privatize" means being boiled in your own Christmas pudding and having a stake of holly driven through your heart. (Much like with the government and death taxes, Dickens is dead, so I can steal as much of his stuff as I want.)

Part of the problem with this government run health care...opps sorry, different program, same outcome, ah...senior meals program is that, well, it was government run. In other words, the service and products were pretty much what you would get at any DMV or VA hospital.

Feinstein blamed "noticeably subpar" food and service. In fact, practically everyone from the Senate side of the Capitol building heads for meals on the House side, where the privately managed facilities there actually manage to make a profit as well as serve decent food.

There is one exception to this mass exodus however.

The Senate Dining Room.

With it's liveried staff and fine china, it also is said to serve a pretty good meal. If you can get a seat. And you can't. Open only to Senators, Senate Officers and Guests, the food here is reportedly quite good. And amazingly cheap. An average entrée and extras, desert, and drink costs about 15 to 20 bucks.



(A special note of commendation to the managers of the Senate Dining Room. In these days of high food costs, you are to be commended for striving to keep your meal prices so low. A Senate per-diem can only be stretched so far.)


It's been reported that many of those opposed to having a private firm manage the facilities tried suggesting other options, like taking turns as chefs to improve food quality:







But a private review commissioned (again at your expense) by Feinstein found that the Senate operation had no strategy for improvement other than price increases. And that would mean the Senators would have to pay more of their own money. Opposition crumbled like a day old cheese cake.

But not entirely:

"I know what happens with privatization. Workers lose jobs, and the next generation of workers make less in wages. These are some of the lowest-paid workers in our country, and I want to help them," Sen. Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio).

(Hell yes Senator Brown! We should have all become government employees back at the revolution. Is there anyone out there who can take the Senator's statement to it's logical conclusion?)

And help them he does: In negotiations with the firm that manages the House side eateries, it was agreed that current Senate food service employees would continue at the same rate of pay and receive the same level of health insurance and retirement benefits.

And as for any of those workers who just can't handle working for a private company instead of Uncle Sugar, they would be eligible for a voluntary buyout of up to $25,000.

Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Bet the folks at Denny's would like to look at this retirement option.

About half of the current employees are planning to accept the golden parachutes. (Hmm...Same pay, same benefits...since nothing else is changing, I've got to assume that there must be another reason for them to leave. Maybe... the fact that they might actually have to work for a living?)



They work hard for the money at humor-blogs.com. Help me out and click here. Thanks.





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Wow! Two posts in one day! He must be getting desperate. He must have something really important to say!

That's right. I do.

I wish to announce that I have been honored with an interview by Chris Cameron of Angry Seafood for his previously well-regarded Bloggers Speak series.

I now join such stellar humor bloggers as:

Johnny Virgil - Fifteen Minute Lunch
RF - Renal Failure
Frogster - Frog Bog Blog
Brent - The Ominous Comma
Jeff - View from the Cloud

Which all goes to prove that Chris has been kidnapped by aliens.

I was surprised and delighted when I got the email from Chris asking me to be interviewed as I did not expect the check I sent him to clear.

The format of this interview is a bit different than those done previously, since the other interviewees can actually write funny stuff in short sentences. My interview needed to be split into two parts, no doubt because Chris was effected with the eye strain, back fatigue, and numb fingers that my normal regular readers accept as a matter of course when plowing their way through one of my works of art.

Anyway, thanks to Angry Seafood for this tremendous privilege. Check him out. And don't forget humor-blogs.com Thanks!



:>

Thanks to Michael again. (And the unknown photographer too.)

Just to make everyone feel better, I'm sure, absolutely sure, that immediately after the photo was taken, the grate was lifted and mother and baby were united. So stop feeling guilty. It's OK to laugh.


humor-blogs.com lifts the grate on humor. Click here and help me to keep the ducklings of mirth from drowning in the sewer of unhappiness. Thanks!




:>

Ultimately of course, I blame Brent.



There I was, a new blogger, eager to enter the Grand Fraternity of on-line humorists. I had such high hopes! I imagined the bunch of us, Capitol Fellows all, sitting around in the virtual clubroom, sipping e-coladas, waxing philosophically about humorous anagrams for deficit spending and taking idle swipes at the serving wenches with our rapier-like wits.

So I decided to make the acquaintance of some of better known humorists. Which of course meant BrentD at The Ominous Comma. Despite my timorous approach, he was kindness itself.

He gave me great advice too:

"Make your blog posts really long Don! People like to read convolute and obtuse pieces filled with obscure references to 17th century minor nobility"

and

"The simpler your page layout the better. Go with shades of gray."

It was advice like that that has brought me to where I am today. Literally tens of readers flock to my blog weekly.

Yes, I was sitting pretty. And I THOUGHT that Brent was a true friend and mentor. Until that fateful day he oh-so-casually said, "You ought to go check out The Predator Press. LOBO is a very funny guy. Say hello. And don't worry, it's all an act. He's as sane as you or I."




Little did I realize that I was being played the fool. I've no doubt that there is some secret e-mail list where Brent and Diesel and Lord Likely and Chelle B and Sy and Chris C. and all the rest of them are laughing at me merrily. (Does this seem paranoid? Why am I asking you? No doubt you're in on it too.)

So now I've got a LOBO on my back. I tried to help him out. I donated a healthy sum of money to the FEED LOBO account on his blog. I considered it morally akin to helping a Mozart or a Van Gogh get back on his feet (Without the talent part of course.)

Then suddenly I'm being accused of counterfeiting! ME! Honest Don! (I haven't felt this bad since I left Enron.)

OK LOBO. You didn't like my donation? Here's another one. And I assure you it is legal tender in whatever fantasy realm you currently infect.



I'm off to bed. Thank God for Patrice! At least she loves me. I'll bet when she hears about this, she won't make me sleep on the floor tonight either.





humor-blogs.com Click here and help me defeat those who conspire against me! Thanks. I knew you weren't a part of the conspiracy.




:<

Wishing as I do to be fair and evenhanded, today I submit:

"Women will forgive anything...Otherwise the Race would have died out long ago." - Robert Heinlein




And from my good friend Micheal:







They're a lot more energetic over at humor-blogs.com

Probably funnier too. But give us a click anyway for the effort, such as it was. Thanks! And see you tomorrow.




:>

Today we decided to clean out the big chest freezer. Naturally, when I say we, I mean she. The idea that a chest freezer would need cleaning out isn't one that would occur to me as a normal matter of course. For that matter, I'm one of those types of people (read: guy) who can't imagine why you scrub a toilet either. It's just going to get dirty again almost by definition (or defi-something).

And a chest freezer would seem even less likely to require cleaning than a commode. After-all, the customary uses for a toilet are pretty much counter-productive for a freezer. Not only in a sanitary sense, but also when considering the very real danger of freezer burn.

But being a patriotic supporter of the Constitution, I fully recognize the importance of "Domestic Tranquility", especially as it relates to my getting regular meals and any hope of physical attention. So when my wife, Patrice, determines a particular course of action, I spring to obey.

(Guy Note: I AM NOT WHIPPED! I'm fully in charge of my household, and I can ask my wife to tell you so. Assuming she's not too busy.)

The process for cleaning out a freezer isn't all that tough. First you unplug it. (I'm not actually sure why you do that. Tradition I suppose. Nevertheless, it's a man's job. I don't mean to be sexist, but women just don't understand electrical things like watts and ohms and ampules.)

Unplugging a freezer may well be the toughest part of cleaning out our freezer. The wall socket is located behind the freezer, and somehow I forgot that when I originally pushed the empty freezer box into position on the porch. Now of course, the thing is weighed down with the one and a half cows, two deers, and the one-half elk I've put into it.

(Special Note: The venison and elk meat in the freezer is not there as a result of my hunting. That's not to say I'm not a great hunter. I'm so good in fact, that the moment that I pick up my rifle all the deer and elk (and squirrels, rabbits, and deer-shaped stumps for that matter) immediately stampede out of the area. No, the wild game in my freezer all comes to me as love offerings from grateful hunters in the surrounding counties where I don't go to hunt.)

Anyway, since you can't possibly get your fingers between the freezer and the wall, you have to pry the plug out of the wall socket with something thin enough to slip between the socket and the plug.

I don't recommend a butter knife.

Once the feeling returned to my hand and I stopped twitching, I helped Patrice pull the numerous containers, baggies, and boxes out of the freezer. This would have been easy too if those packages weren't so darn cold. It was like lifting out little blocks of ice. I nearly got frost-bite. You'd think that someone would come up with a way to warm those things up a bit.

And then the guessing game begins.

My wife is a major anti-clutter zealot, and when it comes to most stuff, if it's no longer in physical contact with your body, away it goes to Goodwill. (Except for all the "simplify your life" books.)

But when it comes to food, if you accidentally lean back in your chair at dinner, be prepared to go away hungry. Out come the zip-lock bags and away goes the turkey leftovers to the freezer. She says its for making soup or something, but I suspect she's never given up on the biology training she got in college. At any rate, I was pulling bags out of that freezer that contained species last seen in the Pliocene. And sometimes she's in such a hurry to put things in there, that she doesn't remember to label them.

I held one up and asked, "OK. This doesn't have a label."

She opened the frosted bag and looked inside. "Eww! What the..? Oh, that's Mr. Pippy."

"What??!"

"Mr. Pippy. Eleanor's gerbil. He died two years ago, remember? You kicked his habi-trail ball down the stairs. She's keeping him until they come up with a cure."

"Tell her it's time to let go." I pitched Mr. Pippy into the 30 gallon trash can that would take him home.

"Hey! Alright!" I said, the next bag in hand. "Here's some homemade ice cream!"

She grabbed the bag away from me. "Leave that alone! That's the contribution for my next writer's meeting."

Fortunately, most of the stuff was labeled. After removing the things we (she) decided were no longer useful, we (she) repacked the freezer. Then we (I) jambed my hand behind the freezer to plug it back in. (Note to self: Next time, remember to pull the freezer out a bit.)

I plugged the freezer in. And that's when I heard it.

Nothing.

Want to scare a man half to death? Tell him that he's about to receive 750 pounds of defrosted dead animal parts with an unrefrigerated shelf life of about two hours. I was dead, and I didn't even have the forlorn hope of cryogenic freezing. I began to mentally inventory all my friends in the immediate area with freezers, those who weren't mad at me for chasing all the game away. I realized I had none.

I was just getting ready to haul all the beef off to the firewood pile for the world's largest impromptu barbecue, when the freezer rumbled into life. Patrice came to the porch door and said "You know, when you shorted out the plug with that butter knife, it flipped the circuit breaker. I turned it back on. I thought you knew all about electricity? Ha!" She went back into the house chortling evilly.

Fine.

I fetched Mr. Pippy back out of his round mausoleum, re-labeled his bag as ice cream, and put him back in the freezer.

Maybe I don't know as much about electricity as I've let on. But life has taught me more about biology than Patrice might think.




Enjoy this piece of true Americana? Then how about a click here at humor-blogs.com Still working hard at getting my page rank up, and a click is all I need from you to do it. Thanks!



:>

I'm not trying to pick on Tennessee.

Really.

After all, one of my favorite humor bloggers happens to reside in Tennessee.

But once again, doings in the Great State of Tennessee have reached out even as far as Idaho, and I'd be remiss in my duty to my readers if I didn't bring you timely news of thought-provoking events that I can poke fun at.

This bit of news come from Chattanooga (Motto: It Issn't Repetitiveness. Wee All Juust Stutter. ) where many folk are up in arms over the use of an ancient druidic ceremony to bless the new Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Tennessee building.

According to a company distributed e-mail by one observer on the scene:

"Upon arriving at the construction site we were greeted by the workers preparing to lift this tree with the crane. Why were they lifting the tree to the top of building one?

Well according to the Scandinavian tradition from long ago, after the final foundation is complete you are to raise a tree to the top of a building to bless it. It was to 'bless' the house with fertility....It is a request for a blessing from the gods on the structure to provide good fortune and fertility,"

Now I for one believe that arboriferous devil worship is the God given right of all Americans. But I wonder if these companies give enough thought to what they may be unleashing by these kinds of ceremonies.

Having seen not only The Devil's Advocate and The Devil Wears Prada, but also Fantasia at least a dozen times, I consider myself something of an expert on Diabolic Business Models and Demonic Quality Assurance Statements.



Once a business starts down that road, its inevitable that the Ancient-Gods will take notice. Pretty soon, a bunch of hot new executives with wings on their feet will start showing up at the regional offices, holding PowerPoint Sabbats and Corporate Retreats to Valhalla.



And don't forget that "growing the business" has a whole different meaning to the Fertility-Rights crowd from Asgard.



Fortunately we can assume that Blue Cross Insurance has a pretty good maternity package.






The Valhalla of humor can be found at humor-blogs.com A click here will increase your good fortune, and my fertility.





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A brief tribute to one of the funniest comedians of my time. Harvey Korman gave me a great deal of joy. It's only fair that I thank him for all those many many hours of laughter by remembering him now.

A vital member of one of the greatest comedy ensembles of all times:
The Carol Burnett Show from 1967 to 1978.
136 episodes of laughter and joy.

Harvey Korman and Tim Conway were a remarkable duo. Some of the funniest humor ever seen on television.

In 48 years of show business, Harvey Korman received 4 Emmy's and a golden Globe.

He worked often with Mel Brooks in some of the funniest movies ever made, as well.

Navy Veteran WW II
Father of four

It's this kind of competitiveness that keeps America moving forward!


OK, not literally forward, but you get the idea.


I have no way to tell, but I'd bet money at quite reasonable odds that it was two male drivers.


Special thanks to Debra for sending this one to me.




Quick! Put your foot on the accelerator of camaraderie by clicking here at humor-blogs.com and help me to beat those other humor bloggers to the toll-booth of tomorrow and onto the freeway of a bright future! (Whew! I'm metaphored out.)


:>

Everyone these days is concerned about energy. Or sex. Actually everyone has always been concerned about sex. But sex takes energy too. The big question is where do we get more sex? Er... energy. I've been considering this in between thinking about sex and I believe I've found a new and heretofore untapped source of energy.

Actually the idea came as a result of a datum provided to me by my twelve year old daughter. If that alone isn't enough to assure you of the veracity of the information, I will reassure you further by telling you that she got this fact from a copy of Uncle John's Bathroom Rea