January is the wicked step-mother of months. Contradictory and contemptuous, January is sun, rain and snow, all in a half-hour’s time. It’s slushy toboggan runs and black ice on I-75. January is your passive aggressive co-worker who smiles in your face then shoves daggers of ice in your back. It’s not surprising, since the month is named after a two-faced Roman god. Read More
Scooping poop in the backyard I noticed, quite clearly, a bar code sticking out from one of Bernie’s turds. Being on doggie duty I couldn’t help but be amazed at how far-reaching the packaging phenomenon has spread. When crap comes out of your dog’s butt already assigned a specific code, we’ve either taken a great leap forward in biotechnology, or Bernie’s just gotten into something he shouldn’t have. Read More
They monitor my urine here. The total cost of my stay to the insurance company will be probably well north of a quarter million dollars. But to the people that have to dump my collected urine, that cost is far too low. The nurses here at Karmanos Cancer Center need to know how much my output is keeping pace with my input, so no toilet for me; it’s a series of random jugs, some of them placed bedside in the middle of the night, some elsewhere. I’m the Easter Bunny of pee.Read More
Scooping poop in the backyard I noticed, quite clearly, a barcode sticking out from one of Bernie’s turds. Being on doodie duty, I couldn’t help but be amazed at how far-reaching the packaging phenomenon has spread. When crap comes out of your dog’s butt already assigned a specific code, we’ve either taken a great leap forward in biotechnology, or Bernie’s just gotten into something he shouldn’t have. I almost wanted to wrap it in a Ziploc bag and take it to one of those freestanding store scanners and see what rung up. Clean up on aisle five.
At least I can take comfort in the fact that when the gods of culture come to pass final judgment on my Philistine soul, they’ll have a good laugh at my expense. And if you can make the gods laugh — no matter the price — then you know your life on this dimension wasn’t a total waste of time.Read More
I carry around a lone 3/8-inch socket — without its wrench — in my car. I don’t think I’ll need it, nor do I believe it has any apparent match with anything mechanical in my Prius. But since it appeared all by itself, I figured it would be tempting fate to get rid of it. Maybe not fate, actually, but whatever phenomenal power left it on my driver’s seat in the mystical hills near Fort Wayne, Indiana.Read More