Warning: Big Fat Lies Ahead

Several days ago, I got an email from zella at grammatically motivated (the same zella from zella kate -- do I sense this woman has a future in the publishing industry?). Her email stated that I had a limited amount of time to accept the award she'd offered me on her blog.

In the general flow of busyness I didn't think much more about it until last night. I was working late in my office when suddenly the window over my desk exploded and what felt like a concrete fist knocked me out of my chair. When I picked myself up off the floor, lying on my desk surrounded by pieces of my window, was a brick. And wrapped around the brick was this:
I suppose thanks are in order, (???) so let me begin by thanking my wonderful neighbor, Lucy, who helped me clean up the mess and who stayed until the police arrived. She also managed to eat all the hummus in my refrigerator.

The officer who responded to the call, Sergeant Scott Free, was a veritable Sherlock Holmes. He soon had my dog in handcuffs, but thankfully I managed to make bail so at least I won't have to visit Patches in jail. I'll get you a lawyer, Patches! Just as soon as Free returns my new Porsche, which he siezed as evidence for some reason.

I also want to thank Spammy, my insurance agent, who's been a real sport through the process of filing the claim to get the window replaced. He tells me that just as soon as he gets back from his cruise somewhere in the Fiji Islands, he'll get on it.





Phew. That ought to qualify me for this award! Anyone in the Stranger Links is welcome to it and may learn more about it here.

Holy Halftime!

On June 14, the six-story fiberglass colossus known as Touchdown Jesus because of its upraised arms, put on quite a show off Ohio I-75 north of Cincinatti. It was struck by lightning and burned to ashes, except for the underlying scaffolding. Supposedly, when the local fire department received the 911 call begging them to "save Jesus," they decided it was a prank call and hung up.







Hmmm. I guess they're feeling the heat now!











Hey! Get out of there you crazy kids . . .


Isn't it strange that a structure which cost a quarter of a million dollars to build had no lightning protection? Maybe this particular denomination didn't believe in lighting rods. (there's so many different churches out there, one of them has to believe that) Or, maybe they believed they had some kind of divine insurance policy.

It does seem strange that an event we sometimes associate with the wrath of God would fall so close to home. Is this indicative of some family trouble upstairs? Or could it be that we're just not as good at reading God's mind as we'd like to think we are? In case YOU need help reading God's mind, just remember this basic principle:

a. when bad things happen to you, you're being tested to prove what a good person you really are.

b. when bad things happen to people you don't like, they're being punished.

Get it?

Oh, yeah. About the fire department? I made that up. :)

This Post is the Pits! (Seven, to be Exact, But Who's Counting?)

Greetings, all. I was planning to post a treasure map that I'd discovered in the Stranger archives last week, but never mind. There are more important matters to discuss. The yin must have its yang.

If you're wondering where this is going, you're not alone. Let me give you a few more examples to illustrate the point:

French fries must have . . . . . . . . . . . loads of ketchup.

Spiderman must have . . . . . . . . . . . . really springy underwear.

Tiger Woods must have . . . . . . . . . . . crap, let's not even go there.

The point is that the post about my daughter's pickle obsession is finally going to be answered by one about my son and cherries. He walked into the kitchen the other night holding what remained of said fruit and initiated the following exchange:

Son: Guess what? There's seven cherries left.

Me: Is that a mystical portent of some kind?

Son: No, it just means I ate the rest.

Me: Mmm. Thanks.

Son: But seven is an interesting number . . .

Me: Well, that's nice of you to give me something else to think about -- especially since there's nothing left to eat.

Btw, here's a question for you. When I was working on this, I realized that I like Spiderman better than Batman. He seems friendlier and more human. Who do you prefer, Spiderman or Batman? Why?

Stranger Things Have Happened . . .

You may have noticed that the Stranger is not interested in disclosing much personal information about himself. Aha! If you answered this question in the affirmative than you have been paying waaay too much attention. I'll let it pass, though. Especially since I'm going to make an exception to that practice today by telling you that I've gone back to school.

Now, this disclosure does have a purpose. It's to warn you about what's coming. The Stranger, you see, has decided to study psychology. In fact, he's pursuing a master's in psychology. This means that he will soon be a master OF psychology. Think of psychology as a tall-masted whaling boat on the high seas. Now think of me as the bearded captain in a rain slicker and short-brimmed cap puffing a pipe in the quarterdeck.

Now, think of yourselves as mutineers. That shouldn't be too difficult. You're armed only with table legs, pewter knives, and scrub brushes, since your farsighted captain has locked everything else away. You're planning to sieze the ship and change our course for someplace more interesting -- like Hawaii or the Caribbean, perhaps? Forget it.

That metallic scraping noise is the sound of the key in the lock outside your door. Heheh. You're going to sit there and whittle a backscratcher out of the table leg with a butter knife while I read aloud from The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud. What's so terrible about that? It's only 471 pages. Now, where was I . . .